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blueberrypancakesworld · 8 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel Men - Take care of you

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, crying, no use of Y/n, fem reader

Characters : Alastor , Angel Dust, Husk , Sir Pentious, Vox , Valentino

Info : So it is here my first work for the hazbin hotel fandom and I'm very excited. I'm in it again after watching years ago the pilot, the first few episodes of hb and the great/amazing music video adict. So have fun everyone and enjoy it ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor : A smile always graces his lips and even if you're not used to it, he's quite disturbed when his loved one doesn't smile too. They've been through a lot together, but when he walks through the corridors of the hotel from his broadcasting studio and finds his darling sad, even crying, the static goes out of his voice for a moment. He will always worry about his darling, the only one in his dark, twisted heart. ,,Darling, what's wrong...who should I make scream?" he asked, his claw-like fingers resting on your hands, the strange charged static running through you strange yet familiar. Almost judging and somehow tickling. He would listen quietly to what was on his darling's mind and let a soft song play over his wand, the song that had played when he got the letter. Your letter of admiration in such a cruel place as hell the radio demon had marveled at. ,,Or I'll just stay with you mhhh a little show?" he asked, gently wiping the tears from your cheek with his fingers before pulling his sweet tone from the bed and flicking the room into a reddish dance hall. The radio waves turned to a song and he gently guided his darling around the room, brushing away her tears with each turn, reminding her of the things they had together. The time they had together, the things they had done for each other. His special affection, his gratitude and his love that belonged only to her. ,,You know I'm always with you darling, no matter what," he reminded his heart before leaving a gentle kiss on the back of her hand as the music faded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel Dust : Angel Dust knew best what it meant when it came to money. He had lived it hell he was in that vicious circle and knew what it was like to be exploited for money almost every night. But in all this fire and poison he had found his own drug, so to speak. The one that had helped him when he was down, when he needed a break, when he couldn't sleep after night after night. She had sacrificed herself, Val had practically thrown herself at the throat, had taken it upon herself to become the number two in the business, something "enough" as Valentino called it. But Angel knew better than anyone that something like this didn't just pass you by. Which is why, with a warm tea in his hands, the spider heard the quiet knock on the door before he heard the ,,Come in." He didn't have to look to know that the runny makeup was from tears and other things. ,,Hey princess, come here," he murmured, putting the tea on the side table before slowly putting his hands around her. Never firm enough that she couldn't resist, always calm enough to show her that he didn't want what the others in the store wanted. The words flowed slowly over her lips and even though they both knew there was no point in talking about it, it felt good. It eased the pain and Angel was able to wipe away her tears before he gave her the tea. Because if there was one thing he had learned, it was that a cup of tea could work wonders in a few minutes and make you feel warm and safe. ,,I promise this will all end soon," he murmured, letting his beauty lay her head on his chest and he smiled gently as he saw the trembling of her body lessen with his calm heartbeat. At least they would both have something like hope for a while...a moment of calm and peace in the vicious circle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Husk : The clinking of glasses was something that could always be heard at the bar, either when the former overlord was sorting, washing or serving the glasses. The bottles made about the same sound but darker. But something still filled his bar: sniffling and sobbing. The sadness of his favorite, lucky clover, sitting at the bar with his head buried in his hands. He had just blown away to take another order because everyone else was already off to Satan's place. The beating of his wings could be heard as he hurriedly came over to her. He didn't need to look at the sad face, ,,I know you've given everything we all know that" he said and reached for the right drink he knew her favorite order was the one she had brought him back when he was lucky. He handed her the drink and slowly and gently took her hands from her face before she took the drink with a slight look of gratitude. He nodded in acknowledgment as he saw them both just sitting there for a moment, he slowly wrapped his sweat around her waist and pulled her a little closer, placing a wing on her shoulder. Knew the feathers were something she wanted. Because he was right, she let her fingers wander over the pattern. She finally gave in and told him about her yet another failed attempt to get money and power for the hotel, maybe even a few free ones, but nothing had worked. Instead, only the usual cursing and swearing...as the cave was true. Without happiness and kindness. ,,But our happiness and togetherness will last forever," he said and handed her one of his golden dice before the two of them rolled it over the wood of the ceiling. But in fact, when Husk pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek, both dice landed as doubles. They knew that together they had the best luck they could have as a couple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sir Pentiuos : The airship's engine was loud, but the serpent demon was able to distinguish between the sound of an engine, the cracking of eggs and the sobs of its first officers. Turning away from the steering wheel, hoping that a cherry-scented bomb would not be thrown through the windshield, he made his way into the interior of his airship. ,,My beauty? Are you in here?" he asked as he looked into the individual rooms of the ship before he heard her from the craft room, where she was mostly developing her weapons. Weapons that had often led them both to victory, but this time it didn't work out. it was the third time in the last week that they had been caught by the bombs. He saw her sitting on one of the tables with another broken weapon in her hands, a mistake she took to heart. ,,Ohh darling please don't I'm here come here" he whispered and his forked snake tongue wetted her cheek lightly as he pulled her into an embrace. The kiss on her cheek made her smile as she saw that the serpentine demon was a little pink in the cheeks himself. His cuteness that he mostly didn't know about always cheered her up, he would always manage somehow. His snake tail curled around her body and his slightly scaly skin felt warm when she put her fingers on it. He knew his scales soothed her and his words dug into her like the bite of a snake. He slowly put her weapon aside and cuddled her again, encouraging her. ,,Shall I fetch the eggs? A big party, my dear, maybe a party," he suggested with a smile and shortly afterwards he lifted her into his arms before the two of them went to the little ones. The family sat down together and soon instead of crying, laughter and joy could be heard as Sir Pentious stood by their side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vox : Voices can get loud, programs can get loud and with the three Vees it can get very very loud. If not the models, then Val's employees or hookers suffer from this. But this stress for new eriesn, new porn shoots and new clothes became too much for every demon. And when Vox went back to his office/broadcasting station he had, as always, an overishct on everything. A look at everything and everyone, but a look at the one screen he always had closest to him. Just a second later, he showed up in her room using his skills to make the viewers go haywire. They were always surrounded by noise, so he knew how good it was to have silence. ,,Hey button we'll take care of the ratings later...what do you need mhh?" he asked taking her cell phone from the one she was using to monitor the other ratings. He used his hands to pull her towards him, moving her slightly around the room, not necessarily dancing but playfully looking for that spark. ,,Come on, tell dear Vox what it is? Something special you want me to take care of?" he offered a small spark on her body, seeing that she smiled briefly knowing she liked it, that little shock that made her heart beat faster, drove her nerves and dispelled her fear. ,,You know no one can do anything to the four of us, we're different...and hot," he reminded her, laughing with her as his mood brought her back to her proper self. She felt the loaded kiss on her lips briefly but like catching up on a television. Before they moved across the room they shared a drink and she rested her head against his shoulder as they looked across the cave knowing that if they all stayed together she would stay with Vox he would never leave her and everything would work out in the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valentino : Obscene noises, neon pink signs, and a reclamation board and TV that gave a taste of the videos and movies that would come out if you went to the brothel in the compartment that belonged to Valentino. In this particular business, one thing mattered above all else. Stamina. Stamina if it was going to be a long night with twenty guys, stamina to film it all, stamina to count the money at the end and stamina when you were in hangover. It was exhausting for the employees and for Val, but especially for the assistant. The brothel mother, designer, scriptwriter and partner of the moth demon. It all just became too much at some point, which is why it took the Overlord a moment to realize that crying wasn't what he knew. In a flash of his smoke and the flutter of his wings, he made his way to their shared room. ,,My sweet kitty, what's wrong? No inspiration shall I fetch Angel or our favorite maybe Vox?" he suggested with a grin and took a puff on his cigrette as he approached the bed. Sha, however, that this only made him more depressed and his grin diminished as he extinguished the cigarette in the smoke and came to her, his wings blocking out the bright pink light from everywhere and the two of them a little darkened. Quiet and just the two of them. ,,Too much...I know it's a bit too stimulating sometimes," he mumbled, trying to find the right words, still not the best at taking care of others in his egocentric worldview of sex and money. But for her he would give anything and he could feel how it bothered him not to see her smiling, not shining with inspiration. He held out his hand to her for permission as she slowly cuddled up to him. ,,Here just the two of us just here and no one else just us" he whispered quietly trying not to hold her too tightly but not too loosely as the wings wrapped around them both like a blanket. As they both listened to each other's heartbeats, the sweet smell of Valentino was familiar but reassuringly true. It was just that hold they b oth needed in a place where they knew there was no going back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #alastor x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #sir pentious x reader #vox x reader #valentino x reader

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fluffy-bluffy · 2 months ago

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Messages for you people

Hello everybody ✨ a very tiny PAC in the form of poems. I hope this has some messages for each and every one of you. I have chosen these poems for your pile intuitively. None of them are written by me and credits to the rightful owner.

Just a warning that this is a general reading and it is only for entertainment purposes. So take what resonates and leave the rest for others.

Let's get started 💪🏻

Pile 1 ---- Pile 2 ---- Pile 3 ---- Pile 4

Pile 5 ---- Pile 6 ---- Pile 7 ---- Pile 8

Pile 1

Who are you,

Really?

You are not a name

Or a height, or a weight

Or a gender

You are not an age

And you are not where you are from

You are your favourite books

And the songs stuck in your head

You are your thoughts

And what you eat for breakfast

On Saturday mornings

You are a thousand things

But everyone chooses

To see the million things you are not

You are not

Where you are from

You are

Where you are going

Pile 2

When you start to feel

Like things should have

been better this year,

remember the mountains and valleys

that got you here.

They are not accidents

and those moments weren't in vain.

You are not the same

you have grown and you are growing

you are breathing, you are living.

You are wrapped in

endless

boundless

grace.

And things will get better

there is more to you than yesterday

Pile 3

When you are washing the dishes,

washing the dishes must be the most

important thing in your life.

Just as when you are drinking tea,

Drinking tea must be the most important thing in your life.

Drink your tea slowly and reverently,

as it is the axis on which the whole world revolves - slowly , evenly, without rushing towards the future.

Live the actual moment.

Only this actual moment is life.

Pile 4

No need to prove anything

to anyone more than

anybody realisation you have been

incredibly strong. You have taken

care of things alone. you have

fought with all your might.

you have had too little rest.

It's okay to stop and let

your guard down for a while.

It's okay to just stand still

or stay afloat. it's okay to

not feel alright. it's just human

To hurt. it's okay to surrender,

as we will never forget that we

will begin again.

Pile 5

You being here , presenting yourself

to the world, despite your thousand

messes and scars, is an accomplishment.

I know there are many things that

drain you silently. I know you

have a lot of struggles that have

been there for so long. you deal with

so many frustrations , fight with so

many inner demons.

I want you to know that I am proud

of you and believe that you are

strong. don't say you're weak.

don't think you're incapable.

what you are showing now is great

courage. You will get through this

and when you do, you will go many

places, celebrate great stories, move many people

believe in yourself

Pile 6

If you feel you are a mess,

please look at the stars

and realise that they are too.

Look at the formless clouds

and tangling branches of the tree

they are too

listen to the songs of birds

and crickets,

you will find no melody in it.

but they continue.

Because sometimes it's the greatest thing we can do -

be a mess and continue

Pile 7

Forgive yourself for the

mistakes. You're in the

process of making you

better. those who do the

same will understand you.

those who don't, let them

go for they will slow you

down

move forward and uplift

your heart

Pile 8

When things are hard and you

feel like you cannot go on

any further from here, remind

yourself of this : sometimes

it's the difficult that brings

out the best in you and shows

your truest strength. but you

have to believe in yourself

more than your circumstance

in order to grow and make

progress you cannot let the

difficult turns in your journey

stop you from moving forward,

from fighting for the life you

truly deserve

Thank you for reading this PAC. Will be bringing the next one really soon. Byeeee.

#pac #pacs #tarot art #tarot pac #tarot pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a picture #tarotdaily #tarotista #tarot blog #tarot journal

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gatitties · 9 months ago

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can you make a scenario where saitama accidentally makes his s/o cry and he just panicking and tryin to calm down or makes his s/o laugh (But do whatever seems right in ur opinion!)

Please and thank you!

─Saitama x reader

─Summary: Luck is not on your side today, you just hope you can rest and return home but it seems that you are more sensitive than you seem when Saitama makes a joke, don't worry, he is still your personal hero.

─Warnings: none

It wasn't a good day for you, the alarm clock didn't ring because Saitama broke it ─again─ and as a consequence you arrived late for work, getting scolded by your boss. As if that were not enough, the rest of the work was a bit of a disaster, your body did not seem to react correctly to the stimuli and you were clumsier than normal.

When you returned home you couldn't buy your favorite sweet, you had hoped that the food would make your day a little better, but the disappointment of not finding your favorite dessert only made you sink deeper into your misery, you stepped in a puddle, dirtying some of your pants favorites, a cat scratched you when you tried to pet it, you stepped in a dog's poop when turning a corner...

