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porcelana-r0ta · 11 months

Text

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was.

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM:

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin.

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia.

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option.

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house.

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death.

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building.

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?”

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.”

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl.

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house.

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight.

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!”

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.”

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.”

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms.

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly.

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs.

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead.

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.”

“What did I do?”

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?”

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!”

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand.

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.”

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?”

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.”

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.”

Damn, Jason curses to himself.

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?”

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.”

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.”

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!”

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.”

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.

Jazz doesn’t dispute it.

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t.

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.”

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!”

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!”

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again.

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.”

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab.

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy.

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green.

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell.

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?”

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings.

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral.

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it.

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery.

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton.

“Why are the fucking Bats here?”

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?”

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?”

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.”

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?”

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls.

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating.

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.”

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks.

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.”

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks.

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.”

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.”

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it.

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.”

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.”

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully.

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?”

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X:

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her.

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #batman #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #the joker #johnny 13 #severely ooc

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

I feel so bad for Iris but I want to see her kind of like? admit to Hangman she’s down bad.

I.R.I.S Masterlist

Warnings: Smut!! But a whole lot of tension! Jake Seresin x F!reader. Also: read this little concept from yesterday too.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~****~****

Oh. I like this. I like this a lot because maybe, just maybe we start to see Iris show some vulnerability. And maybe, just MAYBE, she shows Jake that she isn’t just in this for the sex after all. Perhaps there’s something a little deeper?

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Iris, get him off me!” P:E shouted through the comms as you steadied back. You weren’t showing much interest and Coyote could very much tell. He’d been briefed on the situation at hand, the one where you weren’t to be given points based on performance alone anymore. It had pretty much taken you out of the running, but no one beside Jake knew that you knew.

“You look fine to me Lieutenant Baileys, I’m gonna swing around—“

“Are you fucking kidding me! He’s right on my tail!” It was true, Coyote was—you just didn’t give enough of a shit to help as you left P:E to be gunned down. “Fuck!”

“That’s a kill—“ Coyote confirmed as the tone signal rang out through P:E’s cockpit. “Better luck next time kid.” Coyote smirked, he knew P:E was lacking in certain skills, his dogfighting skills were just one of the long long list—but Coyote also knew if you’d been there, perhaps P:E could’ve lived a little longer through the exercise.

“Well if you hadn’t paired me with Iris I’d still be alive!” P:E groaned as he made his way back around to land. “You’d think you’d wanna be a little more of a team player there Iris.”

“You’d be dead anyway dickhead, you suck ass.” You added, not in the mood to just take the slander Gregg Baileys threw at you.

“Damn, does that attitude of yours come in mens?” P:E chuckled as you came up beside him, flipping him off. “I could use me some—“

“I think you cum in men enough for all of us P:E.” You ended the conversation there as you flew off to the left, coming in to land shortly after. Jake was waiting for you as you taxied down and eventually came to a halt. You tried your best to pretend he wasn’t there, but as you went to walk off he just followed.

“That was idiotic behaviour Iris—“ Jake mumbled as he followed every step you took. “A blatant disregard for your fellow teammate doesn’t bode well in your favor.”

“Thankyou for your feedback Lieutenant Commander Seresin I’ll be sure to log it away with everyone else’s opinions I didn’t ask for—“ Things were tense ever since the fight you’d had. You knew where you stood with Jake now. He didn’t want to fuck around with you, he didn’t want anything to do with you, he didn’t wanna get involved at the risk of his own career, he didn’t wanna get involved with Pete Mitchell’s daughter. You got it, you understood—but just because you understood didn’t mean it didn’t sting, especially knowing that every second you spend in the TopGun program was a waste of your time. You didn’t come here to be a part of the herd. You wanted the glory of being the best. “Get off my dick, you’re the one who didn’t want fuck all to do with me, so stop pretending you care and let me handle this the way I feel like I should.”

“Lieutenant Mitchell!” Jake hissed and you halted your steps. “I don’t appreciate your attitude and I’m sure none of your colleagues do either.” Jake spat as you turned to face him, completely and utterly seething as you held your helmet under your arm and against your hip. “Coyote is yet to grade you, but I’m sure it will only reflect the performance you just gave.”

“Oh good then, at least I know I’d get the same shit grading regardless if I’d tried any harder or even better, not flown at all.” You replied. “Am I dismissed, Sir? I’ve got better things to be doing than standing here wasting my time defending my actions.” When Jake didn’t immediately answer, you turned on your heels, you’d decided his silence was as good as being dismissed.

“No! No you’re not—“ Jake was pissed, he was pissed because although he said he didn’t want to continue whatever the fuck you guys were doing, he still cared enough about you to want to remain friends. You weren’t interested in that concept by the looks of things and fuck did that piss Jake right off. “See me in Admiral Simpson's office.”

“Jake!” Your eyes grew wide with shock as you turned back around, closing a little of the gap you’d made as you took strides towards him. “Are you serious!?”

