#GO TO SOME OTHER BEACH IN SOME OTHER STATE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

norrussell · 1 month

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you look good on camera, baby, let's go make a film | Lando Norris⁴

“Can you leave your camera alone for five minutes? You play with that thing too much lately.” "Would you rather I play with you instead?"

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

Word count: 9356

Songs that really inspired me: Under The Influence, I Luv This Shit (Remix), Or Nah, Zayn - Sweat

With your feet in Lando's lap, you were laying on his couch watching television, his hand mindlessly massaging your foot. The sun was beginning to set, washing the living room in a golden light, the tv buzzing in the background and your occasional laughter interrupting the silence.

Lando’s touch was soothing, his fingers expertly finding all the right pressure points on your foot, but you didn’t mind that at all. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to spend lazy evenings like this at each other’s place, comfortable in each other's presence without the need for constant conversation.

“Are you seeing this?” you giggled, not tearing your eyes from the screen. Lando didn’t react.

That wasn’t the first time that evening that you said something and he completely ignored you. You shifted slightly, feeling a nudge of irritation prickling at your skin. Lando’s continued silence started grating on your nerves, the one-sided conversation gnawing at the edges of your patience.

“Are you even listening to me?” you nudged him with your foot, turning to face him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, giving your ankle a gentle squeeze and raising his eyebrows in your direction to let you know that he registered you this time.

You scoffed, seeing what was occupying his attention. “Can you leave your camera alone for five minutes? It’s like your third eye, I swear.”

Lando chuckled, but kept scrolling through the pictures. “Sorry. Just reviewing what we took today.”

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself on your elbows. “You play with that thing too much lately.”

“Would you rather I play with you instead?” he raised his eyes, mischievous gleam in them, and smirked.

His fingers traveled up your calf, a heat rushing through you at his suggestive tone and touch causing a familiar swirl of butterflies in your belly. You cleared your throat and sat up properly, moving his hand away.

“Show me what you captured today,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to normalcy. You knew that lingering in those moments would only complicate an already delicate dance happening between the two of you.

Lando's smirk widened at your reaction, his eyes shining with amusement, but leaned closer so you could see the screen better. The photographs flashed across the display – picturesque landscapes, candid shots of people in the streets, and close-ups of intricate details that caught Lando’s keen eye. You felt a sense of awe at the way he could turn the mundane into something breathtaking through his lens.

In one particular photo, a vibrant sunset painted the sky in an array of pinks and oranges, casting a warm glow over a quiet beach. The colors were so vivid, it felt like you could almost hear the waves crashing and feel the salty breeze on your skin.

Lost in the beauty of the photographs, you almost didn't notice Lando's hand inching back toward your leg, his touch light and teasing. You shot him a playful look, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of excitement building in your chest.

"Just focus on the pictures, Lando," you said with a laugh, swatting his hand away playfully. But he only grinned, his gaze flicking between the screen and you, a silent challenge in his eyes.

The next photo caught you both by surprise. More you than him. It was an explicit photo of Lando, wearing nothing but a mischievous smile, his eyes daring and playful. You gasped, turning away in shock at the unexpected image. Lando let out a hearty laugh at your reaction, clearly finding amusement in your flustered state.

“Oh, come on, y/n, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” he teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he looked at you expectantly.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and confusion, unsure of how to respond to the intimate photograph that had appeared out of nowhere.

“Well, yeah, but that was… private,” you managed to choke out, looking anywhere except at him or the screen.

Lando's laughter filled the room, a deep rumble that made your heart race even faster. He shifted closer, his hand resting on your knee as he tried to catch your gaze.

"Don't be shy, y/n. I’m sure you have taken a few risqué photos yourself,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Want to see them?” you side eyed him.

“I mean, if you’re offering—”

“I was joking, you muppet!” you turned to smack him across the chest, but Lando caught your hand before it made contact. His fingers intertwined with yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through you, the playful banter fading into something more charged and raw between you.

“Maybe I do have some photos,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But they're not for everyone to see.”

“What about a sex tape? Would you ever consider making one of those?” he asked, his voice low and eyes darkening. “I mean, since we're on the subject…” he cleared his throat.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to process his words, the boundary between friendship and something more blurring with each passing second.

Lando's gaze bore into yours, searching for any hint of your true feelings. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a silent caress, his touch igniting a fire in your veins. You could feel the pull of attraction drawing you closer to him, tempting you to cross that line.

But as much as you wanted to explore this newfound tension, you pulled your hand out of his grasp. “I’m not sure, I don’t think I would want that.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and a bit of disappointment. “Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time we explored our boundaries.”

You paused, biting your lip as you considered his words. The thought of sharing something so intimate with him was both thrilling and terrifying. “I just don’t think I would look good, you know…”

“Are you kidding? You know you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his gaze stirring emotions you had long tried to suppress. The air crackled with anticipation, the weight of unspoken desires hanging between you like a heavy fog.

“I’ve taken pictures of you countless times and in each you look like a work of art,” he continued, his voice gentle caress that seeped into every pore.

“Yeah, but that was different… We were having fun… It wasn’t meant to be serious…”

“Why can’t it be serious?” Lando’s voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours with a vulnerability you had never seen before. The air in the room felt charged with emotions as he reached out to cup your cheek gently. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, awakening a longing you had buried deep within your heart.

You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all you found was unwavering sincerity and a hint of nervousness. In that moment, you realized that perhaps the unstated tension between you was mutual, a silent dance that had been playing out beneath the surface for longer than you had dared to admit.

“I… I never thought about it that way,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering close at the intimacy.

Lando’s thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch sending sparks through you as he drew closer, his gaze flicking back and forth between your eyes and lips. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the world outside fading into insignificance as you were lost in each other's gaze. You felt your resistance fading with each pass, as if their attraction was slowly but surely pulling you under.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You know, y/n, I’ve always imagined watching you in a moment like this,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, “capturing your beauty on film in a way that only I can see.”

You shivered as his breath ghosted over your skin, the intensity of the moment leaving you reeling. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Lando’s eyes locked with yours, his tone growing more earnest. “Taking pictures of you, ones that only I get to see, ones that no one else gets to touch or look at without your permission.”

You gulped, your heart pounding with equal parts fear and excitement. This was a line you had never dared to cross before, and yet, Lando's words had a way of making anything seem possible.

Lando smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Pictures that capture the essence of you, the real you," he said quietly. "The sides of you that you show only to me."

You bit your lip, feeling a flutter in your chest. This was an intimate proposition, one that made you feel both vulnerable and empowered. "And what would be the point of that?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Lando's gaze held yours, his expression serious yet filled with desire. "The point would be to immortalize you, to capture the essence of who you are in a way that words can never fully express. I want to show you how beautiful you are through my eyes, how every smile, every glance, every moment we share is a masterpiece waiting to be unveiled. And I want a collection of memories that belong only to me, ones that I can look back on and remember the moments that you shared with me."

Your heart raced as you considered his proposal. The idea of Lando capturing your nature in a way that only he could see was both enticing and terrifying. But the thought of being the sole muse for his art, the one person he would hold close in his heart, was a powerful draw.

"I'm not sure I can do that," you replied hesitantly, "but I can try."

Lando's eyes lit up with exhilaration, his smile growing wider. "We'll start with the simplest things, the little quirks that make you unique. Then we'll move on to more intimate moments. I promise to never push you too far or make you uncomfortable. We'll do this together."

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was a new adventure and you were unsure of what lay ahead. But you were ready to take that leap with Lando by your side.

"Alright, deal," you said with a shy smile. "But promise me that you won't share these photos with anyone. They're for your eyes only."

Lando's eyes softened, his expression turning sincere. "I promise, y/n. We'll do this together, at your pace, and I'll make sure to always respect your boundaries."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. This was a bold move, but you trusted Lando. You knew that he would never do anything to hurt you.

"Alright," you said, feeling a sense of determination. "Let's do this."

Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft and sweet, his lips like clouds. The world around you faded away as you melted into him, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms, lost in a moment that felt like it would never end.

Lando pulled back and his eyes locked with yours. His fingers curled around the hem of your shirt and with a silent permission he pulled it over your head, revealing the vulnerable beauty beneath. Your skin tingled as his gaze traced every inch of you, his camera forgotten as he captured each moment with his eyes. The room seemed to hum with a quiet intensity as he leaned in to press kisses along your collarbone, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path.

You felt the weight of his wishes pressing against you, a silent plea for more as he whispered words of adoration against your skin. Your doubts and fears melted away in the heat of the moment, leaving only raw passion and longing behind.

As Lando's hands roamed over your body, every touch electric and searing, you realized that this was where you were meant to be. In his arms, exposed and vulnerable yet safe and cherished in a way you had never known before.

The room was filled with the sound of the camera shutter, immortalizing the intimate moments between you, and you surrendered yourself completely to the unknown, knowing Lando is there to guide you. You felt naked under his gaze, as if his lens had stripped away every layer of your clothing and left you uncovered to his unbridled desire.

Your breath caught in your throat as Lando's hand grazed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The light from the camera flickered across your face, casting shadows and highlighting the contours of your features. It was surreal, to feel like you were being transformed into a work of art, a masterpiece crafted with love and longing.

He kissed your chest and you reached for his shirt, unfurling the fabric to reveal the body that had been hiding beneath. Lando's muscles rippled as he stretched, hinting at a strength that belied his gentle demeanor. The sight stole your breath, your heart beating faster with each passing moment.

The air grew thick with anticipation, the scent of his skin mingling with the heady emotions that filled the room. You felt yourself being pulled into a world where art and desire intertwined, and knew that the line between reality and fantasy had blurred.

With a deep breath, you met Lando's eyes, trusting him as you had never trusted anyone before. He smiled softly, his gaze filled with warmth and understanding. He held a side of your face, kissing your lips gently, his touch feather-light and tender. You felt a wave of affection wash over you, and you knew that this moment was more than just a passing fancy. This was for real, and you were ready to embrace it.

"I'm ready," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, your eyes locked with his as you gave him permission to continue.

Lando's lips found their way to your neck, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. You felt a shiver of desire course through your body, and you knew that this was what you had been waiting for.

