Soulbound Ch 4

hellooo, your writing is amazing so far i love it 🫶🏼

Could you do one for Hobie x fem reader, where the reader is friends with SpiderPunk AND Hobie. But she doesn’t know they’re the same person. And one day lovergirl rants about her fat ah crush on Hobie to him??

First off, thank you for enjoining my writing, I try my best with what working brain cells I have left 🤣

Ooh I love this idea very much! But I might make it a two parter cuz I defiantly went off request…oops…

You were just minding your business, chilling on the roof top of an abandoned apartment complex, mind a million miles elsewhere on a certain somebody when a flash of red and blue caught your eye and before you knew it; you company of one had became a company of two.

‘Heya Spidey, how are things?’ You greeted.

He shrugs, ‘the usual but what about you lil missis,’ he playfully nudges you, ‘head so far off into the clouds I’m actually feeling a little neglected over here.’ You laughed, shoving him away by his arm. ‘Oh come off it, will you? I just been thinking about this guy I’ve liked for a while now.’ You admitted and Hobie’s interest was immediately peaked.

For as long as he knew you, Hobie could barely remember the last time you had ever admitted to him in fancying someone, besides from a couple of incidences from way back that ended up backfiring; but other then that, you kinda made it a point not to talk about it, maybe in due to him thinking that whoever you did fancy at the time weren’t worth the effort you’d give had you perused them. You had often called him overprotective whenever you tell him about your crush of the week but Hobie would defend himself by saying he was merely looking out for you and didn’t want you getting hurt by some douchebag.

‘You don’t have to defend me from everything Hobie,’ you once told him as you were patching him up from beating the breaks off of your last crush because they were chatting shit about you behind your back, ‘whilst as sweet as it is but you can’t always be there to look out for me.’

‘Watch me.’ He replied, his view remaining completely unchanged. You sighed, knowing that once Hobie’s mind was made up, nothing you nor anyone else could do to change that. He was an akin to that of an immovable object when it came to his beliefs and views and it was amongst the many things you adored and admired about him most.

‘Oh yeah? And who’s the lucky guy?’ He asked casually leaning back on his arms, watching as you brought your knees close to your chest before resting your chin upon them as your eyes gaze out at nothing in particular; something Hobie noticed you often do when you were particularly in your feelings and needed something to hold onto and ground yourself before you became adrift in your own sea of emotions. It was cute to see you tucked in on yourself so tightly that he couldn’t be more thankful for the fact that you couldn’t see how dopey he must’ve looked beneath his mask.

‘Hobie. Hobie Brown.’

He blinked twice, nah, he must’ve heard that wrong, surely, his hearing must be going all scewiff.

‘Hobie Brown.’ He said his own name as though it was the first time he was ever saying it. Upon seeing the way your shoulders drop and your body becoming at ease upon hearing his name, along with the way you smiled gently and how your eyes seemed to beam with newfound light which all had only helped In affirming to Hobie that he did indeed hear you the first time. ‘What is it about the guy that’s got you all up in knots?’ He asked, trying to act as though you didn’t just indirectly admitted that you’ve got a crush on him to him.

‘Where do I start.’ You started, unable to fight against your own feelings that were swelling up within your chest when an image of Hobie appeared in the forefront of your mind, he was sat on your bed, eyes closed as he allowed himself to get lost within his guitar rifts, his calloused fingers expertly transitioned from chord to chord as it were muscle memory. ‘He’s just so cool and awesome and so forthright and opinionated in his views and beliefs that he’s not afraid to back down from a fight should it come down to it.’ You tell him with a sense of fondness in your voice.

Hobie was quick to notice how your hand fiddle with one of the many handmade pins he’s made you that you always paired up with any and every outfit you ever wore, even if they styles did clash but you didn’t seem to care; Whatever the reason for you reaching for the pins were, whether it’d be out of a need to feel out the closest thing you had in regards to him or it was just something you did out of habit, made Hobie warm within his chest that soon spread throughout his body. ‘Sounds like me and this Hobie guy are more alike then I originally thought.’

Your fingers stopped their fiddling and you suddenly looked at him as though you were just now realising something with the way your eyes bore into him, Hobie thought that you might’ve developed the ability to see through the mask that withheld his identity and into him, so much so that he couldn’t help but make a comment on it, ‘stare at me any harder sweetheart and your stare might burn right through my mask.’ You must’ve been deep into your thinking as you didn’t seem to have noticed that he had spoken at all and Hobie was starting to think that he might’ve been too relaxed with you as Spider-Man that you might have started to have it pieced together in your mind; after all you were smart, more so then what you give yourself credit for.

‘Now that you’ve mentioned it you and Hobie do share some of the same attributes and habits, I’m also pretty sure your similar height wise and even though your mask muffled your voice, it fills me with a sense of familiarity that it’s hard for me to put a finger on.’ You said as you leaned closer to him until you were partially merely a breath away from each other. Hobie didn’t know he was holding in a breath until you shrugged ‘but I could just be grasping at a straws, so I won’t dwell on it as much.’ and moved away from him back to your previous position.

As much as he would’ve loved to have you figure out his identity on your own terms. Hobie would prefer it best if he were the one to reveal himself to you but the moments where he wanted to never felt right and he didn’t want to you in danger by doing so, but he knew that there’d come a time where he would be greeted with a choice in wether to tell you the truth as to who he was or continue living like he has currently and potentially loose your trust because of his lack of transparency; Hobie couldn’t bear to think of loosing your trust but just as he has always done since becoming your friend, he was merely looking out for you and for your safety as they were always his top priorities.

hyperfixating on top gun is so fun there's so many shirtless men

first glen reveals him and miles send each other sereshaw content, then miles posts a sereshaw selfie and now glen types up a whole sereshaw fanfic on twitter and implies jake’s a top… sereshaw the ship of the year actually

Kaz Brekker and Mutual Ma$terba$tion.

