currently writing

nina | desi | 24 | she/they

[deskofninak]

Masterlist

All fics are gender-neutral reader inserts.

[[ CRIMINAL MINDS ]]

Operation Infiltrate Mystery Sleepover (Spencer Reid) (Fluff)

[[ HARRY POTTER ]]

Mattheo Riddle Masterlist

I Found Love Where It Wasn't Supposed to Be (Marauders Era!Sirius Black) (Rivals to Lovers)

There's a Squid at Honeydukes (Marauders Era!James Potter) (Fluff)

[[ MARVEL ]]

Peter Parker Masterlist

Enchanted (Peter Maximoff) (Series)

What is human pain to an Eternal? (Eternals Druig) (Hurt/Comfort)

[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓴

Description: After you agree to a dare that you’ll kiss your longtime crush Oliver Wood if he’s ever nervous before a game, you don’t expect that day to finally arrive… or that he might want to kiss you too. 

A/N: So this my very first fic for someone who isn’t Tom Riddle or George Weasley… and is also my first attempt at writing Oliver Wood. I hope it’s good! 

Warnings and word count: Canon timeline is probably a little off. This should be taking place during PoA but there are no dementors here, just fluff. Word count 2.1k.

O.W. masterlist, HP series masterlist

“Come on, it’s your turn!” 

“Okay, okay! Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to charm McGonagall’s robes blue!” 

“What?! I’m not doing that!” 

“It’s a dare! You have to do it, or you eat one of Fred and George’s experiments… what were they called? Barfing Bonbons?”

“Puking Pastilles. Barfing Bonbons? I’m offended, Johnson!”

“Yeah, why would we name it that? You must have no faith in our marketing abilities!”

“Considering the last five blokes to try them went to the Hospital Wing for an ‘unidentified illness,’ I don’t think you’ll be marketing them at all anytime soon!”

The group dissolved into laughter, while Fred and George continued to feign offence to the barb. Angelina rolled her eyes, and turned back towards you, her eyes gleaming in challenge. 

“Alright. If you don’t want to turn McGonagall’s robes blue–”

“I definitely don’t,” you said firmly. The last thing you needed was to get in trouble with Professor McGonagall. 

“–then we need a dare that’s even worse. As punishment for rejecting the first one.”

“Oh, I know!” Katie exclaimed triumphantly, turning to you with a grin. “Oliver.”

You frowned. “What about him?” He was noticeably absent from the group tonight, something you’d tried not to be too disappointed about.  

Although, considering what was said next, you found yourself rather relieved he wasn’t.

“You have to kiss him.”

“I have to what?!” you exclaimed, aghast, and Katie nodded triumphantly. 

“You’ve liked him for long enough, it’s time to do something about it.”

“But… I can’t do that!” you protested. Katie shrugged while Angelina nodded in agreement.

“It’s either that or try one of the Throw-up Tiramisus.” she offered, and you shuddered.

“I am not kissing Oliver,” you said, aghast. 

“You could always turn McGonagall's robes red.” 

“Seriously. You’re going to make me?”

You stared at your friends in shock and they stared right back, unrelenting. Katie raised an eyebrow. 

“Listen,” you tried one last time. “The only time I would ever kiss Oliver of my own volition was if he was… I dunno, nervous about a game!”

“That never happens.” George said, completely missing that that was your whole point. You didn’t want to kiss Oliver because someone had dared you to. You wanted to kiss him because you wanted to, and he wanted to kiss you too.

Which would never happen, because you were fairly certain he definitely didn’t. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m not going to kiss him because of a dare, okay?”

“You know the rules! It’s either accept the dare or jump into the Black Lake. And it’s winter, so I would think very carefully about this.”

“I know, but–”

“The question’s simple, alright?” Angelina interrupted, crossing her arms and fixing you with a steely look. “Are you going to do it, or not?”

༺ ✧ ༻

The cold winter wind whipped against your face as you stepped out of the castle, following the throng of students heading towards the Quidditch field. It had snowed last night and was well below freezing outside, so you had been quite surprised to see how many people were going. 

“If I’d known this many people would show up, I would’ve come earlier,” you told your friend Scarlett, your teeth chattering as you side-stepped a particularly large, snow-covered rock you’d seen someone trip over earlier. 

“I think we should be okay,” she said. “I still see a bunch of available seats.”

“Yeah, but it’ll fill up pretty fast,” a voice behind you said, and you turned to see Fred Weasley grinning, his broom slung over his shoulder.

“Weasley! Don’t you start playing in like, what, fifteen minutes?” you asked.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Yep. Overslept.”

“I’d run if I were you,” you warned. “Otherwise Oliver might genuinely hit the roof of the locker room.”

“Nahh, it’ll be fine,” Fred waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

“And what’s that?” you asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“You,” he said, and promptly grabbed your arm, veering off the path and dragging you with him in the direction of the locker room tents. 

“Fred! What are you doing?!” you yelped, stumbling along down the snowy hill. 

“Holding you to your promise!”

“My what?”

“Don’t you remember?” he said, continuing to pull you towards the entrance of the tent. “Last week. You said you’d snog Wood if he was ever nervous about a game.”

“Yeah, because he never gets nervous.” 

Fred threw you a look over his shoulder. “Well, guess what he is today.”

You snorted in disbelief as Fred tugged you towards the locker room, reaching out for the door handle. “Please. He’s never–”

Fred threw the door open and you were met with sight of none other than Oliver Wood, pacing back and forth in agitation. 

“–nervous.” you finished lamely, and Fred dropped your arm, stepping up beside you and giving you a meaningful nudge. You shot him a dirty look, crossing your arms and standing there as Oliver looked up, apprehension written all over his face.

“Well, don’t just stand there, Weasley,” he snapped, gesturing at the open door. “You’re letting all the cold air in!”

“My mistake, Wood!” Fred chirped, squeezing past you and whistling a jaunty tune as he did so. Oliver glared at him before glancing back up and seeing you still standing there, stunned, in the doorway. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning, but his shoulders dropped a little and some of the creases on his face smoothed out. 

“I, uh…” You trailed off, glancing over at Fred and George. George was observing you and Oliver, apt, while Fred triumphantly polished the handle of his broomstick. To his right, Angelina and Katie were simply standing there, watching this unfold expectantly. Angelina had a slight smile on her face and you resisted the urge to glare at her. 

Seeing you weren’t going to get help from any of them, you turned back to Oliver, shifting awkwardly on your feet. 

“Just to say hi,” you said finally, and Oliver sighed, striding over towards you. For a second, your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat as he got far too close. Was he going to kiss you? He was certainly within close enough distance–

All your hopes quickly deflated as he simply reached past you, pulling the door shut and giving you a mildly irritated look, though it lacked any real malice. 

“You shouldn’t be down here right before a game. Only players are allowed,” he told you, even though you knew that. 

“Yeah, I just…” You glanced over at your other friends again, and sighed, shaking your head. “If you must know, I was told you were nervous.”

Oliver scoffed. “Nervous? I’m not nervous.” he said seriously, and Fred let out an audible laugh. He immediately looked at him, sharply, and Fred shrugged. 

“Tell that to the spot in the floor you practically wore off with all your pacing,” he pointed out. 

“I wasn’t pacing,” Oliver countered, “I was strategizing.” 

“On the ground? Quidditch is a game that takes place on brooms– you do know that, right?” Fred asked.

Another sharp look. “Yes, I know that very well.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Fred muttered and Oliver immediately pointed at the door.

“Out.”

“What? We still have ten minutes!”

“Out.” 

Fred grumbled something incoherent but grabbed his broom, slinging it over his shoulder again and walking towards the door. 

“The rest of you lot, too,” Oliver added, earning a number of insulted gasps from the players. “I need to be alone.”

Feeling rather crestfallen, though you didn’t allow your thoughts to linger long on why, you started to back towards the door too, but a voice stopped you. 

“Not you,” Oliver said, his tone considerably softer than it had been earlier. “You can stay.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly very dry as you heard a chuckle behind you. Turning around, you saw it was Angelina, giving you a significant look before following her team outside and letting the door swing shut behind her. 

Once you and Oliver were safely alone, he let out a long sigh, dropping down onto one of the benches with his head in his hands. You frowned, concern for him immediately overriding the nerves you felt around him. You’d only been in love with him since what, your second year?

“What’s wrong?” you asked him quietly, approaching him cautiously until you were standing in front of him. He shook his head and when he spoke, his voice was slightly muffled by his hands. 

“I don’t know,” he told you, sounding strained and tired. “We’ve played Ravenclaw and won before– a lot– but they have the best brooms of the season now, and a killer new Keeper.”

You raised your eyebrows. “‘The best brooms of the season’?” you echoed. “Doesn’t Harry have a Firebolt as well?”

Oliver glanced up, peeking through his fingers. “Yeah. But–”

“And they have a new Keeper too?” you interrupted. He nodded, and you scoffed. 

“Not as good as you, I bet,” you said decisively, and he took his hands away from his face, watching you speak. “I don’t watch much Quidditch, but I can say you’re by far the best Keeper I’ve ever seen.”

“If you don’t watch a lot of games, then you’re not really a reliable source.”

“Rubbish, Wood. I’ve watched you play, so I know my stuff. And there’s no way you can lose.” you told him seriously. 

“Thanks for your confidence,” he said wryly, tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling. “But I don’t think–”

“But nothing!” you cried. “I won’t hear any more of your protests but if I do, I’ll go ahead and see myself out.”

You took a step backwards towards the door and immediately Oliver’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and stopping you from going any further. 

“Don’t go,” he said instantly. “Stay.”

“You have five minutes until game time, Oliver,” you said, trying your best to disguise the quiver in your voice. “I can’t stay for long.”

“That’s alright,” he said quietly. “Just… stay.”

You swallowed roughly again, but nodded. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll stay.”

Oliver took a breath, then stood up and pulled you into a tight, nearly bone-crushing hug. You stiffened at the unexpected contact, then slowly relaxed into his embrace. 

Tentatively, you allowed yourself to wrap your arms around him too, feeling the coarse material of his Quidditch uniform scratch at your ungloved hands. He smelled like broom polish and the apple turnover you’d seen him eat for breakfast, a combination that should not have smelled as good as it did. 

He hugged you a little tighter, holding on for a moment more before releasing you and stepping back. 

“You should go,” he said reluctantly, still sounding worried but less so than before. “We don’t have long until playing time.”

“Good luck,” you said. “Even though you don’t need it.”

He nodded, giving you a grateful look, and you started to step back. Then, before you could lose your nerve, you lifted yourself up and kissed him on the cheek. 

It was a quick kiss, lasting no more than a second or two, but your lips definitely landed on his cheek. You heard his inhale of surprise but turned away before he could react, already rushing towards the door–

For the second time that day, he caught your wrist before you could leave and turned you around to face him. 

“What was that for?” he asked, light brown eyes alight with something indecipherable. You shook your head, trembling slightly.

“For luck,” you repeated breathlessly, trying to tug out of his grasp again.

“You missed.”

You frowned. “I what?”

“You missed,” he repeated, then pulled you to him again, his lips landing solidly on yours in a real, true kiss. 

You immediately froze, your brain completely malfunctioning as you tried to comprehend the fact that you were finally, actually snogging Oliver and that this wasn’t some fever dream you would wake up from in a couple seconds, before instantly regretting you were no longer asleep. You found yourself wishing he would never pull away, that this feeling would go on forever and ever–

He ended this kiss first, drawing back but just enough so he could breathe. His lips continued to hover over yours, slightly swollen and inviting. 

“That was…” you began nervously, and he exhaled hard, his breath warm over your cheeks. 

“Less talking, more kissing,” he murmured, starting to kiss you again. 

“Don’t you have a game to play?” you pointed out, even though you’d like nothing more than to keep snogging him. 

Oliver paused, hesitated, then shrugged. 

“It can wait,” he muttered, leaning forward again. “I think I need a little more luck first…”

A/N: Okay, there it is! This was pretty fun to write and I hope you enjoyed reading it. I’ll try to write some more for him as well as other characters in the HP series, as is one of my goals this year. Please request any specific characters you’d like to see, and a happy new year to you. And yes, a bit of that dialogue was inspired by the movie Elf!

Taglist: @viperify @xgloomy-kittenx @sea-lit-stars @kenobi-baby @rvvencrux @beelzebzb @m-mally @s00ty-feet @sophiadauno @princesspeach0-0 @lunxrstellx @peony-haze @h0eforjp @mintydew (comment to be added/removed)

[harddeckstories]

8-Pool Meltdown - Part 1

Summary : After too many drinks at the Hard Deck, your emotions are running high and witnessing everyone reject Jake when all he wanted to do was play pool, was your last straw.

Pairing : Jake "Hangman" Seresin × Fem!Reader

Important info : Your call sign is Lightning ⚡️:)

Disclaimer : English is not my first language so apologies for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading. Also I have never been drunk in my life so sorry for any lack of realism there💞

Word count : 6.1k

Part two :)

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“This is so much fun,” you declared, mostly to yourself, as you took a sip of your fifth drink, swaying slightly on your tool.

Reuben and Mickey had insisted to go to the Hard Deck on Friday night after a grueling week of training, and they dragged everyone with them. They even had managed to get you to come even though you were fervent on spending a calm evening at home. Their insistent pestering and pleading, along with Mickey promising to buy you your first two drinks, eventually sealed the deal for you. Who were you to refuse free drinks ?

Quite quickly after arriving at the bar, all of you had settled in your self proclaimed corner, the one with the biggest pool table which was also not too far from the throwing darts game.

It was later into the evening now, you had let yourself seduced by shots with Natasha and you hadn’t exactly stopped drinking after that. Sipping your mojito happily, you took a moment to take a look at the members of your squad, who were spread out in two groups. Natasha, Bradley and Bob seemed to be having a vigorous debate over by the dart board, while Javy, Reuben, Mickey and Jake were engrossed into a party of pool, which Jake was leading, of course.

Bradley had invited you to their game a little while ago but you had gently refused, opting to just sit for a moment, content to watch your friends have fun while enjoying the warm feeling the alcohol was giving you. It wasn’t very often you drank, not really liking the way you became so emotional and loosed tongue. But so far, you seemed to be doing fine, the liquor in your system making you feel giddy for once and not so mushy like it usually did.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, how the hell are you still winning when there’s three of us against you ?” Mickey complained, which caught your attention.

“This is actually starting to feel unfair,” Reuben agreed, putting his cue stick on the pool table, while Javy was letting out an exasperated grumble.

“I don’t know boys, I’m just that good. There’s nothing you can do about it except maybe just make peace with it,” Jake retorted, a smirk brighter than the sun itself stretching his lips. “Let’s go again, I promise to go easy on you this time.” He winked charmingly at his three friends who were staring at him with infiltrated irritation.

“No way, I’m out.” Javy capitulated, throwing his arms in the air before walking towards the bar.

“Okay,” Jake smiled, letting the last syllable linger, “damn, didn’t know you were such a sore loser Coyote.” He called out after his friend, “come on, Payback, Fanboy, you two against me.”

“Sorry man, honestly it’s not even fun anymore,” Reuben declared.

Jake just waved him off, turning to Mickey expectantly.

“No way.” The man simply said before walking with Payback towards the rest of the group next to the dart board.

Jake was left with an air of incredulity deforming his features.

“What the hell, guys ? So what, you’re just gonna leave me hanging ?”

“Now you know what that feels like,” Bradley called out to him with a smirk, evidently proud of his quick wit.

“Shut the fuck up, chicken.” He then, looked at the rest of the squad while walking over to them, “are you serious ? No one wants to play with me ?”

You had been watching the whole exchange quietly from your barstool, and you didn’t like the way Jake’s tone changed, almost imperceptibly to the normal human ear, but it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Nothing he would ever do would go unnoticed by you, which you considered to be your greatest misfortune.

“Are you really surprised ? Nobody likes playing with you, Hangman.” Natasha retorted harshly.

In any other circumstances you would have agreed with her, threw in a snappy remark of your own, not wasting an opportunity to put him in his place. But in your state, her tone sounded overly cruel in your ears. And the way Jake reacted was not helping the oncoming wave of empathy and emotion you could feel rising in your throat.

He simply looked at them with an unreadable expression for a second and just as he was about to say something, Javy returned to the dart board, carrying a tray full of drinks.

“Alright who’s up for darts ? Jake, don’t even think about it dude, leave us a chance to win.”

Jake cleared his throat, “Yeah, okay. I mean, I thought pilots like you would like some competition but if you like an easy win, have at it,” he conceded with a resigned grimace.

“We’re not in the air, Bagman, let us have fun. Not everything has to be hardcore competition,” Bradley almost snarled at him, while taking off some drinks from Javy’s tray.

Jake let out a bitter chuckle, “yeah, alright. Have fun then.” He said before walking back to the pool table, where he had left his drink.

Despite the bravado he forced himself to put on at all times, it was clear as day he was hurt, and you felt your heart tighten. It wasn’t often you saw him showing any other emotion that wasn’t infuriating cockiness, thinking about it, never had you seen him like that.

Jake loved pool, everyone knew that. Sure, you could say that every respectable fighter pilot liked pool, it was always fun to play. But Jake ? Genuinely loved it, his face would light up when he was playing, especially when he was winning. Which was pretty much all the time. Every time you all went to the Hard Deck together, he would practically rush for the pool table in the left corner, hurrying everyone else, already putting on chalk on his cue. He knew all these strategies, which you had always laughed at, why need strategies ? It was literally a ball sinking game. Jake was also capable of doing these — this you’d admit — insane tricks with the balls, giving them effects as he sunk them, even making the cue ball jump over a striped one so that it could sunk one of his full ones and he was always ecstatic to show off to anyone who would deigned to watch him.

And with no warning, you felt tears rising to your eyes as you stared at Jake sipping his drink all alone. Why would they reject him like that ? He just wanted to play. Your heart lurched at the sight, your squad having fun together, and Jake, reassembling the balls to prepare to break them, so that he could play, by himself.

Without any second thought, drink still in your hand, you got up from your stool, swaying lightly and cursing as your feet hit the ground. If you needed any confirmation that you had too much to drink, this was it.

For a minute you felt dizzy — your blurry vision not helping — you waited a moment to avoid completely falling flat on your face and made your way to your friends by the dart board. Sniffling and keeping your head up high to avoid having tears run down your cheeks.

Bob was the first one to spot you coming, and immediately he seemed alarmed by your expression. A quick touch of your cheek confirmed that you hadn’t done a good job of containing the evidences of your chagrin.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s happening ? Are you alright ?” Bob asked gently, getting up from his stool so he could get to you.

His worried tone made everyone perk up, and all the pilots started to gather around you.

“You okay ? Did someone bother you ?” Bradley asked.

They were all accustomed to how emotional you could get while drunk, but Bradley especially would never put aside the possibility of some weird guy harassing you.

“You guys are—“ you were cut out by a pathetic little sob, “so mean !” You said an accusing finger pointed in their direction.

“Y/N, you’ve had too much to drink, okay ?” He said gently, while going to take the drink from your hand, which you quickly retracted, pulling it against your chest.

“No, you guys are so mean,” you sniffled, “why won’t you play with him ?”

Everyone shared confused glances, in the corner of your eye you saw Javy murmured to Reuben something that sounded like “the fuck is she talking about”.

Natasha got closer to you, features morphing into something gentle, she knew better than anyone how to handle you in that state.

“Y/N, who are you talking about ?”

The fact that none of them even had the smallest idea of who you were referring to was your last straw. They had just dismissed him entirely, someone they flew with every single day. Threw him away with some hurtful remarks, left him all alone and they had the nerve to ask who you were talking about ?

“What do you mean who am I talking about ?” You whined, the emotion felt like it would burst out of your chest from feeling too much of it, “Jake ! I’m talking about Jake ! He wants to play pool but none of you wants to play with him !”

Mickey bursted out laughing then, which got him a stern look from Bradley.

“Don’t worry about him, sweetheart.” Natasha told you, “he’s a grown man, he’s fine. Why does that bother you anyway ?”

“He’s not fine !” You insisted, smalls sobs along with the alcohol making you hiccup, “he’s sad ! Go play with him, right now.”

“We love you, Lightning, we really do,” Reuben started, “but no way in hell.”

“You’re really not helping,” Bob reproached him with a sigh.

Mindlessly wiping the tears running freely on your cheeks with your free hand, you tried to refrain the next sob that was threatening to break out.

“Fine, I’ll go play with him then.” You declared in a very determined tone, already turning around and making your way over to Jake, swaying lightly on your feet.