"You're mine, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and throaty, his breath hot against your skin. "You're my muse, my inspiration…”

He guided you to lay on the couch as he spoke, your bare skin glistening in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Lando's eyes never left your face as he positioned you, adjusting the pillows behind your back to make you comfortable.

He moved to the other side of the room, the camera in his hands. You could see the longing in his eyes, the want to capture every inch of you in his lens. He looked at you again, his gaze lingering on your lips, your eyes, the curve of your neck.

Taking a deep breath, he began to capture you. The first shot was of your face, your eyes wide with anticipation, your lips parted in a gentle smile. The second was of your neck, the delicate arc of your throat revealed, your skin glowing in the orange light. The third was of your chest, your breasts rising and falling with each breath, your skin flushed with craving.

“Perfect,” he whispered and lowered the camera.

He was on top of you now, straddling you, but careful not to put all his weight on you. He used his body to block out the rest of the world, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment. He leaned down, kissing your lips softly, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, coaxing it open. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter, exploring the depths of yours, tasting you. His hands were on your waist, his fingers tracing the curves of your hips, your waist, your sides, discovering your body, learning its contours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in between kisses, his voice breathless.

His eyes lingered on you in a way that made you feel exposed, yet safe. He dipped his head and bit the spot where your neck and shoulder connected. You gasped, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. Lando's lips were warm against your skin, his breath sending tremors through your body.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured against your shoulder, taking off the strap of your bra. "You have no idea how much..."

He trailed off, his words stolen by the kiss he pressed against your lips. His hand slid up your side, his fingertips brushing the edge of your bra. You could feel your nipples hardening under the fabric, aching for his touch.

"Lando..." you called, your voice barely audible.

Lando's hand moved to your throat, his fingers gently caressing your skin as he looked up at you. "I want to see you," he said softly, "let me see you."

You nodded, unable to speak as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued to bite and kiss the sensitive skin of your neck as he reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. You could feel the need building in him, the need to possess you, to claim you as his own.

Lando's fingers finally released the clasp, and your bra slipped off, leaving you exposed to his gaze. His eyes widened at the sight of your breasts, the hardened nipples standing at attention, begging for his. You could see the want in his eyes, the hunger to devour every inch of you.

He reached for his camera on the table and straightened on his knees above you. He adjusted the focus, making sure to catch every detail of your skin's smoothness, your aroused nipples, and the flush of aspiration on your cheeks.

With the camera in one hand and his free hand on your chest, he leaned in to take a close-up of your nipples, his lips brushing against your skin as he did so. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

As the camera shutter clicked, he moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers over your stomach, your hips, and down to your thighs. He spread your legs slightly, giving himself a better view of you, a better angle for his camera. He took another photograph, capturing your legs spread, your hips slightly arched, inviting him in.

Then he handed the camera to you. You took it hesitantly, unsure what to do with it. Lando smiled reassuringly at you and placed his hand over yours, guiding your fingers to the shutter button.

“Would you film while I suck on your tits?”

His words made you shiver, making you both nervous and excited. You nodded, taking a deep breath and pressing the button, starting to film the moment you had been waiting for.

His hands traced the valley of your breasts, his fingers lightly brushing over your nipples, sending shivers of pleasure racing across your skin. You arched into his touch, your hips rising to meet his, your body crying out for more.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin, and caught one nipple in his mouth. You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward as he sucked and licked, your body arching towards him. His other hand slid down your body, his fingers tracing your hip, your thigh, your knee.

He alternated between sucking and biting, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. You felt your body respond, your nipples hardening even more under his attention. You moaned, your hand reaching down to grip his hair, pulling him closer.

As he moved to your other nipple, his teeth grazed your skin, leaving a faint mark. You gasped, the sensation sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through you, your core clenching in response.

His hands moved to your waist, his fingers gently digging into your skin, gripping you tightly. You could feel his passion, his need for you, the way he wanted to devour you in every way possible.

"Do you like that?" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward, your body begging for more. "Yes," you breathed out.

Lando smiled, his eyes gleaming with hunger. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, his tongue darting out to lick some more.

You moaned quietly, your body quivering with each touch, each lick, each suck, each bite. He moved lower, his hands sliding down your body, his lips tracing the line of your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You could feel his breath against your skin, the anticipation building with each move.

He sat back on his knees, hands hooking on the waistband of your shorts and sliding them down your legs. He raised your left leg up and rested it on his shoulder, kissing the inside of your ankle and making his way up. Your skin was soft and warm under his touch, his lips trailing up your ankle, your calf, your knee.

You were nervous but also aroused by his touch, feeling your yearning building with each kiss and caress, each soft word whispered in your ear. You could feel his arousal, the hardness of his erection pressing against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of excitement through your body.

He gently kissed your inner thigh, his tongue dipping into the soft flesh, causing you to gasp. He pulled back once more, doing the same to your other leg. His attention was now solely on you, and the expectation was almost unbearable. You could hardly breathe as he continued to kiss and caress your legs, building the tension between you. Finally, he reached the apex of your desire, the junction where your legs met, and he dipped his head to his prize.

"Open up for me," he said softly, his eyes locked on your now damp panties.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but then you nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. You could feel his breath on your skin, the warmth of his body against yours, and the prediction of what was to come.

His hands gently cupped your hips, guiding his head closer to your arousal. "I want to taste you," he said, almost reverently.

You closed your eyes and shivered, feeling his hot breath against your sensitive skin. He teased you, blowing softly, causing your hips to thrust upward, seeking his touch. He laughed softly and backed away once more.

“Not here. Come,” he said, standing up and extending a hand to help you up.

You took his hand, feeling weak in the chest from the intensity of the moment. You both walked towards the table, the camera still in your hands, documenting every step.

“Lean on the edge,” he instructed, constructing the scene and sank to his knees.

You did as he asked, your hand gripping the edge as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel his hot breath on your thighs, making you breathe heavily.

"Move your panties to the side," he directed, his voice low and seductive. You obeyed, sliding the damp fabric aside, exposing yourself to him.

Then his tongue darted out, teasing you, licking the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward, seeking more of his touch. He laughed softly, his hands gripping your thighs as he continued to tease you, his tongue tracing patterns on your skin. You felt your need building, the anticipation making you wetter, your juices trickling down the inside of your thighs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice deep.

You nodded, unable to speak. Your entire body was screaming for his touch, for his lips, for his tongue. He leaned in, his tongue dipping into your folds, swirling around your delicate skin and licking up and down with the skill of an expert. You moaned, your body arching into his face, your hips bucking against his mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned against your skin, his tongue plunging inside you.

You were lost in the moment, your body trembling with need as he tested your boundaries, exploring every inch of you. With your free hand, you reached down to grip his shoulder, pulling him closer, needing him more than ever before. His hands gripped your hips tightly, steadying you.

"You taste so good. So sweet, so wet," you could feel the heat of his breath against your pussy, the soft rustle of his hair against your thighs.

His tongue continued its tour, flicking against your sensitive flesh, his fingers gently caressing your hips. You could feel the tension building within you, the desire for him to take you over the edge.

But Lando was not in a hurry. He wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every taste. He moved his fingers to your clit, gently stroking it with the tip of his finger, causing you to arch into his touch.

“You like that?” he whispered, his voice hot.

“Y-yes,” you moaned back.

“I’m going to make you cum,”

You gasped, one hand gripping his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more, and the other holding the camera, recording every moment.

He moaned, the taste of you driving him wild. He licked and sucked gently, exploring every inch of your folds, his tongue probing deeper, his fingers gently parting you, giving himself better access to your most sensitive spots.

You moaned loudly, your hips bucking forward, your body responding to his touch, your mind lost in the pleasure of his seductive advances. You could feel your arousal building, the tension between your legs growing stronger with each touch, each lick, each suck.

He slid a finger inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in a slow, steady rhythm. You cried out, your body arching towards him, your hips bucking as he stroked you deeper, his fingers inspecting your inner depths. Your mind was consumed with the sensations, the pleasure building to a crescendo within you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, your fingers digging into his hair, urging him on.

He smiled around your wet folds, raising his eyes and locking them with yours and not with the camera lens. He added another finger, stretching you just enough to send you over the edge.

You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, your hips bucking wildly, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You felt like you were flying and floating and everything was blurry and burning and perfect.

He continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of pleasure from you, his fingers moving in sync with his mouth, driving you higher and higher with each stroke.

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting and breathless, your body trembling with aftershocks and your hands shaking. He continued to hold you, his hand gently caressing your hip. You could feel the moisture seeping from between your legs, staining his fingers.

He pulled back, his face dripping with your juices, and looked up at you with craving in his eyes. You could see the wild animal in him, the hunger for you, the need to have you. You could hardly believe what had just happened. You had never felt such desire, such want, such pleasure before. You felt alive, you felt wild, and you felt so, so loved.

He stood up and guided your hand to the bulge in his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. He thrust forward, his pulse beating wildly against your palm. You could feel the heat of his erection through the material of his sweatpants, and the pulse between your legs again.

"Are you ready for the next part?" he asked, cupping your face and kissing you deeply.

You nodded, gasping for air as his kisses became more fervent. He helped you to stand, your legs still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm, but you couldn't deny the excitement coursing through your veins.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, taking the camera from you.

“No,” you said, making him raise an eyebrow.

Instead, you took him by the shoulders and swapped places with him so that he was now leaning on the edge of the table. Neither of you could take your eyes off each other as you inched closer, his erection straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“I want to give you a good time too,” you murmured, kissing the side of his neck, your hand trailing down his chest until you took a palmful of his cock.

His breath hitched, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and head thrown back, eyes closed. You peppered the line of his neck with kisses, dragging your tongue down the curve of his shoulders, before reaching his collarbones. Your fingers teased him, lightly stroking his length and feeling it twitch under your touch.

“Please, baby,” he growled, clutching at the edge of the table and arching his hips towards your hand. “Need you to touch me.”