Be My Hands: Kaz Brekker x Reader *#~

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!

If you’re tagged it’s simply because I copied the tag list for Kaz.

Obviously I can’t control your actions but if you’re not 18+ do not interact with this post or Tumblr can get me in trouble!

(If you’d like to not be tagged in future smutty/spicy Kaz fics, please let me know!)

Description: 3.6k wc, smut/spicy fic with Kaz. Cannon Kaz, still has a touch aversion but finds himself and his girlfriend needing release so they compromise by verbally guiding the other while they be each other’s hands. (Kaz style aftercare featured)

Warnings: sexual content, mentions of touch aversions (anxiety & related notes), 18+ Only, cursing

Minors DNI, 18+ Only below the break; sexual content present

Kaz crumpled yet another piece of paper and tossed it to the side, still unable to collect his thoughts.

The heist went sideways hours ago and he hadn’t been able to figure out why or how he should’ve been able to prevent it.

It had never taken him this long before, he was usually done within a few minutes and spent the rest of the night sulking.

Meaning it really shouldn’t take him long tonight since it was only a minor deviation and not much of a set back.

He should’ve been able to figure this out hours ago.

However, y/n had never not been in his office after a night like this.

Kaz sensed things were tense between them lately but since he didn’t know why he elected to let it blow over.

As he sat alone in his messy office tonight, he regretted that decision.

Clearly that was another plan he made that failed.

Begrudgingly he rose from his desk, bracing himself on his cane as he walked to the door.

If she wasn’t coming to him, he’d go to her.

Kaz lingered outside her door as his mind raced to find the best way to greet her.

She was already mad, but he didn’t know why and therefore which side of him would be most helpful here.

If he let Kaz Rietveld greet her and she’d been mad about one of his triggers or weaknesses that would make it worse.

Not that y/n ever got upset let alone mad over that, but Kaz anxiously awaited the day he felt was inevitable.

If he let Dirtyhands Brekker greet her and she was mad he’d been too distant or mundane it would surely piss her off more.

He sighed, annoyed at himself for even allowing himself to get so attached to her that he cared about these things.

Kaz tapped his cane against her door twice and awaited a response.

He heard some shuffling around before y/n opened the door for him.

Her hair was a bit disheveled from seemingly running her hands through it, but it was clear she’d tried to fix it before opening the door.

“Love,” he greeted briefly, the versions of himself compromising.

She smiled nervously at him which made him sigh.

“May I?” He asked, tipping the crow’s head end of his cane in the direction of her bedroom chambers.

A room in which she rarely ever was, having usually been sleeping in his room while he worked.

Kaz watched her throat tighten as she swallowed before nodding.

He took inventory of her room, the way he would any room he’d stepped into where he felt unsure of his surroundings.

He’d been in here before but tonight he was unsure where he stood with her and hoped the room would provide him some clues.

Y/n’s bedding was wrinkled and the poorly made bed was evidence she’d futilely tried tucking the sheets back into place before letting him in.

Kaz tightened his grip on the crow’s head, despising himself for whatever he did that prompted her to chose to sleep here instead.

Sure it was her room, but he couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually slept in it.

“Kaz…” she mumbled, standing a solid distance away, “you look like you have something on your mind”.

Kaz pressed his lips into a tight line as he turned to face her, but was unable to look into her eyes and ask his question, “are you mad at me?”.

Her silence caused him to turn his gaze upwards from the floor and to her face.

He watched the shocked look on her face turn to confusion before she shook her head, “No Kaz. I’m not mad at you”.

“Y/n, do not lie to me” he grumbled.

“I’m not” she sighed.

He stared at her and took a step closer to her, noticing how her body tensed when he did, “you’ve been distancing yourself from me. Yet, you claim you are not mad?”

Y/n quickly looked to the far wall as if one of her pinned up photos was suddenly more interesting than this conversation.

Yet, in a whispered voice she still spoke, “I’m not mad, Kaz”.

Kaz squinted, taking a step back to create more distance for her, “are you afraid of me then?”

She snapped her head towards him, a concoction of confusion, shock, anger, and guilt storming her face, “of course not!”

“Then tell me” he ordered, closing his eyes for half a second to compose himself, “if you’re not suddenly scared of me, tell me why you are distancing from me if you’re not mad”.

“I…I’m… not mad… I umm.. I’m..” she mumbled, biting her lip.

Kaz gave her a concerned look and took a cautious step towards her again, continuing when she didn’t look away.

“You’re not mad, but you are… what?” He asked calmly, a foot from her now.

“Frustrated” she whispered.

“What?” He repeated, not sure he heard her correctly.

“Frustrated!” She blurts loudly, looking away and pulling in her hair, “I’m frustrated, Kaz”.

“Frustrated is synonymous to mad, love” Kaz sighed harshly.

“Not that way” she said, shifting her gaze around rapidly.

“I don’t und-“ he stopped, realization hitting him.

He’d read the signs wrong.

Her hair wasn’t a mess due to running her hands through it out of anger.

His eyes shifted to her bed.

The bedsheets weren’t wrinkled and a mess because she’d been sleeping in them.

“Were you just touching yourself?” Kaz asked, the tension in the room thickening.

