Oscar Isaac Is So Pretty Bro I’m Cryinggg

Cardan and Juliette collaborating tho💀

HEAD I NEED TO GIVE YOU HEAD

You Think I'm-?

Summary: The reader helps a drunken Osferth to bed.

Notes: From number two on this prompt list. Contains drunk Osferth, Finan being Finan, Sihtric being a good bro, and some kisses. Fluff! Gender neutral and entirely undescribed reader. Unbeta'd and unedited. oop

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Uhtred’s men had, once again, spent an evening drinking in celebration. And you, one not as fond of ale as the three men, had found them singing in the street. If one could call it that. Their singing resembled far more the shouting and long drawn out cries of startled cows at pasture.

“You best shut your jaws before the alehouse bans you from the place altogether,” you remark, arms crossed as you regard them stumbling through the mud of the street. “Your singing is worse than the innkeeper’s wife.”

Finan laughs heartily, stumbling with Osferth as Sihtric smiles at you, steadying the young monk between them.

“And what would you know of decent singing, eh?” Finan teases. “Always the critic!”

“I’m sure they have a lovely singing voice,” Osferth pipes up, his ‘g’s exaggerated. As he attempts to take a step forward he practically careens sideways, saved only by Sihtric catching his flailing arm. The Dane seems to be the most sober out of the three.

“I think the three of you have had enough ale tonight,” you try not to laugh at the sight. You nod to Finan, making eye contact with Sihtric. “Go on and help the Irishman, I’ll manage Osferth.”

He nods, steadying Osferth on his feet and going around to the young monk’s other side to start herding Finan to the Irishman’s bed.

“Oi, why does baby monk get your help and I’m stuck with the Dane bastard?” Finan jokes, clapping Sihtric on the back, who playfully wraps an arm around his neck in a mimicry of a grapple.

“Because this baby monk doesn’t weigh twice more than a fat dairy cow,” you dig playfully as you sling Osferth’s arm over your shoulder. “And is far more polite than yourself.” Osferth smiles gratefully, sheepishly, at your words.

Finan laughs easily, and before Sihtric can stop him he reaches over and claps Osferth on the back, sending the two of you stumbling.

“He might be polite enough, friend, but watch him! He’s a sly one when a pretty thing like yourself is about!”

Osferth’s head shoots up, eyebrows high at Finan’s words, but Sihtric shoots you a look and wrangles Finan away at last, the two men laughing at something as they turn a corner.

“Come on, ‘baby monk,’” you say, adjusting his arm around your shoulders and you follow the other two men.

The two of you march and stumble your way through the drying mud of the street, nearing the building your party is staying at.

“Thank you for your help,” Osferth says, catching himself on a porch pole when he stumbles sideways, nearly taking you with him. “It’s easy to get carried away when you’ve got Finan egging you on.”

You grin in amusement. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Osferth,” you say, pulling him back onto the road.

You help him all the way to his bed, going as far as tugging his boots off when he drops onto the cot.

“The room isn’t spinning as badly as I expected,” he says. “You don’ ‘ave t’ do that,” he protests, words slurring a bit, but you’re already taking his second boot into your hands.

“Like you could do it yourself right now,” you scoff. “And I’ll not have you muddy up the bedding for whatever poor soul cleans up after guests leave.”

He slouches slightly, trying to hold his leg out straighter for you to pull the boot easier. “But you’ve got mud on your hands now,” he mumbles.

“Hands that I can wash easily enough,” you say, finally yanking the boot free, and putting it aside with its partner. “Stay here, I’m going to get you some water so you don’t die of too bad a hangover when the sun comes up.”

He doesn’t protest, not that you’d listen if he did, and so you leave the room. You wash your hands in cold water from the well outside, and fill his waterskin you’d liberated from his person, as well as your own, before hurrying back out of the cold.

When you return, Osferth is laid on his back. He is still in his robes and his leather armor over his chest, leather bracers still on his forearms. He’s at least undone the belt of his scabbard, though not fully removed it. You scoff, amused at the sight.

“Jesus, baby monk, can’t even get undressed can you?”

He opens his eyes to look at you from his recline, and you approach and sit on the edge of the cot.

“Come on,” you pat his shin. “Up. At least have some water and take off your sword properly.”

He hauls himself up obligingly with a light groan, legs a warm presence against your thigh as he adjusts and accepts the waterskin.

“Thank you,” he says with a gasp once he releases it from his lips.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” you repeat yourself from earlier, nudging him gently.

He grins slowly. “That’s th’ second time you’ve called me pretty tonight,'' he begins to tease good naturedly. “Don’t let Finan hear you say that or he’ll think you mean it.”

“Oh, shush your pious hole,” your face warms and you avoid his all too intense gaze, as lighthearted as his smile is.

There’s a shift in the air, as Osferth keeps watching you, his smile suddenly turning to a slightly openmouthed look of surprise.

“You do,” he says, vocalizing his realization. “You think I’m pre–-”

You act on impulse, shutting him up with the first thing your body finds as a solution before your mind can catch up, pressing a quick firm kiss to his lips. You’ve pulled away before he can process it, and then the two of you are sat there staring at the other with wide, equally shocked eyes.

“I—” you don’t know what it is you’re going to say, how you’re going to play this off, but it hardly matters when his hands embrace your face and suddenly he’s kissing you.

It's a frenzy, all lips and teeth and surprised whimpers and gasps from both parties, the taste of ale and fresh cold water passing from tongue to tongue.

The need for air pulls you apart at last, chests heaving. You aren’t sure when or how it happened, but you find that you are straddling Osferth’s lap, your ankle twisted in the long strip of cloth that makes up the front of his robes. His hands are on your hips, steadying you, and your hands are on his shoulders.

He stares up at you, eyes wide as yours must be, both faces an expression of surprise.