You couldn’t resist his plea, your hand gripping his erection more firmly, stroking him slowly and watching as his eyes fluttered open, dark and needy. Your other hand traced the outline of his hip, skimming over the waistband of his sweats and glorying in the feel of his hardness beneath your fingers.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed, eyes locked on your fingers as they moved.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “Do you want me to take it off?”

"Uh huh," he nodded, his breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"Words, Lando. I need you to use words," you were demanding, but gentle.

He gulped before responding, sounding breathless. “Yes, please."

You smirked against his chest and began pathing your way down with kisses. You settled on your knees, your fingers dug into the waistband of his sweats.

"Turn the camera on, you will not want to miss a moment of this,” you told him.

You pulled them down slowly, almost irritatingly so just to tease him some more. The whole time you were keeping eye contact, licking your lips and watching him squirm and take deep breaths.

Next were his boxers. You latched your teeth on the edge of the waistband and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled them down. His cock sprang out, hard and throbbing, the head glistening with pre-cum.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he muttered, holding the camera with both hands to steady it as he watched you.

You licked your lips again, staring at his erection and the dark, pulsing head. You reached out and wrapped your fingers around it, pumping it slowly, watching as his hips bucked involuntarily.

“Was that good?” you asked, your voice low and sultry.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving your hand. “God, yes.”

"You're so hard for me," you whispered, kissing the head gently as you watched him squirm. And you knew exactly what to do to make him even harder.

You took him in your hand, your palm wrapping around his length, your fingers stroking him from base to tip. You watched as a drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you used your thumb to smear it around, slicking him up. Lando moaned loudly, his head dropping back as you continued to stroke him, your hand matching the rhythm of his breaths. You reached into your mouth and began to lick and flick your tongue over the sensitive underside of his cock, his length twitching in response.

"Mmm, so sweet," you moaned around his shaft, the taste making your saliva flow. You took him deeper into your mouth, sucking him down until the tip hit the back of your throat. He groaned, his hand grabbing your hair and pulling you closer, driving his cock deeper into your mouth.

You pulled back, your teeth scraping over his sensitive head, earning you another growl from him. You teased him with your tongue, swirling it around the delicate tip while pumping his shaft with your hand. His hips bucked, and hand tightened in your hair.

You moaned around him, feeling the power that this simple act of pleasure held over him. He groaned, thrusting his hips forward as you put him back into your mouth, taking him deep until your nose was pressed against his pubic hair, his hand gripping the back of your head, wanting you even deeper. You pulled back, sucking him off with a pop, the sound echoing in the room. His cock twitched, getting harder, more sensitive with every stroke.

“God, you look so pretty sucking my cock,” he growled, his eyes locked on your face as you continued to stroke him and hollow out his thoughts.

You didn't miss a beat, your hand moving in sync with your mouth as you suckled his length, feeling his cock pulse in your hand. You could feel his desire building, feel him reaching for that point of no return. And you wanted to be there when he crossed that line.

“Look at me, baby, look at the camera with your pretty eyes while my cock’s in your mouth,” he commanded, his voice raw and needy.

You lifted your eyes to meet the camera lens, your gaze unwavering as you continued to suck on his cock, your other hand still pumping him rhythmically. You could feel his thighs trembling, his hips bucking, and his grip on your hair stronger.

“That’s it, take my whole cock,” he growled, his voice a mixture of pleasure and dominance. “Look at you, sucking me off like a pro. Such a good girl.”

You took him in deeper, praise giving you a new surge of confidence, your throat stretching to accommodate his girth, and your eyes watering from the sensation. You could feel the veins throbbing under your lips, and the taste of his precum glistening on your tongue.

“Don’t be shy, lick my balls too,” he said, taking his cock out of your mouth.

You eagerly complied, lowering your head towards his balls, kissing, licking and nibbling gently. He moaned loudly, his hands gripping your hair tighter as you took his balls into your mouth, sucking and releasing, creating a soft slurping sound as you did so.

"Oh fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips rocking back and forth in time with your mouth. "Suck on them harder, baby."

You obliged, taking his balls in your mouth and sucking on them deeply while his cock throbbed above you. You could feel him getting closer, his body stiffening and his breathing quickening.

“Mmm... fuck, you’re so good at this,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I’m gonna cum soon. Are you ready for it?”

You knew what he needed, so you went back to work, taking his cock into your mouth once more. You sucked and licked, and your hand stroked him vigorously. Your saliva mixed with his precum, making your mouth slick and warm.

“Oh fuck, right there, that’s it, baby,” he panted, his body shuddering. “You’re going to make me cum so hard.”

You increased your pace, your mouth swallowing him down.

“Are you going to cum on my tits?” You asked, raising your eyes from the camera lens to look into his.

He smirked, "No, I want to see you take it down your throat."

You swallowed hard, nodding as you removed your mouth from his cock and backed away slightly. His cock, glistening with a mix of saliva and pre-cum, stood at attention, twitching softly.

You took it in your hand and rubbed the sensitive head between your fingers, watching your spit glisten on the tip. He moaned softly, his hips bucking as you slowly brought it to your lips. You ran your tongue over the tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, before taking him into your mouth. You slowly slid down his length, taking him deeper with each swallow.

He let out a low groan, his hand fisting in your hair as you took him further and further. When your nose was pressed against his pubic hair, he let out a strangled cry and thrust his hips forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat. His cum erupted from him, a torrent of hot, salty jets that coated your tongue and filled your throat. You choked back a reflexive gag, your eyes watering with the sensation, but held on, swallowing the thick, ropy liquid until he was spent.

You pulled away, your lips plump and glistening with his cum, and hooked a finger under your chin to wipe away the excess. For a moment, you just looked at him, your eyes locked with his, your chests heaving as you both caught your breaths.

He reached down and wiped away the remaining cum from your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a moment of stillness, a sense of completion and satisfaction in the air.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he panted, his hand still in your hair.

You smiled, your eyes glinting with mischief. "Not done yet," you whispered, reaching up to kiss his lips, the taste of cum still on your tongue.

The two of you shared a long, lingering kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues as passion still simmered between you. His hand moved down to your chest, brushing over your breast, his fingers playing with your nipple.

You broke the kiss, your eyes still locked with his. "Come with me," you purred, a smirk playing on your lips.

You led him to the bed, your movements confident and sultry. He followed you, his eyes never leaving your body, his hunger for you palpable.

“I want to sit on your face, and I want to film it.” you announced, your voice low and seductive. Not even you knew from where this newfound confidence came from, but you let it wash over you, feeling empowered and desirable. And you wanted to explore this side of you further.

He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and excitement, clearly not expecting this sudden turn of events.

"Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Absolutely," you replied, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I want to see your face when you're pleasuring me.”

“Wow, look at you. I thought you were camera shy, but here you are directing me around,” he teased, a playful smile spreading across his face.

"Get on the bed, on your back," you instructed, taking off your panties, your voice now firm and commanding. He did as you instructed, spreading out on the bed with a cheeky grin on his face.

You climbed onto the bed, straddling him and positioning yourself above his face. Your hips swayed as you watched him watch you, his eyes never leaving your face. You held the camera in front of you, making sure it was centered on his face and capturing every detail of his expression. You could feel his breath against your most intimate parts, a gentle reminder of what was to come.

“Ready, set…”

Instantly his mouth met your cunt, his tongue darting out to tease your clit before delving inside, tasting your sweetness. You moaned softly, your hips bucking in time with his mouth. He sucked and licked, his hands stroking your thighs, his eyes never leaving the lens. It was like a dance, your movements in sync with his, each touch and stroke building the momentum.

The camera captured it all - your gasping, your moaning, and the way your body arched as his tongue dug deeper. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on your clit and your legs shook, your whole body trembling as pleasure coursed through you. You could feel him growing more confident with every passing second, his tongue moving in a rhythm that drove you wild.

“Harder,” you demanded, your voice strained with lust. “Fuck me with that tongue.”

He complied, his tongue thrusting in and out of you, his lips sucking and pulling right where you needed the most. Each touch sent shivers through your body, the tension building and the release just around the corner.

“I’m so close, baby,” you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t, his tongue flicking and probing, his hand going up your waist, now reaching to cup your breasts, his fingers twirling and pinching your nipples.

You gripped at his hair, giving yourself some more balance as you started grinding on his face. He moaned against your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your body.

“Mm, that’s right, baby. Ride my face.” he muffled, one hand falling to your hip and the other slapping your ass, encouraging you further.

You looked at him, breath catching in your throat at the sight. His green eyes filled with such lust and wildness that you wanted to take a picture and carry it in your wallet if it were any appropriate. And that was just enough to send you overboard.

He held your hips firmly as you spasmed over his face, his mouth continuing to devour you. Your moans turned to screams, and he licked and sucked at your sensitive spots, not letting any drop of pleasure from you go to waste. His hands roamed your body until you finally collapsed on top of him, breathless and drained.

You lay there for a moment, camera dropped on the mattress, your cheeks flushed and heart pounding. You looked down at him, his face glistening with your juices and smiled. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with satisfaction and gave you a smirk. Slowly, you climbed off him and he sat up, and you kissed him, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips, his rough beard stubble scraping against your skin.

“I’m ready. I want you now,” you murmured against his mouth.

He smiled, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Get on your hands and knees then,”

You complied way too eagerly, positioning yourself just as he wanted, ass up in the air and back arched. He crawled behind you, his cock hard and ready again. He slapped your ass, the sting of his hand sending a new wave of drive coursing through you.

“Are you dripping for me?” he leaned to whisper in your ear, his breath making you shudder. You moaned in response, the desire too intense.

“Oh yes, you are,” he said for you, running his fingers through your folds.

He slid his cock into you from behind, filling you up in a single, powerful thrust. Your moan turned to a growl as he began to move, his hand gripping your hips tightly. You could feel his cock hitting your sweet spot with each thrust, and the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

“Harder!” you urged, your body begging for me.

Obliging, his thrust became rougher, your skin slapping against his. He filmed as he pounded you, the camera capturing every movement, every expression on your face as you turned to look at him over your shoulder, every bead of sweat that dripped down your skin. His thrusts grew harder and faster, animalistic in their intensity. Your breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as he hit you deeper, your body quivering.