He noticed she refused to look at him, so he gently tapped her toe with the bottom of his cane.

She still didn’t look at him but nodded minimally.

Kaz felt his face heat up and an uncomfortable feeling form in his body at her confession.

Well, it wasn’t the feeling that was uncomfortable, it was the knowledge he couldn’t act on it.

The knowledge that he’d found himself needing sexual relief on numerous occasions with relation to her and not being able to act on it due to his touch aversion.

He hated that he put her in that same position and also that he couldn’t offer either of them the release they both needed and desired.

The biggest irritation he had with his aversion was that his body still held the capacity for desire and sexual attraction but he couldn’t act on it.

He hated that he wanted more than anything to be able to take her here and now but the thought also made him nauseous.

“Show me” Kaz said faintly, his brain body desperate for a compromise.

“What?” She squeaked, her eyes finally landing on his dark and fully dilated pupils.

“Show me what you like” he repeated, taking a slow step towards her bed.

“Kaz, what?” She asked breathlessly as her eyes widened.

He looked at the ground in guilt, “I cannot give you what you want”.

Y/n began to interrupt but he held his gloved hand up to signal her to stop.

“But, I’d like to see what it is you want” He said, his voice shaking.

He wasn’t sure he could handle this.

Sure she’d be touching herself, not him touching her.

But, he felt he might combust watching her get herself off by doing things to herself he could only dream of doing to her one day.

“Kaz. We don’t have to do this” She offered kindly, sensing his nervousness.

“I want to. I want to watch. Touch yourself for me. Be my hands” Kaz declared, his pants already feeling tighter as he admitted this desire.

Y/n took a shaky breath but nodded and made her way to the bed, unceremoniously crawling onto it.

She wasn’t opposed to it, but she knew intimacy was intense for Kaz and she didn’t want to push.

Y/n bit her lip as Kaz moved to stand beside her bed, as close as he’d allow himself to be.

“Kaz, I know this is really vulnerable for you, so we can take this as slow as you need and stop whenever. You’re in control here, okay?” She promised, staring into his eyes.

Kaz’s eyes softened for a moment -as he offered her a small smile and nodded-, before they shifted back to their dark state with a recently displayed lust tinting them.

He’d seen her naked before, having changed in front of him countless times at this stage in their relationship, but this was different; for both of them.

She felt her heart quicken, her hands trembling with nerves as she shyly started to lower her pants once again.

“Love, don’t be nervous, if you need, I’ll guide you through it. Just be my hands” Kaz heard himself state, surprising them both.

Y/n took a deep breath of air and nodded rapidly.

Kaz smirked, his eyes closing lustfully as he let them both catch their breath before beginning.

When he opened them, his pupils dilated again seeing she’d stripped out of her pants and panties, her lower half now fully exposed to him.

“Fuck” he breathed out, letting a rare curse slip.

She blushed but kept her eyes on his with a small smile on her lips.

“Shirt” he said, clarifying when his request was met with confusion, “your top too”.

Y/n smirked at him as she slowly removed her shirt to display her bare breasts before him, practically making him hard right away.

He swallowed thickly, adjusting his stance awkwardly, “you are perfect”.

Kaz learned long ago she loved him complimenting her and while he’d let that vulnerable side of him out more often since that discovery, this was new.

He’d reassured her how beautiful she was the first time he’d seen her naked body, needing to help her patch up a cut on her rib and thigh after a heist.

But this, this time, she was laying here before him, not because she was hurt or getting ready for bed.

Instead, she was all but presenting herself to him; a vulnerable and important moment for them both.

Kaz stared into her eyes, making sure she was comfortable with what they were about to do.

When he felt confident she was, he shut his eyes and softly said, “show me what you were doing”.

She nodded, looking down at her waist, her hand moving towards her center.

Y/n gazed off into space as she slowly ran her pointer finger down her pubic mound towards her lips.

Kaz eyes fixed on her finger, wanting so badly for it to be his own touching her that way.

He took a shaky breath at the thought of his son on her’s making her immediately stop and stare at him with concern.

He shook his head to calm her worries, “Don’t stop. Just, talk to me during it”.

She nodded, remembering how he’d cling to the sound of her voice when anxious.

“So,” she said with a breathy shyness, “ when I find myself needing a release, I start with this”.

Kaz focused on her voice and explanation while his eyes studied her demonstration and instructions with such intensity it was as if her pleasure were a heist he must successfully complete.

After a few minutes Kaz had become more comfortable and realized the bulge in his pants was already a step ahead of him.

He blindly reached for her desk chair, knowing he should sit.

But he couldn’t find it without looking away from her, and he wasn’t able to do that.

Kaz stared as her thighs clenched together, firmly trapping her hand between them.

"Spread your legs. I want to see how turned on I make you” he said, looking from her seized legs to her dazed eyes.

Her lips parted slightly as she complied, her hand now being the only thing blocking his view of her full anatomy.

“More” he said, his deep voice betraying his pleading, as did his gloved hand faintly placed on her closest knee.

“I love hearing you moan” Kaz blurted, pressing his hand firmly against his throbbing shaft through his pants.

She looks at him through hooded eyes, the fingers on her left hand still inserted into herself.

“Curl your finger” Kaz advised, an idea forming in his mind.

Y/n smirked lazily at his newly formed scheming face as she followed his suggestion.

“No, no, your ring finger” he corrected, his piercing eyes that were frozen on her swollen and flushed bare skin around her vulva, unsatisfied with the choice she made.

“Oh saints!” She cried out, her head slamming back into her bed aggressively.