“Uh—”

“So—”

You both start at the same time, and then you burst into a fit of nervous laughter. “Oh, God,” you say, covering your mouth as you try to stop from laughing too loudly. “Finan was right.”

The smile that had been spreading at your giggles turns into a confused frown. “About what?”

“You’re sly,” you chuckle, pushing at his shoulder to show you’re only teasing. “How did I even get on top of you?”

“Dunno,” he grins again, loosening his hold on your hips as you try to untangle your foot from his robes.

You shoot him a stern look as you finally free yourself and stand clumsily. “Are you even drunk?”

His eyebrows shoot open. “Wh– yes–!”

You push at his shoulder again with a broad grin, and he falls back despite it having only been a playful nudge. “Good.” You collect your water skin and straighten your clothes, smiling to yourself.

“You’re not staying?” He asks from the bed, shifting about to lay properly on his side. When you look at him he almost looks disappointed.

“I’m not going to hump you for the first time while you’re drunk, Osferth,” you cock an eyebrow.

Both his eyebrows raise again, and he shifts on the arm that has him propped up on his side.

“And I don’t want to be caught by Finan in the morning,” you admit. “Another time, baby monk.”

His face turns pink when you grin at him, closing the door behind your exit.

Master of Puppets

Summary : You meet someone who caught your attention the first time, and he was all you desired.

But what happens when that desire is taken for granted?

Pairings: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!reader

Chapter 1:

Running across the apartment complex sure was a workout. The loud screams of the people getting massacred was enough to give you that adrenaline rush that you needed. Even if you feel your limbs go numb you would not dare give up so quickly. Not sure where to run off to, you let your body naturally guide you to the top of the complex. As you reached the top, you see a figure at the very corner. It was that mysterious guy you saw at the entrance of the complex. His white hoodie stood out to you along with this his light hair peaking out of his hood. Instead of heading to his direction, you felt frozen in place. Your body would not move and all you could do was look at him. He locked eyes with you, startling you in your place. Like a deer in the headlights, good job Y/N.  Feeling your heart aggressively palpitating against your chest you couldn’t help but turn around and run. Why did you run away? He’s obviously not the tagger are you stupid? You don’t know why, but those few seconds of eye contact with him gave you an unexplained feeling. Your heart was beating more than it should and you feel your cheeks flushed. What the hell was that?

The round finished quicker than you expected as a few people found the safe room. Leaving the apartment complex you were glad that it was finally over. Your body was in need of a deep rest after all that fiasco. Deep in your thoughts you failed to realize the figure standing in front of you, and you feel your body hit against an object.

“Oh, Sorry I-” you look up and see the same guy with the white hoodie. Your mouth stopped and it was as if your brain just lost all function. He looks at you curiously, wondering how you were going to finish your sentence, but nothing was coming out.

“Be careful next time.” Was all he said as he walked away.

And this was the first time you have met him.

****

The Beach was definitely not something you expected. Literally, you thought it was an actual beach, not a resort with people partying all the time. You had to admit, it was nice seeing everyone enjoying their time. It lets them know that even though it might be their last time here,  they should enjoy their days to the fullest. 

Walking around the bar you saw people dancing like there’s no tomorrow, people drunk off their asses and makeout sessions happening left and right. Seeing the people around you having fun made you want to get that same satisfaction. You grabbed a bottle of liquor from the counter and started to drink. The burning sensation immediately hit your throat. Taking few extra sips you walked to the dance floor and started to dance. You weren’t the best dancer but who cares? It’s not like anybody here is going to judge you based on how well you could dance. Several minutes go by and you feel the effects of the alcohol hitting you. Instead of continuing to dance you make your way to the pool lounge and jump right into the pool and screamed right before you hit the water. Laughter escaped your lips, particularly for no reason at all. You were definitely tipsy at this point. Swimming around the pool felt therapeutic, it was as if the water was giving you one giant hug that you didn’t want to get out of. Looking up, you see people laying down on their lounge chairs talking amongst each other. Observing everyone in the room, your eyes lock in to a particular person. One that seemed oddly familiar to you. He was leaning against the fence just looking at you, amused. Where have I seen him? Several seconds of eye contact go by and you remember. The guy from the five of spades game. You feel your heart do a somersault, your cheeks flaring up and limbs go numb. The alcohol really is hitting me harder this time then ever before. Breaking the eye contact, you swim to the other side of the pool to get off. When you look back, he was no longer there. Was I hallucinating? I had to be. 

When you made it to your room one big jump to your bed was all it took for you to completely knock out.

And maybe, that was the second time that you have seen him. 

****

The game was inside an abandoned cafe. A bell chimes when you open the door, grabbing the attention of the man and a woman already inside. In front of you was a table with two phones. Being the third one there, you picked it up to register for the game. Taking a closer look around the inside of the cafe, you noticed the old artworks plastered around the room. Despire the state of condition they are in, you couldn’t help but enjoy some of the work. One in particular that you enjoyed was the skeletal drawing of the face of a deer in black and white. You make your way closer to the painting, studying it. 

The bell chimes indicating that the last person has joined the game. You didn’t immediately turn around to see who it was, for whatever reason the artwork was very captivating to you. As the game was about to begin you turn around and see the same man once again. At this point you weren’t sure if its just a coincidence or if you’re going absolutely crazy. He didn’t notice you at first either. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Something in him told him he was being watched and as he looked up his eyes met yours. You quickly averted your eyes to one of the paintings against the wall. 

The game screen chimes, indicating that the game is about to begin. There are 4 participants and the difficulty is a three of hearts. Great. The game is called Spyfall. The rule for the game is to figure out who is the spy. The game ends when the spy is captured. 

Each person is seated at one of the large tables in the back of the cafe. There is one card faced down in each seat. There is a large distance among the person sitting in front of you and adjacent, to prevent any cheating. 