You were accumulating a lot of things that drained your mood to a minimum, the only thing you hope is to get home and for Saitama to shower you with love, hugs, kisses on your face… any show of affection right now would improve your day, you didn't expect that could get worse, but you thought about it too quickly.

You know that Saitama is quite sincere and gets straight to the point of the matter, so he doesn't usually soften his words when he speaks ─something he's working on improving just for you─, today he didn't mince a word when speaking as soon as you walked in the door.

"Honey, you stink, did you bathe in poop?"

Saitama's purpose was just to mess with you, he just wanted to say something funny that would make you smile when he saw your discouraged face, since sometimes you mess with each other making jokes, if you had had a normal day you would have laughed and returned him the joke, but that was not the case today.

He turned around when he didn't hear a response from you, a feeling of guilt stuck in the pit of his stomach as he saw how some tears escaped your eyes, he rushed to your side to grab you by the shoulders and pull you closer to him in a hug, he caressed your back gently while you stained his shoulder with snot.

"He-hey, you know I was joking, right? Even if you woke up tomorrow as a worm, I would still love you."

Sobbing a little more before laughing lightly, your breathing hitched due to a strange cry and laughter at your partner's unexpected comment, he began to panic when he saw how you wouldn't stop crying, at this point you were just letting everything that you endured during the day out.

It wasn't until long minutes later where Saitama was racking his brain thinking about what to say to make you feel better that you stopped crying. He still looked at you worried, considering the options of making you tea or giving you a tranquilizer to calm you down, but he discarded the ideas when he saw how you regained your composure, he sat you down and stayed next to you rubbing your back for a couple more minutes, silent so as not to force you to speak until you felt ready.

"I'm sorry for making a scene over something so stupid, I just had a bad day."

"No, it's okay, at least you feel better now, right?"

"Yes, thank you Saitama."

With a new, much more cheerful mood, you lay down on Saitama hoping that at least your sleep would not be interrupted while you snuggled with him, nothing could go wrong tomorrow if it was your day off.

#opm #one punch man #one punch man x reader #reader insert #request #Saitama #saitama x reader #sfw #one punch man scenario #reader is not specified so...#male reader #fem reader #gn reader

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saetgvia · 7 months ago

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genshin boys when you’re sick

characters: lyney, wriothesley, gaming, xiao, alhaitham

established relationship, nicknames (sweetheart, missy, etc)

tw: mentions of food, mentions of snot (is that a tw??), lmk if i forgot anything

———————————————————————

lyney

- *sniffle* ‘GET INTO BED RIGHT NOW MISSY’

- cares abt u very much

- a lil TOO much sometimes

- he just doesn’t want you hurt

- so the moment you show signs of sniffling you’re magically transported to the bed to get some rest

- he will FAWN over you

- kinda frantic ngl

- cooking

- magic show to cheer u up

- ‘i know the medicine tastes bad, but it’ll help you get better’

- older brother mode ACTIVATED

- lynnette and freminet are so weirded out by their usually chipper brother being like… this

- will take care of u until u get better

- whatever you need, he has <33

wriothesley

- tea

- he makes u tea

- and is overall a funny person

- like lyney he’ll want you to get as much rest as possible and yk cook for u and stuff

- ‘i’ll use my cryo vision to make the cold leave your body!’

- gets sigewinne to check on you because he has a MELUSINE DOCTOR so ofc he’s gonna ask her to check on youu

- lots of forehead and cheek kisses

- always makes sure you take medicine!

- cuddles!!! to make you warm!!!

- yea <3

gaming

- cOOKS FOR YOU THE MOST

- i think all the boys would cook and clean and take care of you

- but NONE better than gaming

- except maybe thoma

- but we’re talking about GAMING here

- he knows like 50000 people so you can bet he’s calling in favours

- ‘hello? yes remember that time a killed a bunch of hilichurls for you? yea can you make me soup? my partner’s sick.’

- tries to keep your energy and spirits up

- walks to get fresh air

- unlike the others he doesn’t really want to keep you in bed all the time bc he knows it can get irritating

- so he’ll spend time with you :))

- does the chores so you don’t have to worry about them

- overall i love gaming gaming best boy

xiao

- ‘…tf’

- ‘[NAME] DON’T MOVE A SLIME IS POSSESSING YOu- oh. it’s called a cold? and your body mAKES SLIME TO KEEP IT OUT??’

- humans are weird

- poor boy doesn’t know what to do

- you can bet he’s feeding you almond tofu

- and going to zhongli and cloud retainer etc. for advice

- ‘i can kill demons and protect teyvat… but i can’t help you feel better’

- sad boi

- so ofc you comfort him and everything

- makes sure you take your medicine all!!! the!!! time!!!

- doesn’t wanna leave your side

- caring and slightly confused bf but so sweet :(

alhaitham

- he’s so calm

- lyney’s total opposite

- cooking, chores, he does the lot

- provides better alternatives than the store antibiotics and they help u get better so much faster

- rare unserious alhaitham moment he claims it’s his love

- maybe it is!!

- reading sessions together!!

- u both reading books or him reading to you

- such a perfect bf

———————————————————————

a/n: hope you enjoyed this one <33 smashed it out today after some depressing valorant LOL be back with more soon and pls reblog so more people can see my work!! my taglist is now open so if you want to join just drop an ask <3

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 months ago

Note

Hi sex witch! This is kinda a scary ask to send but you’ve always seemed kind to other people asking scary questions so I feel brave enough to ask. So I’m a person with what I would say a fairly healthy and positive attitude abt sex- big fan of jacking off when the mood strikes and I’ve had a few partners. However, something that is really upsetting and scary to me are sex dreams because a lot of times I have dreams abt having sex with ppl I shouldn’t be having sex with and DONT WANT to be having sex with- notably, my father and my brother. I have strange dreams normally- anxiety related usually- but I HATE waking up from these dreams, I feel so sick and ashamed. I’m not even generally attracted to men, and these dreams make me feel like I need to second guess my identity. Additionally, my father is dead so I wake up feeling like my brain has disrespected his memory.

I’m trying to get a therapist for other unrelated reasons but a) my insurance is terrible and I’m having trouble finding someone in network and b) I would be so scared to say these things to a therapist - what if I’m secretly much more mentally ill than I knew, what if they hospitalize me, what if they put me on a sex offender registry?

Beyond “go to therapy” is there any advice you can offer me? It’s really very distressing and I’m really sick of it.

hi anon,

let's take a BIG DEEP BREATH before we start, okay?

so, first and foremost let me just say this, because it's important: nobody is going to hospitalize you or put you on a registry for something happening in your dreams. your dreams are not necessarily a reflection of anything you want or would enjoy in real life; your dreams are a pile of goo your brain spits out while its sifting information around trying to make a bunch of pieces fit together. unfortunately, I worry that you amount of stress and anxiety you feel about these dreams may be keeping them so front and center in your mind that makes them keep coming up over and over when you're asleep, creating a vicious cycle.

listen, I can't tell you how to change or feel better about your dreams. but I can tell you that people having sexual dreams that are in no way indicative of their actual desires is INCREDIBLY COMMON. none of those people are a danger to themselves or anyone else because of something their subconscious does that's entirely beyond their control, and that includes you.

having said that, it's totally understandable that you find these dreams disturbing and upsetting. for the time being, while you're managing them on your own, try to get yourself to a calm place while you're getting ready for bed - whatever works for you, whether it's mindfulness, melatonin, exercise, tea, warm bath and candles, taking time away from your phone, etc - and preparing space to be gentle with yourself and get into a good headspace when you wake up by making an extra nice breakfast, taking a long shower, going for a long walk, or anything else that will help you get out of your head and take care of yourself in the aftermath of an upsetting dream.

and if you do manage to find a reliable therapist soon, which I hope you do, I would strongly encourage you to bring this up with them if the problem is still persisting by then. anything causing you anxiety and distress is something that is worth talking over with a therapist, especially since leaving one stress factor unaddressed can also hold you back from resolving others - it's hard to focus on anything when restful sleep is off the table. once you've established a good rapport with a therapist, some conversations around this could be super helpful for you.

wishing you the best with finding some peace of mind xoxo

#sex edventures 2024

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mischievouslymoony · 2 months ago

Note

Hey! I love your writing and I saw your requests are open so I thought I’d have a go!

Could I request either a Wolfstar or poly marauders x reader fic where they take care of her when she is sick? I’m a sucker for a good hurt/comfort.

Thanks so much 🥰🥰🥰

I hope you enjoyed this!

CW: The reader is sick and the boys take care of them. Fem!reader. Lots of Comfort.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Feverish Affection

---

You weren't sure what hit you harder—the pounding headache or the intense fever that left you shivering one moment and burning up the next. Every muscle in your body ached, and you were wrapped in a tangle of blankets, cocooned in bed. Your throat was raw, and your voice almost nonexistent as you tried to call for help.

The door creaked open slowly, and Remus poked his head in, eyes immediately softening when he saw the state you were in.

"Hey, love," his voice was low, soothing as he stepped fully into the room, closely followed by Sirius and James. The three of them had been studying in the common room, but as soon as they heard you weren’t feeling well, they dropped everything to check on you.

Sirius walked over to the side of the bed, concern replacing his usual carefree expression. "Merlin, you look awful," he said, though the teasing in his voice was still there. He leaned over, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “Definitely a fever.”

Remus swatted at Sirius gently. "Stop pestering her. Let me handle this." He crouched down beside the bed, his touch far more gentle as he brushed a damp strand of hair off your forehead and rested his hand against your cheek, frowning at the heat radiating from your skin. "You’re burning up."

James, carrying a tray loaded with soup, tea, and a cold compress, came up next to the bed. "We've got everything you need. Figured we'd make a day out of it and pamper you," he said, smiling at you with that boyish charm that always managed to lift your spirits.

You tried to smile back, but even that felt like too much effort. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from hours of barely speaking.

“Of course we did,” Sirius said, pulling a chair closer to your bed and sitting down with a flourish. “We can’t have our favorite girl feeling this miserable.”

"Besides," Remus added, adjusting the pillows behind you, "you’ve always taken care of us. It’s only fair we return the favor." He gently helped you sit up, leaning against the fresh pillows. "Here, sip on this," he handed you a cup of tea, the warmth radiating through your hands instantly soothing your chills.

James pulled up a chair beside Sirius, looking satisfied that you'd taken the tea. "We’re staying with you until you’re feeling better, so get comfortable," he said. His protective nature always shone through in moments like this, and you couldn’t help but feel safe knowing he was there.

You sipped the tea slowly, feeling the warmth travel down your throat. Sirius, not content with just sitting, started rummaging through your bedside table, pulling out an old book. "Perfect time for a story," he declared, dramatically flipping through the pages.

“Sirius,” Remus sighed, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless. “She’s barely conscious, I doubt she’s in the mood for one of your terrible reads.”

"On the contrary, I think a dramatic tale of adventure and romance is exactly what she needs," Sirius shot back, plopping down onto the bed next to you with the book in hand.

Before you could even protest, Sirius began narrating in his overly theatrical voice. The story was ridiculous, but his voice soothed you, and despite the pounding headache, you felt your body relaxing under the warmth of the blankets and their presence.

Remus sat next to you, his hand still resting on your shoulder, occasionally brushing his fingers through your hair as a quiet reassurance that he was there. You leaned into his touch, comforted by the small gestures of affection.

"You should try and eat something," James suggested after a while, holding the bowl of soup toward you. "You’ll feel better once you’ve got something warm in your stomach."

You shook your head slightly, feeling too exhausted to eat, but James wasn't having it. "C’mon, just a few bites." His voice was firm but gentle, the perfect mix of authority and care. With a sigh, you took the spoon from him and managed a few sips, and despite your reluctance, the warm broth did soothe the aches just a little.

Sirius, taking advantage of the situation, slung an arm over your shoulder and grinned. "See? We're practically miracle workers." His tone was teasing, but the fondness in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You all spoil me,” you muttered, your head now resting against Remus' shoulder. The exhaustion was pulling you under again, the warmth of their care wrapping around you more effectively than any blanket could.

“Only because we love you,” Remus whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. His voice was low, barely audible over the crackling of the fire in the distance, but the sentiment filled the room.

“Yeah, and because you’d do the same for us,” James added, always the reliable one. He sat back in his chair, arms crossed, watching over you as if he were on guard duty.

Sirius stretched out beside you, flipping through the book lazily, but you could feel his eyes darting to you every few seconds. He was keeping an eye on you in his own way, making sure you were comfortable and safe.

You felt yourself drifting off, lulled by their quiet conversation and the steady comfort of their presence. Before you slipped fully into sleep, you mumbled, "I’m lucky to have you."

“Not as lucky as we are to have you,” Sirius said with a smirk, but his voice softened as he tucked the blankets tighter around you.

Remus squeezed your hand, and James placed the now-empty bowl on your bedside table, watching you settle into sleep with a satisfied smile. "Rest up. We’re not going anywhere."

And with them by your side, you knew that no matter how bad things got, you'd always have them taking care of you.