“Hey Y/N come back—“ Natasha was about to go after you but Bob quickly stopped her.

“It’s okay, she’ll be with Jake, he’ll take great care of her,” he mischievously smiled at her, which only got him a puzzled look.

“What, you seriously don’t know ?” He asked her, visibly incredulous.

The chatter of your friends got more and more distant as you got closer to the pool table where Jake was sinking balls easily with an evident lack of enthusiasm. There was a laziness to his movements, like he was disinterested. The contempt and rejection from the squad seemed to had drain all the excitement of the game for him.

He looked like a kicked golden retriever puppy and your heart couldn’t have possibly handled more.

“Hangman !” You called out, quickly wiping the tears that had ran down during your walk there, “I’m playing with you.”

Jake suddenly stood up straight from sinking a ball upon hearing your voice, and immediately he seemed startle by your expression, similarly to how the rest of the squad had been only minutes ago.

“Hey, Lightning, you good ?” He asked, getting closer to you, his sharp eyes taking you in and inspecting you for any physical hurt.

You waved him off, while trying to ignore how his concern made your whole chest feel warm, when you’d sober up you’d probably blame it on the alcohol.

“Put the balls back in the middle, I’m playing with you.” You declared, words slurring slightly.

Jake only looked at you for a second, his raised brows betraying his surprise.

“You,” he started, pointing a finger towards you, “want to play with me ?” His index now pointed at him.

Taking another sip of your drink, you nodded into your glass.

“Yes, that’s what I said. I’m playing with you.”

“How much have you had to drink ?”

“Jake that is literally not the point, I want to play pool, so let’s play pool !” You insisted in a whine, putting your glass down on a table — not before taking another sip — and going to collect the balls he had already sunken from the pockets.

He stared at you, taking you in. Your urgency felt uncharacteristic, especially if it was related to doing anything with him. Jake never really saw you drunk, it wasn’t often you allowed yourself to reach such a state and when you did, you usually sticked close to Natasha or Bradley. Your behavior was completely new to him and it was taking him aback a bit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the rest of the squad eyeing you both, while whispering things amongst each other. A few seconds passed, the gears were turning in his head, he looked at your drink on the table, your tears streaked cheeks, the way the squad was so very obviously gossiping about the two of you… And then it clicked.

Jake took one long look at you carefully placing all the balls in the middle with the rack.

“You know you don’t have to play with me if you don’t really want to, right ?” He began cautiously, a gentle tone in his voice. “I was fine playing on my own.”

But the words ‘on my own’ seemed to trigger another wave of tears, they ran freely down your cheeks as you sobbed, “no you were not, you were sad.”

Jake’s whole face seemed to melt instantly.

“Aww, sweetheart…” he cooed, taking a step towards you.

But before he could get anything else out, you continued.

“And they are so—“ you began through sniffles, “so mean for treating you like that all because you wanted to play pool. So I am playing with you, I want to play with you.” You finished while weeping the tears from your eyes.

Jake stared at you for a moment, feeling like his heart would burst out of his chest just from looking at you. You were standing in front of him, determined and adorably empathetic — glassy eyes from the alcohol and the tears boring into his. Your cheeks were flushed from all the drinks you’d had, and you were leaning against the pool table, probably in an attempt to stabilize your dizzying vision.

He felt something dangerous happen to him, standing in front of you, having you be so nice to him for perhaps the first time ever since he had met you, he felt dangerous thoughts cross his mind — the ones he only ever allowed himself late at night, in the quiet of his apartment — and travel to the tip of his tongue. But he caught himself before they could become anything more than that, thoughts. Jake forced himself to swallow the words, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was overcome with an emotion he couldn’t possibly had voiced you, but his face showed nothing of it when he looked at you.

Pink lips stretching into a fond smile, jade green eyes soft and staring at you with… was it fondness ? The alcohol might had been blurring your judgement.

“I really appreciate it, darlin’, that’s very nice of you. I’d love for us to play together.” He said in a soft, soothing tone, hoping to calm your meltdown and the state of distress you were in at the sheer idea of him playing pool alone.

You nodded, satisfied by his answer, and Jake helped you put all the balls back in the middle with the rack before taking it off. He handed you a cue stick.

“Break ‘em.”

“No, you do it.”

You knew he loved to break.

Seeing a spark of something you couldn’t decipher flash in his eyes, he let out an almost bashful smile as he looked at you, and you gestured for him to take the shot, not sure you could handle his intense eyes on you any longer.

Jake got in position, upper body getting close to the table and your drunken brain immediately diverted your eyes to the curve of his ass, making a warmth spread out in your chest that you couldn’t blame on the liquor.

“Eyes on the game, darlin’.”

Your heat skipped a beat.

“I was watching the game,” you slurred, hoping your cheeks weren’t any more flushed than they already were because of your many drinks.

He let out a chuckle as he lined up his shot and every ball went bouncing off in every direction. He managed to sink a striped one.

“Alright, you take the full ones.” He told you.

Simply nodding, you watched him take another shot, sinking a ball. And then another successful one. It’s been quite some time since you’d seen him play this close, he was really good. On his third shot, he missed, finally letting you take your turn.

Circling the table and holding on to it, you tried to find the best angle to sink one of your balls, “You know I’m very good,” you stated like it was obvious, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve played.”

Jake caught himself before he could make any remark about how in your state he wasn’t expecting you to be world champion anyway.

“I wouldn’t know,” he settled for instead, “we’ve never played together.”

You abruptly stopped your rounding of the table to look at him, both of you standing perfectly on opposite sides. Your brows frowned in a confused expression and Jake wanted nothing more than to kiss away the crinkle on your forehead.

“Have we really never ?”

“Never,” he confirmed, “you don’t exactly carry me in your heart, remember ? You always say you don’t want to play with an arrogant jerk like me.”

His words seemed to fall on you with the weight of a thousand suns, your heart aching at his depiction of your own words.

“Do I really say that ?”

But Jake didn’t seem to notice the way his — yours — words had affected you, he only laughed as he continued to reminisce.

“Yeah, I tried so many times. Don’t tell me you don’t remember all the nights I literally begged you to do just one game with me ? You normally never even want to be in my vicinity when we come here.”

You shook your head, feeling the emotional overload pile up in your chest, rising in your throat to form a lump that was impossible to swallow.

“Oh…” was the only pathetic sound you managed to get out.

“Anyway, I’m glad to finally see what you are made of, Lightning.” He finished with a small chuckle.

But it had been too much too fast. The crushing realization of your harsh words, the way you had treated him no better than your friends you just yelled at a few minutes earlier, made you sick at yourself.

Still holding your cue stick in one hand, you broke out into sobs. Your head fell into your free hand, shoulders shaking with the force of your inconsolable chagrin.

If you had been able to see Jake’s face you probably would have laughed at the way his eyebrows raised comically fast.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he said in a hurried panic, putting his cue stick down on the pool table to cross the distance that was separating you, “Y/N what’s wrong ?”

He raised his hands in an instinctual move to put them on your shoulders to try and comfort you, but unsure of what his touch could do to you right now, he awkwardly put them back down. Instead he lowered himself slightly, trying to catch your eyes where you had your head bowed down into your hand.

“Y/N ?” Jake called out softly.

“I’m an awful person—“ you said in a huge sniffle, tears cascading down your cheeks with no way of stopping them. You still refused to look at him. “I’m so sorry Jake, so sorry, I’m so mean—“

He managed to get over his temporarily shock, attention now entirely focused on your wellbeing and seeing you smile again. He gently took the cue stick out of your hand to put it on the table, and before you could bring your newly free hand to your face, he took it softly, fingers wrapping around your wrist.

“Y/N ? Could you look at me for a second, sweetheart ?”

You shook your head, sobbing harder now.

“I’m sorry, Jake. So so sorry—“

“Everything is alright, I promise. You did nothing wrong,” Jake soothed, rubbing what he hoped were calming circles onto your wrist. “Could you look at me, please, Y/N ?”

Rubbing your eyes in a clumsy attempt to wipe the tears staining your cheeks, you finally lifted your head, your eyes meeting his. Jake’s heart nearly broke witnessing your lip quiver, signaling that another wave of tears was incoming. Your features were contorted into a chagrin he never witnessed before, an expression he never thought he’d see on your pretty face. And he got the most irrepressible desire to take you into his arms, rock you softly and shush you soothingly until your wet lashes dried.

His brain sent out the signals before he could stop it, his arms lifted open in an instinctual move to bring you into him, but stopped himself at the last second, arms still frozen open.

But your eyes caught the movement, and it was enough for you to launch yourself into him, sending him stumbling backward a bit from the force you had thrown yourself with. You buried your nose in his collarbone, your arms around his waist holding on as tight as your drunken state allowed you to.

It took Jake a second to get over the shock before his arms wrapped around you, one hand holding your head while he put his chin on top of it, gently caressing your hair.

“Shh shh, it’s okay, baby. Let it out. Everything is okay, I promise, everything is fine.”

Like he had imagined it only seconds before, he swayed you gently from left to right. Soothing voice hitting your ears and calming down your distress. You sniffled as you completely melted into his embrace.

“How you feeling, sweetheart ?”

“Better,” you mumbled against his collarbone.

Jake let out a fond chuckle, “i’m glad.”

He continued to rock you gently for a few minutes before he slowly began to pull back so he could look at you, his arms still wrapped around you. Your tears had dried, leaving small stains on your cheeks as you looked up at him.

“I’m really sorry I’m so mean to you all the time, Jake. I don’t know why I act like that.” You confessed in a small voice.

He gently put a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes soft as they gazed down at you.

He hummed softly, “I’ve got a little idea.”

You waited for him to explain further but when he didn’t say anything else, you frowned.

“What are you waiting for ? Tell me.” You whined.

He just smiled knowingly.

“I think that’s something you need to figure out on your own.”

Your bottom lip stuck out as you pouted and Jake playfully tsked you.

“Hey none of that,” he warned jokingly, “what can I do to bring a smile back on your pretty face ?”

Gazing at the table on your right, your voice found a new determined tone.

“I want to play pool.”

“Is that really what you want ?”

“Yes, with you.”

The smile that broke out on Jake’s face almost made you look away from how dazzling it was.

“Alright, let’s play, sweetheart.”

He handed you back your cue stick, signaling for you to take your shot since it was your turn. Aligning yourself with the cue all, tongue between your teeth in deep concentration you took the shot and—

“Oh, well I’m worse than I thought.” You stated with a hint of disappointment as you completely missed the cue ball.

Jake was unable to hide a laugh, “to be fair I don’t think everything you drank is helping you. Want some help ?”

“From the pool king himself ? Yes please.”

Jake was happy to notice some of your wit coming back, he came up behind you, not close enough to touch but close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your neck as he bent down slightly at your level.

“Just get really close to the table, yeah ?” He put a warm hand between your shoulder blades as you went down, “aim for number 5 over there,” he pointed at the ball.

You got low like he told you, chest almost touching the table, hips and ass pushing back as Jake respectfully stepped aside so he wouldn’t collide with you. Focusing really hard on where you wanted it to go, you finally took your shot and the ball went straight into the left corner pocket.

Excitement immediately made you stand up and turn around to see Jake harboring a bright, wide smile.

“Look at that, a true natural.” He praised, flashing his palm for a high five you eagerly participated in.

“What can I say ? I have the world champion player by my side,” you chimed.

You both continued to play pool, Jake very subtly letting you win. And when you had sunk all your balls and hazardously shot the 8-ball in the left middle socket, you squealed as Jake clapped for you.

“You beat me fair and square, sweetheart.”

That was clearly debatable, but you were in no state to question it, your victory seeming totally legitimate in your eyes. You walked around the table to go get your drink.

But right as you were about to take a sip, Jake — who had somehow crossed the distance in three steps — took the glass out of your hand.

“Hey ! That’s my drink !”

“How about you stick to water for now, mmh baby ?”

All the fight left your body as soon as the petname hit your ears, his Texan drawl making it sound so sweet. His voice having rendered you completely pliant, you just nodded.

“Let’s go ask Penny for a glass.” He prompted and you quickly took a hold of his arm as he guided you to the bar.

You were still holding on to Jake and Penny wasn’t able to hide her surprise when she saw the two of you.

“That’s certainly a sight,” she said with a smirk, eyeing the way you were clinging to Jake. “You okay, sweetie ?” She asked you.

“I’m great,” you assured, a tired but bright smile stretching your lips.

Jake chuckled fondly, “could we have a glass of water Penny, please ?”

The older woman nodded and quickly got out a glass that she filled with ice and water before she handed it to you. You thanked her and began downing the drink.

“Well, you definitely needed it.” Jake joked, ruffling your hair affectionately, “when you finish that glass, I’ll drive you home, yeah ?”

You nodded as Penny looked at Jake with squinting eyes.

“How much have you had to drink, sailor ?”

“Don’t worry, I just had one beer a few hours ago.”

“Alright, drive safe.”

Jake saluted Penny as you finished your glass, settling it down in the bar.

“Good night Penny !” You waved at her, the older woman eagerly returned your gesture.

“Alright, let’s say bye to the squad now.”

Making your way over to the squad, still firmly wrapped around Jake’s arm, it was almost comical to see your friends’ look of disbelief when they started to notice you walk over.

“Alright gang,” Jake caught their attention, “I’m driving Lightning home.”

All of them were stunned silent at seeing you two so close, and you so pliant and calm with him. Bob was the only one harboring a small, tender smile.

“Drive safe, we’ll see you guys on Monday.”

“I’m sorry, is no one gonna mention any of this ?” Reuben undignified himself while gesturing wildly to the two of you.

“What is that supposed to mean ?” You inquired, not liking the way he seemed to be referring so hostilely to Jake and you.

“Leave them alone,” Bradley’s voice caught everyone’s attention. “You get her home safe, Hangman.” He looked at Jake straight in the eyes, tone firm and authoritative before he softened and turned to you. “Text us when you’re home, alright ?”

While everyone was expecting Jake to come back with a smug and arrogant remark — like he usually did — his simple, diligent nod raised everyone’s brows. You let go of Jake momentarily to go hug Bradley, he wrapped his arms around you and left a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t do anything you’d regret tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear.

“Me ? You know I could never Bradshaw.” You replied jokingly.

Jake patiently waited for you as you hugged every member of the squad. When you came back to him, you immediately took hold of his arm again while he bid everyone goodnight and led you to the door after your goodbyes.

The fresh air of the summer night was a welcome sensation on your flushed cheeks. “Tonight was so much fun,” you declared.

Jake chuckled, quietly wondering how could it had been fun for you when you spent half of it crying your heart out for him.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, sweetheart.”

“Did you have fun ?” You asked, looking up at him expectantly.

Stopping next to his truck, he looked down at you, feeling the words swell up in his chest — in which his heart was hammering. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm the swirl of emotion billing in his throat.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks to you.” He said in a voice that carried so much fondness it felt like a warm embrace.

A bashful smile made its way onto your face, as Jake refrained the urge to leave the softest kiss on your forehead, instead he just opened the passenger door for you and helped you in.

The drive was rather short, but Jake was struggling to focus on the road as he could sense your intense stare on him. Your eyes never wavered from his face and despite himself he could feel heat slowly coming onto his neck and cheeks.

Parking out in front of the small house you were renting near base, he came to your side to open your door and helped you out. In front of your door, you both stopped.

“Thank you for tonight, darlin’.”

Your hazy eyes bore into his with an intensity that shook him to his core.

“Jake ?”

“Yeah, baby ?”

“I think I figured out why I’m so mean to you all the time.”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat, not sure if it was from excitement of finally hearing the words he longed to hear from you or fear of having you say them while the alcohol was clouding your judgement.

“You did ?” His voice was strained, feeling his palms sweat and wiping them down on his pants.

“Yes. The reason I’m so mean to you all the time is not because I hate you, I think—“

“Y/N, Don’t say anything, please,” he stopped you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

Giving him a confused look, you felt your heart drop, “why…?” You asked, voice small, “you don’t wanna hear what I have to say…?”

Jake let out a sigh, “It’s not that, sweetheart,” he assured, voice gentle, “I just don’t want you to say things you could regret tomorrow.”

“Do you know what I was going to say ?”

He gave you a small smile, one hand sliding from your shoulder to cup your flushed cheek, thumb rubbing gently. The cool temperature of his hand was a welcome sensation as you nuzzled against it.

“I do.”

“But I want to say it, I want you to know.” You whined, putting your hand on top of his that was cupping your cheek.

“Believe me, I already know, darlin’. Have for quite some time now. But when you say it to me, I want it to be because you are ready to say it, not because the alcohol is forcing you to.”

But Jake could still see the disappointment in your eyes and your pouting lip was making a reappearance, completely melting him from the inside.

“How about you tell me tomorrow ? When you’re sober.”

“I won’t have the courage to do it tomorrow ! That’s the whole point of doing it now…”

“Then I’ll wait, it’s okay.”

Feeling the tears starting to come back with the frustration of not being able to express what you had been feeling this whole time, you complained, “I don’t want to wait anymore, Jake. I lo—“

“Baby, please don’t,” Jake put a panicked hand over your mouth.

You frowned and he could see your eyes getting hazy with tears.

“If I take off my hand, will you listen to me for a second ?”

As you nodded, Jake moved his hand from your mouth to your cheek, so both of his hands were holding your face. He hated knowing he was the cause of the small tears that were slipping from your confused and hurt eyes.

“Y/N, I promise that I feel the exact same way you do, I have for years, okay ? And there is nothing on this earth I desire more than to finally hear you admit it, but when you do, I want it to come from you, not the alcohol.” Drowning in his jade green eyes, his words made your heart almost beat out of your chest. “I want you sober when you finally tell me, cause then there won’t be anything else holding me back from kissing you like I’ve been dreaming of, alright ?”

His words stunned you quiet as his thumbs gently wiped the tears on your cheeks. It’s like your breath had been taken away. Nothing had been said, and yet you both knew. The silent truth was lingering in the air, silencing every other noise. In this moment it was only you and him, standing in front of each other, finally on the same wavelength.

Your lips stretched out on their own. Unknowingly to you both, your hearts were beating in synch to the rhythm of your unspoken, and yet certain, feelings.

“You have to promise me something, Jake.” You finally said when you found your words.

“Anything.”

“You need to come find me tomorrow, so I can tell you. Tomorrow morning, first light, I want you right here in front of the door, so I can tell you. If you don’t come to me I’ll never have the courage to go find you myself.”

Jake let out a shaky, relived exhale before a smile broke out onto his face.

“I will, sweetheart. Promise.”

“What time will you be here ?” You eagerly asked, already impatient for the first rays of sunshine to cast a golden glow over his features as you would pour out your entire heart to him.

Jake chuckled, before he bent down slightly, leaving a tender kiss on your cheek that you leaned into the best you could.

“I’ll be here at first light, just like you said. If you think I’m not impatient as well, you’re mistaken, darlin’. Now go to bed, it’s going to be a long day tomorrow, we have a lot to talk about.”

You nodded, embracing him as tight as you could.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake.” you said in a barely contained excited giggle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You opened your door, flashing him one last smile before closing it and disappearing inside of your home.

Jake didn’t know exactly how much time he spent in front of your door after you closed it. His chest felt tight, heart filled with the quiet love he had carried all these years, a love he’d finally be able to express out loud.

He looked up at the moon which was casting an eerie glow over the street, and prayed for the night to fly by fast. He usually loved the stars, but looking up at them he found himself thinking that he’d be fine never seeing another star again if he meant he finally got to be with you. He smiled, feeling giddy like the first time he’d realised he was in love with you. He had waited patiently for years for this moment to come, and somehow it felt impossible to sit tight for another few hours.

Jake couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Author’s note : alright I definitely didn’t planned for this little fic to get that long, but I hoped you liked it, thank you for reading !!

Next fic I’m working on is Pleasure Is No Shame - Part 3, I can’t wait to bring it to you !!💞

[justwaveandsmile]

Lima Charlie

wc: 4,677

summary: reader works in navy comms and jake falls in love with your voice ♡( ◡‿◡ )

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Dagger Two, this is Tower. Radio check, over.”

You adjusted your headset, scanning the screen in front of you as you waited for the response. Second week at North Island, and you were still getting used to the callsigns, the voices, the particular rhythm of these pilots.

“Tower, Dagger Two. Loud and clear. How me?”

The voice was smooth, confident—maybe a little too confident. You checked your roster. Dagger Two: Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, callsign Hangman.

“Dagger Two, read you lima charlie. Standby for departure clearance.”

“Copy, standing by.”