You pick up the card, hoping that you are not the spy. Looking at your card you see that the location is an Amusement park. You try not make it obvious that you aren’t spy, holding in the huge relief that has been carrying on you. If anything, this game specifically is more difficult for the spy because there is less people in the game.  Now, since you are obviously not the spy and the there is 4 participants total, meaning that there is at least a 33% chance that one of the other players is the spy. Attentiveness is important in this game, so the responses of the questions being asked are clues to what the role of the player could be. 

As everyone was asking each other questions and answering them, it was starting to get a bit difficult to figure out who the spy is. If anything, it seems as if they all are answering the questions unsuspiciously. The time was ticking and it was getting harder to think of other questions. 

“You seem a little nervous there aren’t you?” said the woman to you.

“What?”

“Well you keep fidgeting with your fingers and looking down, seems pretty suspicious of you. I mean, why would you be so nervous?”

You weren’t sure how to even respond to that. I mean you obviously know you aren’t the spy you have the card to prove it, but you can’t reveal that as it will give away the answer to the real spy, which is game over for you.

“Cat got your tongue?” she mocked. 

“I’m just taken aback with what you said, I mean what’s your proof?”

“You didn’t even answer my question. Why are you nervous?”

“I just naturally am. Is that a problem? I mean im not the spy.” At this point she was annoying the hell out of you and you wanted nothing more then to shut her up.

“Yeah that’s something the spy would say.” she rolled her eyes. “My vote is for her. She’s the spy i know it.”

You were in disbelief. It honestly didn’t even matter if you’re the actual spy or not in this game because if you are voted against then it’s game over for you. The game does not end until the real spy is captured or if the spy is the last one standing. 

You looked around to see what the other two men thought. The older man was silent, while the guy in the white hoodie had a smirk on his face, looking pretty amused at the cat fight that seems to have occurred.

“Well, I mean she is right. Your responses were one-worded and you were mostly quiet throughout the entire game. Everyone else here seemed to have talked more than you.” said the older man.

“See, it’s obvious.” barked the woman. 

“Im not the spy! How many times do I have to fucking tell you, and even if i do try to explain myself you’re just gonna dismiss my response as a lie.” you yelled. “Ask me more questions then and i will gladly answer whatever you guys throw at me.

The woman gave you a dirty look and the older man looked as if he was thinking of another question to ask you very specifically.

“Ok then, is this place somewhere you would enjoy being at?” asked the older man.

“Absolutely not,” you responded.

He looked at you confused.. “Oh, and why is that?”

“Because I will get sick.” and with that the older man seems to understand.

It gets quiet for a while until another voice begins to speak, “This game could’ve easily ended a while ago.” 

“See, everyone believes me!” said the woman. 

“Just because someone isn’t responding the way you want them to does not mean that they are the spy. Their responses were very straight forward.” explained the younger man.

The woman is startled, not knowing how to respond to that.

“And based on how you were responding specifically, you were too talkative. You kept trying to explain things when there was no need. It was starting to get annoying. At one point you slipped up on your answer and you didn’t even realize.” he chuckles. “Then you suddenly accuse her of being the spy. Seems like desperation isn’t it?”

You could see the woman’s face getting red, both of anger and embarrassment.

“You were getting desperate that you could not figure out what the exact location is, and in order to save yourself you thought diverting the attention to her would make you appear less suspicious, when in fact it only made you do the opposite.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was this guy really defending you? You are absolutely grateful for that but it was something you did not expect to come out of his mouth.

The older man seems to agree with what the younger man said as he nods in agreement. “Well I guess that concludes the game.” 

You all voted for the woman, and when she reveal her card she was in fact the spy. “I hate you all” was all she said before the laser immediately kills her. You look at the younger man who was now facing you. Feeling your tongue tied you had difficulty thanking the man that defended you, “T-t-thanks.” you said to him.

He gives you a smirk, “I wasn’t really trying to help you if that’s what you were thinking.”

“N-no not at all.” you look down, unsure on what else to say. He gets up to leave the building but you call him out before he could open the door. 

“Wait!” you yelled. He looks back at you, locking eyes with you with that same old smirk.

“What’s your name”

“Chishiya.” He turns around and walks out.

And this was the third time you have seen Chishiya, where it all began.  

Kaz Brekker and Mutual Ma$terba$tion.

Be My Hands: Kaz Brekker x Reader *#~

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clearly that was another plan he made that failed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled nervously at him which made him sigh.

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

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

Kaz watched her throat tighten as she swallowed before nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n, do not lie to me” he grumbled.

“I’m not” she sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Frustrated” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

He’d read the signs wrong.

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

His eyes shifted to her bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t sure he could handle this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smirked at him, “Kaz”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The material now wet and clinging to him.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

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

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

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

He nodded appreciatively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum for me” he repeated his earlier request.

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

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

Kaz smiled faintly, lifting his cane.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She scoffed, feigning offense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaz nodded as he sat back down in his chair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaz Brekker Navigation/Masterlist

Six of Crows Navigation/Masterlist

Freddy Carter Navigation/Masterlist

Main Navigation/Masterlist (all my works)

Kaz Brekker Tag List (comment here to added):

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

This was so cute omg!!!!

The 5 Times You Flirted With Bob + The 1 Time He Picked Up on It

Summary: You've fallen for your friend and have decided to drop some hints that you're flirting. Unfortunately, Bob doesn't realize that immediately.

Warnings: Language, no y/n, female reader, reader has a callsign (Honey)

Thank you to @dissonannce for this amazing idea. Thank you @acewritesfics for the dividers!

"Your hands are so big."

It took Bob a moment to register that you were in fact, talking to him.

"Oh! Um yeah. My ma made me do piano because she felt I was given the hands for them," Bob wiggled his fingers for extra effect, "Y'know, since they're so long."

Yes, they were quite long. It was one of the first things you noticed about Bob. Well, after you noticed his beautiful blue eyes, his endearing lopsided smile, the way he was so considerate of everyone else, so gentle, and yet there was an underlying confidence about him. He was sure of himself, but he didn't feel the need to brag.