Kaz felt his dick twitch as he proudly relished in her loud moans and watched her hips lift off the bedsheets.

“Mmm, that’s it, good girl” Kaz said, his voice dark.

Y/N’s eyes flitted closed as she twirled her hooked finger around inside of her walls, trying to not be so loud as she didn’t want to risk the others hearing.

“Mmm, come on darling” he whined, “let me hear you.” 

She stirred slightly before pushing her fingers in deeper, moaning pleasurably as her vaginal opening stretched even more.

“That’s it” he grinned, his sight clouding a bit as he unconsciously began stroking his length through his dress pants, “I want to hear you say my name”.

Y/n needed a moment, so she slowly pulled her now soaking wet fingers from her vagina and rested her hand on her stomach, smirking at him.

“You what?” She teased, pretending she couldn’t hear his request.

His vision cleared as he lightly glared at her, “you heard me”.

She hummed, dancing her fingers tauntingly over her exposed skin from her neck down to her hips, “I don’t know that I did… Kaz”.

Kaz’s head snapped to the side quickly, his hand reaching out and pulling the desk chair to him.

He sat down just as his knees threatened to buckle from the tension between his legs and the sight of y/n sprawled teasingly before him.

Kaz knew he wasn’t going to win this, especially in his current state, so he repeated himself, “I need to hear you say my name”.

She smirked at him, “Kaz”.

He threw his head back in frustration with so much force he was surprised the chair didn’t break under him, “you know what I mean”.

Y/n loved seeing him like this, over her.

So she decided to drag it out a bit more, smiling innocently as she asked, “no, can you elaborate what it is you need me to do, Kaz?”.

Kaz clenched his jaw, returning his head to its normal position and watching the devilish glimmer in her eyes, “don’t push it, you’re the one who needed this. I can leave any moment”.

Y/n saw through his bluff, tilting her head sideways as she pushed her self up until her arms were supporting her back and half raised position.

“Kaz, honey, you can pretend all you want” she winks, bringing her still wet fingers up to her face and tracing the outline of her lips, “but I can see the mess you're making of yourself”.

He froze in confusion, following her gaze as she stared at his lap.

Kaz felt his cheeks double in temperature as he saw he’d practically ruined his dress pants.

The material now wet and clinging to him.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

“It’s okay Kaz, but I don’t think you’re quite done” she whispered sweetly, “why don’t I help you?”

Kaz stared up at her, his eyes soft but jaw tense, “I-… I can’t… yet.. I-“.

She shook her head, “I’m not going to touch you honey, I promise”.

He nodded appreciatively.

“You wanted me to moan your name?” She asked delicately.

He forced a weak glare making her laugh softly, “I can do that. But first, remove your pants”.

Kaz hesitated for a moment before standing enough to lower them to the floor.

“Now your underwear, the poor things are very clearly in both of our ways” she added, Kaz sighing tranquilly as he pushed the hem of his underwear towards the ground and let his penis fly upwards when it was free.

“Now, cup one hand around yourself, from underneath” y/n said, her gaze never leaving his erection.

Kaz obeyed, shivering as his cold leather glove wrapped around his length.

Y/n moaned lightly, Kaz’s eyes jumping to watch as her fingers walked down her bare body to her clit.

“With the other, rub the tip” she whispered seductively.

Kaz didn’t hesitate to do so and mirrored her moans with his own as he did.

“Look at me” Kaz rasped as her gaze has shifted to her waist.

“Oh, fu-“ y/n sighed, the knot in her stomach growing.

Kaz clenched his jaw more tightly as he continued masterbating as she had requested, but secretly trying not to climax yet.

He was fairly certain the leather in his gloves was going to cause his shaft to be raw by the end of the night but he couldn’t care less.

“Cum for me” he ordered sharply, not sure how much longer he could resist his release.

Y/n sensed his predicament and puckered her lips to blow him a kiss, “just let go Kaz”.

Kaz shook his head, but as she resumed circling her clit he found his resistance weaning.

“More pressure” he advised her, having made mental note of what seemed to work best for her earlier in the night.

“Ka-Kaz,” she moaned, her eye lids fluttering as she pushed her thumb harder against her clitoris.

At that, Kaz’s self preservation disintegrated in an instant.

“Oh” he moaned, his voice breathy, “fuck”.

He threw his head back, his neck bending as the back of his head rested between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t stop doing what I taught you. You’re being my hands, remember? Keep moving” She ordered, a smirk painting her tone.

“Y-y/n” Kaz shakingly mumbled, his eyes glazed over, “fuck, you’re… fuck”.

Kaz was certain it was the least intelligible thing he’d ever spoken but the bliss he felt kept him from caring.

He wiped the white cream from himself and the bedspread next to her, too relaxed to be embarrassed over the mess he made and how vulnerable he was.

“Shit, Kaz” she groaned, her lips curling at the ends as she watched him.

“Cum for me” he repeated his earlier request.

Y/n chuckled softly, tiredly bringing her hand back down to her wet lips.

“Kaz” she moaned softly, her eyes glimmering as she held eye contact with him.

Kaz smiled faintly, lifting his cane.

He delicately tapped the side of the crow’s beak to y/n’s swollen clitoris twice before lowering his cane back to the floor.

She shivered at the cold sensation before her eyes darkened as she looked back over at him.

He nodded with a smirk on his lips, “keep your eyes open and on me”.

Y/n silently obeyed, her fingers picking up their pace.

Kaz’s smirk grew as he watched her desire increase.

He intentionally ran a hand through his hair, having been clued in that it was a turn on for her.

