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writingbyshiloh · 7 months

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Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan.

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan.

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying.

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress.

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words.

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them.

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend.

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her.

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all.

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table.

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way.

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window.

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too.

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go.

You stand and straighten out your dress.

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself.

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up.

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is.

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting.

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it.

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.”

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going.

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest.

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking.

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near.

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again.

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible.

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit.

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan.

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest.

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall.

#I read it once for spelling and flow then released it to the world #jordan li x reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li imagine #gen v x reader #gen v x y/n #gen v imagine #whew this got out of hand #time to talk about jordan

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woewriting · 21 days

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𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁 | 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗀!𝗉 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn.

tags. mdni! no ghostface au, g!p reader, no pronouns used tho. friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. | word count. 3726

author's note. will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once.

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device.

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location.

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car.

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home.

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.”

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date.

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar.

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?”

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?”

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand.

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t.

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip.

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.”

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?”

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace.

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard.

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you.

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly.

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release.

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly.

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?”

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling.

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move.

“This feels so fucking good.”

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist.

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie.

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile.

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?”

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm.

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?”

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

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justfandomwritings · 2 years

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Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)

Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.

“Who did this to you?”

Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.

You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back.

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen.

“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated.

You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman.

You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did.

Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell.

In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions.

He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it.

On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down.

“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.

His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you.

“You already know who.”

It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman.

The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend.

Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man.

You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched.

Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage.

“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch.

“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away.

Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea.

A flood of memories came back to you.

‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.

‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard.

‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from.

‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life.

Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either.

You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over.

You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today.

“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer.

It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken.

Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends.

“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny.

The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway.

“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack.

You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy.

You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late.

“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”

Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”

“Hangman, I-”

“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.

—------------------------------------------------

Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.

You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks.

Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down.

The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.

The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away.

Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game.

One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.

There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.

Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.

“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”

Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.

Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.

Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.

You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.

‘I’m still coming to pick you up from work.’

Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.

You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone.

You did the first thing that came to mind.

It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.

You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down.

Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding.

You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like.

“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.

“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”

When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours.

Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing.

“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”

Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”

Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction.

Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave.

“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”

“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.

No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.

—------

“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses.

Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.

You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober.

His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned.

“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.

Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him.

You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.”

You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in.

“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door.

There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.

“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him.

“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary.

“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.

You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary.

He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication.

“Would you come in?”

Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.

“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”

Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”

The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away.

Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.

You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.

You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.

“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen.

“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”

“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.

“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”

“He has a key.”

“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”

Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.”

Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.

—-------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow.

You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all.

You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.

You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again.

You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.

Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.

A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:

‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’

As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.

‘No, I couldn’t.’

You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table.

True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking mess with puffy red eyes.

Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.

“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”

“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”

“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.”

“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.”

He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.

—--------------------------

You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this.

True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.

The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool.

Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman.

All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.

Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.

The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway.

Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind.

No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.

There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back.

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.

“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables.

You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register.

“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot.

Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…”

The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.

He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.

You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving.

Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.

“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.

Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon.

Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”

Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react.

“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on.

Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage.

You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door.

Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it.

A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.

Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it.

If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!”

Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.

The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?”

There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision.

None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin.

“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”

Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake.

As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one.

It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion.

Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.

Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him.

Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other.

“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence.

Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.

“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”

Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.”

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform.

You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.

“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”

That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”

Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”

You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.”

For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.

Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”

You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.

Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began.

Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist.

Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”

Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.

Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change.

Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”

Without warning, Devin swung.

He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.

It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.

You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.

The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.

Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.

It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.

The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.

Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.

Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.

“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.

Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.

“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.

“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”

“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.

His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.

Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.

“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”

Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.

There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.

Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.

Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.

“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.

The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.

Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.

“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”

You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.

“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”

You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.

“Are you…”

“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.

You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.

In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.

Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.

His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.

Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.

“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”

It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.

Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.

You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.

—————————————

“Thank you.”

It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.

He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.

The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.

Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.

But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.

“What did Mav say to you when you left?”

“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”

“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”

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ashersanity · 5 months

Text

Know some people have already done this, but I just had to jump in on the train cuz I’m a sucker for yanderes, especially fem ones, like yeah, please tie me up in your fucking basement and call me your boy. I will instantly melt on the spot.

LI’s as YANDERES

asher style, of course.

you already know the drill, there’s gon be loads of cw! for this one since it’s fucking YANDERES!

content warning! dub-con at best, non-con at worst, manipulation, typical gaslighting, abusive and possessive behaviour, mentions of violence, it gets bloody too, knife play, stalking, somniphilia, y’know, all that yandere shit.

pc and LI’s are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise. still included kylar, some of these are soft and cute, some of these are just straight up gross.

this is long. i hope you like long things.. that sounded wrong.

Robin

“I-I’m your first? You saved yourself for me?? Hah, I don’t deserve something so special. Thank you..”

yandere type : two-faced, manipulative, overprotective

Doesn’t show it, trained smile on their face whenever Kylar slots in between the two of you at the cafeteria even if Robin is internally holding themselves back from reaching behind the freak and pulling you in closer instead. Just know that if you kiss Kylar in front of them in that one scene, they’re not running away in tears, they’re internally seething and rushing to the bathroom to calm themselves down unless they wanna accidentally break the loner’s face like Whitney did. (Yeah, Robin is violent under extreme circumstances. Saw that damn brothel scene? Yandere! Robin is even worse)

Gives you the impression of someone cheerful and kind, always well-intentioned since they want the best for you after all! You don’t even get to see the way their eyes flicker and narrow behind your back, holding themselves back each and every time they see you with either Whitney, Kylar or Sydney. Would absolutely lose their shit if they knew the things you do with Bailey in their office in return for an extra day before payment is due.

Breath shaky as they stare at your lips touching the cup, sipping at their homemade lemonade, not even noticing their eyes drilling a hole right into your pretty face. Quickly claims they need to go to high street to get some more ice, all the while bringing the cup you just used with them. Locking themselves in one of the stall in the changing rooms, licking and sucking at the humid lip stains you left on the glass, free hand busy between their legs.

Robin really can’t help themselves around you, sneaking into your room at night, quiet footsteps tiptoeing to your bed, watching your peaceful face, fast asleep. Trailing a finger over your lips, utterly entranced. Started with quick kiss to your neck, collarbone, lips. Now they’re touching themselves to you, hands in their pajama bottoms, soft, wet noises of the orphan‘s genitals being stroked. High confidence!Robin doesn’t hesitate to cum/messily squirt all over you, smearing the fluids across your lips before sealing it with a kiss. Makes sure to clean it up after though, can’t ruin their perfect, innocent image!