Who could blame you for falling head over heels for him?

You flashed him a smile, hand reaching towards his.

"It's just, your hand is so much bigger than mine. See?" You propped his arm up, allowing your palm to press against his, both your fingers spread out to showcase the difference in size.

"See? My hand is so small compared to yours," You giggled. Bob looked down at your hands. Your breath hitched, your fingers twitching, dying to entwine with his.

"Yeah, there is quite a difference in size," Bob said, giving you that small smile you adored so much. That smile gave you the confidence to entwine your fingers with his.

"I think they fit pretty well together, see?" He wasn't letting go. He was still smiling as he looked down at your hand holding his.

Maybe this was finally it, he'd finally realized that you liked him and would-

"I'm gonna go get some more peanuts, can I get ya anything?"

You mustered up a smile, trying to cover up your disappointment, "I'll take a water. Thanks Robby."

As soon as he left, you shot Jake a dirty look, "Seresin, you said that shit would work!"

Jake, who had been pretending to play a game of pool with Bradley, Javy, and Mickey, put his hands up in defense, "Because it usually does! Everyone knows when a girl compares hand sizes it means she wants you!"

"Everyone but Bob apparently," Javy muttered.

"Maybe you just need to be more obvious?" Mickey suggested.

You sighed. You knew Bob. The last thing you wanted was to be so blunt it would overwhelm him. But at the same time, you two had been doing this whole 'friends but also more than that and I'm pretty sure we're flirting?' for the last month and you were getting annoyed with it how seemed to be going nowhere.

Perhaps Mickey was right. You were going to have to be a bit more obvious.

"Bee? You ready?" Bob called out from your living room. Bob's nickname of your callsign (Honey) always brought a smile to your face, as well as heat to your cheeks.

"Almost! Can I get your thoughts on this top?" You asked as you walked in.

"Yeah, I'm sure you look-oh." Bob's eyes widened as he took in the green top you were wearing.

It was tighter than the shirts you normally wore, highlighting your breasts. The fabric stopped right at the end of your rib cage, showing off your stomach and bringing attention to your high waisted jeans, which according to Jake "did wonders for your ass".

"What do you think?" You clasped your hands together, the action causing your breasts to stick out even further.

"Um the uh, the color is really great on you. B-brings out your eyes," Bob said, his eyes looking everywhere except you.

With the way his cheeks were bright red, it gave you confidence to step forward, your body now inches away from his, "I was hoping it would bring out something else besides my eyes Robby."

"I mean you you look great in everything you wear! So mission accomplished," Bob said quickly, his hands fidgeting with his car keys.

"Anything else you want to say about the outfit Robby? I really value your opinion." You stood on the tips of your toes, bringing your chest closer to Bob's face.

It was the first time since you walked in that his eyes landed on your chest. He cleared his throat, as if he was gathering up the courage to say it.

"You should grab a jacket, it's supposed to go down to the low sixties tonight," He said, turning around to head out the door.

God damn it.

You grabbed your phone, quickly texting the group.

Honey: We need to go to Plan C.

Rooster: Plan C?! You're saying the top didn't work?

Bagman: Dude, your tits were like out.

Rooster: Maybe they weren't out enough?

Coyote: If they were out any more, Honey would be getting a public indecency charge.

Phoenix: Maybe we shouldn't use clothes to express our feelings? Just a thought 🤦🏽

Fanboy: Yeah Nat, that's plan C.

Payback: Can we not blow up the group chat tonight? The finale of Insecure is on.

Your right leg bounced up and down in nervous anticipation, your eyes never leaving the entrance to the Hard Deck.

"You don't think this is too much, is it?" You asked your friends/coworkers.

"Nah, it'll be perfect!" Mickey reassured you.

"You and Bob are going to walk out of here holding hands by the end of the night, guarantee it," Jake commented as he lined up the balls for a round of pool.

It took all your strength not to jump out of your seat when you saw Bob walk in. His iridescent blue eyes scanned the room, landing on you. He always seemed to search for you, which had to be a sign that he wanted more, that he felt the same way as you did.

You greeted him with a smile, patting the empty seat next to him.

"Hey Robby! I got something for you!" You called out.

Bob just smiled as he sat down, "I see you got my signature: water and peanuts. Thanks Bee!"

You giggled, shaking your head, "Yes, but that's not just it. These are for you!"

Bob stared at the bouquet of flowers you were holding out for him.

"For me? These are for me?" He asked, eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes! I was just thinking, like why is giving guys flowers not a thing? Because it totally should be! And no one deserves these flowers more than you Robby," You explained, a hopeful smile adorning your face.

Bob gently took the bouquet, admiring each flower.

"I thought they would go well with your eyes-that's why a most of them are yellow," you explained, trying to hide how nervous you were.

"These are perfect," Bob said before leaning down to smell the flowers.

"Really? Each flower has a different meaning," you began, hoping that by fidgeting with your hands, you'd be able to conceal your nerves.

Bob simply smiled, his face the epitome of saccharine, "Oh, I already know."

Your breath hitched, "You do?"

Bob nodded, "Oh yeah! Alstroemerias symbolize support, sunflowers are for loyalty, and violets stand for intuition!"

He wasn't wrong. You couldn't tell if you were upset by that or the fact that Mickey forgot flowers can have more than one meaning.

Time for Plan D.

"Hey Robby! You ready to watch hot people make poor decisions?"

"Ready as I'll ever-that's new," Bob said softly, taking in the new loungewear you had on for your biweekly Love Island watch.

"Oh this? I think I got it last week," you said as you let Bob into your apartment, "It's super comfy and it has pockets!"

It also was cut low, showing off your cleavage, as well as the tops of your thigh.