Professional. Clean. Exactly how it should be.

Over the next forty minutes, you guided Hangman and his team through their training exercise. Hangman was… chatty. More than most.

“Tower, Dagger Two. You know, you’ve got a great voice for this. Very authoritative.”

You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. Confirm heading two-seven-zero.”

“Heading two-seven-zero confirmed. Just saying, it’s nice to have someone competent up there.”

“Dagger Two, save the commentary for the debrief.”

You heard him laugh over the radio. “Yes ma’am. Hangman is buttoned up.”

He wasn’t, really. Over the next several flights that week, you learned that Hangman always had something to say. But he was also sharp—never missed a check-in, never fumbled coordinates, always three steps ahead. The banter was just… extra.

“Tower, Dagger Two. Requesting flyby.”

“Negative, Dagger Two. The pattern is full.”

“Come on, Tower. Just one?”

“Dagger Two, that’s a negative. Stop asking.”

“You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Your heart will survive. Bring it around for landing, heading one-eight-zero.”

“Heading one-eight-zero. You know, one of these days I’m gonna find out who you are.”

“Focus on your landing, Dagger Two.”

Friday night. The Hard Deck was packed, and you were nursing a beer while Phoenix told a story about Rooster’s latest landing that had gone slightly sideways.

“I’m telling you, he almost clipped the carrier deck. Swears up and down it was textbook, but I was right there—”

“It sounds like Rooster,” you said, grinning. You’d met Natasha—Phoenix—during your first week since you moved bases. She’d shown up at the tower to dispute a training score and you’d liked her immediately: sharp, no-nonsense, with a wicked sense of humor. She’d taken you under her wing, introducing you to the good coffee spots on base and insisting you needed to “actually have a life outside of work.”

Hence the Hard Deck on a Friday night.

“Speak of the devil,” Phoenix said, nodding toward the door where Rooster had just walked in with a few other pilots. “Brace yourself. When the squad’s all here, it gets loud.”

You watched as they made their way to the pool table—Rooster with his ridiculous mustache, Fanboy excitedly explaining something while Bob listened with quiet interest, Payback and Coyote already bantering back and forth about who gets next game, and—

And a blond guy who moved through the bar like he owned it, that easy confidence in every step.

“That’s Hangman,” Phoenix said, following your gaze. Her voice had gone slightly flat. “Total player. Goes through women like he’s collecting trading cards. We fly together, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”

“You work with him?”

“Unfortunately. He’s a good pilot—one of the best, actually—but his ego could fill a hangar.” She took a sip of her beer. “Why? Please tell me you’re not interested.”

“No, I just—” You paused as Hangman laughed at something Rooster said, and that sound.

You knew that sound.

“Oh God,” you said.

“What?”

“That’s Dagger Two.”

Phoenix’s eyes widened. “Wait. That’s your chatty pilot? The one who keeps trying to flirt over comms?”

“I wouldn’t say flirt—”

“You literally told me yesterday, and I quote, ‘if Dagger Two makes one more comment about my voice, I’m going to revoke his radio privileges.’”

“That was— I was exaggerating.”

Phoenix was grinning now, clearly delighted. “Oh, this is perfect. Hangman has no idea he’s been annoying you for two weeks.”

“Nat, don’t—”

But Rooster had spotted Phoenix and was waving her over. Phoenix grabbed your arm, hauling you up. “Come on. This is going to be hilarious.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

The group made room as you approached, Rooster clapping Phoenix on the shoulder. “Took you long enough. We’re already getting destroyed at pool and need backup.”

“That’s because Hangman keeps calling impossible shots,” Bob said with a small smile on his face.

“They’re not impossible if I make them,” the blond guy—Hangman—said. Then his eyes landed on you, and that easy smile appeared. “Hey. I’m Jake. Don’t think we’ve met.”

Phoenix was practically vibrating with suppressed glee. “Jake, this is my friend. She just transferred here a couple weeks ago. Works in the tower.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand.

The moment you spoke, Jake’s expression shifted. His eyes widened, his head tilted slightly, and you watched recognition dawn across his face like sunrise.

“Wait,” he said, his grin spreading slowly as he shook your hand, holding it maybe a second longer than necessary. “‘Your heart will survive.’ Tower. It’s you.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you absolutely do.” He stepped closer, completely ignoring Phoenix’s delighted snort. “That voice. Two weeks I’ve been listening to that voice, and here you are.”

“I told you to focus on flying.”

His laugh was the same one you’d heard over the radio a dozen times, but richer in person, warmer. “This is— I can’t believe this. Here I was thinking Tower was some grizzled veteran who’d seen it all, and instead you’re—” He stopped himself, but his eyes said the rest.

Rooster leaned over to Phoenix. “Is he… blustering?”

“I think he might be,” Phoenix whispered back, looking fascinated.

Coyote sidled up next to Jake with a knowing smirk. “Hangman’s actually speechless. Someone write this down.”

“I’m not speechless,” Jake protested.

“You kind of are, man,” Fanboy added, grinning as he chalked his pool cue.

You studied Jake for a moment. He seemed genuinely surprised, genuinely pleased. But Phoenix had warned you.

Player. Heartbreaker. The kind of guy who knew exactly what to say.

“Well, now you know,” you said. “Mystery solved.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I have one.”

“Another one, then. After that one.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He didn’t push, just settled back against the pool table like he had all the time in the world, though his eyes kept finding their way back to you.

“Fair enough. You any good at pool? We could use someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“She’s terrible at pool,” Phoenix interjected, grinning. “But I’ll play. You and me, Hangman. Let’s see if you can back up all that talk.”

As Phoenix and Jake started setting up, Rooster moved closer to you.

“Fair warning: those two are competitive. This might get ugly.”

“Nat can handle herself.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about Phoenix.”

You glanced at him, confused, but he was already watching Jake, who kept looking over at you between shots, like he was making sure you were still there.

You thought that would be the end of it. One conversation, curiosity satisfied, everyone moves on.

You were wrong.

Jake started showing up. Not in an obvious way—he was too smart for that. He’d just… appear. At the coffee cart you frequented before your shift. At the Hard Deck on Friday nights, always gravitating toward wherever you and Phoenix were sitting. At the O-Club when Nat dragged you to some mandatory fun event.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he’d say, like it was pure coincidence.

“It’s the base coffee cart, Hangman. Not exactly a secret location.”

“Jake. You can call me Jake, you know. When we’re not on comms.”

“I’m aware of your name.”

“Just making sure. You want anything? I’m buying.”

“I can buy my own coffee.”

“I know you can. I’m asking if you want me to.”

You’d usually say no. Sometimes you’d say yes, just to see what he’d do. He never made it weird, never acted like you owed him anything. Just handed you the coffee and asked about your day.

Phoenix noticed immediately.

“He’s like a puppy,” she said one afternoon, watching Jake walk away after delivering your usual order without you even asking. “A very tall, very blond puppy.”

“He’s just being friendly.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why he hasn’t looked at another woman in three weeks?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Hangman—king of the one-night stand, collector of phone numbers—hasn’t so much as glanced at anyone else since he met you.” Phoenix leaned back in her chair. “It’s actually kind of freaking the guys out.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not. Ask Bob. He’s been keeping track.”

You refused to think too hard about what that might mean.

Over the radio, though, nothing changed.

“Tower, Dagger Two. How’s your morning?”

“Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. You’re clear for takeoff, runway two-niner.”

“Copy that, Tower. Runway two-niner. Just saying, hope you liked the coffee earlier.”

“Dagger Two.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

It was Rooster who brought it up first during their next squadron meeting.

They were at the Hard Deck, the usual Friday night crowd, and Jake had barely glanced at the brunette who’d been making eyes at him from the bar for the past twenty minutes.

“Hangman,” Rooster said, setting down his beer. “You feeling okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

“Because that girl over there is definitely interested and you haven’t even looked at her.”

Jake glanced over briefly. “Not my type.”

Phoenix nearly choked on her drink. “Since when do you have a type beyond ‘breathing’?”

“Funny.”

But then the door opened, and Jake’s attention snapped toward it immediately. His whole posture changed—straightened up, ran a hand through his hair.

You walked in, laughing at something on your phone, completely oblivious.

“Oh my god,” Phoenix said, even though she’d seen this exact reaction a dozen times now. “You’ve got it so bad.”

“What?”

“You’re making moon eyes at my friend.”

“I don’t make moon eyes.”

“You absolutely make moon eyes,” Rooster said, grinning now. “How long has this been going on?”

“There’s nothing going on. We’re friends.”

Bob, who’d been quietly watching the exchange, spoke up. “Friends.” There was a knowing quality to his tone, subtle but unmistakable.

Jake shot him a look. “Yes, Bob. Friends. Some of us have those.”

“Some of us don’t turn into golden retrievers every time those friends walk into a room,” Payback added.

Coyote leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with an amused grin. “I’ve known you for years, Hangman. Never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” Jake asked defensively.

“Like you actually care,” Fanboy chimed in, exchanging a look with Coyote. “It’s weird. But also kind of nice?”

“I hate all of you.”

Phoenix was watching him with a calculating expression. “You’re serious. You actually like her.”

“Of course I like her. She’s—” He stopped, seeming to realize he was about to prove their point. “She’s nice.”

“She is nice,” Phoenix agreed. “She’s also one of my best friends, which means if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your callsign gets changed to Grounded.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s… actually terrifying.”

“Good. It should be.” Phoenix leaned forward, her expression serious. “I’m not kidding, Hangman. She’s not one of your usual conquests. She’s—”

“I know,” Jake said, and his voice had gone quiet. Serious. “Trust me, I know. Why do you think I haven’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m trying to do this right.”

Phoenix blinked. In all the years she’d known Jacob Seresin, she’d never heard him sound like that. “Oh. You’re really serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” She studied him for a long moment. “Okay. But I’m still watching you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

But he was already up, making his way across the bar to where you stood.

You saw him coming and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Which was becoming a problem, actually—how much you didn’t mind when he showed up.

“Hey,” Jake said, that easy smile in place but something softer in his eyes. “Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

“It’s Friday. I’m here most Fridays with Nat.”

“Right. Yeah. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m about to order one.”

“So that’s a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were fighting a smile. “Sure, Hangman. You can buy me a drink.”

His whole face lit up like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

From across the bar, you caught Phoenix watching with a knowing smirk. You made a mental note to interrogate her later about whatever that look meant.

The thing was, Jake was… different than you’d expected.

Sure, he had the callsign and the reputation and the smile that could probably stop traffic. But when it was just the two of you—usually with Phoenix somewhere nearby, watching like a protective older sister—he wasn’t Hangman.

He was just Jake.

He asked questions—real ones, not the smooth-talking kind meant to impress. He wanted to know about your hometown, your family, why you’d joined the Navy, what you wanted to do after. He listened when you talked, actually listened, his green eyes focused on you like you were the only person in the world.

And he told you things too. About growing up in Texas, about learning to fly, about why he flew the way he did.

“I know what they say about me,” he said one night. You and Phoenix had stayed late at the Hard Deck, and she’d stepped away to take a call, leaving you and Jake alone on the deck overlooking the beach. “Hangman. Like I leave people hanging.”

“Do you?”

“In the air? Yeah. Sometimes. Because I know I’m good enough to get the job done alone.” He picked up a handful of sand that had blown onto the deck railing, let it run through his fingers. “But it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because… if I’m the one taking the risk, then no one else has to.”

You looked at him—really looked at him. At the way his jaw tightened, the way he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“That’s lonely,” you said quietly.

He did look at you then. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Something shifted between you in that moment. Something that made your chest feel tight and your breath catch and oh no, you thought.

Oh no.

Phoenix returned a moment later, taking one look at both of you and raising an eyebrow. But she didn’t say anything, just settled back into her chair and changed the subject.

Later, when Jake had left and it was just the two of you walking to your cars, Phoenix bumped your shoulder.

“So.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Nat.”

“He’s different with you. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s actually trying to be a real person instead of just Hangman.” She paused. “I know I gave you the warning about him. And I meant it—the old Hangman, the one who went through women like they didn’t matter? I’d tell you to run. But this…” She shook her head. “Maybe people can change.”

“You think I should give him a chance?”

“I think you already are. I’m just saying… I wouldn’t hate it. If you two figured things out.” She grinned. “But if he screws it up, I get to kick his ass in training. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“He’s got it bad,” Rooster said two months later, watching Jake watch you from across the rec room. You were completely focused on the tablet in your hands, reviewing flight logs while Phoenix looked over your shoulder and pointed something out. Oblivious.

“It’s kind of painful to witness,” Fanboy agreed, shaking his head. “How long has this been going on?”

After a short pause, Bob spoke. "Three months? Maybe four?"

“And he hasn’t even tried anything?”

Phoenix, who’d joined them, shook her head. “Nope. He just… follows her around like a puppy. Gets her coffee. Listens to her talk about radio frequencies like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Hangman?” Rooster asked.

“Right?” Phoenix settled into a chair, still watching. “I gave him the shovel talk, like, six times. Told him if he hurt her, I’d never forgive him. You know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said he’d never forgive himself either.”

“Damn,” Payback said. “He’s really gone.”

Coyote whistled low. “Never thought I’d see the day. Hangman actually settling down for someone.”

“He’s going to crash and burn,” Rooster said. “She has no idea how he feels.”

“Oh, she knows,” Phoenix said. “She just doesn’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s Hangman. And she’s…” Phoenix paused, trying to find the right words. “She’s careful. She doesn’t trust easy. And Jake’s reputation isn’t exactly helping.”

"I think it's nice. He's actually trying," Bob said, watching as Jake moved closer to you, saying something that made you laugh.

“He better be,” Phoenix said. “Because if he breaks her heart, reputation change or not, I’ll break him.”

You didn’t believe it.

Sure, Jake was… around. A lot. And yes, he’d stopped flirting with other women—Phoenix had confirmed that, even seemed pleased about it. And okay, maybe your heart did this stupid flutter thing every time you heard his voice over the radio or saw him waiting by the coffee cart in the morning.

But Jacob Seresin didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. This was just… friendly. He was being friendly.

The fact that his hand would linger when he handed you your coffee, or that he’d started texting you good morning every day, or that he’d shown up with soup when you’d mentioned feeling under the weather—that was just how he was.

Probably.

“You’re an idiot,” Phoenix said, not for the first time. You were in her apartment, having your weekly movie night, and she’d paused the film just to give you this look.

“I’m realistic.”

“He brought you soup!”

“He’s nice.”

“He’s not nice! He’s Hangman! He’s only nice to you!” Phoenix grabbed your shoulders. “Listen to me. I have known that man for years. Years. I have seen him go through women without learning their last names. I have watched him charm his way out of consequences and into beds without a second thought. And I have never—not once—seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

“Nat, really—”

“I’m serious. He’s different now. With you. And I know his reputation scares you, but people can change. He’s changing. For you.”

You wanted to believe her. God, you wanted to believe her.

But wanting something and trusting it were two very different things.

It was a Wednesday when everything changed.

You were in the tower, middle of a routine training exercise, when the alarm sounded.

“Dagger Two, Dagger Two, this is Tower. We have reports of a bird strike. What’s your status?”

Static.

Your heart stopped.

“Dagger Two, come in.”

More static, then: “Tower, Dagger Two. Confirm bird strike. Engine two is out. Engine one is… not looking great.”

His voice was steady, professional. But you could hear it underneath—the tension.

“Copy, Dagger Two. What’s your altitude?”

“Fifteen thousand and dropping. Trying to restart engine one.”

You pulled up his position, calculated distances, ran through every protocol you knew. Your supervisor was already moving, picking up the direct line to Base Operations.

“Ops, this is Tower. We have an in-flight emergency. Dagger Two, bird strike, dual engine failure. Pilot is attempting emergency landing at auxiliary field two-zero miles northeast. Launch crash crew and medical.”

Phoenix’s voice crackled through on the emergency channel. “Hangman, this is Phoenix. I’ve got Bob with me. We’re tracking you. Talk to us.”

“Phoenix, I’m losing altitude fast. Not gonna make it back to base.”

“Dagger Two, nearest divert is North Island. Can you make it?” you said, keeping your voice level through sheer force of will.

“Negative, Tower. I’m not going to make it to North Island.”

Your breath caught. “Dagger Two, there’s an auxiliary airfield twenty miles northeast of your position. Sending coordinates now.”

“Copy, I see it.”

Your supervisor was coordinating on the other line. “Crash crew is rolling. Ambulance and fire truck en route to auxiliary field. ETA twelve minutes.”

“Jake.” You never used his name over comms. Ever. “You can make it.”

A pause. Then, quieter: “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it.”

The next ten minutes were the longest of your life. You talked him through every step, keeping your voice steady even though your hands were shaking. Phoenix stayed on comms, her voice calm and professional, while Bob fed Jake technical readouts in that steady, measured way of his.

When he finally confirmed wheels down, safe, you had to sit down before your legs gave out.

Your supervisor touched your shoulder. “Good work. Crash crew is on scene. Medical is evaluating him now. They’ll transport him back to North Island by ground.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

Phoenix’s voice came through your headset. “Tower, Dagger Three. Bob and I are RTB. Ground crew has Hangman. They’re bringing him back by ambulance as a precaution.”

“Copy, Dagger Three,” you managed. “Safe flight.”

“Tower?” Phoenix’s voice was gentler now. “He’s okay. He’s safe. And knowing the squad, they’re probably already gathering at the medical building.”

Despite everything, you almost smiled. “Copy that.”

“You should probably be there too.”

You shouldn’t have left your post early. You definitely shouldn’t have been standing outside the base medical building with the entire Dagger Squad all waiting restlessly.

But there you were.

The ambulance pulled up, lights flashing but no siren, and the moment the rear doors opened, Jake climbed out on his own power, waving off the corpsman who tried to help him. He looked exhausted and rattled but whole.

His eyes scanned the group and found yours immediately.

Phoenix nudged Bob, who gave a small nod and stepped back without a word. “Come on. Let’s give them a minute.”

“The rest of you too,” Rooster said, herding the remaining Daggers toward the building entrance. “Move it.”

“But I want to see—” Coyote started.

“Move,” Phoenix said, her tone brooking no argument.

Then they were gone, and it was just you and Jake in the parking lot.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself.”

“Thanks for—”

You closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for half a second, then his arms came around you, tight and sure.

“You scared me,” you said into his shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“If you ever do that again—”

“I won’t.” His hand came up to the back of your head, cradling it gently. “I promise.”

You pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes were so green, so close, and he was looking at you like…

Oh.

Oh.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” he said quietly. “And all I could think was that I never told you—”

“Jake.”

“I’m in love with you.” The words came spilling out in a rush. “I know you probably don’t believe me, and I know I have a reputation, but I swear, I have never felt like this about anyone. You make me want to be better. You make me want to be the guy you see when you look at me. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I just needed you to know—”

You kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was soft and deliberate, your hand coming up to cup his jaw as you rose onto your toes. He made a sound—somewhere between relief and wonder—and pulled you closer, one hand sliding to the small of your back while the other cradled your face like you were something precious. The world narrowed to just this: the warmth of his mouth on yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment, the taste of salt from tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead dropped to rest against yours. His eyes were still closed, and when he opened them, they were bright with something that looked like reverence.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You terrify me.”

“I know.”

“I don’t do casual. I can’t— I’m not built for that.”

“Good. Because there’s nothing casual about the way I feel about you.” His thumb brushed across your cheekbone, gentle and reverent. “I’m all in. Have been for months. Everyone knows it. Phoenix has threatened me at least six times. I don’t care. I’d let her threaten me every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep bringing you coffee and hearing you tell me to maintain radio discipline and just… being around you.”

You laughed, slightly watery. “You’re really in love with me?”

“So much it’s actually embarrassing. Have been since the first time I heard your voice over the radio. When I finally saw you at the Hard Deck and realized the voice I’d been falling for had a face to match…” He shook his head. “I was done for.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m scared,” you said again. “But I— I think I might be in love with you too. Which is terrifying because I didn’t think that was possible four months ago.”

His smile was incandescent, and then he was kissing you again—softer this time, sweeter, like a promise. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to spend every second of it right here with you.

From somewhere behind you, you heard Phoenix’s voice carry across the parking lot: “FINALLY!”

Then Rooster: “Did she just—”

“Yep,” Phoenix said, sounding immensely satisfied. “Called it. Pay up, Bradshaw.”

“I knew it!” Payback’s voice rang out. “Fanboy, you owe me twenty bucks!”