Voluntarily puts themselves in dangerous situations, wether it be through Bailey’s punishments, off to the docks or something as simple as getting picked on at the cafeteria. They know you’ll come for them, save and protect them from the danger, won’t you? You always do, you’re their savior, Robin’s protector.. And for that, they’ll never let you go.

Whitney

“..Let me remind you who fucking owns you. Cmon, I want to hear you squeal, bitch!”

yandere type : sadistic, possessive, impulsive

Didn’t even mean to get that attached to you in the first place, but when they saw the way your lips would curl up into that fucking smile, chatting away with Robin at lunch or the stupid freak— Dammit, it’s like Whitney snapped, forcing you to sit at their table, comfortably seated on their lap with their cronies surrounding you. Looks like you’re eating lunch with the bully forever from now on. You don’t got a choice in the matter, slut.

Don’t even try to fight back against them too, you’ll just rile the delinquent up further, visible outline of their hard cock/wet pussy in their pants/beneath their long school skirt as you kick at their stomach, only for them to grasp at your wrists and pin you down. If you do win the fight by pure chance or strength, just know they’re running off to the bathroom to jerk/finger themselves silly, using your own blood as lube (haha, hot.) Licks away at the bloodied mess you left on their knuckles too, smearing it across their lips to savor. they do that little finger sucking thing at the end to really get all that blood inside their system.

Oh? Whitney catches one of their friend hitting you/trying to get a taste of you? They’re not the only one getting punished, you’re getting punished too, bitch. Your fault for being so tempting around others and they’ll make it your own fucking problem. Don’t even try to worm yourself out of it cuz they’ll be waiting at the school gates, dark look on their face, bloodied sneakers from dealing with that one friend that didn’t listen. Expect the roughest anal fucking of your life along with having their cock/strap-on deep down your throat. Even better if you have a dick, you’re getting both, cock/strap-on up your ass and yours in their own, milking you dry for all you’re worth.

Will force a collar around your neck along with a leash that they pull at during sex. Better than your shitty hair since it leaves bruises right on that tender skin they like to sink their fangs into, dragging you around for the whole town to see. Publicly fucks you at the park with nothing but the collar on, telling you to take it well, show everyone what a whore you are for them. Enjoys inflicting pain on you through biting, marking or spanking, relishes in the pained sounds that come out of your mouth. Loudly refers to you as their pet, wants everyone to know you personally as “Whitney’s pet” first and foremost before even knowing your damn name.

Purposely marks you in every way possible that they can think of, leaving hickeys and bite marks over your neck and thighs, making sure your collar is just a tad bit open to expose the bruised skin underneath. Shit, they’ll tattoo their goddamn name right on your chest, rough hand beneath your shirt, tracing the lettering of their own name with a satisfied smirk on their face. Now everyone will know that you belong to them, Whitney’s property, their slut.

Kylar

“M-My love! We were meant for each other all along! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!”

yandere type : obsessive, clingy, delusional

Already has a shrine ready for you, dedicated to their one and only beloved, hell, they even went to the tailor to get the perfect size for your suit/dress. How does Kylar know your exact measurements?? Um, don’t ask them! It was by pure chance, just a lucky guess, of course! Maybe they did sneak in at night through the window, somehow not encountering Robin in the middle of their weird session, gliding their small hands over your sleeping form with measuring tape ready.

Goes through your closet when you’re not at the orphanage, stealing and taking in all the underwear that they can find, even goes through the dirty laundry. Yeah, your fucking dirty laundry, making sure they got everything. Now they have your own personal scent with them 24/7, rubbing the fabric of your undergarments against their sex, melding your fluids together, spits right in the middle where it connects with your crotch. Slips it inside your closet once more, hard erection/moistened cunt in their pants/skirt once they force you to wear it, their saliva touching your genitals.

Just as Whitney likes to mark their property, so does Kylar, tracing the silver over your tender flesh, ready to sink in and draw blood, carve their name right where it should be. Maybe they do it while you’re sleeping even! Awakening to a nice, old surprise of your beloved darling’s name etched into your skin, dry blood cleanly licked away, lapped up by the loner’s tongue. Now, no pervert or whore shall try a thing unless you want a dead corpse at your feet, Kylar’s proud smile and expectant gaze on you. Like a cat that killed its prey for its master.

Why did you wake up all sweaty and warm..? Um, don’t ask Kylar, they wouldn’t know! Not like they slip in beneath the covers with you at night, lowering themselves down to your hips before pulling down the waistband of your pajamas unless you’re sleeping naked? In this town? Either way, they’re burying their face in your crotch, messily slurping and sucking away at your genitals, relishing in the taste of your flesh in their mouth. Does a show of swallowing it all, moving their pink tongue across your parted lips and slipping in.

Remember how you sent them to prison? Yeah? Thought it was over and everything, huh? Kylar now forever gone from your life, not having to deal with that persistent freak anymore, that was the plan.. Obviously fucking not, a disheveled looking Kylar breaking into your room in the middle of the night, still in their prison uniform, dark fringe over their eyes, unable to hide the maddened lust in them. Idiot, you really thought you could get rid of them?? No, of course not! Kylar is here to stay, stay forever and they’ll make sure you know you’re theirs, fucking your face into the mattress with their fat cock/strap-on, imprinting themselves into your skin. You’re theirs now. Forever.

Pure Sydney

“We.. we did it.. I’m so happy.. This means we’re bound together forever from now on.. right?”

yandere type : harmless?, worshipping, overprotective

Harmless? Well, not exactly, Sydney doesn’t even know themselves about their own behaviour, eyes framed behind glasses, always glancing back at the library entrance and waiting for your arrival. After all, they love to see your face in the morning, it brightens up their day, puts a smile on their face, humming a tune to themselves. Maybe they do clutch at the pages of the book they’re holding a little too hard if they see you sit at Kylar’s table instead.. Sinking feeling in their pit of the stomach, clenching teeth. Snaps out of it, confused as to why.

Solely believes that you’re an angel, someone gifted by God, fallen from heaven. You’re perfect after all! Devoid of flaws and if there are some, they’re unable to see it, lovingly gazing at your praying face at the temple in a tender manner. If someone proves otherwise, like those filthy edited pictures they find of you sometimes, they brush it off, it can’t be true. You’re perfect. Utterly perfect, only deserving of the purest of people and Sydney is ready to fill that role, they’re the only ones worthy of it after all!