"Yeah, the uh, color looks really good on you Bee," Bob commented. The compliment brought a smile to your face. He noticed you, noticed you were wearing something new, and seemed to be noticing your now exposed skin.

"Well, let's go see if these folks gain any common sense," you grabbed his hand, practically beaming at how your hand fit perfectly in his.

"Somehow I doubt it," Bob chuckled.

When he offered to hold the popcorn for while you two watched, you weren't disappointed. Sure, it meant you weren't able to hold his hand. But it did mean you could move closer to him, your thighs practically touching.

"I really hope he doesn't take her back," Bob muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.

"He will. They always do," you sighed, gently moving your head so it rested against one of his broad shoulders.

If your action had any effect on Bob, he didn't show it. Which was the problem.

"I would pick you in the recoupling," You revealed, hoping that would be enough, would finally be enough.

Bob smiled, placing a hand on your knee, "That's kind of you Bee. But I think friendship couples go against the nature of the show."

It took everything in you not to scream.

The rest of the night was just a typical Love Island watch night, no touching, no initiating, no declarations of love, and ending with Bob giving you a friendly hug goodbye.

With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed to check your messages.

Bagman: Bee, please tell us it worked and you're marking sweet love to baby on board

Phoenix: you're disgusting Seresin.

Rooster: why would they stop fucking just to text you Bagman?

Bagman: so we can pop some champagne to celebrate

Fanboy: Why the fuck is would we do that?

Coyote: It's a big event! Bee told Bob how she feels AND Bob's getting laid!

Payback: Can I just get one night of peace? Just one night?

You: No one's doing anything bc it didn't work!

Rooster: Not trying to be rude, but weren't you like almost naked?

Bagman: Like 52% nude.

Phoenix: JFC, we're going to plan E folks.

Coyote: Is that when we just lock them in a closet?

Bagman: No that's plan G

"Hey Bee!"

The cheerful, charming voice always brought a smile to your face.

"Hi Robby!" You greeted him with a hug, the comforting scent of rosemary filling your nostrils, "You smell really nice."

"Oh um thanks," A hand flew to the back of Bob's neck, a nervous (and also adorable) habit, "Wanted to smell nice after doing all those pushups out in the sun."

"Well it worked, you smell great," One of your hands reached up to the nape of his neck, toying with the hair that had curled at the end, "Look great too."

The tops of Bob's cheeks were now a dusty pink, "It's just a white Tshirt."

You took a step forward, placing your hands on his chest, "It's a good look Robby. Shows off your muscles. I like it on you.

Bob's lips parted, then promptly closed.

"Uh, t-thanks Bee." He had to know now that you were flirting with him. It was clear as day.

Feeling confident, your hands trailed down to his, grasping them, "We should dance!"

You didn't wait for Bob to answer, dragging him out to the middle of the floor. The sounds of Bradley covering Frankie Valli (begrudgingly, as apparently Jerry Lee Lewis was better) filled the bar.

After a few minutes, Bob's shoulders visibly relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. You threw your head back laughing as he bust out a goofy dance move.

Everyone thought Bob was shy, but that wasn't the case. He was observant, determined to get a good read on someone so he knew how to approach the situation accordingly. Once he was comfortable, his personality shined and he was a sweet, goofy man who you adored with all your heart.

The grin you had was so wide, your cheeks were beginning to hurt. But you couldn't stop, not when he was twirling you around.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" You asked, having to say it into his ear so he could hear your voice above the music.

Bob shrugged, "I come from a big family. When you know you're going to a lot of weddings, knowing how to dance helps. That and my mom made me do cotillion."

"Well, all that practice paid off. You're a great dance partner Robby." You rested your chin against his broad chest, looking up to meet eyes bluer than the ocean.

In that moment, all you could do was focus on him. The way the corner of his eyes creased when he truly smiled, his comforting scent, his pink, thin lips that you were dying to feel on yours.

You wondered if he could hear your heart pounding, if he could feel it since your body was practically on his.

His hands found their way to your arms, gently placing themselves on your biceps. Was this it? It had to be.

So you stood on the tips of your toes, your lips now closer to his. Your eyes began to close as you leaned in to-

"I gotta go. Jake stuck his foot in his mouth again."

This wasn't a lie. But it still didn't dull your disappointment. Nor did it sedate your growing frustration at this whole situation.

Perhaps you didn't need Plan G or H Perhaps it was time to go with your original plan.

The next time you saw Bob was when Nat threw a small get together to celebrate the end of a long week.

He was wearing that damn white Tshirt again. Whenever he brought his cup of water to his mouth, the fabric stretched across his bicep.

Was he doing this on purpose? Did he know? Consciously or not, that you had fallen for him ever since you two first met at training?

Either way, you were tired of this game you had been playing for the past month.

"Are you sure about this?" Natasha asked.

You simply nodded before taking a shot of vodka. A little liquid courage was always nice.

"Nat, he's oblivious. Honestly, I don't know why we didn't do this the first time," Jake commented as he took the shot glass out of your hand.

"Because we didn't expect him to be that oblivious," Mickey countered.

"Well everyone, wish me luck." You walked out of the kitchen to find Bob still sitting on the couch, glass of water in hand.

His eyes met yours and he gave you a smile sweeter than honey. Your legs began to wobble, whether it was from that smile or your nerves, you couldn't say.

You walked over, making a beeline for him. Bob's eyes widened, his fingers gripping his cup. Your gaze was so intense.

"Hey Bee-oh!" Bob froze as you sat down in his lap, your thighs straddling his lithe hips.

"Hey Robby," your hands found his shoulders, fingers toying with the thin cotton fabric of his shirt.

"Uh Bee, there's um, there's a seat right there," Bob weakly pointed to the empty space next to him.

"I don't want that," you leaned forward, your forehead grazing his, "I want you Robby."

His eyes widened once more, as if he just saw an incoming train, "M-me?"