You broke apart, laughing, and Jake tucked you against his side, his lips pressing a kiss to your temple. “Did they all bet on us?”

“Probably,” Jake said, but he was smiling, looking down at you like you were everything he'd been missing. “Don’t care. Totally worth it.”

And looking up at him, at the way he was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered, you had to agree.

It really, really was.

Six Months Later

“Tower, Dagger Two. Radio check.”

You smiled, adjusting your headset. “Dagger Two, Tower. Read you loud and clear.”

“Copy that, Tower. Hey, what are you doing after your shift?”

“Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline.”

“Come on, just tell me.”

“Dagger Two.”

“Is it hanging out with your extremely handsome boyfriend? Because I heard he’s planning something special.”

You could hear Rooster groaning over the comms. “Hangman, some of us are trying to focus here.”

Phoenix cut in, sounding amused. “Hangman, I swear, if you don’t focus on flying, I’m telling her about that time in Lemoore—”

“Phoenix, no—”

“Then focus.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to enjoy the show,” came Coyote’s voice, a laugh in his tone. “This is better than anything on TV.”

“Coyote, you’re not helping,” Bob chimed in, though you could hear the amusement in his voice too.

“Tower, this is Fanboy. For the record, some of us are actually trying to maintain professionalism up here.”

“Thank you, Fanboy,” you said, fighting back a smile.

“He’s lying,” Payback interjected. “He’s got popcorn. Literally eating popcorn in the cockpit.”

“I do not!”

You bit back a laugh. “Dagger Two, you’re clear for takeoff. And yes. Seven is fine.”

“That’s my girl. Dagger Two is airborne.”

Your supervisor gave you a look. You shrugged innocently.

From the tarmac, you heard Phoenix’s voice: “Tower, Dagger Three. Just so you know, your boyfriend is doing barrel rolls. Showing off.”

“Dagger Three, tell him to stop.”

“I tried. He says, and I quote, ‘she likes it when I show off.’”

“Dagger Three, you have permission to knock some sense into him during training.”

“With pleasure, Tower. Phoenix out.”

Some things, you’d learned, were worth breaking protocol for.

And Jake Seresin—cocky, loyal, yours—was definitely one of them.

[hjpsdiary]

“bella, i think you dropped something—my heart.”

- theodore nott x reader

you were sitting in the common room, tucked in your favorite armchair, legs folded underneath you, book open in your lap.

it was unusually loud tonight—blaise and mattheo were throwing crumpled parchment balls at each other from opposite ends of the room. enzo was half-laughing, half-snoring on the couch with a chocolate frog wrapper stuck to his cheek. draco was pretending to read but absolutely not pretending to eavesdrop.

you were just trying to stay invisible.

until he walked in.

theodore nott.

his hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times. tie loosened, sleeves rolled. and that smile—lazy, but shy, and just barely tilted in your direction.

“she’s here,” blaise whispered loudly to mattheo, nudging him with his elbow.

you looked up, immediately wishing you hadn’t.

theodore was coming over. casually. but definitely not casual.

“bella,” he greeted softly, that slight lilt in his voice curling around the word like honey.

you blinked. “hi…”

his hands were in his pockets, shoulders a little tense. he wasn’t usually nervous. not like this.

mattheo was grinning like a menace behind him.

“so,” theo started, and paused. “i was thinking… you’re not going to the yule ball with anyone, right?”

you blinked again. very smooth. very articulate. classic you. “um… no?”

he smiled, one side of his mouth tugging up, voice lowering just a bit. “buona. i mean—good. that’s good.”

you could feel the stares of every other boy in the room digging into your back.

blaise mouthed “oh my god” while fake-fanning himself. enzo coughed something that sounded like “simp.”

you wanted to disappear. theo glanced at them, then rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath in italian.

“ignore them,” he said, now fully focused on you. “they are idiots.”

you bit back a smile.

“anyway,” he said, trying again. “i wanted to ask… maybe—if you want—would you go with me? to the ball?”

his voice was softer now, almost shy. the italian dipped into his tone like a secret. like he didn’t ask girls this sort of thing often. or ever.

you looked at him. really looked.

his eyes were warm. hopeful.

you smiled, fingers fiddling with the corner of your page. “okay. i’d like that.”

his whole face lit up—quietly, like sunrise. not dramatic. just warm.

“grazie, bella,” he said, under his breath, like it was just for you.

mattheo groaned obnoxiously from the couch. “someone put a silencing charm on them before i vomit.”

“shut up,” theo muttered, barely holding back a grin, reaching over to smack mattheo’s arm on the way out.

you sat there with your heart doing something weird and fluttery and fast in your chest, book completely forgotten.

when you looked back toward the stairs, theo was still watching you.

and he winked.

[vigilantekisser]

matt murdock and wife!reader who’s a college professor… he comes home from patrol at the asscrack of dawn lugging a certain sticky, injured, unconscious red-and-blue vigilante through the window. needing to take his mask off to check for head injuries and seeing that not only is spider-man just a kid, he’s one of your students from your tuesday-friday seminar 😭

[lexamiele]

No More Tears

Blaise Zabini x Reader

Word count: approx. 4.7k

Summary: after you catch your boyfriend cheating, his worst enemy finds you crying in an empty classroom.

Warnings/be aware: fem!reader, reader being cheated on (not by Blaise), very light enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, soft!Blaise, cuddling

The day had started out so well.

You’d woken up before your alarm had even gone off, feeling refreshed and up early enough to watch the sun rise over the Black Lake. Then you’d had your favorite, French toast, for breakfast and walked to Charms with your boyfriend, Ernie. Not only were you called on in both Charms and Herbology, but you answered every question right, earning twenty points for Ravenclaw in total. Next, you had Divination, where Professor Trelawney let you sit next to your best friend, Padma Patil. Finally, you finished out your perfect day with Potions, another class with Ernie. It was like a dream.

That was where it all started to fall apart.

Ernie had been his usual cheerful, friendly self earlier in the day, but during Potions he seemed distracted, nodding disjointedly when you spoke to him and scribbling in the margins of his parchment instead of actually taking notes. You didn’t think anything of it, figuring he was just tired. He was a school Prefect in the running for Head Boy next year, and involved with just about every club from Dueling to Choir to Charms. Certainly, it wasn’t the first time he’d grown worn out by the end of the day.

Once Potions ended, though, he’d acted stranger still. Instead of walking you back to Ravenclaw tower like he usually did, he’d disappeared the moment you turned your back to pack your school bag. After a moment of searching for him in the herd of students wandering out of the classroom, you’d shrugged it off. Perhaps he’d suddenly remembered some responsibility he needed to complete or a club meeting for which he was running late.

However, as the main corridor in the dungeons cleared, with students hurrying back to their common rooms, you heard something strange – a voice echoing through the hall, hushed but amplified by the hollow, stone-carved space.

“Han!” There was a chuckle, low and distinctly male, emanating from behind one of the pillars at the end of the corridor. “Han, my love, we really shouldn’t.” It was bright and amused despite its protests. “Come, now, what if someone sees?”

The voice was so familiar, your feet froze to the spot immediately. It was Ernie’s voice.

Almost involuntarily, you turned in the direction of the thick stone pillar, whispering a spell to suppress the noise of your heels clicking against the floor of the corridor. In the silence you could hear the continued whispers echoing through the hall.

“Everyone’s already left.” You’d heard Hannah Abbot’s voice many times before, but never like this – she sounded like a vixen caricature and you wanted to hex her immediately. “It’s alright, Ern, no one will see.”

“Han, you know –” 

The boy you’d known that morning as your loving, sweethearted, devoted boyfriend suddenly froze as you stood in front of him, his Prefect partner’s arms twined around his shoulders like a second skin.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You felt a strange spark of pride at the way your voice failed to waver even as your heart sunk into your boots and your stomach roiled at the sight before you. In your wildest nightmares, you couldn’t have created this – your boyfriend who you’d spent over two years devoted to, with his hands all over a girl who you’d thought of as a friend.

Ernie saw you first, his eyes widening in horror as he took in the way your arms crossed in front of your chest and your jaw tensed, clearly understanding exactly what you were interrupting. Hannah, whose back was towards you, whipped around the moment she heard your voice, her jaw dropping when she saw you. Finally, her stance wavered, her arms slowly retreating from your boyfriend’s shoulders and her feet stepping back.

“Baby, I –” 

You cut off Ernie’s wavery protest with a watery, tense laugh. “Oh, please, carry on,” you snapped. “Don’t let me interfere.” The tears were already gathering in your waterline, but you refused to let them escape, firmly blinking them away. 

“Please, baby, you don’t understand.” He finally stepped away from Hannah, causing her to stumble to the side as he came towards you. She looked astounded at his sudden disregard for her, and in another situation, you would have felt bad for her. “It was a mistake! It only happened a couple of times, I swear. It was so stupid, please, you have to believe me.”

He tried to reach for your hands to hold them in his, as he’d done a thousand times before. This time, though, you pulled away, a sudden wave of disgust crashing through you. Who was this bloke standing in front of you? In the two years of your relationship, you’d never seen anything close to this side of him. The Ernie you knew was intelligent, responsible, sweet, caring…nothing like the person you were witnessing now, begging you to just forget about the way you’d caught him with another girl.

Your eyebrows lifted, your lips pressing together as you continued to fight back tears. “Is this what you’ve been doing while you were ‘patrolling’ on your rounds? Taking advantage of the fact that I’m not there to see you with her?” Memories flashed in your mind of the way he used to complain that he missed you while he was patrolling the corridors at night. You wondered if he’d meant it at some point or if it was a lie from the beginning.

“I –” Ernie sputtered, but from the look in his eyes, you knew you’d hit the nail on the head. Nausea overtook you, sickness in your stomach and your throat as you wondered how long, exactly, this had been going on. He’d been a Prefect for almost the entire duration of your relationship – had he been fooling you this whole time?

The rest of the argument was a blur, fading into unreality as your mind struggled to process the fact that your whole world had just turned on its head. Finally, you turned on your heel, exhausted and convinced that there was no point in continuing this fight. 

“Baby, please.” Ernie’s eyes were full of tears, an expression of despair carved so deeply on his face that in any other situation you would’ve run to him, wrapping him tightly in your arms and holding him closely until everything was better. But nothing could make this better, he’d brought this on himself. “We can work this out, there must be something I can do –”

You shook your head firmly, tears once again pricking at the corners of your own eyes, your vision blurring. Even this morning, you couldn’t have imagined a scenario where you would’ve ever ended things with Ernie. The two of you had talked about getting married after Hogwarts, moving into a flat together, how many children you would have… Just the previous week, he’d told you that he wanted to buy you a promise ring. Your lungs seized at the thought that you’d excitedly described your ideal ring while he was snogging Hannah Abbot on the side.

“No.” Finally, your voice trembled as you brought your gaze up to meet his eyes. “There’s nothing you can do, not anymore. We’re done, if that wasn’t clear.” Then, you glanced back at Hannah, who was still standing behind the two of you, chewing on her glossy lip. “You can have him.” With that, you stormed away.

When Ernie and Hannah finally disappeared behind you, the tears began to fall. Sobs seized your throat as your feet carried you further and further into the dungeons, getting you lost in the dark corridors beneath the school. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Thoughts raced faster than Firebolts in your head, time and space falling to the wayside as you wondered with horror how many of these hallways your newly ex-boyfriend had snogged Hannah in while the two of you were dating. You’d molded your entire life around him. His friends were your friends, his enemies were your enemies. Meanwhile, you weren’t even his only girlfriend.

You stumbled through the dungeons with shaking shoulders and weak knees until you finally found the door to an empty classroom. Stumbling through, you claimed your refuge amongst the silhouettes of abandoned chairs, some stacked atop dust-ridden desks. Rays of sunset streamed through the window, displaying the writings of some former professor on the blackboard, untouched through years of disuse. You stared blankly at the words, eyes unseeing as you slid down the stone wall, sinking to the floor and pulling your knees to your chest.

Time slipped by as you sobbed on the dusty floor, your forehead resting on your knees, the wool of your tights pricking your skin. It felt impossible to wrap your mind around the sudden implosion of your relationship that had felt so perfect in the morning. Why weren’t there any signs? How had you not noticed? He’d lied to you so smoothly, so successfully – if you hadn’t caught him and Hannah together, how much longer would you have stayed with him without realizing? A million questions tormented you in the midst of your seemingly unending flow of tears. 

The sun had slipped behind the mountains and the sky turned from pink to navy by the time your breath steadied, but you still couldn’t fathom the thought of getting up and facing the world. Your hands were still shaking and you were certain your eyes were horrendously red and swollen. Just the thought of anyone seeing you in this state filled you with dread.

And then, as if your life were some cruel joke, the door to the empty classroom slowly began to swing open.

Your breath seized in your chest. “Occupied!” you called, but your voice was so weak and shaky you were certain that no one could hear you. Inhaling and exhaling, you tried to summon the strength for another protest.

It was too late. Inside the doorway stood a silhouette, some fellow student with a schoolbag in hand. He stepped into the empty classroom, flinging his bag down atop a desk without a chair resting on it.

“Please go away.”

The words spilled out of your mouth involuntarily, and the bloke jumped, searching for the source of the noise. Quickly, you swiped at your cheeks, trying to erase the remaining evidence of your tears as his eyes fell on you.

“What’re you doing in here?”

Every muscle in your body tensed at once. You hadn’t recognized the figure in the darkness, your vision blurred from crying, but you knew that voice.

“Zabini?”

Of course, as if your day couldn’t get any worse, it had to be Blaise Zabini who found you crying and covered in dust on the floor of an empty classroom.

Ernie hated Slytherins, and Zabini most of all. The feeling was most certainly mutual. Although it was typically Draco Malfoy who ran about the corridors sneering at students from other houses and throwing wayward jinxes at anyone who looked at him the wrong way, whenever you and Ernie were in sight, Zabini took on the role. He and Ernie were constantly exchanging insults and hexes. The other Slytherins would join in to fling ink in Ernie’s direction in class or make over-the-top gagging sounds whenever the two of you held hands. The obnoxious behavior had lessened once Ernie became a Prefect, as Zabini quickly learned how easy it was for him to take points from Slytherin, but his lip still curled at the sight of you. You were sure he’d get a great laugh out of seeing you like this. 

Abandoning his school bag, he stepped closer, and your heart jumped into your throat. But his lips didn’t quirk upward into his usual smirk. Instead, a little furrow appeared between his eyebrows as he frowned, looking you up and down.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you snapped. “Just…had a bit of a stomachache. I was hoping for a little privacy.”

Brows raising, he eyed you suspiciously. “The Hospital Wing is that way, you know.” He gestured out the door of the empty classroom. 

“Well, it’s passed anyhow.” Standing, you dusted off your skirt, praying that your hands weren’t still shaking. “I’ll be going.”

“Right.” His skeptical voice flowed through the room as you turned away, stepping towards the door. “You sure you’re okay?”

Something about his insistence annoyed you, and you turned back around to face him. “What’s it to you?” you snapped. Immediately, you regretted opening your mouth, your shaky voice betraying you. “You hate me.”

Zabini let out a little scoff. “No, I don’t.” His eyes shifted for a moment as he paused. “MacMillan, maybe. But not you.”

Just the thought of Ernie made your face fall, and to your embarrassment, tears began to gather in your eyes again. Face hot with humiliation, you turned back towards the door, but your feet seemed to be glued to the spot.

“Hey.”

His voice was low and oddly calming, even as you struggled to hide your tears from his sight.

“What’s wrong?”

Finally, you turned back towards him. He was inches from you now, gazing down at you with a mix of confusion and sincerity that you’d never seen on his face before. It was such a far cry from the arrogant, sarcastic version of him that you’d always known, it made you wonder whether this was all a strange dream. First, the person you trusted most in the world betrayed you, and then someone you wouldn’t trust as far as you could throw him was standing in front of you with nothing but care in his eyes.

“I might hate him too.”

Something inside of you broke, as though admitting the truth out loud had eliminated your last hope that maybe none of it was real. Sobs wracked your body and tears flowed down your cheeks, but you were only left to shatter on your own for a moment. A pair of arms wrapped around you, and then Blaise Zabini, of all people, was holding you up as your knees trembled beneath you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured softly, guiding you back towards the spot where you’d been sitting against the wall. For a moment, he released you, and you wondered if this was all some cruel joke leading up to him hexing you or throwing ink in your face. But then you saw that he was taking off his school robes, revealing the black button-up and trousers that he wore underneath. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but before you could, he laid his robes down on the dusty floor.

“There you go.” He guided you down so you were sitting on his robes, settling himself down beside you.

You frowned, glancing over at him with watery eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

His eyes lowered for a moment before he met your gaze. “Because whatever he did to you, you didn’t deserve it.”

You cried for a long time after that, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders as you laid your head against him. It felt strange and wrong to be in the arms of someone that wasn’t Ernie, especially considering the bloke currently holding you was his worst enemy. But Blaise was there, and he cared, and strangely enough his touch felt like it was the one thing that could soothe the sickening sensation of loneliness and abandonment that was breaking you down. Though you knew your smeared makeup was probably getting all over his shirt and he was sitting on the dusty floor while you were resting on his discarded robes, he didn’t seem to mind, rubbing your back steadily as you released all of the grief that had accumulated inside you. 

As your tears began to dry up and your trembling finally paused, his low voice finally slipped through the air. “What happened?” His thumb traced your shoulder gently. 

You swallowed hard, forcing your weak voice to speak. “He’s been snogging his Prefect partner for a while.”

Glancing up, you tried to read Blaise’s expression, still not fully trusting him not to laugh. But there was no trace of amusement on his face, only an anger that pooled into disgust. 

“He’s even more of an idiot than I thought he was, then.”

You gave a weak laugh, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your skirt. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious.” He gave your shoulder a light squeeze. “You gave a tosser like that a chance and he wasted it? He’s got to be the dimmest bloke alive.”

Instinctively, a protest rose in your chest. That wasn’t the version of Ernie you’d known for two years. The Ernie that you fell in love with was funny, adorable, kind, intelligent… But it was all a lie, you remembered. It must’ve been. Somehow, you’d missed it.

“He was a good boyfriend,” you managed. “While we were together.” It still felt so strange to say. Imagining your life without Ernie seemed impossible.

Blaise let out a mirthless chuckle. “He’s a cheater and a prat.” His voice lilted with amusement. “You’re allowed to admit it.”

You frowned. “I know you hate him, but I dated him for a reason.” An annoyed little huff escaped your lips. “I’m not a total idiot.”

“I never said you were.” His words were light but insistent. “I always figured he must’ve been doing something to keep you around.”

Satisfied with that, you let silence fall around you. Your thoughts, though, continued to swirl like a tornado in your mind. Were you a total idiot? During your last fight, Ernie had tried to deceive, cheat, and manipulate you, and yet if someone had asked you the day before, you would’ve insisted that such a thing was impossible. How had you managed to ignore every flaw in his character for years?

“How –” You bit your lip, pausing as you wondered how to ask the question that was on your mind.

“Hmm?” Blaise glanced down at you attentively.

“Why don’t you like Ernie?” you finally asked, your voice soft and wavering. “How did you see…whatever it is about him that makes the two of you not get on? How did I miss it?”

A little sigh escaped from Blaise’s lips as your question hung in the air.

“Quit thinking like that,” he finally responded. “This wasn’t your fault.”

He’d read you like a crystal ball – the thoughts of self-doubt and anger at your own naivete had been spiraling in your mind since the moment you’d discovered Ernie’s cheating. But your expression was insistent as you finally lifted your head from his shoulder and held his gaze. “I still want to know.”

Blaise glanced downward, swallowing heavily. For a moment, you wondered whether he would answer. Then, he lifted his eyes back towards you.

“I can’t stand MacMillan because I can’t stand hypocrites,” he finally said. He paused, seemingly considering his words before continuing. “Have you ever noticed how he looks down his nose at everyone when a party gets busted, or when someone gets caught sneaking out, but when he wants to go get food from the kitchens it’s fine? Or how he’s always talking about how you have to earn high marks, how he’s put in the work for his grades, but in the next breath he’s asking you for your notes because he was ‘too tired’ to take them himself?” With a scoff, he shook his head. “He’s a swot who’s not even good at being a swot. That’s why I don’t like him.”

You frowned, glancing down at your lap as you considered Blaise’s words. Ernie had always justified those things to you when you’d first started dating. His dormitory was right next to the kitchens, it wasn’t as if he were sneaking across the castle when he went for a late snack. He was involved in so many activities, he was more tired than the other students and deserved help more than they did. Soon after, he’d stopped having to come up with the excuses. You’d made them for him. 