She grinned and shook her head weakly, letting him know she knew what he was doing.

Triggering another turn on, Kaz held eye contact with her as he smirked more before licking his lip, “so unfathomably irresistible”.

Kaz lips shifted into a cocky grin as she loudly whimpered his name, her back arching towards the ceiling and legs trembling.

“That’s it darling, just keep being my hands” he encouraged, watching as she softly stroked herself as she rode out her orgasm.

“While I must point out that we could have started this much earlier had you not hid, I do prefer the location” Kaz stated, handing her a towel from her dresser.

“Oh?” She asked, her voice still faint from her climax.

“It means I don’t need to clean my sheets” he smirked teasingly.

She scoffed, feigning offense.

“Hmm, well, I suppose we’ll see if the door will be unlocked next time or not” she teased, delicately cleaning herself up.

Kaz squinted at her as he pulled his trousers back up.

“Fine, I can begin washing my sheets” he complied.

“You haven’t been washing them?!” She gasped, wanting to smack his shoulder.

Kaz chuckled, a laugh he’d only allow the person currently before him to ever hear, “Of course I’ve cleaned them; you sweat in your sleep”.

Y/n’s jaw dropped as she stared at him in shock, somehow mortified over the idea of her sleep sweating in his bed, despite what just happened in here between them.

Kaz laughed loudly, his dimples showing as he shook his head, “darling, it was a joke. You’re perfect”.

Y/n placed the towel on the other side of her, turning to face Kaz as she tugged on her blanket.

He smiled tenderly at her - another behavior only she’d witness- before standing to help pull her blanket over her body the way she wanted.

His gloved hands were sure to never touch her skin during the act.

But, as he set the fabric over her bare chest, he sucked in a deep breath before he slid his gloved fingers under her arm to tuck in the blanket.

He’d touched her skin more directly than that by now, but after the intensity of the moment immediately prior, he didn’t want to risk ruining the intimate moment they shared by taking a chance.

She smiled up at him, her body relaxed and eyes heavy.

Kaz nodded as he sat back down in his chair.

“Kaz” She whispered, waiting until he nodded again for her to continue.

“Do I swear in my sleep?” She asked, making him laugh again.

He rolled his eyes, “I honestly would not know. It’s my obsessive need to stick to a routine that prompts me to wash our sheets, not you “.

Her shoulders lowered as she nodded happily, “okay. So your room next time?”.

Kaz smirked, resting his gloved palm a few centimeters from her arm, “as long as you’ll continue to be my hands for now, we can do whichever room”.

“If you’ll be my hands taking care of you, I’ll be yours” y/n promised, grinning tiredly at him.

Kaz nodded in agreement, “the deal is the deal. Now, rest”.

Y/n grinned at him once more before letting her eyes close, peacefully falling asleep. 

Kaz Brekker Navigation/Masterlist

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Kaz Brekker Tag List (comment here to added):

@directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r ( @chewiethecatus for this one only as it was for your request)

 Cherry Bomb | Billy Hargrove x reader

The reader gives Billy a run for his money

Aka you’re loud and tough and have a cool car and for Billy that means love at first sight. I might have written him too sweet here but idc, this was supposed to just be a short little thing and then it took on a life of its own and here we are. Sorta follows the start of season 2 but then does its own thing lol

Masterlist

Requests are open!

(Will do a part 2 soon bc I like this reader lol)

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, f slur/homophobia (thanks neil)

Tags: @smenny @infinitelyforgotten

Billy Hargrove hated this fucking town.

He hadn’t even been at the new house for a full week yet, and he hated it and everything around it. Hawkins was a little shithole, as far as he was concerned, full of hicks who couldn’t tell their left asscheek from their right. And the worst part? It was October, and it didn’t even look cool outside.

God, he wanted to go back to California. At least it was sunny there. At least he had the beach. This place was just gloomy and beige, the townspeople all boring and normal. Nice, conservative families, who dressed in nice, conservative clothes, and drove nice, conservative cars.

That really wasn’t Billy’s scene.

At all.

Keep reading

Jude and Cardan

A Sweet Boy Like Me

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: when Peter gets hit with a truth serum on a mission, he tells you more then he means to

Masterlist

GIF by imtoohot-hotbam-blog

“FRIDAY, what’s the status on the jet?” You asked out loud as you ate your cereal. A minor cold had benched you while the rest of the Avengers went on a mission in the Amazon. You’d been by yourself for nearly a week now and were needing some company.

“The jet should be touching down on the landing pad any minute.” FRIDAY answered you.

“Thank you.” You called back. You finished the rest of your breakfast and by the time you put your bowl in the sink with the rest of your dirty dishes, you heard footsteps in the main entrance. You tried to hide your excitement as you went out to greet the team. You saw all the Avengers standing in the middle of the room looking utterly exhausted except for Peter, who had a huge smile on his face.

“Hey guys. How was the mission?”

“Great rack. Truly immaculate rack.” Peter said and gave you a double thumbs up.

“Oh. What?” You smiled awkwardly and looked at Tony for an explanation. The team looked at each other, no one wanting to be the person that told you what happened. You frowned and folded your arms, looking at each of them until they caved.

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell her.” Tony sighed. “Long story short, Peter got drugged.”

“What?” You gasped and looked at Peter again.

“I have a stinky in my brown hole.” He told you.

“He’s got a what in his what?” You asked the team.

“He has to shit. It’s all he’s been talking about for the 4 hour plane ride back here.” Sam groaned and went to take a seat on the couch.