"Yes. Wanted you ever since that first day of training, when you offered me a mint," you told him.

"I uh, you looked sleepy and mint is known to wake you up and," Bob paused, "Did you say since the first day of training?"

You nodded, smiling at how you were able to see him process this information.

"The first day of training?" He repeated.

"Yes Bob, all you did was offer me a mint and smile to make me fall head over heels for ya," your fingers now went up to the back of his neck, twirling the curled ends of his hair, "Been trying to tell you that for the last month."

Bob opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, his brain still processing everything.

"You good Rob-" You never got to finish your sentence, as Bob decided right then was the best time to press his lips against yours.

His lips were soft and tasted faintly of vanilla, no doubt from the chapstick you watched him reapply. His touch was gentle, his thick fingers ghosting over your thighs, trailing up to your waist. Every move, no matter how small, made your heart fluttered.

Being so close to him, you could smell his aftershave, a mix of eucalyptus and sage. It was intoxicating and you wanted to be surrounded by it all the time, wanted to kiss him all the time.

When he broke away for air, you had to hold back a whimper, your lips desperate for more.

"FINALLY!"

You turned your head to find Bradley, along with Mickey, Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Reuben standing by the doorframe, in perfect view of you and Bob.

You smiled and opened your mouth, ready to make a quick remark. But Bob's fingers hooked underneath your chin, turning your head back to meet his lips again.

Unlike the first kiss, this one was bolder. His lips moved against yours with more confidence. Your whole body felt warm, as if you were floating. His hands now cupped your jawline, which is how you learned that Bob's hands practically covered your whole neck, a discovery that sent you reeling.

Your hands trailed up to his head, desperate to feel his sun kissed locks, desperate to find out if they were as soft as they looked. But just before you could, Bob broke away.

"What?" Anxiety came rushing back, dragging you away from Cloud Nine, your previous location. Did he regret it?

"Let's go."

He moved your body to the empty space on the couch, quickly getting up. You took his hands, allowing him to help you get up. You held onto one hand as he led you to the front door.

"Bob! What are you doing with my backseater?" Javy called out.

"Making up for lost time!"

Maybe you should be a little embarrassed. But how could you? You had finally kissed the man of your dreams, he kissed you back. He wanted to leave with you.

The sounds of the house party fainted, becoming soft background noise as you went outside.

Bob stopped, turning around to face you. Before you could get out a sound, his lips were on you again. His hands pulled your body to his, closing the gap in-between.

You couldn't help but moan when you felt his tongue slide against your bottom lip, immediately granting him entrance. You could hear Bob's breath hitch, his hands roaming across your body, touching your soft skin.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you desperate for more.

"Why do you keep doing that?!"

"I...." His face was flushed, "I meant to ask you if if you drove yourself here. But you looked so kissable. You still do, God I just wanna kiss you again."

"I'm not stopping you Robby," you grinned, stepping towards him, "I'm not stopping you at all."

"Oh don't tell me that darlin'" his Midwestern upbringing laced his words. You always loved his accent, having found it not just unique but also comforting.

Somehow, despite his lips pressed against yours, Bob was able to walk you back to his car, your back meeting the cool metal.

His broad body draped over yours, his tongue frantically exploring your mouth. Your fingers reached up, grasping his hair. It was soft and much thicker than you expected.

What else was there about Bob you had yet to learn? What kind of toothpaste he used, if he drank tea or coffee in the morning. Did he fall asleep to rain sounds or silence? How many pillows were on his bed?

You wanted to know everything.

But right now, you just wanted to kiss Bob.

Your fingers tugged on his hair in an attempt to pull him closer to you. Despite his chest being pressed against yours, it wasn't enough. You wanted all of him.

"We should get in the car," He said, voice breathless. With the way his chest was rising, one would think he had just ran ten miles.

Bob began moving towards the driver's side of his truck, but he stopped, turning back to you.

"I want to take you home," He stated. It sounded like a confession with the way guilt laced his eyes.

"I would love that Robby."

Instead, he just shook his head, "But I shouldn't because you deserve more than that. You deserve a nice date, like that Italian restaurant we always pass when we go to Bradley's. You deserve that and flowers and a lovely dinner with candles and wine that's older than both of us-"

You cut him off by gently pecking his lips, "It's okay Bob. You could take me to that diner up the room from your place tomorrow morning and I'd be elated because I would be with you."

He shook his head, clearly torn between continuing to talk and continuing to kiss you, "But....it's the least I should do. I mean, after all the hints you were dropping. I thought you were just being friendly and-"

"What friend asks another friend to look at their chest?" You asked incredulously.

"I thought maybe we were just really close! That you were really comfortable around me, which is why I didn't think anything regarding what you wore when we watched Love Island. I mean," his face reddened, "I did think about it. Um I thought about it a lot and if you ever want to wear it again, I would not mind-"

"Bob," you stepped forward, placing your hands on his chest.

"I mean, you got me Violets! Those mean loyalty and devotion, as well as delicate love! And believe me I wanted to kiss you at the Hard Deck, but that is entirely Jake's fault-"

"As most things are."

"And looking back it was so obvious and I can't believe I didn't pick up on it," He paused, "Sorry, I I had to get that out. I can take you home or back to my place, whatever you want."

You giggled, delighted by his ramblings. You wanted to hear more of it.

"And now I just want to kiss you. Like all the time," He confessed, his lips moving closer to yours.

"Robby, get in the car," you instructed.

"Oh, um, okay," Bob unlocked his car, moving towards the driver seat.

"No Bob. Get in the back of the car," you instructed.

Bob's brows knitted together in confusion, "But then how will I drive-oh!"

Who knows if you were going to make it back to his place or yours. All you cared about was getting your lips and hands back on Bob Floyd.

watching topgun maverick ruined my life, before that movie i could've grown up to be the president for all we know, now im just a whore

PLEASE LORD HAVE MERCY IM CLAWING AT THE WALLS RN

Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

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

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

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

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

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

“Who did this to you?”