Of course he was spending a great deal of time with Hannah, she was his fellow Prefect, and they had plenty of projects to work on for the betterment of the school. Of course he was taking longer on patrols than the other Prefects did, he was dedicated to searching every corner of the castle for students out of bed. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, even though tears were beginning to trickle down your cheeks once again.

His fingers that had previously been resting against his thigh lifted, finding purchase beneath your chin and lifting your head so that your eyes connected with his. “Don’t you dare cry over him.” Thumb lightly swiping across your damp cheeks, he cleared the evidence of your sadness away. “No more tears, okay? He’s not worth it.”

Nodding, you gave a loud sniff, trying your best to curb the crying that had been plaguing you for hours. With a heavy inhale, you worked to steady your breathing. As you continued to think on Blaise’s words, another thought struck you.

“He always told me you hated us because we weren’t in Slytherin.”

You weren’t sure why you said it – maybe as a way of trying to explain to Blaise why you’d been so quick to take Ernie’s side in their unending feud. But at your words, his dark eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed before he looked squarely into your eyes.

“I never hated you,” he said firmly. “Never.”

A tension rose in the room, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You were suddenly very aware of the places where Blaise’s fingers were touching your skin, in the little gap between the bottom of your sweater and the top of your skirt. Once again you found yourself wondering whether you should be sitting so close to him, and your lips parted as you fumbled for something to say.

“You did get ink on my favorite shoes, though,” you finally managed. A wry laugh escaped from your lips as you tried to diffuse the tension.

He raised his eyebrows. “Then let me take you to Madame Malkin’s, I’ll buy you a hundred more.” When you gave another soft laugh, he eyed you insistently. “I’m serious. I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, you gave him a little smile. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

“Come here.” He lowered his touch to your knee and brought his palm across your legs, glancing at you for permission. You felt a moment of hesitation, but the comfort that Blaise brought you quickly won out over whatever little hangups you were still facing at the thought that you were in the arms of Ernie’s worst enemy. Caving to his touch, you relaxed into him, letting him bring your legs to rest over his thighs and pulling you in close to his chest. Your arms twined lightly around his torso in return. “I would take you to London and let you spend all my gold, just as long as you don’t cry over that rancid prat again, you hear me?”

“You say that now,” you replied, a lilt of playfulness audible in your still-tired voice, “but I really like bags.”

Blaise threw back his head and laughed at that, in his eyes a mixture of amusement and relief that you were joking instead of crying. “Buy whatever you want, I promise.”

You giggled softly despite yourself. “‘S okay. I’m not really in a spendy mood.” Resting your head against his chest, you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for the first time in hours. Although your heart still ached, the tension in your muscles finally released.

Seeming to sense your tiredness, he let the conversation fall to the wayside as a heavy exhale slipped past your lips. “There you go, angel.” His voice was a low murmur, reverberating against your body and soothing you further. “Did y’ eat dinner yet?”

You shook your head. “I can’t go up there.” Your weary whisper was barely audible. “Everyone’ll ask why we’re not sitting together.” There was a pain in your chest as you wondered whether your ex-boyfriend would be sitting with Hannah instead.

"I’ll go get you some food.” He gave your knee a little squeeze. “You just rest.”

Your heart nearly melted at that, but the thought of leaving the empty classroom still filled you with dread. “The common room will be just as bad.”

“Then we won’t go to your common room. We’ll go to mine.”

The Slytherins stared at you in confusion when you stepped through the door of their common room, but if Blaise’s arm wrapped protectively around you didn’t put a stop to that, the glare he shot at them, daring any of them to object, certainly did. Once his housemates had made the wise decision to turn back around in their seats and mind their own business, he guided you toward a beautiful, high-backed couch in front of the fireplace. After pulling a few throw pillows and a blanket from the neighboring chairs, he let you settle in, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders.

“Still doing alright?” He checked in on you as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and you nodded gratefully. “I’ll be right back,” he assured you, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “If you need anything, just let the girls know.” As he gestured toward a nearby set of armchairs, you saw two girls settled in them, one with a dark, chin-length bob and one with medium-length blonde hair. You knew them to be Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, and although you’d never considered them particularly friendly before, they now looked back at you with genuine smiles as Pansy waved. 

“Thanks.” You gave him a soft smile, glad to have a few more allies in unfamiliar territory. Never had you considered that you’d ever step foot in the Slytherin common room, and when Blaise left for the Great Hall, you took to studying your surroundings. You’d always known the room was located below the Black Lake, but truly seeing the bluish-green light seeping in through the windows as fish and mermaids swam by was a different experience entirely. The dark-coloured furniture and moody ambience, with torchlights flickering off the walls, made the place suitable to your current persuasion. 

You were in your sixth year at Hogwarts, and you’d never even considered friendship with any Slytherin, mostly because Ernie had always told you that they hated anyone who wasn’t in their own house. It would have been so easy for you to carry on this way until the end of school. But the Slytherins you’d encountered that day were nothing like Ernie had described. For the first time, you were able to consider that maybe your breakup with him was a good thing. The idea of your future without him still felt hazy and made you a bit ill, but you wondered what else you might find behind the curtain of the lies he’d told you. What else could you experience and enjoy now that you weren’t tied to him? 

Blaise’s return with two large plates of beans, potatoes, and ham pulled you from your thoughts a few minutes later, and you finally remembered how hungry you actually were. You hadn’t eaten since lunch, and the clock on the wall told you it was now nearly eight o’clock at night. 

“You’re amazing.” Gratefully, you took one of the plates into your hands as he settled down on the couch next to you to eat. 

It didn’t take long after you finished your meal and Vanished your dishes for your eyes to start fluttering closed. Your head relaxed against Blaise’s shoulder and you heard him let out a contented little sigh, reclining against the back of the couch so you could lay against his chest instead. 

“All good?” His voice seemed to wrap around you just like the blanket he’d provided, keeping you warm and safe.

You nodded, a little smile on your lips. As you fell to sleep, you felt his fingers gently running through your hair, ensuring it was out of your face.

“Things will be better tomorrow, angel.”

Credits: Images ltr: Pinterest by flyssera here, Pinterest here, Pinterest by dearerilea here | divider by @saradika-graphics here

[justwaveandsmile]

Lima Charlie

wc: 4,677

summary: reader works in navy comms and jake falls in love with your voice ♡( ◡‿◡ )

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Dagger Two, this is Tower. Radio check, over.”

You adjusted your headset, scanning the screen in front of you as you waited for the response. Second week at North Island, and you were still getting used to the callsigns, the voices, the particular rhythm of these pilots.

“Tower, Dagger Two. Loud and clear. How me?”

The voice was smooth, confident—maybe a little too confident. You checked your roster. Dagger Two: Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, callsign Hangman.

“Dagger Two, read you lima charlie. Standby for departure clearance.”

“Copy, standing by.”

Professional. Clean. Exactly how it should be.

Over the next forty minutes, you guided Hangman and his team through their training exercise. Hangman was… chatty. More than most.

“Tower, Dagger Two. You know, you’ve got a great voice for this. Very authoritative.”

You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. Confirm heading two-seven-zero.”

“Heading two-seven-zero confirmed. Just saying, it’s nice to have someone competent up there.”

“Dagger Two, save the commentary for the debrief.”

You heard him laugh over the radio. “Yes ma’am. Hangman is buttoned up.”

He wasn’t, really. Over the next several flights that week, you learned that Hangman always had something to say. But he was also sharp—never missed a check-in, never fumbled coordinates, always three steps ahead. The banter was just… extra.

“Tower, Dagger Two. Requesting flyby.”

“Negative, Dagger Two. The pattern is full.”

“Come on, Tower. Just one?”

“Dagger Two, that’s a negative. Stop asking.”

“You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Your heart will survive. Bring it around for landing, heading one-eight-zero.”

“Heading one-eight-zero. You know, one of these days I’m gonna find out who you are.”

“Focus on your landing, Dagger Two.”

Friday night. The Hard Deck was packed, and you were nursing a beer while Phoenix told a story about Rooster’s latest landing that had gone slightly sideways.

“I’m telling you, he almost clipped the carrier deck. Swears up and down it was textbook, but I was right there—”

“It sounds like Rooster,” you said, grinning. You’d met Natasha—Phoenix—during your first week since you moved bases. She’d shown up at the tower to dispute a training score and you’d liked her immediately: sharp, no-nonsense, with a wicked sense of humor. She’d taken you under her wing, introducing you to the good coffee spots on base and insisting you needed to “actually have a life outside of work.”

Hence the Hard Deck on a Friday night.

“Speak of the devil,” Phoenix said, nodding toward the door where Rooster had just walked in with a few other pilots. “Brace yourself. When the squad’s all here, it gets loud.”

You watched as they made their way to the pool table—Rooster with his ridiculous mustache, Fanboy excitedly explaining something while Bob listened with quiet interest, Payback and Coyote already bantering back and forth about who gets next game, and—

And a blond guy who moved through the bar like he owned it, that easy confidence in every step.

“That’s Hangman,” Phoenix said, following your gaze. Her voice had gone slightly flat. “Total player. Goes through women like he’s collecting trading cards. We fly together, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”

“You work with him?”

“Unfortunately. He’s a good pilot—one of the best, actually—but his ego could fill a hangar.” She took a sip of her beer. “Why? Please tell me you’re not interested.”

“No, I just—” You paused as Hangman laughed at something Rooster said, and that sound.

You knew that sound.

“Oh God,” you said.

“What?”

“That’s Dagger Two.”

Phoenix’s eyes widened. “Wait. That’s your chatty pilot? The one who keeps trying to flirt over comms?”

“I wouldn’t say flirt—”

“You literally told me yesterday, and I quote, ‘if Dagger Two makes one more comment about my voice, I’m going to revoke his radio privileges.’”

“That was— I was exaggerating.”

Phoenix was grinning now, clearly delighted. “Oh, this is perfect. Hangman has no idea he’s been annoying you for two weeks.”

“Nat, don’t—”

But Rooster had spotted Phoenix and was waving her over. Phoenix grabbed your arm, hauling you up. “Come on. This is going to be hilarious.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

The group made room as you approached, Rooster clapping Phoenix on the shoulder. “Took you long enough. We’re already getting destroyed at pool and need backup.”

“That’s because Hangman keeps calling impossible shots,” Bob said with a small smile on his face.

“They’re not impossible if I make them,” the blond guy—Hangman—said. Then his eyes landed on you, and that easy smile appeared. “Hey. I’m Jake. Don’t think we’ve met.”

Phoenix was practically vibrating with suppressed glee. “Jake, this is my friend. She just transferred here a couple weeks ago. Works in the tower.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand.

The moment you spoke, Jake’s expression shifted. His eyes widened, his head tilted slightly, and you watched recognition dawn across his face like sunrise.

“Wait,” he said, his grin spreading slowly as he shook your hand, holding it maybe a second longer than necessary. “‘Your heart will survive.’ Tower. It’s you.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you absolutely do.” He stepped closer, completely ignoring Phoenix’s delighted snort. “That voice. Two weeks I’ve been listening to that voice, and here you are.”

“I told you to focus on flying.”

His laugh was the same one you’d heard over the radio a dozen times, but richer in person, warmer. “This is— I can’t believe this. Here I was thinking Tower was some grizzled veteran who’d seen it all, and instead you’re—” He stopped himself, but his eyes said the rest.

Rooster leaned over to Phoenix. “Is he… blustering?”

“I think he might be,” Phoenix whispered back, looking fascinated.

Coyote sidled up next to Jake with a knowing smirk. “Hangman’s actually speechless. Someone write this down.”

“I’m not speechless,” Jake protested.

“You kind of are, man,” Fanboy added, grinning as he chalked his pool cue.

You studied Jake for a moment. He seemed genuinely surprised, genuinely pleased. But Phoenix had warned you.

Player. Heartbreaker. The kind of guy who knew exactly what to say.

“Well, now you know,” you said. “Mystery solved.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I have one.”

“Another one, then. After that one.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He didn’t push, just settled back against the pool table like he had all the time in the world, though his eyes kept finding their way back to you.

“Fair enough. You any good at pool? We could use someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“She’s terrible at pool,” Phoenix interjected, grinning. “But I’ll play. You and me, Hangman. Let’s see if you can back up all that talk.”

As Phoenix and Jake started setting up, Rooster moved closer to you.

“Fair warning: those two are competitive. This might get ugly.”

“Nat can handle herself.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about Phoenix.”

You glanced at him, confused, but he was already watching Jake, who kept looking over at you between shots, like he was making sure you were still there.

You thought that would be the end of it. One conversation, curiosity satisfied, everyone moves on.

You were wrong.

Jake started showing up. Not in an obvious way—he was too smart for that. He’d just… appear. At the coffee cart you frequented before your shift. At the Hard Deck on Friday nights, always gravitating toward wherever you and Phoenix were sitting. At the O-Club when Nat dragged you to some mandatory fun event.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he’d say, like it was pure coincidence.

“It’s the base coffee cart, Hangman. Not exactly a secret location.”

“Jake. You can call me Jake, you know. When we’re not on comms.”

“I’m aware of your name.”

“Just making sure. You want anything? I’m buying.”

“I can buy my own coffee.”

“I know you can. I’m asking if you want me to.”

You’d usually say no. Sometimes you’d say yes, just to see what he’d do. He never made it weird, never acted like you owed him anything. Just handed you the coffee and asked about your day.

Phoenix noticed immediately.

“He’s like a puppy,” she said one afternoon, watching Jake walk away after delivering your usual order without you even asking. “A very tall, very blond puppy.”

“He’s just being friendly.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why he hasn’t looked at another woman in three weeks?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Hangman—king of the one-night stand, collector of phone numbers—hasn’t so much as glanced at anyone else since he met you.” Phoenix leaned back in her chair. “It’s actually kind of freaking the guys out.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not. Ask Bob. He’s been keeping track.”

You refused to think too hard about what that might mean.

Over the radio, though, nothing changed.

“Tower, Dagger Two. How’s your morning?”

“Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. You’re clear for takeoff, runway two-niner.”

“Copy that, Tower. Runway two-niner. Just saying, hope you liked the coffee earlier.”

“Dagger Two.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

It was Rooster who brought it up first during their next squadron meeting.

They were at the Hard Deck, the usual Friday night crowd, and Jake had barely glanced at the brunette who’d been making eyes at him from the bar for the past twenty minutes.

“Hangman,” Rooster said, setting down his beer. “You feeling okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

“Because that girl over there is definitely interested and you haven’t even looked at her.”

Jake glanced over briefly. “Not my type.”

Phoenix nearly choked on her drink. “Since when do you have a type beyond ‘breathing’?”

“Funny.”

But then the door opened, and Jake’s attention snapped toward it immediately. His whole posture changed—straightened up, ran a hand through his hair.

You walked in, laughing at something on your phone, completely oblivious.

“Oh my god,” Phoenix said, even though she’d seen this exact reaction a dozen times now. “You’ve got it so bad.”

“What?”

“You’re making moon eyes at my friend.”

“I don’t make moon eyes.”

“You absolutely make moon eyes,” Rooster said, grinning now. “How long has this been going on?”

“There’s nothing going on. We’re friends.”

Bob, who’d been quietly watching the exchange, spoke up. “Friends.” There was a knowing quality to his tone, subtle but unmistakable.

Jake shot him a look. “Yes, Bob. Friends. Some of us have those.”

“Some of us don’t turn into golden retrievers every time those friends walk into a room,” Payback added.

Coyote leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with an amused grin. “I’ve known you for years, Hangman. Never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” Jake asked defensively.

“Like you actually care,” Fanboy chimed in, exchanging a look with Coyote. “It’s weird. But also kind of nice?”

“I hate all of you.”

Phoenix was watching him with a calculating expression. “You’re serious. You actually like her.”

“Of course I like her. She’s—” He stopped, seeming to realize he was about to prove their point. “She’s nice.”

“She is nice,” Phoenix agreed. “She’s also one of my best friends, which means if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your callsign gets changed to Grounded.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s… actually terrifying.”

“Good. It should be.” Phoenix leaned forward, her expression serious. “I’m not kidding, Hangman. She’s not one of your usual conquests. She’s—”

“I know,” Jake said, and his voice had gone quiet. Serious. “Trust me, I know. Why do you think I haven’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m trying to do this right.”

Phoenix blinked. In all the years she’d known Jacob Seresin, she’d never heard him sound like that. “Oh. You’re really serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” She studied him for a long moment. “Okay. But I’m still watching you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

But he was already up, making his way across the bar to where you stood.

You saw him coming and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Which was becoming a problem, actually—how much you didn’t mind when he showed up.

“Hey,” Jake said, that easy smile in place but something softer in his eyes. “Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

“It’s Friday. I’m here most Fridays with Nat.”

“Right. Yeah. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m about to order one.”

“So that’s a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were fighting a smile. “Sure, Hangman. You can buy me a drink.”

His whole face lit up like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

From across the bar, you caught Phoenix watching with a knowing smirk. You made a mental note to interrogate her later about whatever that look meant.

The thing was, Jake was… different than you’d expected.

Sure, he had the callsign and the reputation and the smile that could probably stop traffic. But when it was just the two of you—usually with Phoenix somewhere nearby, watching like a protective older sister—he wasn’t Hangman.

He was just Jake.

He asked questions—real ones, not the smooth-talking kind meant to impress. He wanted to know about your hometown, your family, why you’d joined the Navy, what you wanted to do after. He listened when you talked, actually listened, his green eyes focused on you like you were the only person in the world.

And he told you things too. About growing up in Texas, about learning to fly, about why he flew the way he did.

“I know what they say about me,” he said one night. You and Phoenix had stayed late at the Hard Deck, and she’d stepped away to take a call, leaving you and Jake alone on the deck overlooking the beach. “Hangman. Like I leave people hanging.”

“Do you?”

“In the air? Yeah. Sometimes. Because I know I’m good enough to get the job done alone.” He picked up a handful of sand that had blown onto the deck railing, let it run through his fingers. “But it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because… if I’m the one taking the risk, then no one else has to.”

You looked at him—really looked at him. At the way his jaw tightened, the way he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“That’s lonely,” you said quietly.

He did look at you then. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Something shifted between you in that moment. Something that made your chest feel tight and your breath catch and oh no, you thought.

Oh no.

Phoenix returned a moment later, taking one look at both of you and raising an eyebrow. But she didn’t say anything, just settled back into her chair and changed the subject.

Later, when Jake had left and it was just the two of you walking to your cars, Phoenix bumped your shoulder.

“So.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Nat.”

“He’s different with you. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s actually trying to be a real person instead of just Hangman.” She paused. “I know I gave you the warning about him. And I meant it—the old Hangman, the one who went through women like they didn’t matter? I’d tell you to run. But this…” She shook her head. “Maybe people can change.”

“You think I should give him a chance?”

“I think you already are. I’m just saying… I wouldn’t hate it. If you two figured things out.” She grinned. “But if he screws it up, I get to kick his ass in training. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“He’s got it bad,” Rooster said two months later, watching Jake watch you from across the rec room. You were completely focused on the tablet in your hands, reviewing flight logs while Phoenix looked over your shoulder and pointed something out. Oblivious.

“It’s kind of painful to witness,” Fanboy agreed, shaking his head. “How long has this been going on?”

After a short pause, Bob spoke. "Three months? Maybe four?"

“And he hasn’t even tried anything?”

Phoenix, who’d joined them, shook her head. “Nope. He just… follows her around like a puppy. Gets her coffee. Listens to her talk about radio frequencies like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Hangman?” Rooster asked.

“Right?” Phoenix settled into a chair, still watching. “I gave him the shovel talk, like, six times. Told him if he hurt her, I’d never forgive him. You know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said he’d never forgive himself either.”

“Damn,” Payback said. “He’s really gone.”

Coyote whistled low. “Never thought I’d see the day. Hangman actually settling down for someone.”

“He’s going to crash and burn,” Rooster said. “She has no idea how he feels.”

“Oh, she knows,” Phoenix said. “She just doesn’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s Hangman. And she’s…” Phoenix paused, trying to find the right words. “She’s careful. She doesn’t trust easy. And Jake’s reputation isn’t exactly helping.”

"I think it's nice. He's actually trying," Bob said, watching as Jake moved closer to you, saying something that made you laugh.

“He better be,” Phoenix said. “Because if he breaks her heart, reputation change or not, I’ll break him.”

You didn’t believe it.