Absolutely snaps if they ever see a temple initiate or nun’s wandering hand reaching for your behind, smacks it away, red in the face. Now they’re creating a scene right in front of you, shouting and reprimanding the other for that, but no, it isn’t enough for Sydney, honestly. Willing to lie if it’s for you, obviously you didn’t ask for it, you never did, though they’re still going to Jordan, demanding punishment on the filthy sinner for having laid their hands on you. No sick bastard or bitch should ever look your way, only Sydney.

Asks a few too many questions to Sirris about you, the science teacher already picking up on their little crush, teasing poor little Syd about it and they’re blushing furiously now, completely denying it. God, they really should’ve never brought it up, yet they can’t help themselves, constantly asking about you to their parent, wondering how you’re doing in class.. Are there any students harassing you..? In the library? In the hallways? Has Whitney set their sights on you? Don’t worry, Sydney will take care of them. just involves them tattle-telling to Leighton pft

Maybe they do let you quietly drag them to the prayer room, knowing they shouldn’t, but it’s you, you that they can’t deny, never could. Maybe they do reciprocate the kiss, amber eyes fluttering shut, arms keeping you in their grasp. This must be a dream, must be and it isn’t. Pasts the point of no return, breaking their chasity vow for you and you only. Is exhilarated once they find out that you were also a virgin, meaning you both shared this special moment together with them. Now you’re bound to each other! As one.

Corrupted Sydney

“You did it. You defiled me at last. We belong to each other, now and forever!”

yandere type : worshipping, manipulative, overprotective

Much more self-aware in their behaviour now that you’ve opened up their eyes to sin and lust, and y’know what? Do they feel shameful? Absolutely not, they’re not praying to damn anything, not begging for salvation because it’s only right for a lover to be protective over their darling, hm? At least, they use that as an excuse to mark your skin as theirs, purposely leaving their name or cheesy pet names on your forearms or neck, rolled up sleeve or unbuttoned collar to show off their masterpiece to other students.

A lot more assertive and teasing with Kylar. Their childhood friend wants to play that game? Sure, they can do the same, casually swinging an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in closer. Watching on with a smirk on their face as the loner silently seethes into their seat, shooting them a cold glare. Sydney’s obviously undeterred, even going so far as to pull you into a kiss right in front of the other. Yeah, they’re fucking petty like that, eyeing up the freak’s expression as it slowly morphs from one of disbelief to horror. Doesn’t even feel bad if Kylar scurries away in tears, you’re theirs after all, aren’t you? It’s only their right to prove it so.

Amber eyes darkening as they see you with a customer at the sex shop, shamelessly flirting with you at the counter. Quickly pulls you aside, calling out to their parent that you and them are taking a short break. The short break? Involves punishment and marking, if that pesky shit doesn’t understand that you belong to Sydney then they’ll make sure to be more direct about it, tying you up, ball gag in your mouth, uselessly drooling away. Now you’re bent over on their lap, spanking your reddened bum, each slap for every pervert that eyed you up at work. Makes sure you’re left to limp back at the counter, ass stinging and burning, hoping you learnt your lesson.

By god, do not ever break your vow and let the temple find out, Sydney will know, will know that it’s not them. The temple’s punishment on its own won’t be enough, no, they’re also personally making sure you’re never touched by anyone else, but them ever again. Face pressed up against the wooden wall, forced in this uncomfortable position in the tight confines of the confessionary, hissed breath telling you to shut up while they fuck you with their cock/strap-on or riding your cock. Genuinely wants to hear a few slip ups on your part, clueless initiate coming in to confess their sins, a grin across Sydney’s pretty features as they listen to your hitched breaths, struggling to speak.

That one scene where they’re slowly trailing their red marker up your arm, pausing upon seeing Whitney’s tattoo on your shoulder, simply frowning and turning away. Yeah? Yandere! Sydney isn’t just frowning, no, they’re fucking pissed, a scowl creeping up to their face, asking you what the fuck that’s doing there. Stuttering back a reply, unsure how to respond to that. How exactly are you supposed to explain your bully’s name permanently etched into your flesh? Palm placed on your head, pushing you down, making sure the librarian isn’t nearby to see. Now you better be begging for forgiveness on your knees, mouth busy pleasuring their sex with tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over your flushed cheeks. Filthy sinner, this will be the only time Sydney’s ever visiting Harper for a tattoo removal.

Masterlist

Now I wanna see Yandere! Whitney vs Yan! C!Syd.

Who wins? My bets are on Syd because I fucking said so. The bully would be way too hot-headed, gets provoked too easily whereas the other is able to keep their cool, a bit more than Whitney. Plus Syd has the advantage of being a shameless masochist, would probably be moaning if they get punched, catching the delinquent off guard.

Coming up next, Yandere! Whitney specifically.

yandere! whitney

yandere! harper

yandere! bailey

yandere! shady bastards

yandere! remy

also thanks to @saint700 for the whitney line, it goes hard, hard like my c—

[END OF POST]

#sydney rocks whitneys shit #easily solos them in a 1v1 #dol #degrees of lewdity #robin the orphan #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #asher writes

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konigsblog · 2 months

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May I request some loser Konig? He’s such a wet sock

more loser-könig? absolutely. (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

cw: porn addiction, somnophilia, non-con mentions towards the end. 18+

i could see loser-könig not knowing what exactly to talk about. growing up, relationships were never really a big thing for könig, considering he was a social outcast, someone ignored or picked on.

so, his first relationship is a complete mess – and it's honestly the only relationship he'll probably ever have, as könig's mother constantly guilt trips you into marrying her son, that he just wants to see her boy happy with plenty of children to care for. luckily for könig, you (hopefully) have no intent to end the relationship.

könig's topics are usually either gruesome, or just utterly perverted. he may bring up topics about war, what it's like on the frontline, the worst deaths he'd seen, etc. aside from that, könig attempts to show you filthy pornos, even when there are no intentions at starting anything sexual.

he'd play a movie, and to your surprise (or, what should be unsurprising by now...), there would be a rough porno playing. he has no communication skills due to being ignored throughout the years, so he doesn't know when the best moment is to begin playing something so... dirty. although, könig isn't shy around you – he'll grind into his palm, fucking his hand with lustful eyes – coaxing you to suck him off and help him out.

könig will grumble when you take too long to react. you begin to tighten your hold on his big cock, ignoring the obscene video on screen whilst he chuckles hoarsely and slobbers all over himself at the pleasurable sensation.