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

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

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already know who.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A flood of memories came back to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-” 

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

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

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

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

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

“Hangman, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You did the first thing that came to mind. 

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

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

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

“He has a key.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘No, I couldn’t.’

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

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

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—----------------------

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

—--------------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She is my business; that’s my girl.” 

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

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

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without warning, Devin swung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————————————

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You owe me nothing.”

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

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

claim. oscar diaz

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, some derogatory terms

requested: nope i wrote this a really long time ago and just found it

plot: oscar claims you without telling you first

a/n: just found this and reread and loved so i'm sharing lol look at all this content wow who am i??? anyway hope u like lmk what you think pls

masterlist

you spent the whole day receiving weird stares, feeling like everyone was talking about you. which was weird because no one ever talked about you. you walked outside over to where your friends sat eating lunch. you dropped your bag on the floor and your tray on the table.

"what the hell is up with everyone today?" you asked cluelessly. you friends looked at you, wide eyed and clued up. you weren't paying attention, you shoved a fry in your mouth, glancing up to see your small group of friends all staring at you. "what?" you chuckled.

"is it true?" your friend on your left was the first to speak, the others still sat with wide eyes and open jaws. jesus. what was wrong with them.

"is what true?" you continued to shovel fries in your mouth, assuming they were messing with you about something. you never suspected them to be thinking what they were really thinking.

"you and spooky?" you furrowed your eyebrows hearing his name, you stopped munching on your lunch. you and oscar were friends. your little brother ruby, was friends with his little brother cesar. so naturally you saw oscar a lot, he was always dropping cesar at your house and vice versa. he was nicer than people thought, he definitely wasn't spooky. that was a load of crap.

"what-- oscar? oscar diaz?" you clarified.

"obviously," she scoffed in disbelief. "you really have no idea?"

you looked puzzled between your friends who wore the same expression still. you were confused. "i don't understand."

"he claimed you."

"he— what?" you choked on a fry you'd just popped into your mouth, coughing and hacking as you tried to compose yourself. after a big gulp of water you let your jaw hang open. "he claimed me?"

"you didn't know?" your friend frowned. "it's all anyones been talking about all day."

that explained the whispers and the stares. but it didn't explain why oscar did it. you were just friends. or so you thought.

they all began to bombard you with questions about oscar. you blurred out the noise though. you didn't understand any of this. none of it made sense. oscar wouldn't just claim you. he's never even insinuated that he likes you like that. he was always friendly, and sure you liked him, but that didn't mean he could just claim you. you had to speak to him.

"is he good in bed?" you snapped out of your daze, frowning.

"we're not together." you shook your head. "i don't know who started this shit— but we're just friends."

you sighed, remaining silent for the rest of your lunch period. your friends got that you didn't want to talk about it and moved on. but you couldn't stop thinking about it.

straight after school finished you headed straight for oscar's house. you had to clear this up. you couldn't go around with people thinking you'd been claimed by a santo. it was ridiculous. it wasn't a long walk, you knew the route pretty well since ruby spent most of his time with his dumb friends.

you saw a few santos members hanging around outside his house as you got closer. you gulped, eyeing them up as you came up the path. no sign of oscar.

"have you seen spooky?" you questioned. you saw a few smirks, lingering eyes. you felt a little uncomfortable, you didn't really know oscars friends that well, you just saw them around the block a lot.

"he's inside, nena." you nodded, ignoring the pet name. you walked through the group of guys, ignoring the stares as you did, and up to the front door and knocking pretty loud.

the door swung open moments later, oscar standing in front of you now. you pushed passed him and came inside, eager to get out of the other santos members earshot. oscar scoffed, a small smirk on his lips. "come in."

you were pretty annoyed now that you were looking at him with your own eyes. now that you'd seen the way the santos were acting around you. it was making you mad. you never asked for any of this.

he could tell you were angry. "what's up, nena?"

"don't call me that," you snapped, harsher than you intended to come across. your mind was moving too fast. you didn't even know whether the rumours were true. he might not have done anything. oscar raised his eyebrows, taken back by your tone. "what the hell was that?" you pointed to where the santos where sat outside. "and what the hell are you doing telling people you've claimed me?"

his smirk drooped a little, but was still there. you crossed your arms over your chest. so it was true! he had no right to do that. no wonder the santos where looking at you like a piece of meat, no wonder people were whispering about you all day at school. everyone thought you were a whore. you couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of shit he'd been telling his friends about you. you didn't want to think about it. you were pissed.

"we're friends, oscar," you exclaimed. "you can't just tell people i belong to you now because you felt like it. that's fucked up." you raised your eyebrows, the strain on your face showing. he didn't react so much as he just ducked his head, wearing a sly smirk.

"y/n—" he tried to speak but you quickly cut him off. you hadn't gotten all of your anger out of your system. you wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

"no— you don't understand," you frowned, you walked closer to him, having previously been on opposite sides of the room. "people are talking shit about me. i know because even my friends were dying to know just how big of a whore i am now that i've been claimed. by you." your breathing was heavy now, his smirk was fading the more you spoke. "it's not the same for you. you claim me. you get all the credit right? your friends big you up. you feel secure in your masculinity. but for me— i'm suddenly a massive whore."

"you're not a whore." was all he said.

"i know that!" you raised your voice. "but everyone thinks i am— your boys outside were practically undressing me with their eyes— so don't tell me you haven't been telling them lies about me." you were furious with him. he had no right to go and treat you like this. you thought you were friends. you might of even had a little crush on him, but that was gone now. how could someone be so nice to you and then go ahead and talk about you like this.