Sure, Jake was… around. A lot. And yes, he’d stopped flirting with other women—Phoenix had confirmed that, even seemed pleased about it. And okay, maybe your heart did this stupid flutter thing every time you heard his voice over the radio or saw him waiting by the coffee cart in the morning.

But Jacob Seresin didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. This was just… friendly. He was being friendly.

The fact that his hand would linger when he handed you your coffee, or that he’d started texting you good morning every day, or that he’d shown up with soup when you’d mentioned feeling under the weather—that was just how he was.

Probably.

“You’re an idiot,” Phoenix said, not for the first time. You were in her apartment, having your weekly movie night, and she’d paused the film just to give you this look.

“I’m realistic.”

“He brought you soup!”

“He’s nice.”

“He’s not nice! He’s Hangman! He’s only nice to you!” Phoenix grabbed your shoulders. “Listen to me. I have known that man for years. Years. I have seen him go through women without learning their last names. I have watched him charm his way out of consequences and into beds without a second thought. And I have never—not once—seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

“Nat, really—”

“I’m serious. He’s different now. With you. And I know his reputation scares you, but people can change. He’s changing. For you.”

You wanted to believe her. God, you wanted to believe her.

But wanting something and trusting it were two very different things.

It was a Wednesday when everything changed.

You were in the tower, middle of a routine training exercise, when the alarm sounded.

“Dagger Two, Dagger Two, this is Tower. We have reports of a bird strike. What’s your status?”

Static.

Your heart stopped.

“Dagger Two, come in.”

More static, then: “Tower, Dagger Two. Confirm bird strike. Engine two is out. Engine one is… not looking great.”

His voice was steady, professional. But you could hear it underneath—the tension.

“Copy, Dagger Two. What’s your altitude?”

“Fifteen thousand and dropping. Trying to restart engine one.”

You pulled up his position, calculated distances, ran through every protocol you knew. Your supervisor was already moving, picking up the direct line to Base Operations.

“Ops, this is Tower. We have an in-flight emergency. Dagger Two, bird strike, dual engine failure. Pilot is attempting emergency landing at auxiliary field two-zero miles northeast. Launch crash crew and medical.”

Phoenix’s voice crackled through on the emergency channel. “Hangman, this is Phoenix. I’ve got Bob with me. We’re tracking you. Talk to us.”

“Phoenix, I’m losing altitude fast. Not gonna make it back to base.”

“Dagger Two, nearest divert is North Island. Can you make it?” you said, keeping your voice level through sheer force of will.

“Negative, Tower. I’m not going to make it to North Island.”

Your breath caught. “Dagger Two, there’s an auxiliary airfield twenty miles northeast of your position. Sending coordinates now.”

“Copy, I see it.”

Your supervisor was coordinating on the other line. “Crash crew is rolling. Ambulance and fire truck en route to auxiliary field. ETA twelve minutes.”

“Jake.” You never used his name over comms. Ever. “You can make it.”

A pause. Then, quieter: “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it.”

The next ten minutes were the longest of your life. You talked him through every step, keeping your voice steady even though your hands were shaking. Phoenix stayed on comms, her voice calm and professional, while Bob fed Jake technical readouts in that steady, measured way of his.

When he finally confirmed wheels down, safe, you had to sit down before your legs gave out.

Your supervisor touched your shoulder. “Good work. Crash crew is on scene. Medical is evaluating him now. They’ll transport him back to North Island by ground.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

Phoenix’s voice came through your headset. “Tower, Dagger Three. Bob and I are RTB. Ground crew has Hangman. They’re bringing him back by ambulance as a precaution.”

“Copy, Dagger Three,” you managed. “Safe flight.”

“Tower?” Phoenix’s voice was gentler now. “He’s okay. He’s safe. And knowing the squad, they’re probably already gathering at the medical building.”

Despite everything, you almost smiled. “Copy that.”

“You should probably be there too.”

You shouldn’t have left your post early. You definitely shouldn’t have been standing outside the base medical building with the entire Dagger Squad all waiting restlessly.

But there you were.

The ambulance pulled up, lights flashing but no siren, and the moment the rear doors opened, Jake climbed out on his own power, waving off the corpsman who tried to help him. He looked exhausted and rattled but whole.

His eyes scanned the group and found yours immediately.

Phoenix nudged Bob, who gave a small nod and stepped back without a word. “Come on. Let’s give them a minute.”

“The rest of you too,” Rooster said, herding the remaining Daggers toward the building entrance. “Move it.”

“But I want to see—” Coyote started.

“Move,” Phoenix said, her tone brooking no argument.

Then they were gone, and it was just you and Jake in the parking lot.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself.”

“Thanks for—”

You closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for half a second, then his arms came around you, tight and sure.

“You scared me,” you said into his shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“If you ever do that again—”

“I won’t.” His hand came up to the back of your head, cradling it gently. “I promise.”

You pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes were so green, so close, and he was looking at you like…

Oh.

Oh.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” he said quietly. “And all I could think was that I never told you—”

“Jake.”

“I’m in love with you.” The words came spilling out in a rush. “I know you probably don’t believe me, and I know I have a reputation, but I swear, I have never felt like this about anyone. You make me want to be better. You make me want to be the guy you see when you look at me. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I just needed you to know—”

You kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was soft and deliberate, your hand coming up to cup his jaw as you rose onto your toes. He made a sound—somewhere between relief and wonder—and pulled you closer, one hand sliding to the small of your back while the other cradled your face like you were something precious. The world narrowed to just this: the warmth of his mouth on yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment, the taste of salt from tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead dropped to rest against yours. His eyes were still closed, and when he opened them, they were bright with something that looked like reverence.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You terrify me.”

“I know.”

“I don’t do casual. I can’t— I’m not built for that.”

“Good. Because there’s nothing casual about the way I feel about you.” His thumb brushed across your cheekbone, gentle and reverent. “I’m all in. Have been for months. Everyone knows it. Phoenix has threatened me at least six times. I don’t care. I’d let her threaten me every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep bringing you coffee and hearing you tell me to maintain radio discipline and just… being around you.”

You laughed, slightly watery. “You’re really in love with me?”

“So much it’s actually embarrassing. Have been since the first time I heard your voice over the radio. When I finally saw you at the Hard Deck and realized the voice I’d been falling for had a face to match…” He shook his head. “I was done for.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m scared,” you said again. “But I— I think I might be in love with you too. Which is terrifying because I didn’t think that was possible four months ago.”

His smile was incandescent, and then he was kissing you again—softer this time, sweeter, like a promise. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to spend every second of it right here with you.

From somewhere behind you, you heard Phoenix’s voice carry across the parking lot: “FINALLY!”

Then Rooster: “Did she just—”

“Yep,” Phoenix said, sounding immensely satisfied. “Called it. Pay up, Bradshaw.”

“I knew it!” Payback’s voice rang out. “Fanboy, you owe me twenty bucks!”

You broke apart, laughing, and Jake tucked you against his side, his lips pressing a kiss to your temple. “Did they all bet on us?”

“Probably,” Jake said, but he was smiling, looking down at you like you were everything he'd been missing. “Don’t care. Totally worth it.”

And looking up at him, at the way he was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered, you had to agree.

It really, really was.

Six Months Later

“Tower, Dagger Two. Radio check.”

You smiled, adjusting your headset. “Dagger Two, Tower. Read you loud and clear.”

“Copy that, Tower. Hey, what are you doing after your shift?”

“Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline.”

“Come on, just tell me.”

“Dagger Two.”

“Is it hanging out with your extremely handsome boyfriend? Because I heard he’s planning something special.”

You could hear Rooster groaning over the comms. “Hangman, some of us are trying to focus here.”

Phoenix cut in, sounding amused. “Hangman, I swear, if you don’t focus on flying, I’m telling her about that time in Lemoore—”

“Phoenix, no—”

“Then focus.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to enjoy the show,” came Coyote’s voice, a laugh in his tone. “This is better than anything on TV.”

“Coyote, you’re not helping,” Bob chimed in, though you could hear the amusement in his voice too.

“Tower, this is Fanboy. For the record, some of us are actually trying to maintain professionalism up here.”

“Thank you, Fanboy,” you said, fighting back a smile.

“He’s lying,” Payback interjected. “He’s got popcorn. Literally eating popcorn in the cockpit.”

“I do not!”

You bit back a laugh. “Dagger Two, you’re clear for takeoff. And yes. Seven is fine.”

“That’s my girl. Dagger Two is airborne.”

Your supervisor gave you a look. You shrugged innocently.

From the tarmac, you heard Phoenix’s voice: “Tower, Dagger Three. Just so you know, your boyfriend is doing barrel rolls. Showing off.”

“Dagger Three, tell him to stop.”

“I tried. He says, and I quote, ‘she likes it when I show off.’”

“Dagger Three, you have permission to knock some sense into him during training.”

“With pleasure, Tower. Phoenix out.”

Some things, you’d learned, were worth breaking protocol for.

And Jake Seresin—cocky, loyal, yours—was definitely one of them.

[witchwyfe]

storm's song - jhs

I pairing: college jake ‘hangman’ seresin x female reader

I précis: classic power's out and they have to share a bed trope

I content/warnings: college au, roommates to lovers (that haven’t gotten past the roommates stage yet), this is early on in their bed sharing escapades, mentions of storms

I word count: 748

I a/n: part of the roommate predicament also HIIII i missed writing, not sure how active i'll be with working full time but i will do my best :)

You didn’t even think it was possible to get this cold in Texas, but after a long day of thunderstorms and cold rain, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re startled when your bedside lamp shuts off, removing the soft light from your book, and instead basking you in darkness.

“Jake!” You call out, hoping he’s still awake.

Within 30 seconds he’s standing in your doorway, gaming headset slid down onto his neck. “Power’s out,” He huffs, like he ran in here to you—he probably did.

“Mine too.” You push yourself off of your bed so that you can see better. “I’m going to go look at the circuit breaker.” A crack of thunder rattles the windows, evoking a flinch from you.

“Maybe that’s not the best idea.” Jake says gently. “I’ll call the landlord.”

“Okay.” You nod. “You want some tea?”

“Sure.” He watches you shiver, and you sigh.

“Am I imagining it, or does it already feel colder in here?”

“Here, lemme get you a sweatshirt.” Jake says, darting off to his room and choosing to ignore the fact that you have plenty of sweatshirts in your own closet.

You slide on your smiley-face slippers and make your way out into the kitchen, pulling the kettle and two mugs out. Jake comes in with a flashlight and one of your favorite hoodies of his—not that you’ve ever told him.

“Here,” He hands it to you awkwardly, thankful that the lights are out and you can’t see how pink his face is.

“Thanks Jake.” You smile, accepting the sweatshirt and sliding it over your head, reveling in the warmth it brings you. You let your face linger in the fabric, flooding your senses with Jake.

After your tea has been made and candles have been lit, you’re settled into the couch, sitting closer to Jake than you usually do. Luckily his iPad was fully charged and now you’re watching a random movie on it. With each minute that passes, your eyelids feel heavier. You’d pulled your duvet from your bed and wrapped it around you and Jake, and it’s like he senses that you’re growing tired, because he moves closer, so that your head can rest on your shoulder.

“You gettin’ tired sweetheart?” He murmurs softly, warm breath hitting the side of your face. You nod, nuzzling farther into him. His heart rate has picked up by a tenfold and he hopes you’re too tired to notice. His hand slides up and down your side, the slight contact even through your—his—hoodie making you feel warm and fuzzy, almost like you’re floating.

Pretty soon you’re out cold and Jake isn’t far behind you. He moves his iPad to the coffee table and settles in, reveling in the way you seem to melt into him, in your sleep. Your breath passes softly through parted lips. Your eyelashes flutter minutely with each exhale. Jake feels lucky that you’re so comfortable with him—on—him.

Jake continues watching—less than half paying attention—until he feels his arm go numb. He lets it stay that way for a while until he worries about how your current position will affect you, he doesn’t want you to hurt your neck. Mentally he runs over his options. He would just carry you to his bed and get in with you, but he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Maybe he can move the couch cushions so there’s more room. Or maybe he can—

“Jake?”

“Hey, hey darlin’,” He murmurs softly. “I’m here. What do you need?”

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah.”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Can we go to bed?”

We? His heart flutters.

“Sure, can darlin’, you need help getting to your room?”

You scowl, features crinkling up in a way that makes Jake want to laugh. “Can we go to your room?”

Jake swallows roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing. “You want to?”

You nod sleepily. “S’too cold to sleep alone.”

Jake lets you unwrap yourself from the blankets and shuffle to his room, his warm hand at your lower back, just in case.

He pulls back his dark green duvet, letting you get tucked under the sheet before he straightens the rest of the covers on top of you. Sliding in next to you, his heartbeat quickens. He’s a respectable distance away, when you curl into him, arm slinging over his torso, like there’s a magnet on your bodies keeping you from being too far apart.

© witchwyfe 2026. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[vigilantexreader]

mini me

synopsis: Reader crochets Adrian a mini Vigilante <3

tags/warnings: no warnings this is literally just #fluff based on a request but it got out of hand and I thought it deserved its own post

word count: 0.8k

Thank you @embeanwrites for the edits and @snowyathena for the title suggestions <3

Masterlist

“I have something for you,” you say bright and early one morning at work, and Adrian spins around in his desk chair.

“For me?” he says, pointing at himself. “Is it a dossier? Do we have a new mission?”

You feel a little shy, but you hold out the wrapped package, and Adrian’s eyes light up.

“A present?” he exclaims. “It’s not my birthday! Or Christmas! Or Halloween! Not that that’s even a gift-giving holiday, unless you’re giving me candy, but you do that all the time and you don’t present it to me all specially like this—”

“It’s a ‘just-because’ present,” you interrupt, tapping your foot impatiently. “Now open it or I’m going to take it back.”

“No take-backsies!” Adrian declares, snatching the package from your hands eagerly. He wastes no more time ripping into the paper, and you laugh at how impatient he is. There is no savoring the moment with Adrian.

“I made it,” you say quietly when the gift reveals itself—a palm-sized amigurumi Vigilante, holding a tiny chainsaw. “After you finally got your chainsaw kill last week.”

Adrian’s jaw drops, and he lets the wrapping paper fall to the floor.

“Oh my god, it’s me,” he says, awed, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “It’s a tiny me. You made this?”

“I crochet,” you remind him. “In my spare time, at home.”

“I know that,” Adrian says, his brow furrowed. “You made me my winter hat and mittens. The teal ones, they’re my favorite. They’re really soft and they fit me perfect and I’m pretty sure I say thank you every time I wear them which is like, every fucking day.”

“Right,” you say. You clear your throat. You have to admit, your motives were slightly selfish when you made Adrian that beanie. He looks so fucking good in a hat, his curls sticking out at the bottom, and god, his messy hat hair when he pulls it off makes you want to melt into a puddle.

“But I had no idea you could do stuff like this,” Adrian continues. “This is cool as fuck!”

“It’s just a silly hobby, but I thought you would like it—”

“I love it,” Adrian cries, cradling the tiny yarn creation like it’s something precious and not something you whipped up in a few hours while binge-watching television in old, stained pajamas.

“You love what?” Chris interrupts, poking his head over the divider that separates his desk from Adrian’s. A much-needed addition that (kind-of) keeps Adrian from talking his ear off all day. Adebayo pokes her head over, too, to see what the commotion is about.

“Look at this!” Adrian says, holding up the tiny Vigilante so his friends can see it. “This is—the best gift I’ve ever gotten in my whole life!”

“Aw,” Ads says. “That’s adorable. You made that?”

“I did,” you say, a little embarrassed that Adrian is drawing so much attention to it. You should have anticipated this.

“Hey,” Chris says, offended. “The best gift you’ve ever gotten in your whole life? What about that sick ass vintage gun I gave you for your birthday a couple years ago?”

“This is better,” Adrian says. “It’s literally a tiny me. With a chainsaw. To commemorate the best day of my life, when I finally got—”

“—to kill someone with a chainsaw, yeah, we know,” Emilia says as she passes by on her way to the break room for a coffee. 

“Just remember I did it first!” John calls across the office, a little smug.

Adrian pouts. “Yeah, well, you don’t have a tiny yarn Economos, so who is more special?” he grumbles. 

“You are,” you say quietly, so only Adrian can hear. “To me.”

He fiddles with the tiny figure in his hands and looks up at you with a small smile.

“Thank you,” he says, and now it’s his turn to be a little shy. He clutches the mini Vigilante in his fist as he stares at your hand, like he wishes he was holding it instead.

“Do you think you could make it into a keychain for me?” he asks. “So I can take him everywhere I go?” Then he pauses and frowns. “No, I shouldn’t do that. He would get dirty and worn out. I should keep him somewhere special where no one is ever allowed to touch him and he will remain in pristine condition forever—”

“You could get one of those cases,” Ads suggests. “That people keep their Labubus in. I think they make ones you can clip to your bag.”

“Yes!” Adrian says. He immediately opens a new browser window and starts searching.

“What the fuck is a Labubu?” asks Chris. He squints, looking a little closer at the amigurumi Vigilante. “That is pretty cool, that you made that. Hey…do you think you could make me one of Eagly?”

Adrian taglist: @justalotoffanfiction @danversxwasabi @clowninavan @obsessedromancereader @adoresami @a-young-g0d @rattymess @raidstarz @bastardstevie @am-3-thyst @xoxocamis @morguegrl89 @somethin-sparklyy @awesomsaucesom @secretjesterr @fangirl48 @seeingdubs @lovenerdywhitemen2 @23s0fia @jeshomie @aerionshipthrust @deamlucem @tlfg-adrianchase @brianna-merlim @amart-e @countvonklit @pieolsen @gingerjane15

[emma-frxst]

I Can Dive You Crazy

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem reader

Summary: you drive Frank Castle absolutely crazy- in the best way.

Ask me on a date and I show up late/ I can drive you crazy, yes, I can// Blow out your birthday candles, steal your cake//I can drive you crazy, yes, I can

Word Count: 1.9k

Content Warnings: sickening amount of fluff

Authors Note: my debut Frank castle fic! Thanks to @cryptidwriterrr for requesting something and inspiring me with her frank fics

Tags: @cryptidwriterrr (tags open, requests open)

It’s a normal day.

Or it was.

You’re halfway through sorting reports—that shift in the room. Not loud, not obvious, just… different. Like the air tightened.

You glance up.

And there he is.

Frank stands just inside the doorway, looking completely out of place and entirely like himself at the same time—dark shirt, worn jacket, eyes scanning out of habit before they land on you.

And then they stay there.

Your brain barely catches up before your heart does something ridiculous in your chest.

“Give me one second,” you tell your co-workers quickly, already moving.

Frank doesn’t move as you approach him, but there’s a tension in his shoulders—like he’s debating whether he should’ve come at all.

“Frank?” you say, a little breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“Was in the area,” he mutters automatically.

You raise an eyebrow.

“…really? An hour from the house and you’re in the area.’”

He exhales through his nose, jaw tightening just slightly—caught.

“Yeah, well.” His hand shifts from behind his back and that’s when you see it.

Flowers.

A small bouquet, nothing over-the-top. Simple. Real. Completely unexpected.

You blink at them, then at him. “You brought me flowers?”

Frank immediately shrugs like it’s nothing, gaze sliding away for a second. “Don’t make a thing outta it.”

Too late.

Your expression softens, something warm spreading through you as you reach out and take them. “Frank… these are really nice.”

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “Figured you’d like ‘em.”

You look back up at him, smiling now—really smiling—and it hits him square in the chest. You can see it happen, the way his posture shifts just a fraction, like he wasn’t ready for that reaction.

“They’re beautiful,” you say.

He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright—don’t start—”

You step closer before he can retreat, rising up just enough to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

Frank freezes.

Completely.

Like his entire system just short-circuited.

When you pull back, his eyes snap to yours, a little wider than usual. “You—”

“Thank you,” you say simply.

Something in his expression softens then—real soft, not the guarded version he usually gives the world. His hand comes up like he’s going to touch you, hesitates for half a second—

Then settles at your waist, firm and steady.

“…Yeah,” he mutters, voice rougher now. “Alright.”

You grin at him. “So you just show up, give me flowers, and expect me not to make a big deal out of it?”

“Was hopin’ you wouldn’t,” he says, but there’s no bite to it.

“Too bad.” you smirk.

For a second, neither of you move. The noise of your workplace fades into the background, people passing by, talking, living—and Frank’s just standing there with you, letting himself exist in something normal.

Something good.

His thumb shifts slightly against your side, grounding himself.

“…Had a rough day,” he admits quietly, almost like it slipped out.