“Lando, I’m going to cum,” you panted.

He grunted and took a handful of your hair, and yanked you towards him, making you yelp. Throwing the camera away, he wrapped his now free hand around your throat as he continued to drill into you. You could hear his heavy breaths, feel his heart racing against your back. Your mind was on fire, adrenaline coursing through your veins. With another deep and forceful thrust, he suddenly pushed you off his cock. Then, he laid on the bed.

“Get on top of me,” he ordered.

You wasted no time climbing on top of him, your body trembling with satisfaction, but aching for more. You straddled his hips, both of you watching as you lowered yourself on his thick cock. He groaned as you impaled yourself on him, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer to him. The sensation of being filled again was both intense and pleasurable and you couldn’t help but moan as your body began to move in sync with his.

Your hips undulated, your tits bouncing and jiggling with every thrust. You could feel his eyes on you, the camera back in his hands and the hunger and desire never waning. He let you take control, and you began to move faster, your excitement building with each second. Your body was aching for release, but you held on, savoring the moment. You could hear his breath hitching, his body straining to keep up with you.

Your movements became more erratic, your pace quickening as you neared the edge. The thrusts became deep and hard, your ass slapping against his thighs with each impact. You held onto his shoulders for support, the sensation of his hand gripping your flesh only fueling you more. But in all that ecstasy, you lost your balance and collapsed onto his chest, your hips never ceasing to grind on him.

He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close as you shuddered and trembled in his embrace. “Easy, babe,” he whispered, a smirk evident in his voice.

You moaned into his neck and straightened up again. You began slowly rocking your hips back and forth, sitting fully on his cock.

“That’s right, baby, ride me for a bit,” he whispered, running his hand down your spine.

You smirked and leaned down, placing a kiss on his lips before grinding your hips against him in a slow and sensual rhythm. Your breasts jiggled with each movement, and he followed every sway through the lens.

“Look at you. Aren’t you a goddess, huh?” he said, his green eyes never leaving your body as his fingers continued to roam your skin. Your movements became hypnotic, each gentle rock increased the pressure on his cock, making him groan with pleasure.

“A goddess sitting on her throne.” he propped himself up, trailing kisses down your neck, his fingers digging into your hip. You could feel his cock pulsating against your sensitive spots, reminding you of how much more he wanted.

“Time to show me what you got,” he whispered and laid back on the pillows.

You leaned back on your hands, angling yourself perfectly over him, both of you gazing into each other’s eyes. You gave him a full display of your cunt and slowly started going up and down on his cock, his hand pulling you closer each time you descended onto him. You increased your movements, your tits bouncing wildly with each bump. He matched your energy, propping his hips up to meet yours.

You moaned and grunted, your body trembling with each thrust. His eyes were intently focused on your body, capturing every detail for the camera. He reached up and pinched your sensitive nipples, making you cry out in pleasure.

Lowering his hand, he started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. Your body buckled under his touch, your moans growing louder and your movements becoming erratic. He could feel your walls pulsating around him and he knew that this wasn’t going to last much longer. Throwing the camera away, he wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you onto his chest. You fell without resistance and he took control, fucking into you from below.

“I can feel you getting close,” he said, his voice ragged.

“Uh huh,” you gasped, your voice caught in your throat.

“Not yet, baby,” and in one swift motion, he flipped you over onto your back. Your legs fell apart and he thrust into you with a deep groan. He leaned down, kissing you hard, his tongue darting into your mouth, tasting you, consuming you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper, not letting him stop, feeling his cock sliding in and out of you with a slick, wet sound.

His hands wandered over your body, his mouth attached to your breast and fingers teasing your clit. You cried out with every move, your body trembling, your desire reaching its peak. He could feel your juices flowing, slicking his cock, coating your bodies. He thrust into you harder, faster, his eyes locked on yours.

He was dominating you, he was possessing you and you loved every second of it. You loved the way he made you feel, the power he exuded and above all, you loved the pleasure and satisfaction he was giving you.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked, eyes blazing.

“I’m so close, Lan,” you moaned and whined, your whole body tightening as you neared your end.

“Hold it,” he groaned, his hips still pistoning into you with a fierce determination.

“I don’t know how much longer I can—”

“I’m going to give you a countdown,” he growled, his breath becoming ragged and hot against your neck.

“Ten,” he whispered, thrusting deeper into your pulsating pussy. Your breath hitched as you waited with bated breath.

“Nine,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hip and pulling you closer.

“Eight,” he growled, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back his own release. You felt the tension building within you, the lust and desire coursing through your veins, making you moan and buck your hips.

“Seven,” he hissed, his mouth closing over yours in a searing kiss as his hips pressed against you. You groaned into his mouth, your hips bucking temporarily out of control as the sensation of his tongue dueling with yours sent shivers down your spine.

“Six,” he moaned, finding your hips again and slamming into you, his rough moans echoing in your ears as he fought to hold back his own climax. You could feel the tension in his body, the desperation that threatened to consume him.

“Five,” he panted, his eyes locked on yours, his hands gripping your ass and pulling you even closer.

“Four,” he breathed, his hips bucking wildly, his cock slamming into you with a fierce intensity.

“Three,” he growled, his passion and desire coursing through his veins, his body shaking with the need to release.

“Two,” he hissed, the muscles in his arms and legs tensing as he held himself back from cumming.

“Almost there,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

“Not yet,” he groaned, his hips never faltering in their rhythm. “One more.”

“One more,” you agreed, your body trembling, your pussy pulsating around his cock.

“One. Now, baby. Cum around me,” and then, just as you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he began to thrust harder, faster, his eyes locked with yours as he pushed you right to the edge.

You threw your head back, your eyes rolling up in sheer bliss of the orgasm taking over. Your muscles tightened around him, milking for every ounce of pleasure he could give. He grew more aggressive, thrusting into you with abandon, your orgasm triggering his own.

“I’m going to cum,” he grunted, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

You reached for the camera, ready to capture the moment forever, but he got a hold of your wrist and pinned it down.

“Leave it,” he gasped, his eyes glazed over.

“I thought you wanted to record this?” you panted, struggling to keep up with his intense pace.

He shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. His hand slid into yours and interlocked your fingers together. “I want to remember this through my eyes. I want it to stay only in my mind, forever.”

And with that, he pulled out and spilled all over your stomach. You laid there, panting and spent, his cum drying on your skin and you found yourself in awe of the experience that just happened between the two of you. A rush of adrenaline and pleasure coursed through your veins, making you feel alive and invigorated.

Lando laid beside you, his eyes still glazed over from his intense orgasm. He reached down and wiped the cum off of your stomach, then slowly started stroking your thigh. “Was everything okay?”

You gazed into his eyes and traced your fingers along his jawline. “It was incredible, Lando. I’ve never felt so alive.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His voice was a gentle purr, and he leaned in to nibble on your earlobe. “Maybe next time we’ll try something different. You know, switch it up and keep things interesting.”

“Next time?” you playfully raised your eyebrow. “Who said there’s going to be a next time?”

Lando chuckled, his hand drifting down to your firm ass, squeezing it lightly. "Oh, there will definitely be a next time. You can't resist me, sweetheart."

You smiled coyly, playing along. “In your dreams, Norris.”

He chuckled at your playful banter, his hand still firmly on your ass. “We’ll see about that, babe.” He leaned in closer, his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver. “But for now, I think it’s time for a little aftercare.”

He rolled off of you, his arms still wrapped around your waist. You sat up, your body still pulsating from the intense sex, and looked at him. He was still panting, his eyes locked onto your body, his arousal still prominent. He pulled you into his embrace, his hands gently caressing your back, his breath warm on your neck.

“I can’t believe we did that,” you whispered, still in awe of the intensity of the experience.

“Do you want to review the footage?” Lando asked, breaking the sweet moment.

“Yeah, we could do that,”

He nodded, breaking the embrace and reaching for the camera. He scrolled through the footage, stopping at the part where you were on top of him.

“Look at that,” he said, a proud smile on his face. “You were incredible.”

He kept scrolling, stopping at the part where he took you from behind. He played it back, and you couldn’t help but watch in amazement.

“Who knew you were so kinky?” you teased, laughing at the sight of your own flexibility.

He grinned, still looking at the footage. “I think I knew all along. But it's nice to see you let loose.”

You glanced at the screen, your cheeks flushing a little at the sight of your body, your moans, and the way you surrendered to him. You felt a wave of pride and satisfaction wash over you, knowing that you had given him a performance that you both could remember forever.

“I had a lot of fun,” you admitted, still laughing.

He handed you the camera, and you scrolled through the footage. You stopped at the part where he was on top of you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt the rush of adrenaline all over again.

“I never knew I could feel this way,” you whispered, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. “With you.”

He leaned over, wiping away your tear with his thumb, his eyes filled with tenderness and love.

“You can feel any way you want to,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “As long as it’s with me.”

He pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body once again, reminding you of the intense pleasure and connection you had just shared. And he was right - you could feel anything you wanted to, as long as it was with him.

3K notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 7 months

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Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss.

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier.

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together? You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day. I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

Text

another chance

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, ex!bf rafe, female receiving oral, p in v sex, unprotected sex, drinking/partying, mentions of drugs

“have you noticed his new girl is y/n’s twin?” kelce whispers to topper, who just nods in response. rafe claims that he’s completely over you, that he’s glad you broke up with him and he’s not harboring any sort of resentment over the fact that you left him.

“its so weird.” kelce continues, taking a sip of his drink, watching as rafe holds the new girl around the waist, but he barely looks at her, like if he keeps her in his peripheral vision that he can pretend its you, instead of the first girl he found whose features resemble yours.

“hes getting fucked up all the time now too. he showed up for golf the other day completely strung out.” topper informs kelce, who frowns.

they both know that there is nothing they can do, they don’t want to force you to get back with rafe if you don’t want to, especially with the state he’s in. rafe grabs the bottle of booze he was pouring into his cup repeatedly, forgoing the plastic solo cup in favor of drinking straight out of the bottle.

“rafey, are you gonna take me up to your bed?” the girl asks, no so subtly begging to be fucked by him.