---

#poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #mauraders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x you #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black

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luna0713hunter · 1 year ago

Note

"you'll have to teach me " with zoro please and with

neck kisses / kitchen counter kisses

Kisses to keep your lover quiet but zoro kisses the reader

Lazy make-up

Thank btw I love your work

Author's note : its currently 3:30 am that im writing this request and gosh so many cute kisses with Zoro! And thank you for your nice compliments!!i hope you enjoy it 💕

"you'll have to teach me"

"neck kisses"

"kitchen counter kisses"

"kisses to keep your lover quiet"

"lazy makeout"

Based on this prompt

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : none,lots of fluff and kisses,cute couple

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Getting some privacy in a ship is nearly impossible.

You cant really blame anyone;its a public space that all the crewmates share,and no one has the actual time to relax and spend time in their lover's company.

But there are also mornings like this: where everything's soft in the glow of the rising sun;the ocean calm and the sky so blue with few clouds, it has you closing your eyes and wishing for that moment to last forever.

As you lean back on the kitchen counter after you've made yourself a cup of tea,you enjoy the rare moments of loneliness. You close your eyes and take a sip of the sweet honey flavor liquid and let the rays of the sunlight warm your face.

When you hear the sound of someone stepping inside the kitchen,you open your eyes;ready to greet Sanji, assuming he's going to make breakfast since he's always the first one to wake up. But what greets you is the sight of a very drowsy Zoro making his way toward you. You pour him a cup of tea as well and offer it to him;and eye him as he accepts it with a grunt. You grin and bump your shoulder to his,making him grunt again.

"not awake yet,sleepy head?"

"not my fault. Usopp snores. And Luffy talks about food in his sleep."

You snort around your own cup of tea, "what about Sanji?"

Zoro takes a moment to consider your question,a when he speaks next,he seems genuinely surprised by his answer.

"he... actually isnt so bothersome when he sleeps. Which is weird, considering how annoying he is when he's awake."

You throw your head back and laugh;the sound so refreshing in the silence of the morning. Zoro takes a sip of his tea,and leans on his forearms next to where you're currently sitting on the counter.

"why are you up so early?"

You shrug and tilt your head toward the window.

"the weather was too nice to sleep in."

"is that so?"

You close your eyes when the skies clears again and the rays of the sunshine warm your face.

"yeah."

You two bask in each others' presence;no need for any words,just enjoying the silence. The tea finishes soon,and with warm belly,you eyelids start to droop again.

"sleepy?"

When you open your eyes,you see Zoro's face inches away from yours;having you caged between his arms. You lean forward and rest your forehead against his, smiling when he lowers his head and presses his lips to your neck. You shiver,and wrap your arms around Zoro's neck.

"you know,i always dreamed of kissing my boyfriend on a kitchen counter."

An amused chuckle escapes his lips,and he tilts his head to one side while eyeing your lips; pretending to be confused.

"oh?then I'm afraid you'll have to teach me how to do it."

You giggle and pull him closer

"that,can be arranged."

When your lips meet,the morning feels even better. Zoro's lips are soft and move slowly against your own. Its everything you've ever wanted,and even more.

Because of mornings like this,you try to wake up earlier than usual every now and then;so you can have a small alone time with the man you love before everyone else wake up.

When a small sound escapes your lips as he bites your lower lip lightly,Zoro pulls back slightly and rests his forehead against yours.

"you have to keep it down,babe. Don't want other to wake up now,do we?"

And one shake of your head is enough answer for him to dive back in,and capture your lips again.

And you pray to every god you know,that mornings like this last forever.

#opla zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader

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604to647 · 2 months ago

Text

Sniffles

1.5K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

A/N: Inspired by @bebsjo’s ask about Tim wanting to take care of Shutterbug when she’s sick. I answered it but couldn’t get the thought out of my brain; thank you for the ask, love - please consider this a more complete answer! 💕

This is our The Rockford Portfolio couple but as always with their stories, can be read as standalone (though there is a relationship milestone in this one 😊).

Summary: You’re sick and you don’t want to give Tim your germs.

Warnings: None! Fluff. Snot. Soft!Tim, established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous).

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 / Series Masterlist

Tim is just putting the finishing touches on the arrest report for a pair of mid-level Pie henchmen when his cellphone starts to buzz with an incoming call. He picks up upon seeing from the caller ID that it’s you, “Hey Shutterbug.”

“Hey baby,” you croak.

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Baby, are you okay?” Tim stands up, ready to sprint out of his office to get to you.

Laughing at your sweet boyfriend’s reaction to a simple cold, you try to talk him down from the ledge in a soothing, albeit scratchy, tone of voice, “Don’t worry, Detective - it’s just a cold! But I left work early so I wouldn’t spread my germs around. I took some medication and I’m just getting into a bed with a hot cup of tea right now.”

“Can you FaceTime? Need to see you, gorgeous.” Not that he doesn’t believe you, Tim would just feel a lot better getting visual confirmation that you’re all tucked into bed, getting the rest that you need.

Your tired but still cheery face lights up Tim’s phone screen, and he exhales a little sigh of relief to see you already in your pajamas even though it’s still early afternoon, “Do you have everything you need? Soup? Drugs? Tissues? Throat lozenges?”

“I do, Tim – thank you, but baby,” the you on his screen chews your bottom lip and looks at him apologetically, “I don’t think you should come over tonight.”

Tim tilts his head, confused, “What do you mean? Who’s going to take care of you?”

You start to laugh but it immediately devolves into a coughing fit, “I’ll be fine, Detective! It’s just a cold – I’ll take drugs, I’ll sleep, I’ll get better. I don’t know how contagious I am, but I don’t want to get you sick, Tim. I know you. You’ll insist on going to work even when under the weather and you’ll be miserable. While I’m sick you should stay at your place, just to be safe.”

“But-”

“No buts, Detective. It’s not my first cold! I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Tim is about to respond when his Captain peeks her head into his office and gestures with her hand for Tim to follow.

“I gotta go, Shutterbug, but text me if you need anything and I’ll bring it over, okay? Feel better soon, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, Detective Rockford. Be safe!”

Four days.

You’ve been sick for four days. Tim takes some solace in knowing that you’ve taken the time off work to properly recover, but still… it’s been four days.

After the first night back at his house, Tim takes to sleeping on the couch in his office. Even though the mattress in his master bedroom is indisputably less lumpy, the couch is less depressing. At least his office is something: it’s work. His house constantly reminds Tim of what it is not: it’s not his home. It’s not with you.

Every time you and him talk on FaceTime, you’re decidedly still sick (are you actually getting worse?!) and the tiny bit of hope Tim harbours that he’ll be able to come home to you soon evaporates. He decides not to tell you where he’s been sleeping - you’ll just worry for his back, and then he would have to explain how miserable he is without you and make you feel bad.

Instead, Tim listens as you tell him you took yourself to the doctor to learn that you have the flu, not the cold, and listens at your wheezing laugh at how ironic it is that you had your flu shot scheduled for next week. Tim nods approvingly when you confirm that you’re having groceries and meals delivered and bites his tongue from saying that he could - wants to - do all that for you. He watches as you trudge to the kitchen in your bathrobe with your runny nose and messy hair to make food, and he tells you you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen - because you are. You tell him he’s silly but still give him the biggest smile you can manage in your exhausted and achy state.

You fall asleep every night while still on the phone with Tim as he tells you all about his work day and his current case, lulled to sleep by his soothing baritone voice. Even after you’ve nodded off, Tim doesn’t hang up right away – partially to make sure your breathing doesn't get too laboured through your stuffed up nose, but mainly so he can look upon your peaceful visage for a little while longer. He misses you so much.

By night five of sleeping without you pressed up against his chest, Tim has had enough. After work he makes stops at the grocery store and pharmacy before heading to your place. Laden down with bags full of soup and frozen lasagna, cold medication, ice packs, a new hot water bottle, cough drops, plus one plushie (something called a "Squishmallow"? Its "bio" on the tag says she’s a nurse) among other supplies, Tim turns his key in the lock of your apartment for the first time in nearly a week. Immediately, he’s hit with the familiar scent of your perfume and the peppermint of the tea you’re currently making; he knows you're in the kitchen just from the soft shuffling and sniffles he hears - all of it a comfort to his senses.

Now all he has to do is see you and hold you and he can finally feel complete.

At first you think you’re hallucinating when your big, burly detective appears in the doorway of the kitchen. You must be sicker than you thought - or maybe you accidentally took an extra dose of flu medication? But the strong, thick arms that wrap around you feel real. And the rough hands that cradle and massage your head feel soothing. You melt right into that hard but cushiony chest despite not being 100% sure it isn’t a figment of your fever addled imagination.

“Whhhharrhwudoongnhrrrrtm?” you mumble.

Petting your hair indulgently, Tim chuckles, “Want to say that again, Shutterbug?”

You tilt your head back to look sleepily at your handsome boyfriend, “What are you doing here, Tim?”

“I’m here to take care of you, baby,” Tim says matter-of-factly, “You’re not getting well fast enough for my liking – I’m missing you too much.”

You melt a little at Tim’s puppy dog look, but sigh, “Baby, I miss you so much, too. But if you’re here, you could get sick.”

Tim presses a soft kiss to your hot forehead, “Shutterbug, when we live together, we won’t be able to escape the other person when one of us is sick.”

Your gasp transitions into a cough and you have to wait until your throat clears before you ask, astounded, “You want to live with me? Even with all this snot?”

Tim nods as if to say, even with all this snot, adding, “Only if you want, Shutterbug.”

You wonder how long he’s been thinking about this, “When were you thinking would be the right time for you to move in?”

Very aware that you haven’t actually agreed to live with him, Tim answers with truthful, but carefully chosen words, “I’m ready whenever, if ever, you’re ready, baby.”

You look up at Tim wide-eyed, trying to make sure that he means it - that he’s serious about taking this next step in your relationship; when you see nothing but eagerness in the softness of his eyes and the steadiness in his bright, reassuring smile, you throw your arms around Tim’s neck, germs be damned, “I’m ready, Detective!! As soon as I’m better, please move all your stuff in!”

Tim hugs you back tighter than he probably should - absolutely over the moon that he’s never going to have to leave your side again, that he and the woman he loves are going to make a home together. So lost in his own reverie, he’s jolted back when you let out a whimper of pain, “Oh fuck, Shutterbug, did I hurt you?”

Shaking your head, you’re still beaming at your considerate boyfriend, “No, I’m just achy all over, all the time. You could never hurt me, Tim.” You genuinely believe this with all your heart.

“How about I run you a bath with these bath salts I bought and you have a nice warm soak while the lasagna heats up?” offers Tim.

“Will you sit with me while I’m in the bath, Detective?”

“Of course, gorgeous.”

“And we can make plans for the big move in?” You grin, eyes twinkling - you haven’t felt this energized in days.

“Nothing I would like more, baby,” Tim smiles as he hands you the plushie cat he bought you, grinning even wider when you squeal with excitement and crush the stuffed animal to your chest in elation.

You titter with happiness, grabbing Tim’s hand to lead him towards the bedroom. But when he doesn’t come readily, you turn back and to your confusion, you see Tim wincing, the hand not in yours reaching behind to press against his lower back as he arches in a painful stretch.

Eyes narrowing, you place the hand that’s still clutching Cassie the Nurse on your hip and tilt your head suspiciously, “Timothy. Where have you been sleeping?”

Btw this is Cassie the Nurse:

#Tim rockford #Tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fic: The Rockford Portfolio

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charlesslut16 · 11 months ago

Text

-He's sick-

summary : Sebastian is sick and you and yourk kids do everythingf you can to help him recover...

PAIRING : sebastian vettel x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope that you like this!

december masterlist ; masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You woke up to the sound of gentle sniffles coming from your husband, Sebastian's, side of your shared bed. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on his face as he stirred restlessly.

He was clearly not feeling well, and it was evident from the way he shifted uncomfortably under the blankets. Either he threw them away, because he was hot or the other way around, he held the blanket to him, as he was cold.

"Seb, my darling, are you okay?" you murmured concerned, reaching out to feel his forehead. It was warm, not alarmingly so, but enough to confirm that he had definitely caught a sickness bug.

Sebastian's voice was hoarse as he responded, "I think I've got a little bug, my love, nothing major."

Your heart went out to him. He rarely felt ill, but when he did, it was like the world had turned upside down. Today was supposed to be a relaxed day with the kids, full of fun and activities.

But plans needed to change now, and you were determined to make it as comfortable for him as possible. He needed to recover swiftly, because you hated when he felt off.

"Okay, my love, don't worry. I'll take care of everything," you assured him, gently kissing his forehead before slipping out of bed. Today was his day to do absolutely nothing but relax.

First things first: a comforting and tasteful breakfast for your loving but ill husband. You prepared a pot of steaming hot tea, a bowl of chicken soup, and some toast.

The aroma wafted through the whole house, and even though Sebastian's appetite was subdued through his sickness, he managed a few sips of tea and a spoonful of soup.