aside from watching pornos at the worst times, könig will hump your pillow and cum all over it, his sensitive tip leaking with his glasses crooked on his scrunched up face; furrowed eyebrows, eyes shut tight, and biting his bottom lip. seeing you sleep on the pillow he'd violated hours before leaves könig more touchy.

whilst asleep, his fingers seem to find their way into your little panties, feeling your pussy and cumming in his boxers at the gummy, fleshy texture. ;(

#orla speaks #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x y/n #könig x you #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig mwii #könig smut #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #konig hcs #konig smut #tw: somnophilia #tw: non con

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mrswint3rs · 4 months

Text

Forbidden Fruit

pairings- dbf! toji x Fem! reader

summary- your dads lowlife best friend comes to stay with you and your father for a while. your feelings of annoyance and hatred toward him turn into something more.

a/n - i had a good plot planned out until i actually started writing this so im sorry ab the randomness

NSFW WARNING :

contains- age gap (reader is early 20's, toji is early 40's bc i said so), unprotected sex, daddy kink, hair pulling , degrading

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To put it lightly, Toji is a complete ass. He's an aging bachelor who has no future plans, a drinking problem which he tries to hide from your father, can't hold a steady job, and basically mooches off your father's financial generosity. He's loud and obnoxious, always trying to pick a fight with you over something stupid. Whenever your dad isn't there, he acts like he owns the place and makes up his own rules. He's the worst houseguest ever, and you kind of just want to punch him in the face. But then again, he's your dad's best friend, you've known him for years, so you have to be nice to him.

It's been a little over a month now since Toji has been staying with you and your dad. His presence has been a constant irritation, and it's hard to understand what exactly your dad sees in him. He seems to believe that anything he does should be accepted without question, and he constantly pokes and prods at you. It's been a struggle for you to feel comfortable in your own home ever since he started staying with you. He seems to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, without any thought for the people around him. He sleeps on your couch, stays up eating your food, and makes no effort to clean up after himself. And he's constantly giving you a hard time about being an adult and still living with your dad. He tells you how you should have moved out ages ago, as if he has the right.

You know Toji is an absolute jerk. You loathe him and everything he stands for, so why do you keep finding yourself staring at his perfect figure? His muscular arms, his broad shoulders, his rock-hard abs, his thick thighs. His masculine face, and that cocky, all knowing grin of his. You can't seem to take your eyes off of him, and you hate that you find yourself attracted to him despite knowing who he really is on the inside. You hate that you crave his attention, that you want him to notice you. You know it's wrong to desire him in any way. He's your fathers friend, almost twice your age. And you had a boyfriend.

And yet, you can't help yourself. Leaving your room at night to 'get a glass of water' just to steal a glance at him. Sprawled out on your couch wearing only his tight boxers that showed his outline.

Purposefully leaving your door open when you changed clothes, hoping he'd be watching (which he often was.) Your actions grew desperate over time.

You were disgusted with yourself. So ashamed, thrusting your fingers into your needy cunt, pitifully whining at the fact that your little fingers could never fulfill your needs like his rough, manly ones probably could. Struggling to get off, the guilt looming over you but at the same time feeling so good. The thought of the cocky, ever teasing, older man bringing you to orgasm every time without fail. He was like forbidden fruit. Right there but you wouldn't dare try and taste. As badly as you wanted to, there was just no way.

or so you thought.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

While your dad was out at work, you find yourself alone in the house with Toji. It all started with a glance. Just a look.

That's what lead to you now, squealing into the couch cushions. Panties dropped down to your ankles and your skirt pushed up over your ass. His massive form stood behind you, one hand roughly holding you up by your hair, the other rapidly rubbing at your sensitive nub. "Such a fucking slut," he groans, "bet your little boyfriend can't even reach this far into you, hm princess? So fuckin' tight...it's like you've never even been fucked."

"A-ah...mnn Toji!" you whimper.

His cock stretches you. He was bigger than you ever would have imagined, his girth molding your walls into his shape. "Dirty girl, look at ya', drunk on your father's friends' cock."

His degrading only drove you crazier. Your knees grew weaker, legs wobbling so much you thought you'd fall, his strong hold keeps you positioned as you were. Making you feel every agonizing inch of his thickness. His bulbous tip rutting into your weak spots as he jackhammers into you with no remorse. You could barely even keep your eyes open, your voice coming out in half screams of his name.Your back arched into him as he hit that angle just right.

The stimulation of both your gspot and clit was breathtaking. Your brain went dumb with every stroke. You weren't even worried about how wrong it all was. You could only feel. Feel as the older man used your drenched pussy like his own personal fleshlight.

Your orgasm steadily crept, you couldn't hold it in even if you wanted to. "Mn..gonna cum daddy.." you thoughtlessly mewled.

The use of the new title stirred something within him, going straight to his cock. His head tilted back with a low grunt, "Good fuckin' girl...call me that again."

"Feels s' good daddy...ahh-mnn, I can't take it..." you babble.

He completely loses it. Hips stuttering, grip tightness. "Fuck princess, cum w' me. Cum all over daddy's cock, baby. c'mon." he was practically pleading, trying so hard to keep going and not finish so soon. But you brought out a whole other side to him. Even with all your previous tempting, he never thought he'd be here, balls deep in his best friends daughter. your tight cunt was just too good. he didn't care about the consequences. he wanted you for far too long.

He shoves your head into the cushions, muffling your sweet cries as you cream all over his length. Your quivering and whiny moans forced his own climax, making him spill deep inside. "Oh my fucking god.." he let out an elongated moan, as he filled you up, practically trembling at the release he felt. Steadily pumping his cum into you.

He relaxes his grip on your hair, slowing the roll of his hips as he tries to ground himself. He lowers you onto the couch as he slips out of you, collapsing along side you.

"y' alright, princess?" you weakly nod, mulling over to snuggle up to him. Toji takes you into his bulky arms, holding you against his chest. You melt into him, listening to the rapid beating of his heart, and his heavy breathing. Your eyes flutter shut, growing more and more tired.

Noticing, he shifts a bit, "Hey, don't be fallin asleep on me princess," he laughs, "lets get ya' cleaned up before your dad gets home."

mlist

part 2 here!!

#toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujustu kaisen #toji fushiguro x fem!reader #toji fushigro x reader #dbf!toji #dads best friend #fanfiction #smut #fem reader #toji thirst #toji zenin #age g4p

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dannyphantom-zero · 3 months

Text

Doctor Danny chapter 3

Danny shivered as he drove to work. The feeling of being watched was way creepier than he expected. The worst part, he couldn't tell if it was all in his head or not.

Sometimes when he was younger he had felt like people were always watching him, turned out he was paranoid.

Danny shrugged it off and started work.

The second he was in he was pulled in ten different directions.

Danny had been treating a patient when on the TV the news was showing footage of a live battle. A bomb had gone off and rubble blocked the ambulance from getting to patients.

"NURSE! TAKE OVER" Danny shouted, he ran out of the patients room as soon as the nurse was there. That attack was still happening.

If Danny didn't do something those injured people were going to die.

"DOCTOR! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!" the head of the ward shouted.

"I'LL BE BACK WITH PATIENTS GET BEDS READY!"

The head didn't hesitate. Danny was infamous for not following orders but he never seems to fail a patient.

"You heard him! Get beds ready!"

The nurses and interns scrambled to ready as many rooms as possible.

Danny floored it to the location. A feeling of dread settled onto him. As soon as he hit the first rubble blockage his car door flew open. He started dragging the rubble out of the way.

The news reporter noticed Danny.

"Just coming into the scene, a mysterious unnamed man has jumped into the frey. He appears to be clearing the road."

The camera focused on Danny who had the road almost clear. Danny motioned for the ambulance to get closer.

Danny rushed further into the disaster area. He pulled the rubble off of pinned down citizens. Danny put as many patients as possible in the ambulance.

There were so many. He couldn't wait for another ambulance.

"This man is carrying two people at the same time! He's acting like a superhero!"

The head of the ward stared at the TV back at the hospital.

"Doctor, what are you?" He asked himself in wonder.

Danny had a worker from the ambulance drive his car back, he wasn't done here yet.

He thought he had heard it.

HELP PLEASE SOMEONE PLEASE I CANTBREATHE.

Yes, those were the scrambled screams from someone soul. If a person was put in an extreme situation, their soul in rare cases screamed.

This worked on Damners favor. Danny scanned the area and then he saw it. A mother and her child. The mother had protected the child and got pinned under falling rubble.

Danny hoisted the rubble off from her and thrust it aside.

The women would get more injuries if she were.moved carelessly. Danny grabbed a thick piece of nearby board.

He laid his coat on the board and put both hands under the women securing her. He hoisted her onto the boards and then used his belt to latch her to the makeshift gurney.

Danny was alone on this war front. He really didn't want to carry a critical patient alone but he had no choice.

"Hey kid, you gotta be quick. Run get out of this rubble and to the open street, if you do that I promise I'll get your mom out of here"

He nodded before sprinting away. Thankfully the women wasn't too heavy. Danny picked her up and do his best not to jostle her as he made his way through the wreckage.

They had nearly been out when a peace of cement fell from the sky. Danny quickly adjusted the women and thrust his fist into the concrete. It broke into smaller pieces, none hitting the patient.

Then they were out. Another ambulance was waiting there for him.

He transfered the women to the real gurney and sat on the ambulance. A soon as he got to the hospital he was running from patient to patient doing his best to swiftly treat each one.

The entire time one name kept repeating in his head. Joker.

The villain who had attacked, the villain documented to have taken the most lives. He needed to pay.

Danny sighed. He was standing on the hospital roof, a good place to go and think.

The patients were all stable and thankfully there were no deaths.

Danny drank his canned coffee and headed back in. What he saw was chaos. One of the patients had gone into shock suddenly and without warning.

Danny rushed to the ED with the patient. They started performing emergency surgery. On the end it was futile.

They could not save the patient.

"Time of death 1:23 AM" one of the other doctors said in a solemn tone.

Danny gritted his teeth and stormed out.

"DAAMM EEIIT, AAAAHHH!" Danny screamed once he was on the rooftop.

Tears streamed down his face. He lost a patient because of that damned psychopath!

Danny wiped his tears and made his way to the hospitals morgue.

"Let me see my patient" he had to help the soul pass on, it was his duty.

The soul looked like a cloud of blue mist. It glowed and swirled.

"Go, be in peace" it evaporated and Danny sighed.

"It's time for you to go home Danny, you need to rest. You've been working tirelessly and you just lost a patient"

Danny was frustrated because he knew the head was right. He had to throw away the cost and get a replacement because it was torn to the point that it was unrecognizable.

Danny sat in his car with his head pressed on his hands that were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

His car made a low rumble sound as he drove home. Once he got there he crawled into his sleeping bag and tried to forget.

Jason had been watching the fight, ready to jump in at any moment. Then he saw Danny, the way he had pulled those people out of there.

There was a clip that had been missed by the news. It wasn't a professional camera the way it kept shaking but through all the dust you could see a slab of concrete falling towards Danny and then he just... punched it.

Later he had heard that Danny's patient had died and he knew he needed to make a visit.

No doubt the doctor was blaming himself. He knew what it was like losing someone you were trying to save.

Jason slowly slid open Danny window. It's lock was faulty, he wondered if Danny knew that.

"Danny?"

He didn't respond.

"I know what it's like to lose a person like that, especially to joker"

Danny sat up and looked at Jason with rage burning in his eyes.

"If I ever meet Joker, I will tear his arms off"

Jason stared at Danny for half a second before grabbing his shoulders, "I knew I liked you!"

Jason let go and reached up to take his helmet off.

"Don't!" Danny said grabbing the helmet.

"Danny, I'm going to stalk you whether you know my identity or not"

Danny sighed and let go.

"Okay but what about the other vigilantes identities. Once I know yours, figuring out theirs won't be so difficult"

Jason paused, considering it.

"Meh, they'll be fine"

Danny shook his head.

"When I'm kidnapped and tortured and all of your identities get revealed, it won't be my fault" Danny said.

Jason grinned and took off the helmet.

Danny glanced at Jason. He didn't look half bad in terms of looks, he considered Red Hood to be pretty handsome.

"I don't recognize you at all" Danny said peering closer.

"Really? I'm Jason Todd"

Danny pulled back like he had touched something hot.

That name, Jason Todd was famous for his soul being reborn due to a hazardous pit called the Lazarus Pit. It must be eating away at him, probably destroying his mind.

"Shit" Danny muttered.

"What?" Jason asked.

Danny seemed conflicted.

"I am about to say something that's going to sound, in a word, insane"

Danny paused, "I'm only telling you this because I feel obligated to help you"

"Help me? How?" Jason asked with a sly smirk.