“Oh my god. Ew. Brown hole?” You looked at Peter in disgust.

“Yessir.” Peter smiled and gave you another double thumbs up.

“Why is it brown? And wait, hold on, why is he on drugs?” You asked again.

“He got hit with a tranquilizer. In the neck.” Steve told you.

“See?” Peter smiled proudly and turned his head to the side. On his neck, you could see a massive red bump that looked like it was about to explode.

“JESUS FUCKING-“ You screamed but everyone on the team quickly motioned for you to stop.

“I mean, it doesn’t look that bad.” You quickly lied.

“Thank you. That’s what I said.” Peter laughed and touched his neck bump. It jiggled under his finger and you turned to the side to gag a little.

“My neck grew a boob.” Peter laughed and poked it again. You covered your mouth with your hand and looked to Tony for answers.

“How did he get drugged exactly?” You asked.

“Well long story short-“

“No. Enough with the long story short. I need to know how this happened. Give me the long story long.”

“I’ll give you the long.” Peter said and looked directly at you. You gave him a strange look as he attempted to wink at you. He ended up using both eyes and just gave you a slow blink.

“Oh my God.” You grimaced and looked away from him.

“Yeah, about that. When he wasn’t talking about having to poop, he spent the last four hours telling me he wanted to put you in 70 positions for 7 minutes.” Shang Chi told you.

“What? Do you mean 7 positions for 70 minutes?” You laughed and eyed Peter curiously.

“No. 70 positions in 7 minutes.” Peter clarified.

“But that’s like…10 positions every minute. That’s not even possible.” You said to Peter.

“Everything is possible when you’re a sweet boy like me.” Peter smiled and did a little spin.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked the team as you pointed to Peter.

“Friendly reminder that I still have to poop. Just hoping we can circle back to that soon.” Peter announced and moved his hand in a circular motion.

“Go poop. I need to talk to Mr. Stark.” You told him.

“Okay baby.” Peter smiled sweetly at you.

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Okay honey.”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Okay princess butter buns.”

“Oh my God. That one was just…I don’t even know how to describe that one. Just stop talking and go poop.” You sighed and covered your face with your hands.

“Okay!” Peter clapped his hands before running to the bathroom.

“So what happened?” You asked the team once Peter was gone.

“Long story short-“ Tony began.

“Don’t.” You pointed at him.

“Right. Sorry. Basically, the mission was going super well and we were almost done but then Peter decided he needed to fart while we were in this metal kind of room and it smelled horrible so naturally we both start coughing and gagging, meanwhile the sound of the fart is still echoing off the walls of the metal room. They guards caught him and I about to pass out from his truly lethal fart so we started to run away but they shot him in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. Now he’s cracked out and probably leaving skid marks in one of my toilets.” Tony told you. You were stunned to silence as you mentally pictured everything Tony had just described. You looked behind you at the bathroom that Peter was in before looking back at the team.

“I kinda wish I just left it at the short version.” You admitted.

“As do I.” Tony sighed.

“So wait, what was he talking about on the jet? Other than having to shit, at least. He wants to do what with me?”

“Well it’s no secret that the boy wonder has romantical feelings for you. I think whatever was in the tranquilizer dart loosened him up and now he’s saying everything on his mind. No filter.” Tony explained.

“So basically…” You trailed off as you put it together.

“He wants to fuck.” Tony said, unamused. “I had to listen to him tell me he wanted to fuck you for four hours. In row. My only break from that being when he told me he was about to shit his pants.”

“This is my fault. I saw him drinking regular milk this morning and didn’t stop him. He said he’s be fine.” You chewed your bottom lip and looked at the bathroom that Peter was in.

“Clearly he wasn’t. Because whatever came out of his ass back there on that mission smelled like the inside of a mongoose.” Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“That was a really specific animal to say.” You frowned.

“Mongoose are opportunistic feeders. They eat everything from plants to small birds. Therefore, I imagine their insides smell really bad.” Tony shrugged as he explained his choices.

“How do you know so much about mongooses?” You asked him. “I don’t even know what they look like.”

“That’s so true. What the fuck is a mongoose?” Sam asked the team.

“They’re in the weasel family.” Bruce explained.

“So is Bucky.” Sam snorted.

“Can anybody tell me what a mongoose actually is?” You groaned.

“It’s a goose that’s mon.” Shang chi shrugged.

“But what’s mon?” Natasha asked.

“It’s the abbreviation of Monday.” Bucky said and everyone nodded in agreement.

“So mongeese are just regular geese but on Mondays?” You asked and everyone stopped to think about this.

“Wait, is it mongooses or mongeese?” Natasha wondered.

“I thinks it’s mongooses’s.” Sam answered.

“No. That doesn’t sound right.” Steve shook his head. Everyone started to talk over each other as they debated the correct plural use of the word “mongoose” while others debated what kind of animal a mongoose even was.

“Oh my God. Does it fucking matter?” Tony asked loudly, making everyone go silent.

“Jesus Christ. That was the single most infuriating conversation I’ve ever been apart of. It can be mongooses or mongeese. But it doesn’t matter. Because none of you are ever gonna need to use the plural of mongoose in a sentence. So everybody just shut up!” Tony continued. Everyone looked down in shame and Tony let out a little groan.

“You guys drive me to drink.” He said and rubbed his face again.

“I’m done!” Peter called from the bathroom suddenly.

“Congratulations! Do you want someone to come in there and wipe your ass?” Sam shouted back to humor Peter.

“That would be nice!”

“Okay. Bucky will be right there.” Sam shouted again and pushed Bucky towards the bathroom.