Meanwhile, the kids, full of boundless energy, burst into the room with wide eyes and curious expressions. They were confused that Daddy wasn't there in the morning to wake them up.

"Is Daddy sick?" your youngest asked, concern etched on their little face.

You nodded, crouching down to their level.

"Yes, sweetheart, Daddy's not feeling well today. We need to make sure he gets lots of rest and feels better soon, so we can play and have lots of fun as we had planned, okay?"

Their little heads bobbed in agreement to your statement, and with that, the mission to cheer up Daddy began. The whole day would be devoted to helping daddy feel better.

Throughout the day, the house was transformed into a makeshift haven of love and care. The kids gather their toys and books, setting up a cozy nest beside the bed.

They brought their favorite stuffed animals to keep Sebastian company and insisted on reading stories aloud, their voices a melodic chorus that filled the room.

You brewed more tea for your husband, bringing it in a cheerful mug with a bright smile. Even if you didn't want to admit it, secretly you loved taking care of Sebastian.

"Honey, I made you some herbal tea. It'll help soothe your throat."

Sebastian's lips curled into a weak smile, touched by the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, love."

The day unfolds with a blend of tender moments and laughter. The kids created handmade "Get Well Soon" cards, decorating them with colorful drawings and heartfelt messages. They sang songs, trying to make up lyrics that would magically cure Daddy's sickness.

As evening approached, you prepared a simple yet nourishing dinner. Nothing fancy, just comforting food that might entice Sebastian's appetite. He managed to eat a little, and though his spirits were low, the love and care surrounding him uplifted his mood.

Before bedtime, you gathered the kids around for a family hug. "Let's send Daddy lots of healing hugs and positive thoughts so he feels better tomorrow," you suggested, and the kids nodded enthusiastically, wrapping their little arms around Sebastian.

As the day winded down and the kids drifted off to sleep, you tucked them in, whispering promises of a brighter tomorrow. Turning to Sebastian, you saw him looking at you with gratitude shining in his tired eyes.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he whispered, his voice still raspy.

"It's what we do for our loved ones," you replied softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You just focus on getting better, okay?"

And as the night settled in, you lied beside Sebastian, holding his hand as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, surrounded by the love of his family. Tomorrow would bring a new day, hopefully, one where the sickness bug had bid adieu, leaving behind memories of a day filled with love, laughter, and unwavering support.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fluff #formula one #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #masterlist #christmas

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rinixo · 7 months ago

Text

variables

Tech/Reader | 1.5k | Rated E | smut, afab!reader, oral sex, Tech pov (mainly), Tech internal thoughts, slight possessive!Tech

He had never been one for flowery words, but as he closed his eyes he realized he understood now what the poets meant about devouring one another.

a/n: originally started out as a follow-up to auxilium, but ended up just being better as a stand-alone.

read on ao3

Tech’s sat on your floor, surrounded by communicator parts. He had offered to repair it for you when you mentioned it was malfunctioning. You had agreed, knowing that even if you said it was fine, you'd find it missing one day and returned, good as new, the next.

He comes over to your place more often, now. The first few times you had hovered anxiously, unsure of if you should find some way to entertain him, worried that you were boring him.

"I enjoy being in your company," Tech had stated matter-of-factly, halting your nervous fussing. Since then, you’d relaxed, going about your own activities while he worked on various projects.

He had built you some clever devices, intended to make your life easier. A tea kettle that would ping to your wrist comm, letting you know when it was at the perfect brewing temperature. A sensor on your door that actually worked, so you didn’t have to risk opening it up just to find some drunk passed out on your step.

Tech struggled to give voice to his feelings. He sometimes lacked the nuance that came easily to others regarding certain topics. It was easier for him to simply do. Every time he soldered a wire or tightened a bolt, it was a little testament to his affection towards you.

The sound of the bathroom door caught his attention. He watched as you emerged, toweling your damp hair, dressed only in underwear, content to let the rest of your body air dry.

He appreciated that you felt comfortable enough to share some of your quirks around him. In fact, Tech appreciated many of the small habits he observed in you - this one included, and not just because you were bare. Sometimes, he found himself musing about them while waiting for data to compile or during hyperspace journeys.

The way you flip your tools in your hands idly. There was a callus on one of your fingers, from the friction, and he could sometimes feel it when you touched him in certain sensitive places.

The lines between your eyes, when you frown. The subtle asymmetry of your brows, one rising higher than the other.

He likes that you don’t roll your eyes when he rambles, sitting through many impromptu lectures in good grace. The way that you’ll remember where he last left off, ask genuine questions, and invite him to continue.

He appreciated how he could sense when you wanted him to kiss you: your eyes darting to his lips, hands tensing and relaxing.

He cherished the tremble of your skin under his touch, whether his palm was spread over your abdomen or between your shoulder blades.

You sat on the edge of your bed, towel draped over your arm, looking humorously at the parts spread out on the ground.

“You’re going through a lot of trouble for me,” you joke. “I’d still like you even if you didn’t fix everything I own.”

“It’s no trouble,” Tech replies softly. Your knee is next to his head, droplets of water evaporating into the dry air. He can see the goose prickles on your skin.

A soft smile on your lips. “Don’t you have to go soon?”

Tech hums thoughtfully. His squamates were becoming suspicious of his increased absences. It was Echo who had approached the topic most directly, weeks ago on a long hyperspace transit back to Ord Mantell.

Tech didn’t know exactly why it bothered him or why he felt somewhat possessive over the knowledge. Over you. He had kept his tone neutral in response, hoping Echo would get the hint that it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. The former ARC trooper didn’t look convinced but had dropped the subject.

It didn’t stop him from paying you a visit the very next day, however. And the day after that. And most days since then.

“Yes,” Tech decides. “But I want to be here.” Placing his hands on your knees, he pushes himself up and over you. You eye him, leaning back to keep his face in view.

He slots himself over your body, pressing his nose just above your belly button. Your skin, still slightly damp, smells wonderful.

“Tech," you mewl halfheartedly. “I just washed…”

He trails his nose down to the apex of your thighs. “You can wash again,” he breathes, kissing the fabric of your panties over your mound.

You must realize it’s a lost cause because you lean back with a sigh and throw an arm over your tired eyes.

He kisses you through the fabric, suckling softly, The fabric grows wetter between his tongue and your slick. He can see the color of your skin through the translucency, swollen and waiting for him. But he has the time, and the patience, and the desire to make this last.

Pulling the fabric to the side, he flicks his tongue over your clit, making you squirm. Your thighs twitch, and he knows you want to prop them up. He obliges you in this way, letting one of them lift over his shoulder. The other he pats, enjoying the plush way they mold under his hand.

More than one previous lover had made remarks about ‘using his mouth for other things’, insinuating that his clever tongue could be used for more than wit. It had never really sat well with him before, the suggestion that he was too much, too talkative, that his mouth would be more useful to them elsewhere.

Tech didn’t feel that way about you. He could spend hours between your legs, memorizing you through touch and taste alone. He took great offense at leaving any job half-done, and this was no exception. He wasn’t satisfied until you were satisfied, and even then he would be so hyper-focused at times that it wasn’t until you’d pry him away with shaking hands that he’d realize you were moments away from passing out from pleasured exhaustion.

Tech moves the hand on your thigh down to ease two long fingers into you. Glancing up, he can see those lines between your brows, eyes screwed shut. He feels you tense and then relax, caught between adjusting to the new sensation and giving in to the continued assault from his mouth.

He’s careful, delicate almost. His tongue curls around your clit, his teeth just barely creating pressure. You pulse with it and he releases, wanting to draw this out further. He likes when you’re desperate for it, writhing and rambling nonsense. It won’t be until you’ve begged, pleaded, bargained that he’ll let you come. Tech likes to be awash in your praise - it makes his cock throb to hear how good he does it, how good he makes you feel.

It’s more than just physical pleasure, too. Tech supposes he could have stopped himself from falling in love with you. Love was powerful and dangerous. It wasn’t predictable and defied attempts at pathology. It required one to give up control and give in to vulnerability. It wasn’t logical, and it wasn’t something he had ever prioritized before. Lust was much simpler in comparison.

You threw unknown variables into the carefully charted graph of his mind, his perception of who he was, and his place in the galaxy.

It was overwhelming, at times. Something that would need to be parsed out eventually, tallied, and taken inventory of. But for now, he channeled it into attending to your body, focusing solely not on what he thought but on what he could feel, on the lust coursing through him.

The shadows on the wall change and the dimmed lights click on before Tech’s finished with you, pulling back to see you panting. This was some of his best work so far, he thinks, wiping his chin absently. His cock, pressing against his blacks, is achingly hard. He lets it pulse as he watches you, enjoying the edging sensation. He’ll let you decide, once you’ve gathered yourself, if you’d like to go any further. And if you decide that you’re tapped out, that’s all right - just as much as he likes to feel your mouth on him or be buried in your cunt, he likes to sit back and have you watch him stroke himself until he’s coming hard over his hands or spraying over your stomach.

You’ll attempt to apologize later, but he’ll quiet you with his lips. Why should you apologize, when you’ve given him as much as you have? When he desires you so intensely? When you sate the monstrous appetite he didn’t know he possessed? He’d have to find the time, the courage, to figure out what it all meant. What he wanted, what you wanted, and what - realistically - was possible.

But now was not that time, he knows, as you push yourself up and pull him closer. Tech holds your head as your trembling hands pull down his blacks, breath leaving him shakily through his nose as you take him into your mouth.

He had never been one for flowery words, but as he closed his eyes he realized he understood now what the poets meant about devouring one another.

#tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tech smut #tech tbb #the bad batch x reader

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starbunii · 4 months ago

Note

If you're down, can i get the fear of alcohol prompt w kaeya, tighnari, baizhu, and zhongli? I am so okay 🥹

. fear of alcohol (pt.2!!) 𓂃 ♥︎

𝜗𝜚 ┈ kaeya, tighnari, baizhu, zhongli x reader (seperate) ! ｡

notes: i do not think ur ok anon </3 i hope things get better soon, and that you're not in a dangerous place or anything!! please be careful. i love you sm

headcanons ノ fluff/angst (?) ノgn! reader ノcanon universe

second person pov !! please enjoy! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

-- ♡ --

kaeya

kaeya is more of a casual drinker, only hitting the tavern when he really feels like it. keeping it away from you isn't too much of a problem for him

ensures that you are far away from any drunkards you may encounter on the walk home, not wanting you to relive anything you went through

if you do happen to pass by a drunk that reminds you of what happened, he immediately shields you from them, carefully hiding your eyes

once you're finally resting in your sweet little abode, he immediately pulls out the works

fuzzy blankets, water, your favorite snack, gentle massages, your favorite book. everything and anything you want. he doesn't want you upset

holds you close and reminds you that what happened isn't your fault, and that it's not your job to care for everyone around you

tighnari

he hates drinking; despises it with his whole body

there's barely any alcohol in the house, aside from maybe white wine for cooking

you both stay away from taverns and any plants that might have an affect similar to getting drunk

you two mostly stay together at his house anyway, so coming across someone who's been drinking heavily is pretty rare

of course, if you two are forced to a social gathering with more drinking, he'll take you to a calmer place; if it's in the akademiya, he'll sneak you into one of the many libraries

you two will read to each other for a bit, before sneaking off back home

baizhu

baizhu isn't much of a drinker, aside from maybe the occasional glass of wine in the bath. he's not a lightweight, so it takes a lot for him to even get tipsy

of course, there is the odd occurrence where he might get drunk, but he'll make sure you're up somewhere safe, while he stays down in the pharmacy

he'll leave changsheng to keep you company, that way you don't feel as isolated as you did in your childhood

she'll curl up next to your legs, flicking her tongue out as a sign of affection

baizhu will be busy trying to sober up, trying all sorts of different remedies so he can come back to you

he'll come back upstairs, trying not to vomit

zhongli

like most of the guys on this list, zhongli probably isn't much of a drinker. aside from the occasional glass of osmanthus wine; which he tends to refrain from, due to the overwhelming wave of nostalgia

really just prefers to drink tea, and will gladly talk to you for hours about the history of all sorts of kinds

if there is alcohol at a gathering that he's attending, he'll keep both you and him somewhat far from it

he might grab one glass for himself, but that's kind of where it stops

if too many people get drunk, he'll take you back to liyue harbor and go on a mini date with you down there, just walking by the water and admiring the many ships

maybe if you're lucky, he'll switch to his dragon form and give you a little ride

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #kaeya #kaeya x reader #tighnari #tighnari x reader #baizhu #baizhu x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #ghost.writes

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vivwritesfics · 7 months ago

Text

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Two - Until Next Time

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive slight choking! Forceful sex! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this

Series Masterlist

The feeling of guilt didn't leave Bob for the rest of the day. He couldn't stop thinking about her, thinking about whether he'd ruined some important work or sketches that meant a lot to her or something. And then he thought about the coffee he had spilt over her lap. Was it burning hot? Did she have to go to the hospital instead of back to work? God, he hoped not.