“I'm serious, you don’t get to act this way, there’s a difference between being a brat in bed and being completely insubordinate to a superior officer.” Jake held his ground as you looked at him completely stunned. There was hurt evident in your eyes as you just remained silent and quiet and all things Jake knew you not to be. “Admiral's office, now.”

“How could you do this?” You asked softly, completely gutted that Jake would do this. Especially after everything that went down in your dads office. Was treating you like a career killer not enough for him? He just had to make sure you knew he had the power to end yours too? An eye for an eye? Was that it?

“Easily.” Jake lied. He hated the way you looked at him with such anger, such hate. But he had to put you down a peg before you flew too close to the sun. “It’s my job, Lieutenant Mitchell.”

***~***~***~***~***~

It’s later that night when all has been said and all has been done that Jake hears a knock on his door. He’s sure everyones at the Hard Deck, he’d been invited but after having dragged you into Admiral Simpson's office for disciplinary actions, he wasn’t feeling all that up to it.

But when Jake opened his door to see you standing there? Looking all kinds of beautiful and angry? He was speechless.

“Iris?”

“Permission to speak freely sir?” You asked permission through gritted teeth as Jake crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, why the fuck were you on his doorstep.

“Yeah, I guess?” It didn’t take you more than three seconds to smash your fist against Jake's cheek. Rattling his brain as he stumbled back into his own home groaning from the sudden connection. “Oh my god! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!” Jake shouted as he doubled over, pain radiated through his jaw as you stepped inside, shaking your fist.

“YOU!” You replied harshly. “You got me a goddamn write up!” You couldn’t help but to hiss venom Jake's way, shoving at his shoulders as he stood up. “You couldn’t let it go? You couldn’t let me be angry and upset that nothing I ever do is good enough or will be good enough because of who my damn dad is!” You shouted, clearly distraught, Jake just stood there and took the brunt of your anger. “I’m not good enough for the Navy, I’m not good enough for TopGun, I’m not good enough at anything and most importantly—“ You paused, took a deep breath as you tried to swing another hook Jakes way. He caught your fist though, mid swing and just held it in the air. Eyeing you off with gritted teeth and angry eyes. “I’m not good enough for you!”

“What are you talking about?” Jake asked as he frowned with confusion laced in his tone. “Iris? The fuck are you even talking about right now?”

“I’m the one who can’t look at myself in the mirror because I’m obsessed with someone I’ll never have.” Your voice dropped from something of anger to something of sadness as Jake lowered your fist. “I caught feelings and it’s my own fault and we should never have started this Jake because I can’t stop thinking about you—“ Jake smiled for a brief moment, damn. He’d fallen for the one person that was so unattainable it wasn’t funny. Pete Mitchell’s daughter. And you’d fallen for Jake Seresin, your stupid TopGun instructor. “I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving me crazy because I said this wasn’t personal, it was just something sexy and secretive and a fucking fling but I—“ Jake cut you off when he stepped closer and pressed his lips against yours, ducking down to scoop you up and wrap your legs around his waist. You moved in tandem with him, allowing him to pick you up with ease as you complied.

“You drive me insane you know that?” Jake growled as he pressed you up against the nearest wall he could find. “You’re reckless and irresponsible and naive and have an attitude problem that is far beyond anything I’ve ever seen.” Jake listed off all the things he hated to love about you as he ducked his head to suck at the pulse point on your supple neck. “But If I ever see you flunk out in a training session on purpose again I’ll discipline you myself because you need to show these guys just who they’re fucking with.”

“How would you discipline me?” You challenged Jake, you didn’t wanna talk about what was going on. You wanted a distraction. “Jake? How would you discipline me?” Jake pushed off the wall he’d had you pressed against as he kissed you again, his time more passionately and with more tongue.

“I’d keep you on the edge, I’d fuck you dumb just how I know you like it but I’ve never let you cum, I’d keep you begging and whining and babbling my name and by the time I’d be finished with you? it’ll be the only thing you’d remember, my name.” Jake teased as he padded down the hall to his room, he was hard as rock by the time he got you in his bed, splayed out and naked just for him.

The stupid H_ngm_n white graphic T he’d been wearing now long forgotten, same with your plain white one. Nearly identical if not for the black stitching.

Watching on with lustful eyes as you played with yourself, dancing your delicate fingers across your sensitive bundle of nerves as Jake pumped his fist up and down his cock, spreading the pre cum his tip had oozed. “Fuck—you look so fucking hot.”

“When Cyclone was screaming at me for being insubordinate all I could think about was fucking you on his desk.” You admitted as Jake came down slowly to kneel on his bed, his eyes never leaving the way you played with yourself. “Or fucking myself on his desk while you watch, either way I got fucked in my fantasy.”

“Your about to get fucked in reality too.” Jake smirked as he came down to suck harshly at your nipples, swirling his tongue over your hardened buds as you arched your back into his chest.

“Fuck—“ Your moans echoed off the walls of Jakes bedroom. “Jake!”

“Ready for me?”

“Shut up and fuck me already—“ So with that, Jake did. He fucked you hard into his mattress, moaning and groaning in your ear as he did so.