Your expression softens instantly. “Yeah?”

He nods once, eyes on you. “Thought I’d come see you.”

That warmth in your chest spreads again, deeper this time.

“Well,” you say gently, holding up the flowers a little, “I think you made my day instead.”

Frank huffs softly, something almost like a smile tugging at his mouth.

“…Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes lingering on you. “Worth it then.”

-

Frank notices the second he sees you.

He’s halfway through shrugging off his jacket when he freezes, eyes locking onto you like something just set off every instinct he’s got. For a split second, it’s that same sharp, dangerous focus he always carries—

Then it softens.

“…You did somethin’.”

You pause in the doorway, fingers automatically brushing your hair. “Hi to you too,” you tease, a little unsure. “And yeah, I cut it. It’s not that—”

He’s already crossing the room.

Fast. Quiet. Intent.

Frank stops right in front of you, close enough that you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first—just looks. Really looks. Like he’s cataloging every change, every detail, committing it to memory.

“Lemme see,” he mutters.

His hand comes up, rough palm sliding along your jaw before disappearing into your hair. He moves it gently, testing the weight of it, the way it falls. There’s nothing rushed about him now—none of that usual edge. Just… focus.

“…Yeah,” he breathes, almost to himself.

The way he says it—low, certain—sends a little warmth through your chest.

You try to play it off. “It’s just shorter, Frank.”

“Mm.” His gaze flicks over your face again, slower this time. Softer. “Nah.”

Before you can ask what that means, his hand slides to the back of your neck, not pulling—just holding you there, grounding, steady. His forehead dips toward yours for a second, like he’s collecting himself.

“…Makes your face stand out more,” he murmurs. “Can’t stop lookin’ at you.”

That catches you off guard.

Frank doesn’t talk like that. Not often. Not easily.

“Yeah?” you say, quieter now.

His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up.

“Yeah.”

A beat passes—thick, quiet.

Then, like he can’t help it, he leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. Not rushed, not careless—slow, deliberate. His hand stays in your hair the whole time, fingers flexing slightly like he’s still getting used to it.

“…You should do that more often,” he adds, voice rougher now.

You laugh softly. “You just like an excuse to stare at me.”

Frank pulls back just enough to look at you again, something almost amused tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Ain’t an excuse,” he says. “I already do that.”

And yeah— he absolutely does.

—

Frank’s in the middle of cleaning a cut on his arm when you walk in behind him, quiet as anything. He doesn’t even look up at first—until your fingers brush lightly over his shoulder.

Not a grab. Not urgent.

Just… soft.

He stills immediately.

“…You gotta stop sneakin’ up on me like that,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat in it.

“Or what?” you hum, stepping closer.

Your hand trails down his arm, careful of the injury, but slow—deliberate. You lean in just slightly, your breath warm against the side of his neck as you glance at what he’s doing.

Frank exhales sharp through his nose.

“That,” he says, voice already rougher, “you gotta stop that.”

You blink, all innocence. “Stop what?”

His jaw tightens.

“You know what.”

You don’t.

Or maybe you do.

Because later, you’re sitting on the couch beside him, tucked into his side, absentmindedly playing with his fingers while he tries to focus on whatever’s on TV.

You’re not even looking at him.

Just tracing over his knuckles… his palm… lacing your fingers through his.

Slow.

Thoughtless.

Frank hasn’t heard a single word from the screen in the last ten minutes.

“…You always do this?” he mutters.

“Do what?” you ask again, glancing up at him this time.

There it is—that look.

Curious. Soft. Completely unaware of what you’re doing to him.

It makes something in his chest tighten.

“You don’t even know,” he says under his breath.

And then there’s the worse moments.

Like when you’re standing in the kitchen, reaching up on your toes for something in the cabinet, and his shirt—his shirt—you stole hangs just a little too much.

Frank leans in the doorway, arms crossed.

Watching.

You turn, catching him staring. “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Just pushes off the wall, walking toward you slow, measured. His eyes drag over you like he’s trying real hard to keep it together—and failing.

“…That’s mine,” he says finally.

You glance down at the shirt, then back up with a small smile. “I know.”

That smile is a problem.

Frank stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. His hand comes up, gripping your hip—not rough, but firm. Grounding.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. 

Your fingers curl lightly into the front of his shirt, tugging him just a little closer without even thinking about it.

That does it.

His breath stutters—barely, but it’s there.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters.

You tilt your head, teasing. “That so?”

Frank’s grip tightens just slightly.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes dropping to your mouth for a second before meeting your gaze again. “Walkin’ around like this… lookin’ at me like that… actin’ like you don’t know what you’re doin’.”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“…Maybe I don’t.”

That earns you a low, disbelieving huff.

“Bullshit.”

But there’s no real accusation in it.

The thing is…It’s not just that you get to him like this.

It’s how easily you do it.

No effort. No games. No trying.

Just you being soft with him. Close to him. Touching him like he’s something worth holding onto.

That’s what really gets under his skin.

That’s what drives him crazy.

Because Frank Castle can handle pain. Violence. Chaos.

But you?

Looking at him like he’s just a man you want?

Touching him like he’s yours?

Yeah.

That’s the thing that wrecks him.

Later, when he finally pulls you into him, arms tight around your waist, forehead pressing briefly to yours like he needs a second—

He exhales, low and rough.

“…You got no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs.

But the way he holds you after that— like he’s not letting go anytime soon—Says he doesn’t really mind.

-

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Frank’s at the table, cleaning a gun with the kind of focus that usually means don’t bother him unless it’s important. His sleeves are pushed up, movements precise, controlled—every piece laid out exactly where it should be.

And then there’s you.

Hovering.

Watching him like you’re about to do something.

“…What?” he mutters without looking up.

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

That alone makes him glance up.

You’re smiling.

That’s a red flag.

Frank narrows his eyes slightly. “…What’re you plannin’?”

“Okay, listen,” you say, already grinning. “I have a joke.”

He immediately goes back to what he’s doing. “No.”

“Frank.”

“No.”

“Frank.”

He exhales, long-suffering, setting the piece in his hand down with a quiet click. “…This better not be one of those—”

“It is.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You beam. “Okay. Ready?”

He leans back in his chair, already regretting every life choice that led him here. “…Go.”

You clasp your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels like you’re way too excited about this.

“Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”

Frank stares at you.

Blank.

“…I don’t know,” he says flatly. “Why.”

You pause for dramatic effect, barely holding it together.

“Because they don’t have the guts.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Frank doesn’t react.

Doesn’t blink.

Just stares at you like he’s trying to decide if this is a joke or a personal attack.

“…That’s it,” he says finally.

You burst out laughing.

“Come on—that was funny!”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was a little funny.”

“It wasn’t,” he repeats, but there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth now.

You point at him immediately. “You’re trying not to smile.”

“I ain’t.”

“You are.”

Frank huffs, shaking his head, but there’s no bite to it. “That was the worst thing I ever heard.”

You grin, completely unbothered. “You loved it.”

“Did not.”

“You did.”

He mutters something under his breath, reaching for his gun again—but he’s slower now. Distracted.

Because you’re still smiling.

Still looking at him like that.

“Hit me with another one.” he asks after a second, like it slipped out against his will.

Your face lights up. “Oh, I have so many.”

Frank immediately regrets it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “…Figured.”

But he doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t tell you to quit.

Just sits there, listening to every terrible joke—quiet, steady, and just a little softer than he was before.

And by the third one?

He’s definitely hiding a smile.

[lazysoulwriter]

sunlight learns the rain

requested! thank you. content: comfort, rain cloud x sunshine boyfriend, soft intimacy

you don’t notice it happening at first. it’s subtle — the way your energy dips, the way your responses get shorter, the way your eyes linger a little too long on nothing at all. like your thoughts are somewhere else entirely, somewhere heavier.

johnny notices immediately. like always.

“hey…” he murmurs, nudging your knee with his, voice softer than usual. “where’d you go?”

you blink, like you’re being pulled back into the room. he’s sitting beside you on the couch, legs spread, one arm lazily draped along the backrest. all warmth and ease and light.

and you feel… the opposite. “i’m here,” you say quietly.

he studies you for a second longer than normal. not in a way that feels invasive. just… attentive. like he’s trying to read something between the lines.

and then he shifts closer. not dramatic. not overwhelming. just enough that your thighs brush.

“okay,” he says gently, like he believes you. like he’s not going to push.

but he doesn’t move away. at first, he tries to lift you out of it. it’s instinct.

johnny storm doesn’t do gloom — he burns through it.

he pulls you into his lap, warm hands settling on your waist, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“c’mon,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and coaxing. “talk to me. who pissed you off?”

you huff out the smallest breath of a laugh. barely there, but it’s something.

he grins instantly, like he just cracked a code. but it fades when you go quiet again.

and that’s when it clicks for him. you don’t need to be pulled out of it. you need to be held through it.

so he changes. softens. adapts.

the next time it happens, he doesn’t ask questions right away.

you’re sitting on his bed, knees tucked to your chest, staring out the window while rain taps softly against the glass.

he walks in, takes one look at you, and his entire energy shifts. quieter. slower.

he doesn’t fill the silence. he just moves behind you, climbs onto the bed, and wraps himself around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your back to his chest. his arms around your waist. his chin resting on your shoulder.

warm. steady.

“hi,” he whispers.

you lean back into him without thinking. “hi.”

that’s it. no pressure. no fixing. just… him.

“we don’t have to do anything today,” he says after a while, thumb absentmindedly tracing slow circles against your arm. “like… literally nothing.”

you stay quiet.

he presses a soft kiss just below your ear. “i’m actually really good at that. professional nothing-doer.”

your lips twitch. he notices. of course he does.

“oh,” he breathes, like he’s impressed. “that was almost a smile.”

you let out a tiny laugh, muffled against your sleeve.

and he lights up — not loudly, not in a way that demands more — just warm, pleased, like he’s holding something fragile and precious.

johnny becomes obsessed with your little reactions.

not big, forced happiness.

never that.

he pays attention to the quiet things. the way you shift closer to him. the way your fingers hook into his shirt without thinking. the way your breathing evens out when he’s holding you.

he treats every small sign like it matters. because to him, it does.

sometimes, when it gets too heavy, you apologize. it slips out before you can stop it.

“i’m sorry i’m like this.”

his arms tighten around you instantly.

“hey,” he murmurs, turning you slightly so he can see your face. his hands come up to cup your cheeks, warm, grounding. “don’t do that.”

you look down, avoiding his eyes. he gently tilts your chin back up.

“you think i only signed up for the easy parts?” he says, voice softer now, but firm in a way that makes your chest ache.

you don’t answer.

he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i like you like this too,” he whispers. “i like all of you.”

your breath catches. because he means it. there’s no hesitation in his voice. no discomfort. no impatience. just… truth.

he doesn’t try to chase the storm away. he doesn’t burn it out of you.

johnny storm, all heat, all light, learns how to sit in the quiet, grey parts of you without trying to change them.

he becomes your constant. your warmth. the steady presence at your back when everything feels too much.

and when it passes… when you laugh a little easier, smile a little wider, shift into him with something lighter in your chest—

he notices that too. of course he does. his grin comes back, bright and soft all at once.

“there she is,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours.

like he never doubted you’d come back. like he was always going to wait for you.

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[elseishollow]

heartbeats - matt murdock

synopsis: someones heartbeat is giving it away

pairings: matt murdock x reader

warnings: none

notes: knocking out three requests in a row i’m on a roll. this can be based off matt in the earlier seasons idk

Matt isn’t trying to notice. Really, he’s not. But it’s hard not to when your heart starts racing the second he leans in.

You’re sitting side by side on his couch, going over some case files, when he reaches past you to grab a pen. His arm barely brushes yours—just a light shift in the air, his warmth lingering for half a second. And yet, your pulse jumps like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

His lips press together, fighting back a knowing smile.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly, but you don’t say anything. Just keep your eyes on the papers in front of you like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. But then he does it again—leans in, close enough that he can hear the hitch in your breath, the way your heartbeat stutters, a little too quick, a little too obvious.

And then there’s the warmth—subtle at first, then blooming. Across your cheeks, down your neck, that slow creeping heat that tells him everything.

Yeah.

You’ve got a crush on him.

And now, he knows.

"Something wrong?" he asks, casual, like he doesn’t already have the answer.

You sit up straighter. "Nope. Why?"

His lips twitch. "You’re fidgeting."

Your fingers freeze against the paper. "No, I’m not.”

"You are."

A pause. You let out a slow breath, clearly trying to keep yourself in check, but your heart betrays you again—one sharp little thump against your ribs. Matt leans back, smiling now, pleased in that quiet, infuriating way of his.

You swallow. "You’re doing that thing."

"What thing?”

"That smug thing."

His brows lift, feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you mean."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "I hate you."

His laughter is soft, warm. "No, you don’t."

And he doesn’t have to see your face to know you’re smiling, too.

[jeffbuckleysconvent]

matt murdock having everyone’s ringtones as their names blaring, while yours is simply on vibrate. in tune with your heartbeat; because he’ll recognize it anytime.

[vigilantexreader]

the one that i want

Adrian Chase x fem!Reader

synopsis: In a moment of vulnerability and panic, you want Adrian. But nobody knows yet about your relationship.

tags/warnings: reader gets drugged at a bar, protective!Adrian, hurt/comfort, relationship reveal

word count: 2.6k

thank you to @embeanwrites for the beta read and suggestions <3

Masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Your head pounds, your stomach churns, your vision blurs as you turn your head too quickly toward Ads, who is just down the bar, flirting with a bartender in a low-cut top.

It was supposed to be a fun night out. Just the girls. One evening when you, Ads, and Emilia could let loose, live a little, stop thinking about debriefs and paperwork and bad guys and guns.

“You’re single, babe,” Emilia had said to you in the Uber on the way to the bar. “We need to get you laid.”

You are absolutely, 100%, not single. But she doesn’t know that.

You’re not sure what’s preventing you and Adrian from sharing your relationship with the rest of the group. It’s new, what the two of you have, and maybe a bit unexpected. You’re not exactly compatible on paper. But he’s been nothing but sweet, funny, and perfect since you’ve been together, and you wouldn’t change a moment of it. 

Maybe it’s that it feels special, keeping it secret. Like something just for you. The sneaking around, the stolen kisses when no one is looking, the private smiles across the table at debrief meetings that promise more, later, when he gets you alone. 

The boys are having their own “bro night” right now, at Adrian’s insistence, holed up in Chris’s house playing video games. Though Chris might grumble about the fact that his friends are fucking dweebs, you know he’ll give in after five minutes, too competitive to sit back and let Adrian and John play Mario Kart by themselves.

Maybe you should have stayed behind for the video games, too, you think, but the thought is a bit scattered. Too scattered. Fuck. You need—to get out of here. You need help. You need—

“Ads—“ you say as you stumble towards her, nearly toppling over as you latch on to her jean jacket with one hand. She startles and looks up at you.

“Hey girl,” she says, concerned. “You okay?”

“I don’t feel good,” you mumble, your vision going a bit blurry as you take another stumbling step toward her. You try to put a hand on her shoulder, misjudge the distance, and miss, nearly tumbling to the floor before she turns to catch you.

“What is going on with you?” she asks. “You’ve only had one margarita, girl.”

“Tastes funny,” you say, blinking slowly, and Ads freezes, glances at the bartender she’d been talking to, whose eyes go wide.

“What did you say?” Ads says, a little frantic. “Did you—“ She puts a hand on your chin, turning your face toward hers, and sees your out-of-focus eyes.

“I’ll get her some water,” the bartender says. “Have her sit down—let me grab my manager, too, to check the security footage, and we can call the police.”

“Fuck,” Ads whispers worriedly. Then she turns over her shoulder and calls, “Emilia!”

“What’s up?” Emilia glances up from her game of darts over in the corner with another woman she’d been chatting with at the bar. Her eyes widen when she takes in your wobbly state, your pupils blown wide, and she drops everything to rush over. “What the fuck happened?”

“I think someone drugged her,” Ads says, and you frown.

“Not nice,” you mumble. “I don’t—I don’t do drugs. Adrian will be—mad. He doesn’t like drugs.” Another wave of nausea rushes over you, and you wish he was here with you right now. “I don’t feel good.”

Adrian makes you feel better. Adrian always makes you feel better. He could make the world stop spinning, he could make you stop feeling so terribly vulnerable right now. You want him, but—you’re not supposed to say that. Why are you not supposed to say that? You blink slowly and remember. It’s a secret.

“Can you get her out of here?” Ads asks. “The bartender is gonna bring me some water for her. She was gonna call the cops but—I’ll flash the Checkmate badge. She can just hand it right over to me, and we can talk about it in the morning.”

“We’ll meet you outside,” Emilia says, putting an arm around your shoulders. You’ve gotten a little shaky, nervous, and you curl into her embrace. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get you some fresh air.”

Emilia walks you to the front door and sighs with relief when there’s a bench out on the sidewalk for her to sit you down on. “Come on, right over here.” She plops down on the bench with you, brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead. “It’s gonna be okay. We got you. What happened in there, huh? Do you remember?”

You shake your head. Your thoughts are swimming too much, right now, swirling in a thousand directions, all circling back to one thing. One person.

“Em,” you say, your voice small, your throat tight. You close your eyes to stop the world spinning. It’s supposed to be a secret. You can’t bring yourself to care right now, can’t remember why it’s important. “I want Adrian.”

Her hand pauses where it’s brushing back your hair. “You want—what?”

“Adrian,” you say, your lower lip trembling, vision growing blurry, not from whatever is affecting you, but from the tears that you’re trying so hard to hold back. It’s taking so much effort to talk right now, to make your mouth work the way you want it to. “I want—Adrian. Can you—can you call him, please?”

Ads walks outside with a bottle of water and sees you both on the bench, Emilia staring at you with her jaw on the floor while you’ve got tears welling in your eyes, sniffling.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“She wants Adrian,” Emilia says. “Is that what you just said? Did I hear you correctly? You want Adrian? Adrian Chase? Vigilante?”

“Yes,” you say, and you burst into tears.

Ads rushes forward for you, pulling you into a hug. “Hey, honey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Em is gonna call him. Em is gonna call him right now, right, Emilia?”

The words pull Emilia out of her stunned shock. “I—yeah. Yeah, I’ll call him. I’ll call him. I’ll be right back.” She gets up, lets Ads take the spot next to you on the bench to comfort you, letting you cry into her shoulder, and the two women exchange a look that says what the fuck is going on right now.

“Come on, honey, drink some water,” Emilia hears Ads say as the phone rings.

“Hey, Emilia,” Chris says. “Missing us already?”

“You’re not gonna believe this,” she says.

“No shit,” Chris says, eyes flicking over to Adrian, who is currently crossing the finish line on Rainbow Road just a few milliseconds before Economos.

“Ha! Take that, motherfucker!”

“Oh, fuck you, asshole!”

“Adrian,” Chris says loudly, interrupting his celebration. “Emilia wants to talk to you.”

Adrian’s brow furrows.

“Harcourt? Wants to talk…to me?” he says. “Why? She never wants to talk to me. She thinks I’m annoying.” Nevertheless, he crosses the room and takes the phone from Chris. “Hello?”

Chris watches him carefully, arms crossed. Adrian’s face morphs from confused to concerned in a matter of moments, then from concerned to absolutely pissed, his green eyes gone fiery with rage. He grips Chris’s phone so tightly that his knuckles go white, the muscles in his neck and jaw tight with angry tension.

“Did you just say someone roofied her?” he says furiously. 

Economos looks up from his spot on the couch, alarmed. “What? Who?”

“Is she—I’m—I’m coming, I’ll be right there, tell her—tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?” Adrian says frantically, already moving for his coat and his car keys. “Or—can she talk? Can you put her on the phone? Can I talk to—” His voice softens in an instant, though his body is still tense with worry. “Hi, baby.”

Chris and Economos stare at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Oh my god,” Chris says. “She wasn’t lying.”

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” Adrian says. “I’m leaving right now. I’m coming, okay? I’ll be there soon. I love you.”

He walks out the front door without looking back. Economos looks at Chris.

“What the fuck is happening?” he asks, bewildered. “Who—”

“Get in the car,” Chris says. “I’ll explain on the way.”

When the Vigilante-mobile screeches up to the curb, you’re huddled with Ads on the bench, arms curled in on yourself, a little more sobered up after some water and cold night air, but still shaken.

You’ve just barely managed to stop crying, but the sight of your boyfriend jumping out of his car and rushing toward you sets you off all over again, because you’re just so—relieved. You don’t have to hold yourself together anymore, because you know he’ll do it for you.