He didn't have work that day, but it didn't mean that he, Jake and Natasha weren't hanging out. Normally they wouldn't run to the cafe to get coffee on a day like this, not when they had Natasha's coffee machine so close by.

Jake offered him a cigarette as the three of them sat on the back porch. Bob took it, placing it between his lips. But he didn't light it, not yet.

"Anybody want a coffee?" Asked Natasha. She stubbed out her own cigarette and stood up.

But, before she could get to her back door, Bob was there. "I'll get them!" He said quickly. "Latte and a black coffee, right?" He asked. But he gave them no time to answer and took off, leaving through Natasha's front door.

"What the hell was that?" Jake asked as he watched Bob disappear out of the front door.

Natasha returned to the porch to sit beside her fellow pilot turned Top Gun instructor. "I seriously don't know," she said, turning to Jake, her eyebrows raised.

"You think there's a girl involved?"

"With our Baby On Board?" Asked Natasha, her eyebrows raised. "Maybe it's the cute barista, the one with the pink hair," she suggested.

Jake looked back towards the door, but Bob was long gone by now. "Should we follow him?"

She shook her head. "He's getting us coffee. We can grill him once the cup is in my hand."

***

Bob didn't light his cigarette. He placed it in his pocket as he grabbed something, a notebook, from the passenger seat of his truck.

As soon as he had the notebook tucked under his arm, Bob set off, heading to the café. There was no guarantee she'd be there. He just had to hope.

He didn't see her when he first walked in. No, he was looking for a girl in a blouse and a grey pencil skirt. He wasn’t looking for someone dressed down in a sweater and jeans, hair pulled back out of her face. He wasn't looking at the back of the cafe, was expecting her at the front.

Bob walked up to the counter. He got the black coffee, the latte, and the tea (he might have been a coffee man, but it wasn’t always his go to. Sometimes there was nothing better than a good cup of tea).

When he turned back around, his drinks in the cupholder, he finally spotted her.

The sweater was blue, knitted. The sleeves were folded at the wrists, probably too long. The legs of her jeans were too long, hiding the shoes on her feet. She was undeniably pretty, something Bob didn’t notice the first time around. But, in his defence, he was too busy fumbling. Again she had a cup full of coffee in front of a notebook with brown pages. The notebook he had ruined just days before.

When Bob approached, she didn't look up, desperately trying to read beneath the coffee stains.

For a moment, Bob didn't know what to do. He looked around and awkwardly cleared his throat.

Finally, she looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a second before she recognised him. "If you’re here to throw another coffee over me, I'm begging you find another victim."

Bob managed a weak laugh as he set his own drinks down, this time without spilling any. "Actually, that's why I'm here," he said, grabbing the notebook from under his arm. "I saw that I ruined your notebook yesterday and I'm really sorry about that. I can't get back the stuff I ruined on the pages, but I was hoping this would help. Even if just a little."

Bob held the notebook out to her, their fingers touching as she took it from him. The cover was pink, with nothing else on it. She opened the notebook to find the lined pages. It was exactly what she needed.

Placing the notebook beneath her ruined one, she looked up at Bob. "What's your name?" She asked, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her chair.

"Robert Floyd, ma'am. But everybody calls me Bob."

"Do you wanna have a drink with me, Bob?" She asked as she picked up her mug and took a sip. She put the mug back down and licked the coffee moustache from her top lip. "Maybe then you can buy me a replacement drink."

Bob nodded. He pulled off the lid of his takeaway cup, added the sachet of milk and the sachet of sugar to his tea.

She took another long sip of her coffee. "You're an aviator, aren’t you?" She asked.

Bob couldn't help but smile at that. "Uh, yeah. I was in Top Gun last year. I'm an instructor now."

She nodded slowly. "You hang out at The Hard Deck?"

Bob gave a quick nod and stirred his steaming tea.

"Yeah, I went down there once," she said. "One of your guys flirted with me, and my boyfriend got so angry he got us kicked out." She had been smiling for most of the sentence. But, as soon as she had said it, the smile dropped from her face.

Boyfriend. Bob tried not to dwell on that. He wasn't here to get her attention in that way. No, he was here to make things right.

"Let me guess," he began. "He was tall, spoke with a Texas accent, and the name on his uniform said 'Hangman'."

Suddenly, she let out a snort. "No freaking way," she said through giggles as she looked at him. "You actually know him? That's hilarious!"

Bob couldn't help but laugh along with her. It was infectious and, as soon as he saw her face light up, Bob realised he couldn't get enough. "Yeah, that sounds like Hangman, all right," he said. All this time he had been mindlessly stirring his tea.

Bob shifted the conversation away from his friend and co-worker. "Do you come in here often?" He asked and lifted his tea to his lips.

She moved her head from side to side. Not saying no, but more like she was unsure. "I... do now," she said and finished her drink.

Bob's eyes moved to the notebooks in front of her. The one he ruined and the one that replaced it. "What were you working on? You know, before I interrupted."

When she didn't immediately reply, Bob assumed the worst. He had overstepped and she no longer wanted to sit and drink coffee with him.

She sucked in a breath, drumming her nails against the table. "Bob, did you ever have a vision for your life? You know, imagine the way you wanted to be loved, the way you wanted to love someone?" She asked, her eyes staring at the floor. If she saw when Bob slowly nodded, she didn’t indicate. "I did. But life threw curveballs my way."

She didn't say much more than that. Bob waited, his boiling tea in his hands as he looked at the disassociated look on her face. "Are you," he began, leaning forward in his seat with his arms on the table, "are you writing a romance story?"

She seemed to snap back into it, embarrassment written on her face and she sat up. That was all the confirmation Bob needed that, yes, she was writing a romance story.

"You've got to let me read it."

The look she shot at him could only be described as incredulous. "You have got to be kidding me, Bobby," she said, the corner of her lips twitching up. "I barely know you."

Suddenly, Bob was feeling brave. Maybe it was because her words sounded like an invitation. "Well, let me get you another drink and you can get to know me.”

Conversation with Bob was easy. He bought her the hazelnut latte with oat milk, just as she had asked (okay, maybe she was splurging a little) and sat in the seat opposite her, still working on his own tea. He was only too eager to talk about his life, growing up in Montana and how he had ended up in San Diego.

She listened, actually laughing when Bob attempted a joke (even if it wasn't very good). She talked back, offering up stories from her own life, making her own jokes, the kind that had him blushing red.

By the time they finished talking, their respective drinks had gone cold (the ones Bob had bought for Jake and Natasha hours before had been forgotten, already thrown in the bin).

"Crap," she said as she began putting her notebooks in her bag. "I didn't realise it had gotten so late."

"Got somewhere you need to be?" Bob asked. Because, really, he didn't want to leave this cafe, didn't want the night to end.

She shook her head. But then she stopped and gave a contemplative look. "Well, I should get going home," she said, pulling her jacket on and placing the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "But I hate walking in the dark."

"I can walk you."

He'd said it so quickly, he barely registered that he said anything at all. But he had and he couldn't take it back.

"What, so you can find out where I live?" She challenged with a teasing smile. "You're a little stalker, aren’t you, Bobby? That's how you knew I'd be here today."

There was a split second, a fraction of a split second, where anxiety took over and Bob thought she was being serious. But then she laughed and he visibly relaxed. She was teasing him, and doing a damned good job of it.

When she took his hand and pulled him out of the cafe, Bob's chest was hot. He'd known her a few hours and already there were feelings there. But she made it so easy for him. And that just simply wasn't fair (Bob knew she was a taken woman; she had told him. No matter what his feelings were, he hadn't acted on them and he wouldn't act on them. Feelings without action weren't bad, right?)

"So, why do you hate walking in the dark?" He asked as she led him to the end of the street.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Always have," she answered quickly. "When I was a kid I had these vivid, awful nightmares of getting snatched off the street in the dark and I guess I never grew out of it."

Bob nodded. It was fair enough, really. He was sure if he had nightmares as a kid that were bad enough to follow him into adulthood, he'd still be scared of the cause. "I'm scared of slugs and snails," he said suddenly, easing the slight tension in the air.

"What?" She asked before she let out a laugh. "But they're so cute!"

Bob shook his head. "They're not cute! When I was a kid I stepped on one and it exploded between my toes," he defended.

She stopped walking. "Bobby, you're gross," she said with a laugh and turned to the apartment building behind her. "Well, this is me," she said, fishing through her bag for a key. "Now you can properly stalk me."

She found the key in the very bottom of her bag. "It was nice to properly meet you, Bob," she said, the joking tone gone from her voice. "Thanks for walking me home."

"Until next time?" He offered, unable to keep hope out of his voice.

"Until next time," she echoed as walked into her apartment building.

But, before the door could shut, Bob caught it. “Wait!” He cried as she started up the stairs. He couldn't follow her, that would have been too much. “What's your name?”

“Until next time!”

Taglist: @biancathecool @not-nyasa @burningwitchprincess

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chaosheadspace · 3 months ago

Note

17 with Dreamling for the kiss thingy? Hope you'll feel better soon 💜

Thank you! I couldn't not make this library boys, hope you'll forgive me.

Hob protectively clutches the treat bowl as he steeps his tea. He hasn’t slept well, and he’s got the last double shift in the stacks so he’s figured he’s entitled to the last handful of candy from the kitchen.

The tiredness is manifesting as a slight backache and heavy limbs, just pronounced enough that he has to remind himself to be careful so as to not spill the contents of his mug in the elevator later.

His mind preoccupied with the lazy imaginings of tea slopping over the porcelain rim, splattering floor and trousers and burning his thigh, Hob’s sluggish brain doesn’t pick up on the footsteps coming towards him until spindly, familiar hands and arms wrap around his middle. Hob hums, lays his free hand over Murphy’s. The parts of his brain that don’t immediately light up and wake fill with warm affection. It seems like the presence of his fiancè revitalises him like nothing else, like mana to his soul. As it should.

But then. Oh, the fiercest of betrayals by the one closest to his heart.

“Might I convince you to part from one of the caramel ones?” Murphy’s warm voice seeps into his ear. Beguiling traitor.

“No,” Hob says quickly. “You can go home in thirty minutes while I have to stay until eight.”

“Mmmh,” Murphy hums, “I see.” He nuzzles the shell of Hob’s ear. “And how about a kiss? Might I have that?”

Hob turns around in his embrace and solemnly lays his hands on Murphy’s shoulders. “You can safely assume that if I ever refuse you a kiss I’m probably dead,” he says.

Murphy’s lips are soft and warm, and the slow drag of them against his drags his brain back to thoughts of dim rooms and plush bedding and sleep-heavy cuddles. Hob is so tired, and he wants so badly to lay down for a nap, preferably buried under said fiancé and a blanket.

Murphy’s hands wander to the small of his back, fingers working lightly up and down the muscles next to his spine, massaging until hob feels a lot like a puddle and nowhere near enough like a human to even be able to begin to fathom how he will get through the rest of this day.

With a last, small peck, Murphy withdraws and Hob can’t help the whine that escapes his throat at the loss of warmth, at the loss of external stability for his taffy-structured bones.

But Murphy is right, they both still have work to do, they both—

Murphy is biting his lip, failing to hide a grin. One of Murphy’s hands is hidden behind his back, and Hob’s ears catch the finest hint of rustling cellophane.

“You didn’t.” He says, scandalised, secretly delighted at Murphy’s sly deception. He absolutely would. He absolutely has.

“You are right, I did not,” Murphy cheerfully agrees, shoving his hand into his pocket with an even more obvious rustle, a tiny flash of gold blinking from his fist for a second. “I would never.”

And with another grin and a wink, he sprints out of the kitchen.

“You criminal!” Hob shouts after him, not even pretending to give chase. “You’ll regret that later!”

His only answer is a bout of raspy, deranged laughter that he holds close to his heart.

Maybe, just maybe it’ll get him through the rest of the evening.

send me a kissy prompt or read the other ones here

#dreamling #chaosheadspace's writing #library boys

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ficsilike-reblogged · 1 year ago

Text

Invisible Smoke - Three

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he finally gets some answers.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 9k ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED

A/N: I apologize for the delay and thank you all so much for the love on the last chapter. Life has been a little overwhelming lately. Work has been hectic and I had a close family member pass away. I am hoping to come up for air soon. Thank you for your patience. And I do feel the need to reiterate that I DO NOT keep a tag list. Sorry!

Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of bodily harm/injury, domestic abuse, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

What could you possibly say? The truth was out of the question, at least the entirety of it was. You couldn't and wouldn’t drag him into this more than he already was. Jake deserved better than being wrapped up in your mess. “I got caught up in something above my paygrade a few years ago. Thought I had left it in the past. I’ll take care of it.” You took the Polaroid from his hand and threw it into the footwell in front of you before making sure to press your shoe over it.

Jake was quiet as he started your car and pulled out of the lot, turning toward the direction of your little bungalow. Maybe you should have been surprised he knew the way—he’d only come over with the rest of the Daggers twice and Bradley had been driving—but for some reason it just made sense. Of course Jake would know. His jaw was shut tight, you could see the tendons working as his teeth ground together. But just as quickly as you noticed it, he relaxed. But he didn’t move to turn the radio to a different station or raise the volume. He just kept driving.