“don’t call me that.” rafe grunts. only you can call him by that nickname, even if you did break his heart.

“are you going to fuck me or not, cameron?” she questions.

“not.” rafe says honestly. he thought it would help, to get it out of his system, to take a new girl to bed, but when he tried to kiss someone at the first party he attended after you, it made him so sick he had to leave. she didn’t look like you, she didn’t smell like you, she didn’t act like you. she wasn’t what rafe wanted.

“fine, then im leaving.” the girl stomps away, like anything could compare to you leaving. rafe finishes the rest of the bottle before flopping down on the couch, letting the alcohol flowing through his system lull him into unconsciousness.

“you deserve to go out and party as much as he does y/n.” stephanie sighs, trying to convince you to join her tonight at the huge beach bash, but you don’t want to risk running into rafe.

“i know, i just don't want to see him with another girl.” you sigh. you may have been the one to break it off with rafe, but you weren't fully over him yet.

“maybe you need to get with one of the turons.” stephanie shrugs. “you know what they say, to get over you gotta get under…”

“that actually might not be a bad idea.” you admit. maybe it's what you need to get rafe out of your system. a random hookup with someone you'll never see again to erase the memory of his touch from your body.

“so does that mean you're coming?” stephanie asks hopefully.

you nod, already planning what you're going to where tonight. “it does.”

“shit, remind me to take you out for ice cream or something to thank you for convincing me to come out tonight.” you tell stephanie, stumbling away from the main dance area with your best friend.

“girl, i knew you needed this!” she exclaims, taking a sip of her cup before frowning, realizing it's empty.

“ill go get us refills, hold on.” you are a lot less drunk than stephanie, so you guide her to sit down before heading to find more alcohol to fill both your cups, wanting to enjoy tonight as much as possible.

you finally find a plastic folding table with some bottles on it, and quickly refill both your drinks before turning, gasping when you run right into someone.

“y/n.” rafe gasps out, his eyes bloodshot like he's been crying. he drops to his knees before before you, making you raise your eyebrows. “i miss you so much. please take me back, ill do anything, ill-” rafe begins to beg, his words slurred as it's obvious he's been drinking.

“rafe.” you cut him off eventually. rafe stops speaking, hands coming to rest on the back of your calves as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. “you're drunk.”

“no, no, no.” rafes head drops, leaning to press kisses along your knees. “im drunk but im serious. please, just give me another chance, ill do anything.”

you frown, hating seeing rafe this way. you broke up with him because you thought he spent too much time getting high and needed to get control of his temper, and didn't know what you could do to help that beside let him work through it by himself.

“anything, y/n.” rafe continues, his hands gripping your legs so tightly. you glance up, looking at all the people at the party staring at you, probably shocked that rafe would get on his knees and beg for anyone to come back.

“you need to stop doing drugs as often.” you state to rafe, making sure to keep your voice low enough to not have it in earshot. “and you gotta work on not getting so angry at the pogues. i don't care that you hate them but you can't constantly be getting into fights.”

“done.” rafe says, nodding his head. “i just need you. ive been a mess without you.”

“we can give it another shot.” you say, and rafes shoots to his feet, his lips pressing against yours. you set the cups down on the table next to you before kissing back, hearing a smattering of whoops and cheers as you make out, your head turning dizzy like the alcohol on rafes tongue is affecting your own.

“i need you, please.” rafe says, and you know exactly what he's asking for. it's what you've been desperately craving from him as well. your bodies were beyond compatible, and you know no boy would compare, so even in the period that you were broken up, you didn't even bother trying to sleep with anyone.

“i have to find stephanie.” you tell rafe, knowing you need to check your friend is good before doing anything, but you loop your fingers through rafes and tug him behind you until you get back to the main dance area, seeing topper with his arm slung around stephanies waist while she grinds against him.

“see she's good.” rafe says, his voice husky, and you know that he's already getting turned on just from the thought of having you again.

you let rafe lead you to his truck, parked in a somewhat isolated spot, but you don't care at this point if people see you as you both climb into the back seat.

“thank you for giving me another chance.” rafe says, his eyes shiny in the low lighting. “i missed you so much. i was such a wreck, but i didn't sleep with anyone else even though we were broken up. i only wanted you.”

“rafe.” you coo, pressing your lips against his, stroking your fingertips over his jaw. “i missed you too.”

“wanna show you how much it means to me.” rafe says, guiding you backwards until your back is against the seat. “that you're giving me a second chance.” his lips skim over yours before he moves lower, schooching down the seat until he's resting between your legs. he takes the bottom of your skirt and pushes it up, revealing your panties.

“you really do gotta-” your speech is cut off with a gasp when rafe presses his lips against your underwear, kissing your cunt through the fabric.

“gotta what baby?” rafe asks, moving to kiss along your thighs as well, his teeth occasionally making an appearance as he drags them against your skin, nipping when you open your mouth to reply.

“gotta get your shit together since im giving you a second chance.” you finally finish your sentence.

“oh, i will baby.” rafe says, rubbing his fingertip over your center, smirking to himself when he sees the fabric dampened with your wetness. “i went so crazy without you, id do anything to not lose you again.”

“take them off, please.” you whine. rafe tugs at your panties, sliding them down your legs until he has to guide them over your heels. he takes the material and scrunches it up, tossing it onto his drivers seat. “i’m keeping those.” he informs you.

“whatever.” you roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile, reaching down to rub your thumb against his cheekbone.

rafe sighs with relief into your touch, leaning his head against your hand. “i’ve missed your taste.” he licks his lips, eyes on your core.

you spread your legs as much as you can in the back of the truck, wishing momentarily that you were having this reunion in a bed, but you know rafe wouldn’t be able to wait that long.

rafe doesn’t hesitate to lean forward, burying his head between your legs. his wide tongue flicks through your folds, licking over your cunt before swirling around your clit.

“god, you’re so good at this.” you moan out, moving your hand to rafes hair, taking the strands between your fingers to keep his face shoved into your cunt, not that he plans on stopping any time soon.

rafe sucks at your clit, feeling rewarded by coaxing moans out of you. his hands grip your thighs, squeezing your delicate flesh between his fingertips.

rafe moves his mouth lower, letting out obscene sounds as he slurps the wetness away from your hole before pushing his tongue against the ring of muscle. he begins to thrust immediately, pushing his tongue in and out of your entrance, giving you the first stimulation you’ve had since you broke up.

“the sweetest taste.” rafe says when he pulls away slightly to kiss along your inner thighs. “i don’t know how i lived without it.”

“you know what my plan was for tonight?” you hum, needing more from rafe, even as his mouth drops back around your clit. “to get with a random turon to help myself get over you.”

you feel rafe pause, his entire body stilling before his eyes raise to make contact with yours. “you were going to sleep with someone else?”

“i couldn’t get over you, i had to do something.” you say, knowing exactly what rafes reaction will be as he rises, wanting to draw that fire and passion out in him. it didn’t matter that you were the one who broke up with rafe, you thought at the time it would be better for both of you, but now you know you can’t live without him.

rafe moves quickly, his strong hands gripping your hips and turning you over. you quickly adjust, pushing up on your elbows as you place your knees on the seat, arching your back to show off your cunt.

rafe releases himself from his shorts, tugging them down his thighs before he lines himself up, sinking in with one quick stroke. your walls meld to his cock, still feeling like you were made for him.

“imagining me sleeping with another guy has really got you worked up, huh?” you question, breath coming out in a pant as rafe instantly begins to thrust.

“shut up.” rafe groans, hips snapping forward into yours. “you’re mine. you’re never leaving me again.”

“yeah?” you question, bringing your ass back to meet rafes thrusts. “gonna get clean for me? gonna get it together?”

“anything for you.” rafe vows, glancing out the windows to make sure no one is looking as he takes you from behind, not that they would be able to see through the tint anyways.

you moan as rafe grabs your ass, relieved to finally have him inside of you again as his cock repeatedly enters you. rafe knows he can’t last very long, having been so desperate for you that he can’t hold himself back as your cunt clenches around him.

“feels so good rafey.” you whine.

“call me that again.” rafe says, needing to hear the nickname slip from between your lips again.

“rafey.” you call out. rafe flips you yet again, this time onto your back as he immediately reenters you, moving too fast for you to comprehend until his mouth is pressed against yours in a searing kiss.

“again, please.” rafe mumbles against your lips, bringing a hand to your clit and rubbing it with his thumb as he thrusts rapidly, knowing your next moan is going to send him over the edge.

you place your hands on the back of his head, giving him a strong kiss as he plays with your clit, your orgasm building as well. you pull away when you can’t hold back the moan anymore, “oh god, yes, rafey.” rafe groans, burying his head in your shoulder as he cums, pumping into you throughout his high as his thumb finally brings you to orgasm as well, clit pulsing as you both pant, letting out low moans and groans as your bodies come down.

rafe presses kisses to your cheeks, your jaw slackened open, still recovering. “i’ve missed your pussy so much.” rafe says before looking down, watching himself pull out.

“come here.” you whine, hating that he’s pulled away. rafe quickly tucks himself back into his pants before hovering over your body again, cuddling into your shoulder. it’s an awkward position, legs askew and body parts pressing against the doors of the truck.

“can i take you home? i want to hold you while i sleep, make sure i don’t let you go again.” rafe says, willing to beg if he needs to.

“of course.” you stretch out your sore muscles, eyelids already feeling heavy, but you know you just have to wait for rafe to drive you home before you can sleep.

it’s not awkward despite the time away from each other as you move to the front seat, making sure to text stephanie, who quickly responds with a picture of herself in toppers bed, making you giggle.

“i love you.” rafe blurts out, unable to not tell you when hearing your laugh.

“i love you too.” you lean over to kiss rafe on the cheek as he drives you back to his house, but you are already home as his fingers link with yours.

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#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fluff

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lqvesoph · 23 days

Text

She’s WHOSE daughter?? || LN4

lando norris x webber!reader

summary: After finding out who your father is, Lando needs some time for himself to think about everything. Oscar is more than willing to help make things right between you.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5

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Part 4

dad: What’s going on with you and Lando?