“Hey, hey,” Adrian says, and you step up right into his outstretched arms, still stumbling a bit, unsteady on your feet. He catches you and holds you upright with ease, pulling you tight into his chest and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

Ads, Chris, and Economos watch the scene unfolding before them with abject confusion.

“What the fuck is happening right now,” Economos asks.

“An excellent question,” Adrian says, looking pointedly at Ads. “What the hell happened?”

“She just came—stumbling over to me, said she didn’t feel good, and—someone must have spiked her drink—”

“What was it?” Adrian demands. “Rohypnol? GHB? Ketamine—”

“I don’t know!” Ads says. “How would I know?”

You’re too busy pressing your face into Adrian’s neck, breathing him in, to worry about the conversation unfolding around you. A soft hiccup draws Adrian’s frantic attention back to you. Tears run down your cheeks and he brushes them gently away with his sleeve, murmuring to you softly.

“Shh. You’re okay. I got you, baby,” he says softly. “I got you. You’re safe now.”

“Emilia is inside getting the security footage from the bar manager,” Ads tells the boys. “We can take a look at it tomorrow, and decide what to do—”

“What do you mean, ‘decide what to do’?” Adrian says, his grip tightening around you. “Someone drugged her. They’re gonna fucking die—”

“Adrian,” you say, but it’s hard to get out, your mouth still not moving the way you want it to. Your voice is small, but it stops Adrian in his tracks, his rant halted before it can even start the moment you say his name, and he waits patiently as you struggle to get out the rest of your words. “I want to—go home, please.” He looks down at you.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll take you home, baby. Of course I will.”

“That’s it?” Chris says, astonished. “No murder?”

“Murder later,” Adrian says. “Obviously. Right now, I’ve got something more important to worry about.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Chris says, dumbfounded. “More important than murder. Wow. He actually loves her. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Adrian turns his attention back to you, getting you settled in the car. When you struggle to buckle in properly and make a frustrated noise, he shushes you, taking the seatbelt and securing it for you. 

“You’re okay,” he says, calm and soothing. “I got you, remember?”

You reach up with shaky hands and tug him down so his face is level with yours. Adrian realizes what you want and presses a gentle, quick kiss to your lips. You whine when he pulls away, but he shakes his head.

“You are so impaired right now,” he says. “Little kisses only. You can’t consent to anything more. You’re lucky I’m even giving you that.” You pout, but he softens the words with a firm peck to your cheek as he cradles your face in his hands.

At that moment, Emilia walks out of the bar and stops in her tracks right beside the others, who are watching the scene unfold with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Love you,” you manage to say, but it takes too much effort, and you slump back against the headrest. Adrian smiles.

“I love you too, baby,” he says softly.

“Holy shit,” Economos says.

“You guys coming?” Adrian asks the group now that you’re safely tucked into the passenger seat. 

“No, you go,” Emilia says. “Take her home. We can Uber. But you have a lot of fucking explaining to do tomorrow, Chase.”

“Me? What do I have to explain?”

“Seriously?” Ads says. “Maybe start with how long that has been going on.” She points between him and you, then back again, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh. Right,” he says sheepishly. “Well. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow anyway, so. Okay.”

“Why? What’s tomorrow?” Chris asks.

“Tomorrow is when Harcourt shows me that security footage and I fucking murder whoever did this to her,” Adrian says darkly, moving around to the driver’s side door. “No fucking way I’m letting this slide. Drug my girlfriend? I don’t fucking think so—”

“I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s good at keeping secrets,” Adrian hears Economos mutter as he opens the car door and slides inside. “With the whole fucking secret identity bullshit. But I am. How the fuck did none of us know about this?”

Adrian closes the door and starts the ignition, then turns to check on you. 

“Okay?” he asks. You’re sitting quietly, head leaning back against the headrest with your eyes closed.

“Don’t feel good,” you say, for what feels like the twelfth time that night, the words slurred. You’re sitting still. The only movement you should feel is the rumbling of the car, but you’re still dizzy and nauseous.

Adrian frowns. “Baby, you need medical attention. I’m taking you to the hospital—”

“No,” you say. “Wanna go home. Please.”

He hesitates. “You promise you’ll tell me if you start to feel worse?”

You nod, then wince. “Mm. Should not have done that.”

“Promise me,” he says. “With words. If something feels really wrong, you tell me, so I can take you to the hospital.”

“Promise,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he says softly, putting a comforting hand on your thigh, and you lace your fingers with his. “Let’s go home, then.”

Adrian makes the drive to your apartment in silence, gets you out of the car and carefully up the stairs, unlocking your door with his copy of the key. You let yourself lean on him, and he takes your weight like it’s nothing, easing you through the hall toward the bedroom.

As he goes through the motions of getting you ready for bed—changing you into your pajamas, wiping your makeup off your face, brushing your teeth—you start to feel a bit more sober, a bit more like yourself, even as the exhaustion hits you like a train. The more clarity comes over you, the more you feel a twinge of guilt arise.

“’m sorry,” you mumble as Adrian lays you down on your mattress. He looks down at you with a furrowed brow.

“What the fuck are you sorry for?” he asks. “You—someone did something terrible to you. Someone bad slipped you something—it is not your fault that some sick bastard violated you like that, baby—”

“I spilled the beans,” you interrupt. “Everyone knows now. About us.”

Adrian pauses as he realizes what you mean, and he smiles.

“Baby—” he laughs. “I wanted the beans to be spilled. I—I love you, I don’t care if everyone knows.”

“You promise?” you say, bottom lip wobbling.

“I promise,” he says. “I don’t ever want you to feel guilty for calling me when you need me. I’m glad you called me, okay?”

“Mkay,” you say, your eyes fluttering closed. “You’re staying?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Can’t get rid of me.”

You smile as Adrian runs his hand through your hair. Your body finally relaxes, because you know you’re safe with him, and you drift off to sleep.

Adrian Tag list (comment below or message me if you'd like to be added!): @snowyathena @justalotoffanfiction @danversxwasabi @clowninavan @obsessedromancereader @adoresami @a-young-g0d @bastardstevie @rattymess @raidstarz

[everydaydreamer]

Under the Mistletoe

Summary: Ever since your old roommate moved out and your new one moved in, you've struggled with your feelings for him. Fortunately, Yelena knows just what to do.

Warnings: mutual feelings(though neither know it), reader is stressing, flirty Joaquin, Yelena and the team plotting, kissing, fluff

A/n: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! Better late than never lol. This is a bit rushed but I really wanted to post something. Pic edited by me

"Okay vacuuming is done, now I just have to take out the turkey and get read-" you cut yourself off with a huff when you walk into the kitchen to see that the dishes in the sink still weren't clean. "Joaquin!"

He walks in from the front room where he was hanging up some garland along the stairs railing. "Yeah?" He's dressed in a green sweater, all ready for the party later. "What's up?"

"Do you think you can do the dishes while I get ready?" You gesture to the sink.

"Yeah, for sure." He's already rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you, much to your obliviousness. Your breath hitches when he gently places his hands on your hips like you’re made of glass and nudges you, taking your spot when you move aside.

You take a deep breath to gather yourself before taking out the seasoned turkey you prepared the night before so it can reach room temperature. You don’t let that little interaction get to your head much, knowing you have much more to worry about than his physical touch.

This is your first time hosting a Christmas party at your house and with your new roommate, so the tension and stress in the air was much higher than usual.

It's not that you didn't like Joaquin or that he didn’t do his part. He can be a great roommate and a friend at times. It's just that you want this first party that you’ve thrown to be perfect. So you've been doing most of the planning.

“Relax Y/n,” he says from the sink, “you have nothing to worry about.”

You scoff and turn around to face him, “who says I’m worrying?” You cross your arms over your chest with an expected look and faux ignorance.

He chuckles in response, “Your stiff posture and the nervous look in your eyes.” Your confidence falters at the way he shamelessly calls you out. “Seriously, everything will be fine! The house looks great, and I’m sure the food will be delicious too. You've done an amazing job. Now go get ready before you forget, which I know you tend to do.”

Despite only living with Joaquin for a few months now, he was quick to pick up on your habits. You suppose it was part of his job.

As much as you want to say something back, maybe thank him or let your pessimistic side take over, you know he’s right and you retreat back to your room. As soon as you shut your door, you're pulling out your phone.

"How did I let you convince me to live alone with a man? And him of all people?" You groan and flop on your bed with your phone pressed against your ear.

"What happened this time?" Yelena asks on the other end, already preparing herself for a ten minute—give or take— long venting session about your new roommate.

After Yelena joined the Thunderbolts— or New Avengers— whatever they're called, she moved out so she could move into the old Avengers tower with her new team. This left you with no roommate to pay the other half of the rent, and you certainly couldn't pay it yourself. When you told her about your concerns, she offered the first person that came to mind.

Joaquin Torres.

You've heard a few things about Joaquin, how he'd become the new falcon and how he got into an accident not long after having the title. He seemed responsible enough and you were desperate, so why not?

"He’s too fucking perfect and it’s driving me insane!"

"Oh, I know!" Yelena chuckles, thinking back to all the times you've called her to tell her about your little crush on your new roommate. "What'd he do this time?"

"He's too....happy"

"Too happy? That's a first."

"He's just too chipper in the morning when I still feel dead and groggy. He's always saying 'good morning Y/n! I made you coffee!' Like ugh how can you be this happy in the morning?!"

Yelena just lightly chuckles in amusement, not loud enough for you to hear of course.

"Uh huhhhh?" She draws it out, waiting for you to continue.

"And he's always trying to crack jokes or talk to people when we're out. He's so talkative, which can be annoying when I just want to get to our destination, but I can't help but find it adorable." Yelena can sort of see how that can be annoying. But Joaquin can't be nearly as annoying as Walker. That man just would not shut up about his time in the military.

"And ughhhh he's always offering to help! Like today, I was cleaning to set up for today and he immediately just started decorating. Without having to be asked! He saw the garland I left by the door and he just started working on it." Yelena finds that to be sort of the bare minimum, but in today's society, it makes sense why you're so hung up on it.

"So....why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Yelena says with confusion practically dripping from her tone.

“I don't know! What if he doesn't feel the same? Everything would be so awkward afterwards.”

“You won't know if you won't try.” Yelena did have a point. As long as she's known you, you always had a sort of confidence. Whether it was real or fake, you always seemed like you had everything under control.

But now, Joaquin has you a complete mess. For the first time, you're scared to take what you want. And that scared you even more.

After finishing up the call, you set out a red sweater a skirt, and tights to wear underneath on your bed to change into after you take a shower. When you walk back out to the kitchen, Joaquin's breath catches in his throat, disguising it as a cough.

"You look pretty," he says genuinely. The compliment catches you off guard, as they normally do, though you should be used to it by now. You thank him anyway.

"I noticed you left the recipe for the cake pinecones you wanted to make so I ended up just doing it myself." You blink at him silently. "Oh and I set up the charcuterie board too. It's in the fridge."

You walk over to the fridge and when you open it, lo and behold, there's the charcuterie board right there. Joaquin appears behind you with a proud smile. "See? I made it into a little Christmas tree with the berries as the ornaments." He points to the berries, proud of his work of art.

You close the fridge and turn back to him. "Thanks, but you didn't have to do that. I could've done it."

His brows furrow, "and let you do all of the work? Nah I wanted to help." He gives you a soft genuine smile and you hate it. You hate how much it affects you.

After a few moments of silence, you clear your throat and walk past him to preheat the oven and place the turkey inside while Joaquin makes sure everything is dust free and the decorations look perfect. Though he doubts anyone else would notice, he knows you would.

Finally the clock strikes 4 and guests slowly start to trickle into your home. As soon as Yelena and her team arrive, you give them all a quick greeting and an exchange of saying 'merry christmas' before pulling Yelena to the side. "I don't know what to do!"

"What?"

"I think I've fallen for him harder!" Your eyes widen and you place your hands on your hips nervously squirming in your place.

"Joaquin?"

“Yes! Fuck my heart is still racing from earlier.”

“I talked to you 3 hours ago. What the hell happened in those three hours for you to be this…antsy?”

"He cooked."

Yelena blinks, "he...cooked?"

"Well he technically didn't cook but he prepared the charcuterie board and he made the pinecone cakes I was supposed to make and when I told him I could've done it he said he wanted to because he wanted to help but I don't know if that means anything or if I'm overthinking and-"

"Okay okay, calm down. Breathe alright?" She places her hands on your shoulders so you can focus on her and match her breathing, a tactic Melena taught her when she was younger. “Everything will be fine okay?”

“How could you possibly know that?” You scoff. “I might have to kick him out or move out myself if I can't get my heart in check. And I really can't afford that, Yelena. I don't know what to do.”

“I'll handle it.”

“How-”

“Just trust me! I will handle it.” Despite not understanding what she means by that, you reluctantly nod. She ushers you back out to where everyone has gathered so you can continue playing host.

Unfortunately, the only seat empty was next to Joaquin. You sheepishly sit next to him, in which he greets you with a warm smile. You ease up a little bit the more you talk to your guests. You glance down at the coffee table and realize that there's no snacks.

"I’ll be right back. I'll just get the appetizers." You say, already standing from your seat.

"Do you need help?" Joaquin asks, ready to stand as well but you hold a hand up to stop him.

"No, it's alright. I got it."

Yelena watches this interaction unfold with intrigue. Particularly the way Joaquin deflated in his seat after you rejected his offers. He looked like a sad, kicked puppy. She kept her eyes trained on him until you came back.

She analyzed his every expression, every movement for confirmation of her suspicions. And when you finally returned, she noticed Joaquin's eyes light up just the slightest, and that's when she knew.

He likes you.

The gears started turning in her head now. That's why he's always so eager to jump at the first chance to help you. That's why he's always more kind and talkative to people in front of you, he wants to impress you. Ohhhh all of the pieces are coming together.

And now, she has a plan to set in motion.

She leans over to whisper to her dad, “Alexei! Do you still have that mistletoe with you?”

“Yes? Why do you ask?”

She holds her hand out eagerly, “give it to me. Quick!” He hastily reaches into the pocket of his Santa costume and pulls out a surprisingly intact mistletoe. She snatches the small plant and gives it to Bob, “hang this up in that doorway over there. And make sure Y/n and Joaquin don't see you.”

Bob takes the mistletoe with a confused look but listens to her nonetheless. He gets up and pretends he's going to the bathroom as he quickly walks to the doorway Yelena pointed to. He hovers above the floor just high enough to pin it to the arch.

When he returns, he makes eye contact with Yelena and nods, a subtle implication that the job is done.

Everyone gathers in the kitchen to grab their share of food and Ava drags you to the side. “This is a wonderful party so far Y/n. And you look beautiful.” She says glancing down at your attire.

“Thank you Ava! I'm glad you're enjoying yourself.”

“Let me take a picture of you.” She says, already pulling out her camera.

Your eyes widen, “Oh! Sure, okay.” You look around. “Where should I go?”

“How about that archway behind you?” You glance behind you and take a few steps back until you're under the archway. You smile when she holds up the camera but before she can take the picture, Joaquin interrupts.

“What's going on here?” he places his hands on his hips with a curious smile.

“I'm just taking some pictures of our lovely host.” Ava answers.

Joaquin places a hand on his chest in mock offense, “without me? I'm a host too.”

Ava rolls her eyes, “fine get in! After I take this one though.” She snaps a few solo shots of you before ushering Joaquin to join you in frame. He does so gladly and rests his hand on your waist, and you lean in just a bit closer.

“Hey, what's that hanging above you two?” Bob asks, appearing beside Ava along with Yelena. You and Joaquin both glance up to see mistletoe dangling right above you. Your head snaps towards Yelena who just shrugs with a faint smirk painted on her lips.

You look up to Joaquin who slowly lowers his gaze from the mistletoe to you. He stays silent while you try to come up with an excuse as to why you shouldn't kiss, though you desperately want to.

“We don't have to-”

You start to speak, but you're cut off with his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips crashing onto yours. You let out a surprised noise before melting into the kiss. The sound of camera clicks and cheering fades away, the only sound you can focus on being the quiet groans coming from his throat.

You're kissing him.

You're kissing your roommate right now. And you love it.

His calloused fingers softly caress your cheekbones. His lips linger on yours before reluctantly pulling away. You stay in your dazed state with your eyes still closed. When you slowly open them, he's already looking at you.

The two of you stay silent, not sure what to say. But the look in your eyes says everything he needs to know. Luckily you don't have to worry about any awkward conversation right now because Sam brings up doing white elephant now.

For the rest of the party, you'd share flirty looks with Joaquin, his touch would linger a little longer than it normally would, and he'd sit even closer to you wherever you went with his hand placed on your thigh.

“Bye! Thanks for coming.” You wave to the Thunderbolts as they leave, leaving Yelena the last to hug.

“You're welcome.” She whispers in your ear. You widen your eyes at her as she says nothing else and walks out with her team. As soon as the door shuts, Joaquin wraps his arms around you with a sigh and tiredly drops his head on your shoulder.

His lips graze your neck and you feel yourself grow tense. “Wait, wait!” He loosens his hold and you remove his arms from you.

“D-did I do something wrong?” The sad and nervous tone in his voice instantly makes you feel guilty.

“No! God no you didn't.” You turn around to face him. “I just- what does this mean? For us?”

He places his hands on his hips again, much softer this time, and pulls you closer. “Well, I like you… a lot.” He smiles. “Do you like me?”

Your smile matches his, “Yeah, I do…a lot.”

He lets out a breath of relief and leans his forehead against yours. “Thank fuck,” he sighs, causing you to giggle. “I've been holding that in since I moved in.”

You pull away from him, “really?!”

“Yeah!" He chuckles. "I'm surprised you never caught on, I wasn't exactly subtle.”

“I sort of did. I just couldn't believe it.” You let out a light chuckle. “So…are we dating now?”

He starts swaying the two of you, “I'd like to say so. We can go on dates, hold hands, kiss” he pauses with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “and more.”

“More?” You say with a raised brow. He doesn't elaborate, just bites his lip and nods. "I think I'll like more."

“Me too, but we can get to that another time. I can do some more kissing right now though.” He's already leaning in when he says it, his lips grazing yours. He doesn't fully close the gap, leaving that final decision up to you. And you do. You feel him smile against your lips when they finally meet yours.

Yelena was right when she said she'd handle it. And you're so glad she did.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

tagging some moots: @avastarred @geminiwritten @love-chx

[spideysquake]

he's the guy, right?

frat!joaquin x sweetie pie!reader pt. one

author's note: i had a delightful time with this one. i used lola tung as a face claim bc she strikes me as the sweetie pie of all sweetie pies, but if you want the next part to look a certain way or have any other requests, my ask box is always open !! now please enjoy frat!joaquin x sweetie pie!reader <3

youruser

liked by yourbestiesuser, joaquin.torres, and others

youruser one semester down, seven to go!

read all 38 comments

yourbestiesuser getting to do college with you is my favorite thing in the world

⤷ youruser can't believe we get to ride the subway together every day <3

yourmomsinsta i'm so proud of my darling girl, nyu is so lucky to have you

⤷ youruser love you mama!!

your twitter account

joaquin.torres

liked by robbiereynolds, youruser, and others

joaquintorres me and the boys, having yet another stellar semester

read all 74 comments

robbiereynolds sig ep on top!

scottsummers don't think i forgot that you still owe me twenty bucks

⤷ joaquin.torres um i distinctly remember paying you back

yourbestiesuser is this the guy youruser

⤷ youruser i swear to god, delete this right now

⤷ yourbestiesuser no it's okay i'm on private, he can't read this

⤷ joaquin.torres yes he can

⤷ youruser i'm going to kill you yourbestiesuser

joaquin's twitter account

youruser

liked by joaquin.torres, yourfriendsinsta, and others

youruser guess who was home for the holidays !!

read all 58 comments

yourfriendsinsta it was so great seeing you imysm

yourbestiesuser ugh blackout wednesday was a dream

⤷ youruser yeah i will not be touching any drink that isn't hot tea for the next seventy years

yourmomsinsta it was so good having you home honey

joaquin.torres looks like fun

⤷ yourbestiesuser hey, it's the guy!

⤷ youruser shut up

divider by @aquazero

omg i've discovered how to make fake twitter posts!! you will be seeing those more and more in any upcoming social media au's, please expect. don't forget to like, reblog, and comment, and i'll be back in no time with part two of frat!joaquin and our sweetie pie!reader <3

xoxo,

daisy