The rollercoaster of emotions you’d just endured had you sagging in your seat. While your tears had slowed to a leaky trickle, they didn’t stop. And you wanted to scream, to rage at the cruelty of it all, but mostly what you wanted to do was crawl into bed after making sure your door and windows were locked.

He’d ruined your night. He had somehow found out you were going to the Hard Deck and had purposefully planted that picture. You were almost surprised that he hadn’t slashed your tires when he had the chance, too.

But it mattered little when Jake pulled into your driveway and handed you your keys after shutting off your car. He followed you up to the small, stone stoop and waited until you waved him in to step inside. You felt his eyes on you as you turned the locks on your door and then double-checked the one on the handle before you wiped at your face. Mascara and foundation smeared against your hand and you grimaced as you noticed it. Fantastic.

“Do you want a drink or something? I’m going to call you an Uber but before then? I have tea, water, and soda I know you won’t drink. I don’t keep alcohol in the house, sorry.” You were rambling, you knew that. But did you stop? No. “I can also order something for delivery, if you want.” You sniffled and tried to resist the urge to wipe at your face again.

Jake’s shoulders rolled as if he were trying to shake off a bug before he shook his head. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed, Punch? I’ll wait out here.”

That sounded like he was staying. And, really, you knew you should be shoving him out the door and into an Uber you knew would take him back to his car and far away from you and the disaster that was your life. But you still nodded, trying to ignore how you liked knowing he’d just be in the living room, waiting. “Feel free to snoop,” you said, retreating down the hall.

“I’m not going to snoop!”

“Yes, you are.”

And then, as soon as Jake heard your bedroom door close, he started to snoop. He did have your permission anyway and that half-assed answer you gave him wasn’t sitting right in his gut. Your little house was neat, if not in need of a bit of dusting. Art prints in soft greens and light yellows were hung in straight lines with personal photographs, in smaller silver frames, dotted between. A bookshelf took up an entire wall and was organized by last name…except for the bottom shelf that was mostly empty with just a small stack of lilac spines and silver lettering. Jake bent to get a better look but paused, spotting two large but thin frames tucked behind the bookcase. He tugged one out and saw that it was your undergraduate degree from some university up the coast. The next frame held your Masters Degree. Both were covered in dust and forgotten about. Almost like you had purposefully shoved them away. Carefully, Jake put them back and tried not to think about why you wouldn’t want them displayed, and instead grabbed one of the lilac books. It didn’t have a traditional cover, just the title: Sunlight Filtered Through Champagne. Below it was a small sticker with “ARC” typed out in bold white letters. Turning the book to look at its spine, the author’s name now accompanied the title: Georgia Torrance. There was a small note sticking out of the top and Jake slowly pulled it out to look at. Thought you may want it in your hands! Can’t wait to see what you come up with next! What did that mean?

When he heard your door open again, he was quick to put the note and book back and stand straight, trying to make it look like he was just looking at the thriller paperbacks on the shelf at his eyeline. It looked like you had a grading system on the shelf, too, scribbled on a small post-it note, denoting happy endings and not-so-happy endings. There was also a note to donate all of the not-so-happy ending books.

It was like you needed hope that a bad situation could end on a good note. And then there were all the locks on your door. The handle of a baseball bat was sticking out from under your little couch. Your curtains were not open when you arrived. You couldn’t read thrillers that ended badly because you were living in a fucked up one yourself, weren’t you?

“I got caught up in something above my paygrade.”

The words didn’t sit right with him. This wasn’t some sort of government cover up. This wasn’t a case of you seeing something you shouldn’t have. The note had been too familiar and the photo had been too intimate.

“You look like you’re trying to think,” you said.

Jake turned and almost swallowed his tongue as he looked at you. You’d switched out your sundress for tiny shorts and socks that went up to your thighs. A baggy Navy t-shirt nearly covered your shorts. You looked so soft, so comfortable even with your eyes still a little swollen from your earlier tears. And it twisted at something warm behind his ribs.

“Careful, you might pull something if you try too hard.” The insult was lacking its usual heat but Jake hardly noticed. Something else had gained his attention. A large gnarled scar was peeking out from under your shorts on your left leg. It reached halfway down your thigh and Jake couldn’t see how high up it went. Whatever had happened, it looked like it had hurt immensely. Then he remembered how the slits in your dresses were always on your right side. Your shorts, while tight, always reached your knees. You had been hiding it.

Who had hurt you?

He must have been staring too long because you angled your body away from him and cleared your throat. “I’m gonna call you an Uber. Sorry for my freak out earlier. You coulda been home and asleep by now. Or picking up someone at the Hard Deck. God, I really fucked up your night.”

You were rambling again. And maybe Jake would have found it endearing in any other circumstance but not when you were twisting your hands into the excess fabric of your shirt and shuffling away from him to grab your phone.

Slowly, as to not startle you, Jake reached out and gently took the phone from your hands and set it on the couch cushion. Your face scrunched with your confusion and the divot between your eyebrows only deepened when Jake set his hands on your shoulders. “You gonna tell me what actually happened?”

Your features shifted and shuttered, falling into the casual annoyance you usually wore around him. “I told you-”

“Yeah, you told me something. Now tell me the truth. I was in that car with you tonight, Punch. I saw how scared you were. A picture had you just as scared as nearly getting run off the highway. Tell me what is going on, please.”

Your jaw clenched and you wiggled out from under Jake’s grip. “So you’re calling me a liar now?”

“No! I just-”

“I’m sorry you got pulled into this, okay? I am. I never should have brought you to the party. You never should’ve been in the car.”

You weren’t getting it. He needed you to understand. “I’m glad I was with you! I’m glad you had me with you—but you can’t just tell me that you have it handled or brush it off because-”

“I’m not brushing anything off!” You snarled. “Stop trying to play hero!”

It may have been easier if you had just slapped him. Was that how you saw him? “I’m not playing at anything. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me try.”

The glint in your eyes was near murderous. Jake had only ever seen you look like this once before and it had been when some asshole had yanked on Penny’s arm at the Hard Deck. “Just stop! I-”

“I know something is going on. You can’t convince me otherwise, all right? My mama always said that if you smell smoke, it’s ‘cause there’s a fire.”

You wiped a hand over your eyes and Jake hated how he noticed your chin wobbling. “Your stupid southern colloquialisms do not apply to this situation. There is no smoke!”

Jake stepped forward again and peeled your hand away from your face, sighing as he saw fresh tears lining your lashes. He never wanted to make you cry. Not ever. “There is smoke. And I want to help you. Let me help you.”

You sniffled and looked away from him again but didn’t pull your hands out of his grip. “I don’t fucking understand this metaphor. A-and I don’t want to tell you.”

The words cracked in your throat and Jake only squeezed at your hands. He was here for you. Couldn’t you see that?

“Invisible smoke or not, I’m not going to tell you. I’m not.” You shook your head and finally pulled your hands from his and Jake was prepared for you to step back and tell him to leave, to tell him, again, that you had this handled. Instead, your warm palms pressed against his chest and your tear filled gaze locked on his face. His next breath stalled. God, you were beautiful. “I don’t want to be the one to make you look at me differently. Just…just let me have the rest of this night, okay? I’ll text Bradley and tell him that he can tell you. But just let me have this last night where I’m not some stupid, broken girl in your eyes.”

Jake reached up and settled his hands over yours, noticing how goosebumps raced up your arms when his thumbs brushed against your knuckles. “You could never be. You’ll always be Punch.”

You sighed and almost smiled at him before shaking your head, pulling your hands out from under his. “No, I won’t.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you managed to convince Jake to watch a movie with you instead of talking or prying more, but you had a bowl of half eaten microwave popcorn between you on the cushions and The Mummy playing on your television.

This wasn’t how you saw this night playing out. Of course, a person could never really fit a car chase and a quick emotional breakdown into their schedule so, perhaps this was the best possible outcome. As Brendan Fraser’s Rick O’Connell gave Evy a pilfered toolkit in the most adorably awkward manner, your gaze drifted over to Jake.

And he was looking right at you.

Shit. Embarrassed heat washed over you and you quickly looked back at the television.

“C’mere.”

“What?” It was barely more than a squeak and you stubbornly refused to move your gaze away from the television again.

“I know you heard me,” Jake repeated, a bit of a laugh cracking his words. “Come here.”

“I’m not a dog, you know,” you bit back before you could think of being polite. Old habits do die hard.

But it seemed like Jake didn’t particularly care, because he moved the popcorn bowl onto your coffee table and then grabbed at your legs, dragging you over to him with a simple tug. The noise that escaped you was a mortifying mix of a squeak and a yelp and you fell forward with the force of it, hands falling against his arm and shoulder awkwardly. His warm, work-rough hands slid up your thighs, skirting over the scar that still left you grimacing even if the pain had faded years ago, and settled on the curve of your waist. Then, with another simple movement, your thighs were bracketing his and he was looking up at you with the stupid, beautiful sea glass eyes. There was something in his gaze you didn’t recognize.

Or maybe you did and you couldn’t voice it.

“What’re you-”

“You look like you needed a hug.”

You arched a brow and ignored the thundering of your heart. How many times had you thought about something like this only to curse your wandering thoughts? “Oh?”

“Yeah. And I’ve been told I give the best hugs.”

Your mouth twisted to the side—you weren’t sure if you were fighting a smile or a snarl. “Who told you that? Which one of your bed warmers-”

The words stalled behind your teeth when Jake leaned up just enough to wrap his arms around you, warm and solid. And you hated that it immediately brought tears to your eyes. God, how long had it been since someone had hugged you like this? Held you like this? You melted into his grasp like butter on hot toast, going slack against him until your forehead rested on the broad expanse of his shoulder. Jake’s movements halted for a moment. And, if you had been anyone else, you might have said you felt his breath catch. But you knew better.

“This means nothing, you know,” you said, one last ditch effort to not let him know how pathetically easy you were enraptured with his easy touch. “I’m withholding my judgment on if you give good hugs or not.”

You heard him smile before his hands continued their smoothing motions up and down your spine. “Okay, Punch.”

You could have argued a little more. Maybe mentioned how he probably needed a hug more than you or how you wouldn’t feel bad when his legs fell asleep under your weight. But you didn’t. You didn’t because you were so comfortable and your favorite movie was playing in the background and Jake’s cologne smelt so good…who could blame you for falling asleep?

You snored. Just a little. It honestly reminded him of like…a baby bear for some reason. But maybe you were just extra tired. Jake wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t been sleeping well. Either way, Jake slowly slid one arm beneath your butt and kept the other a little higher on your back and gently lifted you up from the couch; your head lolled to the side and fell against his chest as you let out a heavy breath. Jake pretended not to feel how you rubbed your cheek against him and let out a soft hum. Or maybe he filed that little sound away to think about later. Either way, Jake made his way down the short hallway and pushed open your door with his foot, wincing as its hinges whined.

Your eyes opened the slightest bit as soon as your head hit the pillow and Jake was sure he would never forget the smile you shot at him.

Then he was thinking about waking up every morning to your sleepy, happy smile. He was thinking about carrying you to bed after a long night at the Hard Deck. He was thinking of you. He had always tried to shove those thoughts down. He had tried to ignore them because he knew—he knew—that nothing could come of it. But now he couldn’t. He knew what it was like to hold you in his arms. He could deal with the paperwork, admirals, and ribbing from the Daggers…if it meant he could…well, he’d finish that thought when he knew you were thinking the same thing.

After shutting your door, and making a mental note to pick up some WD-40 for those squeaky hinges, he made his way back to your living room. He picked up the popcorn bowl and washed it out and then straightened the cushions, just like his mama taught him to do. The movie finished as Jake sat on your couch and dug his phone out of his pocket. It was well past one in the morning but he still pulled up Bradshaw’s contact and typed out a message. We need to talk.

He’d probably hear from him in the mor-

His phone beeped with a new message and he was quick to click on the thread. I’m on my way.

Wasn’t he supposed to be out in the desert with Maverick? What did he mean he was on his way?

Apparently Rooster was also psychic because another message came through. Cut trip short. Will be at her house in an hour.

So, Jake waited. He played a stupid game on his phone to pass the time and made sure it was muted so it wouldn’t wake you up. Every time he heard a car pass by, he checked the window. He needed to make sure it wasn’t the charger again and he wanted to meet Bradley at the door so you wouldn’t wake up when he knocked. Five more rounds of the mindless game on his phone and then he was standing up again, and watching a familiar Bronco pull onto your driveway behind your car. He was surprised to see Maverick exit the passenger side but waved them both in when they approached the door.

“Where is she?” Bradshaw asked instead of a greeting.

“She’s asleep,” Jake hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

“Have you checked all the windows?” Maverick asked, voice thankfully at the correct decibel.