You: What do you mean?

dad: Your Instagram

dad: And I saw you in the paddock together

dad: That hug looked a little too intimate for friends

You swallowed hard before turning your phone off, chosing to ignore the messages and focus on Lando who just walked back into the garage, the debrief was done.

"We gotta talk", he stated, pushing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

You nodded, wanting to follow him back up to his driver’s room when suddenly an all too familiar voice called your name.

"Y/n, don’t you think you should introduce us?", your father asked, sitting at one of the tables with Oscar’s parents. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at your father’s teasing. Lando and him knew each other, obviously they’ve seen each other quite a few times in the paddock, especially because he was Oscar’s manager.

"Y/n, sweetheart, how are you doing?", Oscar’s mum asked with a genuine smile, making a small smile appear on your face as well as you replied.

"I’m good, thank you."

Lando eyed you from the side as you stepped closer to your father.

"Dad, Lando. Lando, my dad", you dryly spoke. Lando’s eyes went from you to your dad, giving him a small smile and a nod before looking back at you. "If you excuse us but we have to go", you said, waving at Oscar’s parents and turning your back to the table.

You waited on the couch while Lando closed the door to his driver room.

"Why didn’t you tell me?", he immediately questioned, leaning against the locked door. "I never tell people about my father because it happened too often that they weren’t there for me but for him", you started, fiddling with your hands.

"Not me and I thought you would have figured that. I knew your father, I’ve met him a few times", Lando argued. "What was I supposed to say, Lando?", you raised your voice a little. "We met in Bahrain but didn’t have much contact after that until this week, I couldn’t just go like 'Oh and by the way Mark Webber is my dad'!"

"You could’ve told me", he muttered quietly. "You could’ve told me in Bahrain when I asked about how you know Daniel or at the beach when I asked about your dad’s work."

"It just never felt right", you tried to defend yourself. "Bahrain was just too early and at the beach I sort of panicked, I don’t know", you muttered, realizing you really didn’t know why you haven’t told him until now.

"I need some time", Lando said after a few moments. You nodded and watched as he unlocked the door, leaving the room and probably the track for the day.

*~**~*

"So, what made Lando storm out of here like that?", your dad asked when you gathered yourself and finally made your way downstairs.

"I don’t wanna walk about it", you grumbled, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Just then Oscar walked down the stairs, his eyes widened when he spotted you. "Princess, I’m sorry! I really am!", he immediately said, walking closer to you.

"I didn’t know that he didn’t know but I should have known and I’m sorry", your best friend apologized and wrapped you in a hug. "Don’t be, Oscar. It’s my fault anyway. I should’ve told him. I don’t know why I didn’t", you muttered, your voice sounding muffled from being pressed into Oscar’s shoulder.

"Still. I feel bad", he huffed, pulling back from the hug to look at you. "Where is he?"

You shrugged and looked away from Oscar. "I don’t know, probably went back to the hotel", you replied. "Mark how long do you plan on staying because I could take Y/n back to her hotel", he then turned to your father.

"Oh, I was actually just waiting for her", your dad replied, standing up from the table. "You ready?"

You nodded and turned around to Oscar’s parents, saying goodbye and telling them to meet again tomorrow at the race.

Oscar gave you another tight hug before waving at your dad and letting the two of you go.

"You ready to go as well?", Lily asked, grabbing his hand. Oscar nodded. "Yeah but I need to make a quick stop somewhere before we go home."

*~**~*

Just thirty minutes later, Oscar knocked on the door of one of Hilton’s hotel rooms.

"What on earth are you doing here? I thought you sleep at home", Lando muttered when he opened the door and saw his teammate standing there.

"Let me in?", Oscar just asked, lifting one eyebrow. Lando nodded silently and took a step to the side to let Oscar enter the room.

"She’s really sorry", he spoke as soon as the door had closed. Lando shut his eyes and crossed his arms. "Please, Oscar-"

"She knows she screwed up and said herself she doesn’t actually know or have reasons why she didn’t tell you", Oscar ignored his teammates protest. "She’s never been good with trusting people, so many having screwed her over just to get a chance to meet her dad-" "But I know her dad-" "And that left scars", Oscar continued. "She went into panic mode when you asked about her dad. She never likes being associated with him. She loves him to death but hates it when someone brings him up when talking about her achievements, or in general, when talking about her. She doesn’t just want to be Mark Webber’s daughter but her own person and she really really likes you!"

Lando stayed silent for a moment.

"Talk to her, please?", Oscar then quietly asked, searching for anything in Lando’s eyes that would give him some sort of confirmation.

The British driver blinked a few times, uncrossed his arms and took a deep sigh. "I will, tomorrow", he muttered, bringing a smile to Oscar’s face.

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signoferoda · 4 months

Text

TAUGHT WELL - HS

summary: the kids go into protective mode after someone flirts with y/n at the beach

Novie was the first to notice. Her little eyebrows furrowed as she tugged on her oldest brother's top. At only 6 years old, she was the youngest and only girl out of the styles family, she was a replica of her mother was what Harry said the day she was born and has said every day since then.

“Yes, Vivi. What’s up?” Theo asked, raising his eyebrow and looking ever so lovingly at his youngest sibling. His eyes were a darker shade of green and his hair dark brown, he was his father's twin. Standing a little over six foot at just 18 years old, he towered over the little girl.

“I don’t like that guy” Novie pointed, directing her brother's attention to the man standing a tad bit too close to their mother, who was currently standing in line to get some ice cream. “He’s looking at Mama weirdly” she states. This gets the attention of the two other styles boys, Blake and Indi, who lift their sunglasses and look over at their siblings.

They were on holiday, somewhere in the Caribbean, enjoying the last few days of the winter break before they had to get back to England to go back to school. Harry was on his stomach, snoozing away, his back smothered in the suncream y/n put on him earlier before she decided to get the kids ice cream.

Blake scoffs as he gets up from the beach towel, giving it a minute, watching the way the guy continues to ogle their mother despite the massive rock on her ring finger and the “Harry” tattoo on her collarbone. Blake was the hot-headed one, at 16 years old, he was slightly taller than Theo, his hair slighter longer. The perfect mix of his parents, definitely getting his dad's temper.

“If he as much as touches mum it’s game over” Blake states.

“I bet he’s going to ask her who we are” Indi speaks, he was the quietest out of the four. A lot more into his books and video games, and more of an introvert. He was 12, and already wise beyond his years.

“He’ll shit it when he finds out she’s our mum” Blake replies, his dark eyes staring intensely at the way the guy laughs, y/n looks over and the kids give her all a wave to which she smiles widely and waves back.

“Here we go,” Theo says, chuckling as he hears the guys gasp.

“No way you’re a mum” the guy gasps, his hand coming to lift his sunglasses off his eyes. “To an eighteen-year-old?! What! You look insanely good”

“We had him young” y/n chuckles awkwardly, looking over at the kids.

They watch on as the guy points to the ice cream that was just placed in her hand, assuming he asked to pay for it. “He’s tryna ask her out”

“That’s messed up, she’s clearly married”

“Her rings the size of Novie's head, can’t he see” Blake scoffs making Theo chuckle.

“Some guys are just divs and like married women” Theo replies, shrugging.

“That’s so fucked up”

“Right? So fucked up” Novie says making Theo sigh.

“Don’t say that Nov. Blake, watch your mouth” Theo says, before clapping his hand on the back of his brother's backs, “it’s time guys” he states as they watch the guy's hand brush over y/ns as he hands her some tissue to clean off the melting ice cream in her hand.

Theo ducks down to Novie. “You know what to do right, Novie Bear?” He fist bumps her.

“I’ve got it, Teddy Bear. Project rescue mum is underway” Theo chuckles at her nickname for him. He nods at Indi to follow her and the two set off to their mother, an innocent-looking adorning their faces.

“Mama” they hear Novie say as she wraps her hands around their mother's middle, Y/n smiles at her daughter as she hands the ice cream off to Indi who takes a lick. Y/n knows her kids like the back of her hand, she knows what they’re doing and it makes her chuckle softly to herself, just like their father she thinks. Harry was the one that instilled the project rescue mum into them, telling them to take care of their mother whenever he wasn’t around.

“Yes, baby girl? Are you alright?” Y/n asks as she ruffles her hand through her daughter's locks before looking over at her son who leans over to kiss her cheek.

“Can we go get some coconuts?” She looks up at her mother, with an innocent smile.

“Do you like coconut water?” The guy asks, causing Indi to scoff. “I could go get it for you? Would you like that?”

“No no it’s fine, truly thank you” Y/n replies just as her two older sons join her. The two boys tower over the guy and he has to look up to see them. They’re big, just like their dad, looking a lot older than their actual age.

“Hey mum, you nearly done?” Theo asks as Y/n is handed another ice cream from the man making them. Theo takes it off her with a smile.

“Nearly, just got another two left” she replies.

“It’s fine, Blake and I could wait for them, why don’t you go take Vivi to get her coconuts?” Theo offers and y/n nods before smiling.

“Thank you, angel”

“Make sure to get dad some as well, you know how he gets when he has to share his coconut water, he’s obsessed” Blake sniggers as everyone catches onto what he’s trying to imply. Harry hates coconut, especially coconut water, but that’s not important.

“Just like how he’s obsessed with you, right mama?” Novie asks, tugging on her mum's hand.

“Oh yeah, dad's insane about mum, he loves her so much” Indi speaks up, “oh look he’s awake, wave at him guys” The whole family waves at Harry who looks over with a smile, his hand up in the air. His hair was just growing back, so they stuck up awkwardly making him look so endearing. But as he gets up, his muscles flexing, it causes the guy to swallow before he excuses himself.

“Some men are disgusting, flirting with a married woman” Blake can’t help but say and without a doubt the guy heard him but he chose not to look back.

Harry comes up to his wife just as the last two ice creams are handed over to Theo. “How’s my perfect family doing?” He asks, snaking his hands around his wife’s middle before leaning in to kiss her cheek. He ruffles the boy's hair before pulling away and kissing Novie's cheek.

“Oh alright, just scaring off men as usual” Y/n laughs.

“men that have no shame” Theo adds.