"With your situation" Jason had a blank look on his face.

"The Lazarus Pit that you fell into is contaminated. It's going to damage your brain"

Jason's eyes grew wide and Danny could see the sparks of the contaminated ectoplasm influencing Jason's emotions.

Before Jason could fly into a rage Danny grabbed him.

"Sorry, this is gonna hurt but I have to filter the ectoplasm"

Danny bit Jason's neck finding a vein. He began sucking out the contaminated ectoplasm, replacing with his own. He tried to think of it like a blood transfusion.

Jason was too stunned to do anything. The longer Danny was like that, the calmer Jason felt.

Finally Danny let go. He waited for a horrified look or a demand or anything.

But Jason seemed almost like he was in a trance.

"Jason?"

He snapped out of it, his hand flying to his neck.

"That felt...nice"

Danny sighed.

"I'm half ghost" Danny said.

Jason looked at him like he was dead.

"I was in an accident in my parents lab and sort of died, my DNA was mutated due to ectoplasm. It was the purest form."

"Your half dead?"

Danny nodded, "what I did was filter the Lazarus water and replace it with ectoplasm."

"Am I all good then?"

"Well no. I can't do it all at one time since it's mixed with the blood in your veins. If I did you could die"

Jason smirked.

"Oh noooooo" he said sarcastically, "looks like I'll have to come back"

Danny rolled his eyes.

"So are technically like a vampire ghost then"

"I am not a vampire!" Danny said.

"Sure, sure."

Danny sighed.

"So are gonna leave or what?" Danny asked.

Jason grinned.

"Naw, Imma stay right here"

Danny opened the window.

"Shoo"

Jason put a hand on his heart.

"Wow, I can see how welcome I am"

"I hope so"

Jason shook his head as he climbed out of the window onto the fire excuse, helmet secure on his head.

"You can't get rid of me Danny"

"I know, that's why I'm getting a restraining order"

"What?" Jason asked in alarm. Danny shut the window cutting off Jason's concerned cry.

Now THAT was satisfying.

Jason couldn't stop smiling. His new friend had the cure to his pit rage and had powers. Not only that, he was medically equipped so Jason wouldn't have to go to the hospital ever again!

It also worried him. Danny was too skilled, he was a big target for any villain.

Danny fell asleep and he slept deeply.

Danny was surprised to wake up to something other than his alarm the next day.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc universe #batman #dpxdc #Jason Todd #Red Hood #fanfiction #phandom

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cc1010fox · 5 months

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Rex: That number is your kill count? Fox: Roughly. Cody: I wasn't...expecting that to be honest... Wolffe: He's lying. Look, he wrote a number above it first, then crossed it out. That's the truth. Fox: No, that's the literal kill count. Cody: ... Rex: ... Wolffe: ... Fox: They were alive before we crossed paths. Rex: Oh...Most of our kills are-- Cody: Droids... Wolffe: I don't--How!? Fox: ...Why do you think I have so many awards? Wolffe: You...work hard? Fox: Doing what? Wolffe: Whatever the chancellor tells you to do. Fox: ... Cody: You protect the Senate. Fox: Coruscant. Rex: What? Fox: My duties extend beyond the Senate. I protect Coruscant. Wolffe: Ok, you protect Coruscant. Fox: ...From? Wolffe: Seppies? Fox: That's...part of it. Rex: ... Cody: ... Fox, popping his tongue against the roof of his mouth: Let me lay it out for you three. Fox: While you're out there sniping heads off of comedic relief training dummies, I have to deal with living, breathing, thinking beings. The living and breathing should make them easier to take down, but the thinking makes them unpredictable. I have to account for their individual beliefs, their morals...their sense of honor...all of which throw logic out of the window. It's not easy to land a droid army on Coruscant, so I don't get the pleasure of predictability too often. Rex: ... Fox: Instead, I have to deal with the citizens of this planet, too many of which don't want us here. They shout at us, abuse us, and have even started a market for us. You know...the skin and organ market. Yes and no. Yes, they have actually harvested our skin. No, I don't mean literal skin when I say skin market. Think collars and chains. How many times have you stood between a threat and the people you're duty bound to protect knowing at least one of those people have spat on your men, attacked them, used them like toys, or captured and sold them? My only comfort is knowing I can turn on them the second they're labeled a traitor to the Republic. And I can pick the worst of them off when there are no witnesses. Cody: ...That's-- Fox: On top of that, I have encountered creatures of nightmares because they just dwell in the bowels of this rotting planet or some pieces of garbage brought them here to sell. If you thought I was protected against watching my men get eaten by a wampa, you are sorely mistaken. Although it was the nexu that kept me up at night. For weeks. Who buys those things? Seriously...At least I put some of them down, but who knows how many they sold? Wolffe: ... Fox: The worst creatures are the ones I can't add to my kill count, though. The absolute worst is Chancellor Palpatine. He doesn't know what my job is and assigns me to literally every job in the Coruscant Guard. I have to do it personally. I'm the boss of the people who are supposed to do those jobs. He is the sole reason I will only sleep when I am dead. Fox: The second worst is 99% of the senators. Entitled, egotistical pricks. I would rather be distributed to desperate families looking for organs than catch the eye of any senator. Thire has to remember which ones show a little too much interest in the clones because we are at their mercy. He can't allow a shiny anywhere near them. If a Coruscanti attacks a clone, it's considered damaging government property, making them a criminal. If a senator attacks a clone, it's considered You better do what is best for the Republic and shut your kriffing mouth. Because treating a clone like a complimentary gift isn't betraying the Republic. Risking one of the Republic's delicate alliances is. Cody: Force, Fox... Fox: I deal with all of that while maintaining an impressive record of mission successes. That is why I have so many awards. Wolffe: ...You have awards, but do you want a hug? Fox: Desperately. All day. Every day.

#Commander Fox #Commander Wolffe #Commander Cody #Captain Rex #Coruscant Guard #Vencuyanir ‖ Queue

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arienotari · 4 months

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Drowning

Summary: When your worst fear becomes a reality and all you have on the other side is a brown eyed boy.

Pairing: Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Death, Drowning, Bullying

Edit: I am terrible at editing, and I tried my best so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes. This is my first full story I am releasing out into the world.

Word Count: 3330

I’ve never liked swimming.