“A couple times,” Jake said. Maverick knew too? Was he the only one that didn’t know what you were hiding? “Are either of you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Maverick looked at Rooster but Rooster was looking right at Jake, mouth set in a firm line beneath his ridiculous mustache. “I gotta see her first. All right? We’ll stay with her for the rest of the night.”

That just about crawled all over Jake. He was just going to shove him out? After everything that’s happened tonight? “No. No, this is fucking ridiculous. Tell me-”

“Seresin,” Maverick cut in. “You’ve had a long night. Why don’t you head back to base and get some sleep?”

“I-”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant Commander.”

That simple phrase repeated in his head as he sat in the back of the Uber headed toward the Hard Deck, and when he drove himself home, and as he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. That’s an order, Lieutenant Commander. What it actually was, was insulting. But he did as he was ordered, knowing that Mav and Rooster were trying to take care of you (and Maverick did have the authority to have him brought up in front of the brass)…but why didn’t they see that Jake was trying to help, too? As he stewed, his phone chirped with a notification from his sister, Mia. It was a picture of her sitting out on a familiar porch swing, the Texas night sky on display over her head as she smiled at the camera. She was holding up a cup—Jake knew it was probably filled with her favorite chamomile blend from a shop a few towns over from the family ranch. Hope you’re getting more sleep than me!

Jake sighed for the umpteenth time. Mia’s ex-husband, a man named Ryan who Jake had never liked, had up and left her for a coworker. She was understandably heartbroken and then when she discovered that Ryan had a child on the way with his mistress while Mia had been struggling to have a baby, she had been near inconsolable. It had taken her nearly a week for Jake and his sisters and mom to get Mia out of bed. It had been slow going to help her get back on her feet, even after the lawyer his mom hired managed to get Mia all of the marital assets and half of Ryan’s monetary savings alongside a hefty alimony. Mia had always been the strongest of his sisters, an older sister to the core, who had truly stepped up when their father had stepped out on their mother. It had been a cruel twist of fate that Mia’s marriage had turned out to mirror their mother’s so closely. Jake spoke with each of his sisters at least once a week, mostly just making sure they were doing okay and to lessen the bit of guilt he had for leaving Texas and them in the rear view when he joined the Navy. After tonight, he could use a little talk with his sister.

Jake hit the small phone icon beneath her name and it rang twice before she picked up. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up with my text.”

“I was awake.”

“What’re you doing up right now?” She grumbled.

“Had a long night.” That was putting it lightly.

“I thought you were going out with that girl, Punch? Not the girl of your dreams anymore?”

Jake bit back the groan he felt rising in his throat. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to. You’re my baby brother and I know you. She a bad kisser or something?”

“We are not in high school and I’m not having this conversation with you,” he grumbled, feeling heat start to flood his face.

Thankfully or not, there was a strange fluttering sound on the other end of the line, followed by a muttered, “shit!”

“Everything okay?” Ryan had shown up at the ranch Mia and their mother now shared more than once, raging about the divorce decree and/or asking for a second chance in the next breath.

“Yeah, just dropped my book.” There was a long sigh and Jake imagined her settling back down onto the well worn cushion in the swing.

“What’re you reading?”

“A book.”

He rolled his eyes but felt a smile pushing at his mouth. She could always make him laugh. “Mia.”

“Jacob.” She snickered before continuing. “The author’s name is Georgia Torrance. She writes romances and if you judge me I’ll figure out a way to get your superiors to ground you from flying for, like, three days at least.”

Jake’s smile widened the slightest bit before something clicked. Georgia Torrance. That was the name on the strange books in your home. Can’t wait to see what you come up with next! You had written them, hadn’t you? Under a fake name, sure, but that was you.

If this were any other situation, Jake would drive back to you and simply ask if had a second job as a writer but he’d been banished from your house by his superior officer. So, he’d just bide his time with that, too, he guessed.

“I think I’ve heard of her. She has a few books, right?”

His sister giggled down the line. “Oh, they’re some of my favorites. Me and a few of the other girls have been getting together, like a book club, to read them. It’s fun.”

Jake smiled. She was doing okay, leaning on her friends. “You like those scandalous books, Mia? Gram would be mortified.”

Mia hushed him, but another giggle softened the blow. “They’re a great escape from the shitstorm of my life right now. Don’t judge me. They really are well written! And they’re so soft, Jake! Like, you can tell the characters actually care about each other.” There was a wistful sigh on the other end. “And she does this thing in all of her books.”

“Thing?”

“Yeah, the hero in some fashion or way, always ends up carrying the heroine to bed. Just to sleep. It is in all of her books. It’s her thing. Her trope, or whatever. It is so romantic.”

The sleepy, happy smile you’d given him flashed in his mind and the smallest bit of tension released in his chest. He had made you smile while doing something you, apparently, thought was romantic.

“Are you okay?” Mia asked, pulling Jake from his reverie.

His answering sigh crackled over the phone and he thought of your smile again. “Don’t worry about me.”

Someone was sitting on your bed. You had the vague realization of the weight as you teetered between sleep and wakefulness. “Jake?”

“‘s me, Punch.”

You smacked yourself in the face while attempting to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Bradley? Aren’t you still supposed to be out in the desert with Captain Mitchell?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “But my favorite mechanic was apparently auditioning for the Fast and the Furious and we cut the trip short.”

Even in the dark of your room, you could see Bradley smile. “You hate those movies,” you said, hating how your voice started to quake. Hadn’t you cried enough?

“I do. Now, are you gonna tell me what happened? And why fucking Hangman was acting like your guard dog?”

Heat dragged up your neck and you were thankful for the dark of your room so Bradley wouldn’t see you almost smile into your pillow. “Is he still out in the living room?” He’d stayed for you.

“Mav sent him home. Wanted me to tell him everything the second we got in.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Bradley sighed again and his warm hand landed softly on your arm. He squeezed it gently. “Had to make sure you were okay first. You will always be the priority.”

“I shouldn’t be,” you muttered. “God, I’m not worth any of this. You should have seen him tonight, Bradley. He just wouldn’t stop. It was a goddamn miracle I was able to get us out of that without totaling my car. And Jake was just…” Traitorous tears stung at your eyes but you let them fall because Bradley had seen you battered and bloody; he could withstand your tears. “Jake was so nice to me. Patient. He doesn’t deserve to be wrapped up in this. None of you do.”

“Hey,” Bradley started, whispered tone bordering on disappointed. “Stop saying shit like that. I’ve told you this a thousand times: you are worth everything. You deserve better than the shitty hand you were dealt. And remember whose dumbass started all this? Me. It was me.”

“It wasn’t you though,” you said, trying to breathe through the tears still trying to choke you.

But Bradley said nothing else but moved a little closer to you on the bed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You weren’t entirely sure when you fell back asleep but you woke a few hours later with the first rays of daylight peeking through your curtains. It felt like you’d inhaled brick dust after being battered with said brick. Embarrassment was gnawing on your ribs as you rolled out from under your tangled blankets and set your feet on the floor. Everything had gone off the metaphorical rails last night. And a part of you ached at the thought of not having Jake around, even on the periphery, because you knew he would want nothing to do with you after he knew.

You stretched, hearing your back crack, and padded out toward the kitchen where you’d bet Bradley was waiting. And, yep, he was leaning against your counter, sipping on coffee you only kept in the house for him. His hazel eyes looked you over before he set down the mug, porcelain clacking against the linoleum. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit. Where’s Captain Mitchell?” You asked as you stepped into the kitchen, too, intent on getting to the lemon poppy seed muffins you saw sitting on the counter. Bradley’s hand slowly raising to block your path had you whining. “Why are you being me to me? I am in need of food.”

“You’re a brat,” he said with absolutely no heat. “And how many times has Mav said you could call him Pete when we aren’t on base?” He grabbed one of the muffins and shoved it at you. A few crumbs fell to your kitchen floor and you knew you’d have to sweep later. But not now. You took a large bite and almost moaned at the taste of it and continued to ignore Bradley’s question. Maverick was your superior. That was it. Keeping people at arm’s length kept them safe—well, you knew that he knew about your predicament but that didn’t mean he needed to be tangled up in it, too. “He picked those up for you this morning before he went to Penny’s for breakfast. Said Ice mentioned they were your favorite?”

You nodded and felt your lips curling up in a smile between bites. “He and Sarah took me to the bakery about a week after I got stationed here.” Tom had insisted that the poppy seed muffins were the best he’d ever tasted and after one bite, you agreed.

Bradley reached for one and hummed after he took a bite, nodding before taking another.

You two ate in silence for a little longer before Bradley, with his stupid baby cow hazel eyes, looked at you again. “What?”

“I checked the house over. It looks like nothing’s been messed with. But why don’t you come stay with me-”

“No.”

Bradley looked like he was trying not to sigh. “Punch, c’mon. It’ll just be until-”

“Until what, Bradley? I can handle this. He…he’ll probably disappear again and we can just forget this ever happened.”

“He tried to run you and Seresin off the road, Punch. Let me help.”

“You already did! You brought me muffins and checked out my house after staying the night when you should’ve been out in the desert and working on Mav’s plane. And that’s just today. You have done enough.”

Bradley’s eyes narrowed as he shoved the rest of the muffin into his mouth—which was ridiculous! He wasn’t even savoring it!—before sighing. “Fine. But you call me if you need anything, okay? Or Bob.” He then paused and you hated how his brow arched. That always meant he was going to say something he thought was clever but was actually stupid. “Or you could call Hangman.”

Embarrassed heat started to claw at your neck and you tried to ignore it and the knowing look in Bradley’s eyes. “You’re being mean.”

“You are asking me to tell him what the hell you have lurking in the shadows-”

“Don’t say lurking in the shadows. We aren’t in a horror movie.”

“-and you still refuse to see how much that guy is in love with you?”

The heat was now scalding and you were sure that your internal temperature had risen a few degrees, too. “Ken isn’t in love with me.”

“And you’re in love with him.”

Were you in love with Jake? No. That couldn’t be possible because, after everything, you knew that being in love and being loved just wasn’t in the cards for you. And the Navy would never allow it. And Jake was…Jake was your friend. And so far out of your league it was ridiculous. You weren’t his type anyway. And you didn’t have a type but if you did it would probably be…Jake. But you didn’t have time to think about that now because there was a tight feeling in your chest and your eyes were watering again and you knew that you were actually…probably…definitely…pathetically in love with Jake Seresin. Shit.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter if I am or not. None of that matters,” you bit out as you blinked back the tears. “Also, when are you going to tell Natasha how you feel?”

Just as you anticipated, Bradley’s cheeks filled with pink and it was his turn to look away. “I’ve got a plan,” he muttered.

The smallest bit of tension slipped from your spine as you realized your diversion had worked, at least marginally. Bradley did have a bad habit of jumping back to conversations you had thought you had moved on from. Oh well. “So you’re not denying it anymore? No more ‘we’re just friends’ or ‘you’re reading into it,’ now?”

The pink in his cheeks grew darker as he reached out to lightly flick at your arm. “I guess.”

Well, at least you had this small victory. And god knows he had been ignoring his feelings for Natasha for years. You surely hadn’t been the only one to notice; Natasha was just as far gone for Bradley but she at least hid it better. You were sure only you and Bob knew about her feelings. “If I were mean, I’d make you tell me your plan. But I am feeling charitable today and will just wish you the best.”

“You’re such a brat.” He pulled you into a hug and sponged a loud kiss onto your forehead before stepping back. After you told him to go home and actually rest, that you’d be fine for the rest of the weekend, and Bradley once again telling you to call him if you needed anything, he left with a final, “lock your door!” thrown over his shoulder.

And then you were alone again. Your heart gave a startled leap when you heard a car door slam a few moments later but you heard your neighbor’s squeaky front door open and close and pushed out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Great. You eventually swept the kitchen floors and double checked the windows before making the short trek out to your mailbox to check the mail. You stepped back inside and engaged all the locks before sorting through the small stack of envelopes and advertisements. Most were junk and quickly shredded and then put in the recycling bin. You smiled as you recognized your sister’s handwriting across one of the envelopes. Georgie still maintained that you should FaceTime every other week but her letters were a more frequent occurrence. This one was filled with details about her pregnancy and how her husband is being adorable about setting up everything in the nursery. She asked about your job and if you had any suggestions about what to get for your brother, Danny, for his upcoming birthday. You set the letter aside to flip through the rest of the stack but your heart fell to your feet when you saw the last thing in your hand.

It was another goddamn Polaroid. And part of you wished that it had just been you. Just you trapped in that white box. But no. It was Jake. Just Jake. It was him walking out to your car while you’d still been parked at the Hard Deck last night. Poorly drawn blood was bisecting his neck—it was supposed to look like his throat had been slashed, you assumed. It was a shitty drawing but it got the point across.

He could hurt Jake. He could hurt Jake simply because he was near you.

And you wouldn’t ever let that happen. There’d never been a threat like this before—Bradley and Bob never received one and you had been given no threats for them, either. So, it was just Jake. Just your Ken. You needed to keep him safe. Even if it cracked at something behind your ribs.