"they what?" he frowned. he didn't look like he had any clue what you were talking about. "if they said anything to you—"

"are you even listening to me?" you sighed. "why did you claim me? i thought we were friends." you furrowed your brows. oscar was standing pretty close to you now. he could see how heavy you were breathing after you'd gotten all that off your chest.

"i had to," he said briefly at first. you folded your arms across your chest ready to go off on him again but he touched your arm. "just let me explain— ok?" you took a step back, letting his hand drop from your arm, but you remained quiet, ready to pick apart whatever bullshit excuse he had made up. "i never said a word about you— promise," his expression was pretty neutral. you couldn't tell whether he was lying or not. "whatever people are talkin' about is bullshit, ma."

you nodded, hesitantly taking his word for it. you were still pretty mad though. he still claimed you, you had no say in the matter. he didn't put it past you. he never confessed anything to you. out of nowhere. no guys would ever talk to you again once they found out spooky of all people had claimed you.

"i was just tryna' keep you safe," you furrowed your brows. you weren't in danger. "we've been hanging out more and more. the homies noticed you. no doubt people would find out we're close sooner or later. if something happened to you because of me— i couldn't live with myself."

your breath caught in your throat when you felt him hand touch your face. his fingers traced along your jawline. you frowned, pulling away confused. "wait— what?" where was this coming from? oscar was always so calm and collected around you. you hung out but he never showed any signs. and believe me, you were looking for them.

"i like you, alright?" he huffed, embarrassed he had to spell it out for you. "don't be mad at me."

"i'm not mad at you," you mumbled. "anymore, anyway," you both stood still in front or each other. he raised an eyebrow. you rolled your eyes. "maybe a little."

he breathed a quiet laugh. "m'sorry you had to go through that today. i should've told you before i did anything."

"yeah you should've," you agreed. he seemed pretty sincere but you didn't know how to react. you just stood quietly in front of him, trying to think of something to say. "sorry i shouted at you."

"i deserved it."

you nodded. "yeah, you kinda did." he smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders, but you were still confused. you had a little crush on him, you knew that, but you never thought he felt the same. you were convinced he didn't feel the same. so this changed things. you were suddenly nervous, unsure how to act around him. you hadn't done this so much before. you bit your lip, avoiding his intense stare. you didn't know what to do.

"y'don't feel the same?" he mumbled, disheartened. you snapped out of the daze you'd put yourself in by trying to think what to say. you felt so different so quickly. five minutes ago you could've said anything to him, now you didn't know.

you shook your head. "no— i do— i mean— i don't know—" you stopped yourself, ducking your head. you were really bad at this. you'd lost any sense of comfort you felt being around him. he was making you nervous, he wouldn't stop staring at you. you huffed, running your hand through your hair and turning away from him. "stop looking at me for two seconds, please, so i can think."

you heard a quiet laugh come from him behind you. you ran your hand over your face, you were embarrassing yourself. you just needed to talk to him as if you were still friends. "i do like you. i just didn't think you liked me, so i didn't think about it and now you just went and said that— and claimed me— and i'm— i—"

"it's too much." you sighed, nodding, thankful he'd taken the words out of your mouth.

"i don't think you wanna claim me, oscar," you had turned back to face him again. you were standing further apart now. you didn't know how to read his expression, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled taught. "i know how you are with girls and i don't think i fit your usual type."

he watched you rambling away, trying to talk yourself out of it before anything had happened. oscar moved closer to you, he grabbed your hand and this time you let him hold it instead of pulling away. your eyebrows were furrowed.

"we can take it slow," he reassured you. you took a deep breath, not expecting this reaction from him. you were sure you had scared him off with all your doubts and your talking. you'd never been in a serious relationship before. this was pretty new to you. you were so sure oscar wasn't the type to take it slow and develop feelings just for one girl, that you'd tried to talk him out of it before anything started. "i don't mind."

he tugged your hand, pulling you closer to him. he held both your hands now, his face inches away, he could feel your heavy breaths on his skin. you nodded, softly. "y'sure?"

he nodded. "believe it or not, i've had my eye on you for a while," you found it hard to believe but he was so sincere all the time he was talking to you, you had no choice but to believe him. "mami, you're the funniest, smartest and the finest girl i've seen in a long time— i've only got eyes for you. we don't gotta rush anything."

your heart was beating out of your chest. he was looking at you a certain way, you were practically melting. you opened your mouth to reply but nothing came out at first. a smile broke on his face, pulling away from you for a second. you couldn't help but smile too. how your mood had changed so quickly was baffling.

"do you realise what my friends are gonna say when they find out?" you scoffed, still kind of finding it hard to accept that oscar of all people was acting like this towards you. he laughed at your comment. you thought again. "what will your friends say?"

"mami, i claimed you. if anyone gives you any trouble. let me know." you nodded. you gulped at the pet name.

"yeah about that," you untangled your hands from his and poked his chest. "if you get to claim me, then i get to claim you too. on principle."

he tried to hide the smile on his face, nodding, agreeing with your terms. "fine by me."

"ok." you nodded.

"ok." he crossed his arms over his chest. you suddenly felt much more relaxed than you had before. things were starting to feel like they did before any of this was out in the open. you were happy. you smiled. "te ves bonita cuando sonríes."

you hummed a quiet thanks. your cheeks tinted, involuntarily. you tried to disguise it but it was hard. he was so good at this. you felt like an amateur. oscar just chuckled, placing to hands on your hips and pulling you against him. you wrapped two arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes so you could reach. you didn't realise just how much taller he was than you till now. he squeezed you tight and you laughed, pulling away from him. without thinking about it, he pressed his lips against your forehead. your hands moved from his neck to either side of his face. he had the nicest brown eyes you ever saw. you wanted to kiss him but something stopped you. you smiled softly, standing on your tiptoes once more to kiss his cheek.

you'd had a whirlwind of a day but you were pretty happy with how it turned out. you had a lot coming your way but you felt a little better knowing oscar would be there to defend you every step of the way.