People say it makes them feel free, but I felt anything but free. Every chance I got I avoided water at all costs. It's suffocating. Something about floating in a body of endless water and possibilities always made my skin crawl. One major problem that contributes to my fear is the fact that I can’t swim. I don’t blame anyone for this setback because I've never asked how to or showed interest. My inability to swim didn’t become a problem for me until my senior year of high school. I’ve gotten out of swimming class every year up until now and I had no choice but to take it. I tried to tell the swimming coach and counselors privately that I couldn’t take the class. All they said was I could stay in the shallow end. That I’ll be fine. I believed them.

Word spread quickly throughout my class that I couldn’t swim once they started noticing I wouldn’t leave the 4ft mark. I didn’t really care, all I cared about was getting through the year. I was never really popular which didn’t matter much to me but being in this class never made it more obvious how much I hated it here. I felt eyes on me at all times which only made being in the water worse.

It was March 12, 2015. Only a couple months left of school and then I’d be off to NYU living my dream of being a writer. First I had to get through 4th period swim class of course. I walked into the girls changing room preparing for the next 50 minutes of anxiety as I put my swimsuit on. I folded my dark blue jeans, my gray sweater, and a white tank top with lace on the trim that I wore under the sweater. Making my way to the pool I started putting my hair up in place of a hair cap I seem to have forgotten. Staring at the water I can see the bottom but it doesn’t stop the feeling of wanting to crawl up from my throat. Half the girls were already in the water preparing for a game of volleyball. Step by step down the ladder my hands begin to shake and my mouth becomes dry like I just ate pancakes. I make my way to the back to avoid any confrontation or any chance of being involved in the game. The one thing good about this class is it has a perfect view of the sky. I always get lost staring out at it wondering who’s also looking back. It makes me forget the situation I’m in and my environment. That's until a ball lands in front of me and about 15 girls are looking back at me waiting for my next move. I pick it up with my now calmer hands from before and spike it. Thankfully I made it over to the other side and the girls immediately turned back to the game. Not without some dirty looks but quite frankly I don’t really care. I watch as Mrs. Withers gets a call which seems to be serious as she tells us that she needs to step outside and when the bell rings to just go ahead. It’s only 10 minutes later when the shower bell rings and I feel the crushing weight lift off my shoulders. The other girls split based on which ladder they are closest to heading to the locker room and I help one of the girls get the volleyballs together. Making my way back to solid ground I rush to put the balls away not wanting to be one of the last to leave. I grab a towel on the rack near the other end of the pool as I make my way back seeing the last of everyone leaving. At least that’s what I thought until I heard someone behind me scream “Wait up” before running past me tripping me in the process. Losing my balance I watch as the one who screamed leaves the room leaving me alone. I hit the water with a loud splash waiting to hit the bottom to kick back up only to never feel my feet hit the concrete. I try to reach for the surface but everything I try seems to pull me down further. I panic, feeling my lungs on fire from filling with water. I tried to scream but no one could hear me and no one ever would. Everything was starting to go black and everything was becoming numb. All I could think about was how much I would miss out on. Finally, everything goes dark and I feel like I’m floating but I’m not, I’m being pulled up. I grab onto whoever’s pulling me up as if my life depended on it. Once I reach the surface my lungs fill with air as I begin to cough unbearably with my eyes screwed shut. I feel myself being hoisted up on the ground and out of the water. I’m pulled into the person who saved me as I am unable to move from exhaustion. When the person holds my face to center it I finally open my eyes as I am met with wide brown ones.

“Are you okay”, he’s breathing heavily as I study him blocking out his yell to someone to bring his jacket.

I feel a warm weight on my shoulders seeing its a blue and white letterman jacket out of the corner of my eye.

“Thank you for saving me” I give him a weak smile but all I get in return is an expression filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt.

Still seated on the floor I hear a horrified scream from beside me causing me to whip my head towards the chaos. Suddenly time stops and everything goes silent as I choked out a sob watching as a student and Mrs. Withers pull my body out of the water. The whole class comes to watch as they try to resuscitate me but nothing is happening. I feel the stranger push my head into his chest and I begin to cry harder than before. He repeats “I know’s” and “I’m sorry’s” as my world comes crashing down on me.

Hours later we are still in the same position my hair and clothes dry now along with a tear-dried face. It’s dark outside with only the poolside fluorescent lights to illuminate our two figures. I begin to shiver more and more as the stranger who pulled me out of the water rubs my back and arms.

“We need to get up, you're getting too cold” he whispers, pulling his body to get a better look at me.

I lift myself up getting a better look at him as well as I memorize his long structured face, beauty marks, and brown eyes. After a minute I nod and try to stand up realizing that I’m still exhausted, the position not helping adding to the pain. He helps me steady myself and fully extend as he holds my hands making sure I’m okay.

“You should take a shower and change into your regular clothes, I’ll probably do the same and I will explain everything once we're done. Okay?”, he says softly with an uneasy half-smile waiting for my response.

“Okay,” I whisper back at him not wanting to raise my voice feeling it’ll be too much to handle.

His smile fills out more as he nods and begins to turn away to do the same tasks as me. I begin to turn away as well before I realize I never got the guy's name who pulled me out of the pool and stayed with me for hours.

“What’s your name?,” I said, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away.

He looks down at my hand holding his arm which makes me see I’m still holding onto him causing me to let go.

“Wally, Wally Clark”, he said with a wide smile that made me feel alive again for just a split second.

After warming up from the shower I changed into my clothes from before that were neatly folded. As I begin to walk out of the locker room I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look back at the girl staring at me feeling disconnected from who she was or what she could’ve been. I take a heavy breath before opening the door to leave and face the reality of my situation. Stepping into the hall, the school looked unnatural to me with the lights off. I look over and see a less wet and cold Wally approach me with the same smile as before.

“How was the shower? Do you feel better?”, he asked one right after the other.

“The shower was good and I’m doing the best I can with the fact that I am already dead,” I said, peering up at him only noticing now how tall he really is.

“I know it's hard and I’m sorry it happened this way but I will try to explain everything the best I can.”, he said, extending his elbow out for me to take it as we began to walk further down the halls.