With all the subtlety of a freight train, you started avoiding him at work. If he walked in a room, you’d walk out. You bribed other ADs to be the ones to handle Jake’s jet. You didn’t go to the Hard Deck if you knew he was going to be there—which was more often than not. You ignored him whenever he called your name. It created a strange waiting game—you wouldn’t have been surprised if you had been called into Admiral Simpson’s office and reprimanded for disrespecting a superior officer. But weeks trickled by and nothing happened except Captain Mitchell giving you a disappointed look and Natasha asking if you and Jake hooked up and if it was bad enough for you to avoid him. After explaining that there was definitely not a hookup (true) and you definitely weren’t avoiding him (lie), you let yourself believe that you had managed to ghost him enough to keep him safe. When you received another Polaroid of you and Jake from the night of Junior’s party with Jake’s face scratched out and the words “I knew he couldn’t handle you” scrawled across the bottom, you knew you’d made the right choice. Then the next note, a singular scrap of paper tucked into the crease between your front door and its frame, read “all alone again? you never know how to treat them!,” your resolve only strengthened.

He could think you hated him forever as long as he was safe.

You could watch him flirt with every beautiful woman who looked in his direction and ignore how your entire body flinched at the sight as long as he was safe.

He just needed to be safe.

It had been three weeks since you had fallen asleep in Jake’s arms. And three weeks since you’d spared him more than a side-eyed glance. Rooster had been acting strange, too. While the other pilot hadn’t been avoiding him exactly, Rooster had volunteered to help Mav with the current Top Gun class and had been squirreled away in his office or in the classroom when not in the air. And while Jake could have metaphorically cornered Rooster by asking him over the comms, he wouldn’t ever bring up your name like that when other people were listening. So, when Maverick decided that the newest class needed to be introduced to Dog Fight Football after three pilots got into a screaming match and nearly collided with Phoenix and Bob during a dogfight simulation, he knew this was an opening he needed to take.

In passing, Jake also took the opportunity to ask if the support crew would be invited and earned an unimpressed look coupled with a, “they have been told that they are encouraged and welcome to come, Seresin.” Jake didn’t even care that Mav probably (definitely) knew what he was really asking because he overheard you telling Fanboy that you’d be there because Penny wanted someone to sit with. Perfect.

And you looked perfect when he saw you the next morning. Sitting on a low rise sun chair with Penny at your side and your toes buried in the sand, you had on that pair of shorts Jake dreamed about and a loose fitting shirt with the Dagger Squadron emblem over your heart. You were beautiful. He wasn’t going to shy away from it any more. No more using ‘special’ to hide everything else he wanted to feel. You were beautiful.

Now, Jake knew he was good looking. There was no arguing that. So, why not use it to his advantage? He strode up to you and watched as you looked at him over the edge of your sunglasses. And your face revealed nothing. You were a stone wall when you craned your neck to look up at him but he was undeterred.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Punch.” He then grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off, dropping it onto your lap as he subtly flexed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you hold that for me?”

You seemed to freeze for a moment before grabbing the shirt and neatly folding it. “Sure.” Then you leaned to the side, completely ignoring him, and shouted, “Bradley! Give me your shirt before it gets wet!” Rooster’s shirt eventually turned into Javy’s shirt, Phoenix’s shirt, and Payback’s shirt, and then you made sure that Bob had enough sunscreen on. And Jake watched all of it happen, little more than another bit of sand on your periphery. Just as he was about to call it quits on this attempt, you called out to him. He turned to you to see you looking at him over the edge of your sunglasses again. “Pull up your shorts. You’re about to give everyone a show.”

Penny let out a choked laugh that she tried to hide behind her hand before Jake tugged at the waistband of his shorts, moving them up marginally.

“There you go, Ken. Now you’re almost suitable for public consumption.”

“I prefer private consumption, Punch.” Jake winked at Penny when she laughed again before turning his attention back to you. “I could give you a free preview after we show these kids how to play nicely with each other.”

Jake watched you roll your lips into your mouth before you turned your head away as you pretended (he was sure!) to straighten the small stack of shirts you had collected. “That’s inappropriate. And you of all people don’t know how to play nicely.”

“Oh, Punch,” Jake said, letting as much of his Texan twang seep into his tone as possible when he leaned down to make sure you could look him in the eye (or ogle him correctly). “I play very nicely.”

You licked your lips and looked away but Jake saw your throat bob. “Make sure to tackle Royal into the sand,” you said, mentioning one of the Top Gun pilots who had been involved in the screaming match. “He’s been acting up with the other ADs.”

Well, that was a start. Maybe. “You got it, Punch.”

Then, forty-two seconds into the game, Jake did just that. He looked back at you to see you hiding a laugh behind your hands while Penny roared beside you as Royal yelled about getting sand in his mouth.

The game continued and the grumpy group of pilots eventually started to get along–not as well as the Dagger Squad, but they were something special. Maverick seemed to agree with the exasperated look he shared with Jake and Rooster when they finally called it a day. Penny invited them all up to the Hard Deck for a drink and that seemed to smooth the rest of the rough edges this group came in with, or at least most of them. Maverick bought the first round but Jake was quick to buy another for the Dagger Squadron when that was quickly drained. And, because he was definitely trying to track you through the steadily growing crowd (covertly), Jake spotted you at one of the hightops outside on the deck. Bob and Phoenix were with you, laughing at something you said.

That was the happiest he’d seen you in weeks. Your smile was actually reaching your eyes—your eyes that finally had that light in them that had been missing.

A hand fell onto his shoulder and Jake swung around to see Bradshaw handing him another beer. Even though Jake was less than halfway into the one he already had. “Thanks, man.”

Rooster nodded and took a long pull from his beer before glancing at you, too. He rolled his shoulders before waving his bottle toward the door that led out to the beach. “Let’s talk.” He led Jake onto the sand with quick steps and then stopped just short of the water’s edge.

The other man was quiet for a stretched moment, quiet long enough for Jake to think he wasn’t actually going to say anything but-

“She saved my life.”

Jake tried to process the words before a scratchy “what?” was pulled out of his throat.

Bradshaw took another pull from his beer and then set the empty bottle into the sand by his feet. “The mechanic assigned to me when we were overseas talked a big game—his dad was some big shot who was buddies with the brass at the Pentagon. Name was Luke. He was a shit mechanic, to tell you the truth. Punch would sometimes come in behind him, usually after hours, and double check everything he did. I would talk to her whenever I caught her doing it. She was embarrassed and asked me not to tell anyone and for a few weeks I just didn’t see her, didn’t think anything of it, really. Maybe because I thought she was finally doing something about all the bruising I kept seeing crop on her face. She changed the subject when I asked her once if she was okay.” Jake knew what self-loathing sounded like and right now it was bleeding out of Bradshaw’s every word.

“Then, one day, we get sent out. I run in and half-ass my preflight checks because I was a stupid kid who wanted to make a name for himself. I wasn’t always so careful.” He bared his teeth for a moment. “Stupid. I was so stupid. I’m about to get into the slingshot and she just darts out in front of me, waving her arms and screaming something I can’t hear. She nearly gets taken down by MPs and other officers and I’m fuming, I’m so mad that the rest of my squadron get to go out and I’m grounded by some crazy mechanic.” He shook his head before his hands curled to fists at his sides. “But I’ll never forget how desperate she sounded, screaming that the routine maintenance I would have been needing for the past three weeks hadn’t been done properly. He had been drunk in the hangar. For weeks. When my commander looked my plane over, he said I was lucky I wasn’t sitting in a goddamn body bag. It was a ticking time bomb.”

Jake’s heartbeat was echoing in his ears as he looked at Bradshaw. But more was yet to come.

“I found her trying to hold her leg together just outside the hangar. That asshole took a pair of pliers and…” Rooster’s hand twisted and jerked and Jake could imagine the sharp tool moving like that, moving against you. “He did it just to…just to make her bleed and try to make her apologize for saving my life. One of her eyes was swollen shut and she…” His mouth twisted to the side as if he needed to compose himself before continuing. “She could barely tell me who did it to her before she passed out. Punch was in medical for a week. They wouldn’t let me see her; the only visit I got was from two star who asked what I knew. The next thing I know, she’s been sent back to her shore station and Luke’s disappeared, too. It took me months to learn that all that guy got was a damn Letter of Admonishment and a commercial flight back home.”

“That’s it? That’s all he got?” Rage punctuated each syllable, an unmistakable and inescapable heat starting to burn in his chest.

Rooster scrubbed a hand down his face before continuing. “And what makes it fucking worse is that she was dating him. Dating himand coming to the hangar looking like she’d just gone three rounds with a heavyweight and I didn’t connect the dots until that two star let it slip.”

The rageful heat in Jake’s chest splintered as he thought of you being hurt like that by someone you trusted. How could someone do that to you while claiming to love you? How could anyone do that?

“This was my fault. Mine. She may think it is all hers but if I had asked her just one more time if she needed help, I could have had Luke dishonorably discharged and Punch would be…”

Safe.

Healthy.

Unafraid.

“She was so in love with him and he made her believe he would be the only one who could ever love her. Got it in her mind that no one else would ever lower themselves to love her.”

There was a pointed look shot in his direction that Jake tried to not read too much into (right now).

But Rooster pressed on. “I took a gamble and called Tom…Admiral Kazansky,” he quickly reiterated. “He’d been just about as constant in my life as he could be, you know. Always said I could call if I needed anything. And I just needed her safe.”

The strange look in Rooster’s gaze kept Jake quiet despite the dozens of questions running through his mind.

“He learned what happened and what she did and the next day she gets orders to Hawaii. Then to Kitsap in Washington. The furthest east she got was Fallon in Nevada. She was firmly planted under Kazansky’s oversight. I thought it would keep her safe.”

“But she kept volunteering for deployments,” Jake said after Bradshaw fell into an agitated quiet, like he was searching for words. He didn’t think that your throwaway anecdote from the engagement party would mean this.

“That piece of shit somehow found out where she was going to be at a port call and arrived the day before she was supposed to get back on the carrier. He nearly strangled her to death.”

The murmured stories you had half heartedly given were starting to create a through line. “That was when Bob stepped in. He said they met on deployment.”

Rooster nodded. “Apparently that LoA was to blame for Luke not getting promoted. He blamed her. It didn’t matter that she could have gone in front of the brass and had him court martialed. It didn’t matter that she took money from his just-as-shitty father to keep her quiet. He still saw her as the reason he was given a goddamn slap on the wrist for nearly killing us both. She was still the one that managed to get away. He should be in prison and he was mad about not making rank. Bob was the one who dragged him in front of the brass but that basically amounted to nothing. Again. She refuses to go to the cops because she thinks they’ll just brush it off or cover it up like everyone else does.” He knocked his foot against the empty bottle for a moment before turning to look at you back on the deck. Jake looked, too, seeing you let Phoenix drag you around in a dance. You threw your head back with a laugh as you nearly fell. Bob was cheering you both on. “Kazansky then had her stationed here,” Bradshaw said as they both turned back to look at the ocean. “It was a smart move. Kept her safe. The pilots never stayed but the ADs rarely rotated out. She saw it as a glass half full type of situation—she was trusted with the planes of the best pilots in the Navy but she wouldn’t have the opportunity to deploy as often, if at all. I’m pretty sure Kazansky had Luke shadowbanned from any of the stations he oversaw.”

But now Admiral Kazansky was dead, that was unspoken.

“And now Luke’s back.” The words sounded muffled to Jake’s ears as he said them. His heart thudded against his ribs as his stomach twisted. Luke was back. You were in danger. There was no denying it now.

“He is. And she seems to think that you’ve gained that douchebag’s attention and she just wants to keep you safe,” Bradshaw continued, an edge of exasperation starting to soak each syllable. “You are both so fucking stupid-”

“Hey.”

“-but I need you to help keep her safe, yeah? She’s going to fight you on it. Even more than she has already. But-”

“I’ll do it.” The words punched out of Jake with his next breath. And he meant it. “Whatever you think I need to do, I’ll do it.”

His wingman almost smiled at that. Almost. But he shook his head instead. “Seresin-”

“Punch?”

Both Jake and Bradshaw whipped their heads around back to look at the deck.

“Punch?!” Phoenix was leaning over the railing to crane her neck to the side in search of you, presumably. Bob was doing the same in the opposite direction but his face was scrunched in something almost like fear. “Punch?”

You appeared around the corner, balancing a tray of new drinks for your little group. Both Phoenix and Bob’s faces relaxed as they took the offered drinks, each kissing your cheek in thanks. As you set the tray down and said something to them Jake couldn’t hear before you turned just enough to see Jake looking at you. The carefree smile on your face faded as you glanced at Rooster at his side. You knew he had been told. Your chin tucked to your chest before you abruptly turned back to your other friends.

You truly thought he wouldn’t still want you?

That rage returned, burning behind Jake’s ribs. Not at you. Never at you. At Luke who had beaten you down physically and emotionally hard enough for you to believe that no one would love you.

But Jake was here. He would always be here. Waiting for you.

A/N: thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

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

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