“I’m gonna kill your parents.” Bucky wiped around and pointed a small knife at Sam’s throat.

“Damn.” Sam backed up. “Why does every reaction from you have to be so hostile? You did the same thing when I stepped on the back of your shoe the other day.”

“You gave me a flat tire. I had to stop walking and fix my shoe. I hate doing that!” Bucky said through gritted teeth.

“Y’all, who fed Bucky after midnight?” Sam asked in annoyance. “You know he gets crabby when his blood sugar is too high.”

“I swear if I spend one more second with you people, I’m gonna do a swan dive off the top of this tower.” Tony interrupted their conversation.

“You should do a flip.” Sam said seriously, making Tony stare at him for a long time.

“Or a backflip.” Bucky added after a beat of silence.

“Is anyone coming to help me?” Peter called from the bathroom before Tony could retaliate.

“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna go check on him.” You groaned and went over to the bathroom. You knocked on the door a few times and Peter opened it up, still wearing his suit.

“Hey pretty lady.” He said slyly and leaned against the doorframe.

“Hey. How’s it going in there?”

“Pretty good. Do you ever look at the shit you just took and think that that’s the biggest size dick you could take? Like, up your butt?” Peter asked you in a genuine manner. You shut your eyes and slowly sat down on the ground in complete silence. Peter watched you curiously as you buried your face in your hands.

“What’s wrong?” Peter wondered. You stayed silent and kept your head down in your hands, refusing to look at him.

“Was it something I said?” Peter asked again.

“Yes. It was. Never say anything that you just said again.”

“Okay.” Peter shrugged and sat down next to you. He looked at you for a minute before taking your face in his hands and pressing your foreheads together. He scrunched his nose while letting out a strained groan as if he was trying to push something out of his body.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to read your mind to see if you like me back.” Peter said and strained himself again.

“I really hope you washed your hands.” You grimaced but let him hold your face for another minute.

“I did. Wanna smell?” Peter didn’t wait for an answer and held his fingers up to your nose.

“Okay. Sea Island Cotten. At least they’re clean.”

“They don’t have to be.” Peter said and slowly winked at you.

“Don’t do that. Why did you wink like that? Don’t ever do that again.”

“Okay.” He said with an ever slower wink.

“Wait, did you put your suit back on after going to the bathroom? Why would you do that?” You asked when he noticed what he was wearing.

“Oh. I don’t know.” Peter shrugged and looked down at his suit. He stood up and pressed the button in the center of his suit, allowing it to slip off and look around his ankles. He stepped out of it and folded it, leaving him in just his boxers. You stared at him with a dropped jaw for a moment, always taken aback when you were reminded what kind of body Peter had under his clothes. Peter noticed you staring at him and looked down at his body.

"What’s wrong? Are you stunned to silence over my sexy body?” Peter asked with genuine concern.

“Honestly, yeah. That’s exactly what’s happening here.” You admitted.

“One time you twisted in your chair to crack your back and your shirt rode up a little and I said your bare right hip and the upper part of your side and I think about that all the time.” Peter told you.

“Oh?”

“Another time you were bent over and I didn’t see you and you stood up when I was right behind you and your butt touched my penial area and I had to go lay down.”

“Penial area?” You whispered to yourself.

“Sometimes I think that I’m in love with you.” Peter continued. Your eyes flew open and you couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face. You quickly wiped the smile off and stood up.

“Okay. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” You asked and started to bring Peter towards his bedroom.

“Can you lay with me?” Peter whined and buried his head in your neck.

“Yeah. Just for a little while. You need someone to take care of you.” You smiled shyly at his action.

“I do. I also need someone to hold my hand and kiss me and sleep in my bed and hold me and play with my hair-“

“Okay-“ You tried to interrupt.

“-and tell me when my breath smells and send me good mornings texts and tell me they love me and-“

“Okay. I get it. You want a girlfriend.” You finally cut him off.

“I do! You’re so smart. You should be my girlfriend.” Peter insisted as you went into his bedroom together. He took you by both of your hands and led you towards his bed.

“Do you know what you’re saying right now?” You asked through a nervous laugh. You wanted to believe he was beige serious, but you knew it was probably just the drugs talking.

“Of course I do. I’m saying that I have feelings for you and I want you to be my girlfriend.” Peter said as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

“Oh.” You gulped and felt your heart skip a beat. Peter went over to his pajama drawer and pulled on some flurry pink Hello Kitty okays but stayed shirtless.

“I’m also saying that I’m comfortable pining after you and continuing our friendship but if you ever wanted more then I want that too.” Peter told you as he stepped into his pants.

“I feel the same way.” You admitted before you realized what you were saying. You just got so excited that he had perfectly described your feelings that you didn’t think about the consequences.

“You do?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Can you tell me that again when I’m not coked out on tranquilizer?” Peter asked as he climbed into his bed. You bent down beside his bed and brushed his hair off his forehead.

“I don’t know. Maybe. If I’m feeling brave.” You said as you continued you play with his hair in the way you knew he liked.

“I hope you feel brave.” Peter sighed happily and rested his head down on his pillow. You stroked his hair until his eyes slowly fluttered shut and his breathing slowed. Once you thought he was asleep, you stood up and went to leave. Peter sat up suddenly and caught your wrist.

“Please kiss me.” He said in the softest tone you’d ever heard from him. You smiled at the request but shook your head.

“I can’t. You’re high.”

“And you’re hello. Now kiss me.” He smiled and tugged you closer.

“That’s not what I meant.” You chuckled and knelt down beside him again.