“Who blatantly flirts with a woman whilst her whole family is there” Indi says and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Men who need their di-“

“Ok we get it Blake” Harry chuckles, before leading his family back.

“I swear, they’re just like you” y/n smiles, as Harry tugs her closer.

“I’ve taught them well, they know you’re our number one priority babe,” he says as he kisses her cheek before taking a quick bite out of Blake’s ice cream. The family chuckles and go back to enjoying their time under the sun.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing

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justfandomwritings · 2 years

Text

Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

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

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

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

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

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

“Who did this to you?”

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

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

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already know who.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A flood of memories came back to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

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

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

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

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

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

“Hangman, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You did the first thing that came to mind.

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

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

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

“He has a key.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘No, I couldn’t.’

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

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

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—----------------------

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

—--------------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

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

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

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without warning, Devin swung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————————————

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You owe me nothing.”

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

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

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moonbaetarot · 2 months

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Pick a pile

How will you and your future spouse meet

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

Who ever makes the first move is going to have a lot of bravery to make this action towards you. this person or you may be shy and doesn’t usually make the first move. Before you meet you will be letting go of something’s that is mentally draining you this could be a relationship or job. just in this first meeting this person will make you feel safe, comfortable and secure this person will be the calm after the storm. you may meet them online or your first conversation in through text. your future spouse visits you in your dreams so pay attention to them. this person will thank your really sweet but a little crazy in a good way lol. your future spouse has never met someone like you they may be a little speech less at first. You or your future spouse could be an air sign Gemini, Libra, Aquarius or a Taurus. I feel like this person could a friend of a friend like you don’t know them personally but your friends friend does and your like “damn who’s that” and it’s your future spouse. you may try to find there social media I feel like you will be asking around like “who’s this” and “where are they from?” but I feel you will try to be lowkey about finding your future spouse attractive lol. you could meet them around winter or Christmas. you could also meet this person not in your home town or there home town someone will be traving when you two meet. you could also meet in august.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

You will meet your future spouse when you’re having fun and it will be spontaneous like your friend or someone could be like let’s go out on a random Tuesday and you go out and meet your future spouse. you could also go and do something you’ve never done before or learn a new hobby and you meet your future spouse. feel like you will be in a state of boring ness your getting tired of your life and you just wanna change it up, you want a new beginning and you meet your future spouse doing all this spontaneous stuff. y’all’s meeting is something you will always talk about later on in the relationship. Whoever makes the first move will hesitate like “omg should I go up to them idk”. I feel like someone’s future spouse has moneyyy lol they have a big White House like I feel that when you first go over to there house for the first time your going to be like “omg you live here ?!”. Someone here says omg a lot lol I don’t say omg a lot but this pile I am lol. There may be an age gap with you and your future spouse. this person thinks your a sweetheart I feel that you may be a bit closed off then yall meet and you don’t wanna get close with this person because of a past relationship but your future spouse if going to reassure you that you don’t have to worry about them I’m hearing “I’m grown” so you may have an ex that is a bit childish gave you trust issues and not a reliable person but your future spouse is different. you two may meet at night or on a night that the moon is really bright. someone could live near a beach or likes the beach or going on cruises.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

You may meet your future spouse when you moved or bought a new house. you could meet at some type of event a family event. you may be really introverted so when you meet you future spouse your going to be like “wow did I really meet this person right now that’s so random”. When you two meet it’s going to very out of nowhere you either forget about this event going on or no one told you so last minute your going to be rushing to find a outfit, what time you need to be there and where it’s at just a sense of you rushing. someone could’ve had a change of plans like you weren’t even supposed to be there but someone got sick and you had to fill in. I feel Like you the introverted and your future spouse is the extrovert or the other way around. Your future spouse feels that your confident even if your not it’s just the way you carry yourself they see you as very youthful. you may look very young or younger then your age they see you as someone who gets things done someone who is independent. This person may see you as a competition at first like they think your to good they wanna know like what’s the catch to you. they don’t really know how to talk to you at first but this is your future spouse so I guess they find a way lol. there is a sense of not knowing what they are going to say or what there next move is they are scared your not going to feel the same way. someone here may love fishing or went fishing a lot as a kid. y’all could meet In January or September someone could be a Virgo, Taurus or Aquarius or had it in your chart.

Thank you reading loves! 🤍

#pick a card #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick an image #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarot #pick a reading

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jgracie · 29 days

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🌊 DATING PERCY JACKSON

masterlist | rules

jason’s version | leo’s version | frank’s version | travis’ version | luke’s version

in which he pauses and says, "you're my best friend"

pairing percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings mention of a scary quest where percy almost died

Dating Percy is like dating your biggest fan, because he is. You are dating your biggest fan

It takes him a while to realise he likes you and that all the things he’d do for you aren’t just because you’re his friend, but once it finally clicks it's all he can think about

From that moment, he becomes #1 loverboy

“Percy, what are you doing?” Annabeth asked, watching as Percy frantically sifted through his many blue t-shirts. Acknowledging her presence, Percy breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled two of them out of his closet and held them up next to his face.

“Gods, Annabeth, I’m so glad you’re here! Now, I’m about to go see Y/N at the beach and I need you to tell me which looks better with my eyes: the teal or the aqua.”

(They are one hex letter apart)

It's very endearing and he doesn’t even try to hide it!!! But of course you’re the only person who doesn’t notice, thinking he just really wants to be your friend, because Percy’s nice and friendly with everyone

He follows you around everywhere trying to find out more about you so he can plan the perfect first date

You’re an Apollo kid who works in the infirmary? Percy’s first in line for Will’s first aid summer course. You harvest strawberries with the Demeter and Dionysus kids? Percy’s there before everyone else with 3 wicker baskets on each arm

Eventually, you do end up becoming really good friends because he’s just always there and really fun to talk to and super nice and good with kids and maybe he’s a little cute, you’re allowed to have cute friends!

You would’ve been teetering the thin line between friends and dating for ages if it wasn’t for Annabeth, who devises a plan to get you alone and somehow managed to get the whole camp in on it

That’s how you both ended up at the beach, Percy with a note in his jean pocket that read, “tell her or I will - A”

Turning to you, the corners of Percy’s mouth couldn’t help but lift as he watched you admire the way the waves lapped over the shore. That moment would be ingrained in his head forever, because it was the moment he fully understood he had to have you

His nerves betray him

When you ask, “what’d you wanna tell me?” Instead of saying some heartfelt confession that’d make you swoon, Percy states a simple fact: “You’re my best friend.”

It turned out fine though, because you knew what it was. You felt the same way. (listen to you are in love by taylor swift!)

Once you start dating, you are practically attached at the hip. Wherever you go, so does Percy and vice versa

When dating Percy, you truly get the best of both worlds because not only is he your boyfriend, he is also your best friend and truly someone you can lean on when needed

Loyalty is his fatal flaw so expect a LOT of loyalty. Like a concerning amount. He would find ways to justify you murdering a whole family if he had to

However, what comes with loyalty is protectiveness and jealousy. He doesn’t get that jealous because he knows that you two were literally written in the stars by Aphrodite herself, but he still can’t help but get a little jealous when he sees you with some other guy

Just kiss him a little and maybe stay the night at Cabin 3 and never speak to that guy again and he’ll be fine

Inherited motherly traits from Sally. Always checking you for cuts and scrapes after capture the flag, makes you a lunchbox before quests and then insists he goes with you to make you more food when needed and definitely not because he’s worried you won’t come back alive!

He knows you can handle yourself and all but he can’t help it. Out of everyone at camp, Percy’s your number one guy when it comes to dangerous quests

One of his biggest fears that kind of kept him distancing himself from you when he was crushing on you was that he didn’t want you sucked into all the dangers he goes through on a daily basis. He’d rather watch you date someone ‘safe’ from afar than put you in harm’s way 24/7

You’d choose him over a literal God though, so he has no choice but to be stuck with you. Power couple!

After a really bad quest, one where almost died, Percy sat you down at his cabin for a talk. Part of him didn’t want to tell you what happened, but he knew it’d be unfair on your end if you were left in the dark.

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to stay with me. If it weren’t for Grover’s quick thinking, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me, and it’s not right for you to be stuck with a guy who’s basically friends with death. You deserve someone more sta–”

You shut him up with a kiss :) “Percy, when I agreed to date you, I didn’t just agree to all the good things, I agreed to the uglier parts of your life too. Sure, I was really worried while you were gone, but that’s just part of being a demigod, and it's a price I’m willing to pay for all the amazing moments we have together, so don’t even think about me leaving you.”

Anyways, he introduces you to Sally and Paul as soon as humanly possible. They already know a concerning amount about you considering you guys never met, but that’s just because Percy would rant to them about his crush on you on a daily basis

He's so incredibly happy watching you get along with his family. All of his favourite people gathered <3 very sweet

He also loves to see you interact with Estelle!! Percy is a huge fan of kids so he can’t help but stare as you play peekaboo with his younger half-sister (babysitting Estelle fic here!)

Percy also introduces you to the ocean and everything about it. You liked it before, as it was beautiful and reminded you of camp, but Percy painted it in a whole new light

He’d constantly take you on trips under the sea, using his Poseidon kid powers to allow you to be able to see and breathe underwater like he does

This also means lots of making out underwater. After that one time you two got caught kissing by the Stolls, suffering major consequences, he hasn’t been able to risk it

Overall, dating Percy is very fun & your relationship never ever gets boring trust

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcannons #cynwrites

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the-anxious-youth · 7 months

Text

Bubbles

Pairing: Buggy x gender neutral!Reader

Summary: While he's being held captive by the Straw Hats, Buggy won't shut up, which gives you an idea.

Warnings: none, this is all fluff, some mentions of insecurities from Buggy but nothing too angsty

Word Count: 4.2k

Author's note: This idea came to me while I was daydreaming the other day, and I just had to write it down. This is based off of the live-action Buggy, although I am only on the second episode so it may not be canon-accurate. Also, he has long hair in this cause I said so (begging to see Jeff Ward with long hair next season). Hope y'all enjoy and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! There will be a part 2, don’t worry <3 (The banners are from cafekitsune)

Edit: part two is up!