And Just like he said Wally kept his word and explained everything to me that he could. Like how we’ll never be able to leave school grounds unless we pass on. He also showed me all the other kids stuck here just like us and told me how some passed. As well as the weird support group that the kids attend in the gym. Even though he’d joke he never sugar-coated anything, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I won’t lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I was plagued by the memory of what happened as well as the thoughts of the future I’ll never get. It definitely didn’t help that everyone at school was mentioning it and not in a sorrowful way. During those few weeks, Wally helped a lot with trying to be a distraction so I wouldn’t focus on others. I guess one of the perks of being dead is being able to duplicate belongings so I was able to get my phone and journal. I found the perfect spot on the football field to just listen to music and lie down. I’d close my eyes and imagine what life could’ve been but I knew I couldn’t do that forever, so I started to write more. It was easier to put my wishes and fantasies on pages without having to dwell on them. I usually kept my writing to myself so around 7:30 every day I’d go to my little bubble of solitude on the field and write. It was May now so the sun would start to set around 8 giving me enough light and a view.

“What are you writing?'' I suddenly hear Wally's voice right next to my ear.

“Jesus Christ Wally you scared me to death”, I said, jumping in reaction to the sudden deep voice, placing my hand on my heart and dropping my journal.

“I mean it's a little too late for that someone must’ve beat me to it.”, he said smiling at me as he sat down next to me grabbing my journal to open it.

I glare at him and snatch my journal back.

“What too soon?”, he said with a stupid grin trying to get my journal back.

“Just a little,” I said, scrunching my nose.

“No but seriously what are you writing? You come out here every day and write in that little journal.” He said leaning back on his arms a bit more to get my full face into view.

I try to hide the blush that has crept up on my face when I realize that he’s been watching me come out here. After a moment I brush my hair out of my face and am met with those famous brown eyes. I take a deep breath before explaining to him my reasons.

“I don’t want to stay stuck in the living because all it’ll do is bring harm. All I thought about for the past couple of months was what I’ll miss but I never stopped and processed my death. I’ve been hurting for all the things I couldn’t change and it caused me to push anything away, even you. So I thought why not write my wishes and wants down so they don’t stay on my mind. At least this way I can close the journal.” I said with a tiny smile looking up at him as he was staring back intently listening.

“Before I died I wanted to be a writer and I had my whole life planned out, I was going to attend—“

“NYU, I know,” he said, finishing my sentence before I could.

I watch as Wally sits up straighter and scooches closer to me before tilting his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say because he’s fidgeting with his necklace. I wait for him because there’s no point in rushing, I have all the time in the world.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he says with a breath held in waiting for my response.

One of my eyebrows lifts as I tilt my head in response to the slightly weird statement.

“Oh god, that came out creepier than I meant it to. What I meant to say was even when you were alive I knew who you were.” He said laying back fully down in the grass.

I watched as he covered his eyes with his hands with a frustrated grunt like he was trying to revert into a hole.

“What do you mean?”, I said moving towards his laid position to where I’m now bent over leaning towards him leaving my crisscross position to now on my knees.

I grab his hands that are covering his eyes and pull them down to his chest as I hold them to keep him from covering his eyes again. How he’s looking at me I can tell he’s debating with himself. I wait and listen before I watch as he closes his eyes.

“The first time I saw you was during your freshman year in the library. I was looking for something to watch for group movie night. I had Rhonda yelling at me in one ear and Charlie telling me something in the other. I was getting a little annoyed but then I looked between the bookshelves and there you were.” He takes a pause to look at me and I squeeze his hand in return to continue.

“You were tucked into the corner where the bookshelves meet, where no one could see you. In your hands was The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea. I watched as you cried the further you got into the book. After that day I came back to the library every day to see you. I even started picking up some of the books you read, but I couldn't finish half of them though.” He said with a small smile on his face and in his voice.

He sat up which caused him to become closer to me while he took my hands instead of me holding his. He was looking at the grass for a minute while rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. When he looked up I could see that he was tearing up making my heart ache.

“I knew you had anxiety when it came to swim class because you couldn’t swim so I’d go to try and help. Even though you couldn’t see or feel me, I was always there.” He said lifting his hand up to tuck a loose strand of my hair that fell.

His hand stayed in place as he cupped my cheek and I went to ask why he was tearing up because of this before he spoke.

“I watched you die. I was there and I couldn’t do anything until it was too late, that’s why I was there. I had to watch you struggle knowing I couldn’t grab you or even scream for help.” He said with his voice croaking with the struggle of what he’s had to go through.

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the walls I built up crumble down with one look at him. I never knew he’d been holding in something like this for so long. If I had known I would’ve never tried to shut him out. I was scared of what had happened and how my life had ended but I never thought about him. He was always there and whenever I needed help he was right by my side. I moved from my position pulling him into a soul-crushing hug. It took him a second to respond to the sudden gesture but after a couple seconds, I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Wally my death wasn’t your fault, I need you to know that.”, I softly spoke while hugging him harder, feeling him return it.

We continued hugging for what felt like years but could never be enough for me to be satisfied. One of my arms is coming up from under his arm grappling his shoulder while the other is around his waist. His arms are wrapped around my waist and I can feel his hands rubbing small circles on my back. Looking up from being tucked away in his shoulder I notice the sun is beginning to set. I begin to pull away and when I make eye contact with him again he’s only a mere few inches away from my face. I raise my hand to brush his hair away from his face as it has flattened from the hug. My hand slips down as it trails from the side of his head to where it now rests on his neck. He’s staring at me the whole time while I do this and when I look up to meet his eyes my heart quickens. Well, I imagined it quickened. There’s something about those brown eyes I’ve grown fond of that makes me feel alive again. His eyes flash down to my lips and back up to my eyes like he’s silently pleading. I give into his wants that now become a need for me and all I can do is nod. His hand comes up to my face pulling me towards him as our lips meet. The kiss felt like everything in my little life led up to this moment. Nothing else seemed to matter to me but the boy in front of me right now who just confessed that he’d been watching me for years. Wally’s the one to pull away first. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him wanting to capture this moment forever. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek and giving me a quick peck. I can’t restrain my gleaming smile as he pulls away for the second time.

“Well I’m glad we got that cleared up”, he laughed as he spoke.

I glared at him while punching him in the arm causing him to fall back but not before dragging me down with him. I land on his chest relaxing in his touch like it’s something I've been craving but have been deprived of. We lay in comfortable silence as I felt Wally rub circles with his thumb on my hip.

“I’m glad it was you who found me. I don't know what I would’ve done” I said, being the first one to disturb the still air.

“I am too,” Wally said into my hair as he kissed the top of my head.

We lay there all night even when the stadium lights came on we just talked about everything and anything. Maybe the afterlife won’t completely suck.

#fanfic #wally clark #wally clark x reader #school spirits #television #x yn #Wally Clark fluff #milo manheim #wally clark imagines

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