“Augh—fuck Iris yes!” It felt amazing, Jake set a pace that mimicked that of perfection as he drove himself inside you, flicking his hip back with force every time just to hit the right stop that sent stars flying over your head. “Fuck I love fucking your perfect pussy baby.”

“Harder!” You begged and Jake obliged. He wrapped your legs around his waist as he pulled back, grabbed your hips and fucked deep into you. Watching with lustful eyes as your tits bounced and your screams echoed. “Yes! Oohhhh fuck yes!! Yes Jake! Feels so fucking good.”

Nothing felt better than when Jake had flipped you over though. There was just something about the angel he could get, how deep he could drive himself from behind as he gripped your ass in his hands to move you up and down his length. Watching as you curve your spine to rest your cheek down on the mattress and keep your ass high. All for him.

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god—“ It was like a mantra of whimpers escaping from Jake’s mouth as he used your cunt to get himself off. “Ohhh fucking christ send me to hell.” The devil truly had a hand on his shoulder. “Fuck you’re perfect Y/n, so fucking perfect.” Jake's compliment made you forget how to breathe, it was like nothing you’d felt before.

“So close!” You cried out, reaching up to pay attention to your aching bundle of nerves that needed to feel its release, it’s high. “I need to come Jake please make me cum baby—feels so fucking good!”

It was at that moment Jake paused his pace, pulled out of you which left you aching for more, only to lay down on his back and led you up to straddle his waist. Sinking you down, slowly and ever so carefully.

“You wanna cum? Make yourself cum Iris, use me.” Which you did. You used Jake Seresin to get yourself off as you rode him senseless.

“Oh my god yes yes yes, feels so fucking good!” You moaned as your hands pressed into Jake's chest as you slicked his cock up and down with your velvet walls. “Fuck Jake I’m gonna cum!”

“Look at me when you cum Iris.” Jake begged as he dug his nails into your hips, holding on for dear life as he felt his own high approaching. “I’m gonna cum in the pretty and tight pussy of yours—“ Your reply sent Jake into the stratosphere, it had him coming in milliseconds as you followed him seconds after.

“Flood me daddy—“

“Oh fuck, yes Iris, fuck fuck FUCK--!”

“Ohhh I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming ahhhh—!” It was euphoric as you came down from your highs together, lying in a sweaty mess in the middle of Jake's bed. Lying in the aftermath of bad decisions and false hope.

“Stay with me? Just for a little while?” Jake asked softly as he kissed your temple and pulled you close. “We can pretend that whatever this is could actually be normal for a little while, that you’re just some girl I met at some bar and I’m just some guy who gets to love you without consequence.” You didn’t immediately respond, but eventually? You agreed.

“I’ll stay for a little while.” You replied, your eyelids grew heavier with every second Jake laid drawing unidentifiable objects into your naked back with his fingers. Loving that you fell asleep on his chest, listening to the way you made his heart beat faster. “I’d stay with you forever if it were possible—“

You left later that same night, slipped into your jeans and threw your shirt back on all the while Jake slept. You left your bra as a gift, sent Jake a text to say you were all good, just needed your own bed—and slipped out the same way you came in.

***~***~***~***~***~

Pete Mitchell had been expecting you for the better half of half an hour by the time he decided enough was enough and marched into your room. Scared of what he might find when he crossed the threshold—he closed his eyes and announced his presence as he knocked.

“It’s me.” Mav was met with silence, he looked around expecting you to be half decent getting ready for work, except you were still very much sleeping in the middle of your warm fluffy bed covers. “Iris you're gonna be late, what are you still doing in bed? It's seven forty five!”

“I’m not going—“ Was all you mumbled into your pillow as Pete pulled the blanket from off of you. Thank god you were at least wearing underwear.

“What do you mean you aren’t going in?” Pete asked with frowned eyebrows. “Of course you’re going in—“ He followed up as he looked at your alarm. Seven forty six.

“It means, I quit the program dad—I’m not going back.” You hadn’t bothered to mention it to Jake last night but after he’d been excused from Cyclones office you’d pretty much told Beau Simpson he could fuck himself.

“What? Why would you do that?” Again, your dad pressed you further for information. You hated that he never did tell you what had happened with some of your classmates. The entire system was rigged against you and he wasn’t gonna say a damn thing about it.

“You know why—“ Before you could even start your counter attack, Mav dropped his gaze. Watching as you rolled over with a groan.

“Hang on a minute—“ Pete paused his interrogation as you rolled over on your back, exposing the clear as day Hangman graphic strewn across the white T-short. H_ngm_n. With a little stick guy next to it. It had been a gift from Phoenix at a Christmas party a year or two ago. Pete remembers the night fondly until he comes back to the moment and the conclusion that his daughter shouldn’t be wearing Jake Seresins Hangman T-shirt. “Is that? Is that Hangman's shirt?”

“Huh?” You looked down at your chest.

Holy Crap. You picked up Jake's shirt by mistake in the darkness of his room.

“Oh, uh—“

“Iris? What are you doing sleeping in Hangman's shirt.” Oh god that picture he saw, no it couldn’t be. But that mirror looked awfully similar now that he thought back to it. Similar to the one in your room. “IRIS!”

“Dad, it’s not what it looks like.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

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