“What did you mean?”

“I mean you don’t actually want me to kiss you. You’re just high and confused.” You reminded him.

“Yeah. But I’m high and confused and in need of a kiss from a pretty girl.” He pointed and cupped your chin between his fingers.

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked as a smile tugged at your lips.

“You don’t?” Peter scoffed, making your smile grow. When he saw that he was winning you over, he got the courage to go on. He sat up a little more in his bed and tilted your face towards his.

“I think I could stare at you for 7 minutes and find 70 things I love about your face.” He said softly as he stared at your lips.

“That’s like 10 things every minute.” You replied, eyes on his lips as well.

“Just 10? Then nah, I could find way more.” He insisted.

“Were you just surprised that 70 divided by 7 is 10?” You laughed softly.

“No but every time I remember 8 times 7 is 59 I get a stabbing pain in my side.” Peter replied seriously.

“8 times 7 is 56. Not 59.”

“Gross. That’s way worse.” Peter scrunched his nose. You laughed at him before looking at him skeptically.

“Do you actually like me or are you just on drugs?”

“I can be both on drugs and like you at the same time. The two can coexist.” Peter said simply.

“So how come you never told me before now?”

“Being in love with your best friend is not the easiest thing in the world to talk about.” Peter said a little sadly.

“Yeah. I know the feeling.” You smiled softly. Peter studied your face for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours again.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the number one person I want to talk to about having a crush. But you are my crush. So I kept it inside. Until some guys shot my neck with a tranquilizer dart and all my inside thoughts splooshed out.”

“Well I’m happy they splooshed out. I’m glad I know now.”

“You are?”

“I am. Because I like you too.”

“You do? Even with my fat neck?”

“Even with your fat neck.” You chuckled.

“So kiss me.” He whined.

“I can’t.” You whined back. “Not until you’re sober.”

“Why?” He groaned and flopped back down on his pillow.

“Because want to be sober enough to remember our first kiss, don’t you?”

“Yeah. You’re right. As always.” He sighed and pulled his covers up to his chin. You smiled softly before leaving down to kiss his forehead.

“Maybe tomorrow.” You whispered against his skin.

“Really? Tomorrow you think?” He asked in excitement.

“I said maybe.” You said pointedly. “Only if I’m feeling brave.”

“Okay. Then I hope you feel brave tomorrow.” Peter smiled in satisfaction and snuggled into his covers. You went to leave again but Peter took your hand.

“Stay with me?” He asked in a way that made it impossible to say no. You playfully rolled your eyes but got into the bed. Peter smiled in satisfaction and wrapped your arms around himself so that you were spooning him. You gave into his desire and held him tightly as you made sure to avoid the swollen lump on his neck.

You soon fell asleep and ending up sleeping through the night. When you woke up the next morning, you and Peter were still tangled together. You sat up and stretched, accidentally waking Peter up as well. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, his hair sticking up in every direction. You laughed a little at the sight of his bed head before noticing the swelling on his neck had gone down and all he had was a bruise.

“Hey, your neck is skinny again.” You said and gently touched his neck.

“Thank God.” He sighed.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I was inside a mongoose.” Peter groaned and rubbed his face.

“How does every body know what a fucking mongoose is- you know what? Never mind. I don’t care anymore. And I know the feeling. I feel that way every time I listen to Somebody Else by the 1975.”

“So true. Fuck that, get money.”

“Fuck that, get money.” You nodded in agreement. Peter remembered the conversation you had before he fell asleep and looked at you, wondering if you remembered it too.

“What about you? How do you feel?” Peter asked coyly. You looked into his eyes and knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“Brave.”

“Brave? What the hell does that mean?” Peter asked you. Peter watched your face fall and immediately felt bad for the joke.

“I’m totally kidding. I remember. Kiss me.” He laughed and slipped a hand behind your head to pull you into a kiss. You leaned in and kissed Peter back, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his messy bed hair. Peter pulled you into his lap so that he could deepen the kiss. You made out on his bed for a minute until you were interrupted by Tony opening the door.

“Hey guys, did you want -stop screaming it’s just me- did you want pancakes?”

Tony asked. “Because I made way too many again. The entire kitchen is covered in stacks. Literally every surface in the kitchen has a comically large stack of pancakes on it.”

“Ugh. Why do you keep doing that?” You asked him for the millionth time.

“Because it makes me feel like fancy little rich bitch to use an entire cartoon of eggs on a single making of pancakes, okay? Happy now?” Tony snapped back.

“Yes. We’ll be down in a minute.” You mumbled in embarrassment.

“Cool. Try not to swallow each other.” Tony snorted before closing the door. You and Peter sat in awkward silence for a minute before looking at each other. You broke the tension by holding out your hand for him to take. Peter smile and slipped his fingers between yours before kissing the back of your hand.

“What do you say? Do you want to go get some pancakes?” You asked him.

“Does a mongoose have an immunity to snake venom?” Peter asked like it was obvious.

“I have no fucking idea.”

Peter laughed and leaned in to kiss you one last time before getting off the bed.

“Yes, they do. Now come on. Let’s go get some pancakes.”

Tag List 🏷️

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The Stable Girl Masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: soft but hesitant!joel develops a crush on reader, the new horse trainer at the stables. he’s reluctant to believe that he deserves someone as good as you, but with everyone falling in love and finding happiness around him, he can’t help but start to feel hopeful too.

series rating: E (MINORS DNI)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four*

Chapter Five*

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

(all other chapters tba)

extras

tlou crash course for beginners

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.”