“So now what?”

The collection of Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, and yourself stood in a circle, discussing what to do with a certain clown pirate’s head. Usopp is the first to speak up after Luffy asked the question.

“Well, we can’t leave him unsupervised; who knows what he’d get up to.” Everyone turned to look at Buggy’s detached head, which wore a cheeky look, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I vote Y/N to take care of it,” Zoro states blankly, crossing his arms as he speaks.

“Hey! I’m still a person, even without the body, so don’t refer to me as it!” The objection comes from the animated head, vexation seeping through his tone. Your mouth momentarily twitches upward at his little outburst, it was almost reminiscent of a kitten hissing after unwanted pets.

“Why do I have to babysit him?” You turn to Zoro, matching his apprehensive stance. He meets your gaze with a cold look. You hadn’t been a part of the straw hat crew for long, and Zoro was taking his sweet time warming up to you.

“Because you’re the newest here, and that’s how hierarchy works.”

His tone left no room for argument. Your shoulders slump, and you let out an irritated sigh, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you walk over to pick up Buggy, making sure to be gentle. The clown winks at you, a flirty smile on his face. You take him back to your cabin, not wanting to risk accidentally dropping him overboard. Despite only being a head, a smug aura radiates around him, already planning ways to mess with you.

You reach your cabin and kick the door open with your foot. Being the newest member of the straw hat crew, you were given the smallest room, not that you really minded. You place Buggy down on your bed, moving to sit at the small desk in the corner of the room.

“So what are we going to do first, darling?” Buggy smirks as he talks, clearly trying to get under your skin.

“We? There is no we. You’ll sit there quietly while I go over these maps.” You bark, not even bothering to spare him a glance.

“Aww, but where’s the fun in that?” You can hear the tease in his tone and can tell that he’s grinning without having to look at him.

“You’re not here to have fun. You’re being held captive, remember?” Smoothing your fingers out over the maps, you tilt your head, trying to focus.

“Yes, but who says captivity can’t be enjoyable?” His question shocks you, and you turn to gaze at him with an unamused look. Realizing that he’s completely serious, you let out a scoff.

“You really are crazy, clown.”

He smiles smugly, not bothered by your comment.

“It’s more fun that way.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to the maps, choosing to pretend he’s not there. ‘He must really like the sound of his own voice’, you think to yourself. The clown continues to talk your ear off, but after a while, you’re able to tune him out. Before long, you’ve analyzed all the maps. Turning back to him with a curious look, you realize he’s gotten to the end of some story you couldn’t care to listen to.

“And that’s why you don’t fall asleep on the beach.” Buggy smiles at you, enjoying your annoyance, watching you tilt your head at him.

“Cat got your tongue?” He purrs. Rolling your eyes, an idea pops into your head.

“Hey… I think I know how to get you to be quiet.” A sly smirk crawls its way across your face, and the clown’s chipper mood falters.

“Oh yeah? What might that be?” He tries to keep his confident demeanor, but the look on your face scares him.

You nibble on your bottom lip without responding before walking over to him and picking him up. This immediately wipes the smirk off his face, and he looks up at you, suddenly concerned for his safety.

“Hey now, what are you doing?” He asks nervously, secretly afraid you’ll throw him overboard for talking so much. You place him on top of your desk and move to grab the empty basin in the corner of the room.

“I’m giving you a bath,” you shrug nonchalantly, a cheeky smile on your face. He pales at that and laughs nervously.

“Wait, what do you mean? Are you going to waterboard me or something?” The look on the clown shows that he thinks it’s a real possibility, which causes you to chuckle.

“No, I’m just going to give you a bath; you smell like you could use one.” He just stares at you silently, quickly dropping his playful persona.

“What, cat got your tongue?” You mock him, and he gulps quietly. The fear in his eyes is quite amusing, you admit to yourself.

“You mean you’re literally going to bathe me?” A confused look crosses him, all the confidence in his voice gone.

“Yes.” You nod. “You look like you haven’t showered in weeks. Besides, now I’ll finally get some peace and quiet.” A smirk crawls across your visage, enjoying seeing the trickster squirm. It wasn’t often the clown had the tables turned on him, and he definitely didn’t expect it coming from you.

“Now, wait a minute, I can be quiet without that.” He looks up at you worriedly, the idea of a bath visibly rattling him.

“But I thought you wanted to have fun?” Your smirk widens and you put a hand on your hip.

“Okay, I take it back. I’ll be good, I swear.” A nervous laugh emerges as he tries to break the tension.

“Too late.” His face drops, triggering a small chuckle from you.

“Oh, relax, will you? I’m technically doing you a favor.” This time, a genuine smile graces your face, which does nothing to calm his nerves. “Now stay.” You put your hand up as if you were talking to a canine, to which Buggy rolls his eyes, your other hand holding the metal basin.

“I’m not a dog,” he mutters softly, not having the courage to stand up to you entirely.

You leer at him, opening the door to leave before shutting it behind you. Sitting there quietly, Buggy questions how he even got here. Not before long, you return, the bucket full of warm water. You place it on the ground, grab the towel off your shoulder, fold it, and lay it on the bed.

“You’re serious?” He says quietly, watching you semi-curiously, shocked that you weren’t kidding. You hum softly and nod your head.

“I am.” Looking up at him, you can see the fear on his features, and your eyes soften a bit. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

He eyes you suspiciously, not sure whether or not to believe your words. Grabbing a small pouch, you pull out a bar of soap and a small bottle, which Buggy assumes is shampoo. Lastly, you grab a small wooden board and place it over the center of the tub.

“So you don’t drown,” you utter, his question practically visible on his face. He nods slowly in response, having a hard time believing the situation.

“I’ll have to take this off,” you gesture to his bandana and he bows his head in agreement, deciding not to fight it as you seem pretty determined. Gently removing the striped cloth, you fold it nicely and place it on the other side of the desk. Secondly, you remove the hair tie that kept his bright blue mane in a ponytail. Buggy watches you silently, interested in your next move. Softly grabbing the sides of his head, you place him on the wooden board that lies across the center of the tub.

“I’m going to wash your hair first, okay?”

He nods in response, curious eyes never leaving your face. You grab a small cup and fill it with warm water, asking him to lean his head backward so it doesn’t get in his eyes. The clown does as you say, though instead of closing his eyes, he keeps them glued on you, not trusting that you won’t dunk him in the water. You gently pour the water over his hair, moving your other hand to shield his eyes as he seems to want to keep them open. The usually talkative clown stays silent, not wanting to admit to himself that the warm water feels quite pleasant.

“When was the last time you actually washed your hair?”

He raises an eyebrow at your question, pondering it momentarily before replying.

“I, uh, I’m not sure.” A nervous chuckle escapes his lips, expecting you to laugh at him. Instead, you smile gently and continue pouring water onto his hair.

“I can tell.” The words contain no malice as you utter them, merely expressing an observation. Seeing that his hair was now thoroughly damp, you grab the small bottle of shampoo, pouring some out into one hand. Rubbing your hands together to form some bubbles, you move to start massaging the soap onto Buggy’s head.

“Were you born with this?” You ask curiously, referring to the cerulean color of his tresses. He raises his eyebrow at you, not expecting the question.

“I was.” Nodding as he speaks, his eyes continue to analyze your face as if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. You smile at him, continuing to lather the shampoo into his hair.

“It’s pretty. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your words are soft, making sure that his whole scalp is covered in suds. He scoffs at this, thinking that you’re making fun of him. Momentarily pausing your movements, you lower your gaze to meet his eyes, finding insecurity dancing through them.

“I’m being serious. I wish I had brightly colored hair, maybe purple or something. Guess I wasn’t so lucky.” Going back to massaging his scalp, he looks up at you, utterly flabbergasted.

“You really think so?” He asks softly, timidity laced through his tone. You nod in response, a gentle smile on your face. Humming softly, the clown takes in the new information, wondering what else you think about him. He didn’t want to admit it, but the way your fingers carefully danced across his head felt incredible, not being able to remember the last time someone treated him so gently.

Reasoning that his hair was thoroughly soapy, you dunk your hands in the warm water to get rid of the remaining suds and quickly dry them with a towel. Subsequently grabbing the cup, you fill it with water and begin to wash the shampoo out of his hair. He stares at you all the while as if he is trying to commit your face to memory. After all the soap is washed out, you squeeze the ends of his hair to rid it of any excess water and grab a towel to wrap around his head. Leaning back to get a good look at him, you smile, finding his curious expression cute.

“Now for the face,” you utter, moving to grab a fresh towel and the bar of soap.

“Wait a second, you’re going to wash my face too?” asks Buggy, his timbre uneasy. You nod in response, replying in a steady tone.

“You’ve been wearing the makeup for so long that it’s partially gone.” Smiling at him softly, not expecting him to be so nervous. He laughs bitterly, not an ounce of humor in his voice.

“Can… can you just leave it?” His question is soft, and your surprise is visible on your face.

“You do know that leaving makeup on for too long is bad for your skin right?” You quip, trying to lighten his mood. Letting out a shaky breath, he shakes his head softly, and you can tell he doesn’t know what to say. Your smile drops, and you watch him for a moment, figuring out what to do next. His face paint seems to be a sensitive topic, and you don't want to push him too far.

“How about this,” you start, a kind smile returning to your face, “If you let me wash off this old makeup, I’ll redo it for you so it’s nice and fresh.” Sitting across from him calmly, you try to give off a safe and non-threatening aura to make him feel more comfortable around you. He stares at you for a moment, astonished that you would offer such a thing. You stay silent, patiently waiting for a response.

“You’d do that for me?” he asks after a moment, the surprise in his voice evident. You nod, making sure to maintain the soft smile on your face. “You’re in luck because I just got some new face paints.” Leaning over to open the drawer of your desk, you pull out a palette with every color of the rainbow on it and some clean brushes, holding them up so he could see. He tilts his head in response, trying to discern whether or not you were serious. After what feels like forever, he finally returns your smile and nods.

“Deal. Can you make it match how it normally looks?” He looks up at you with a soft smile, secretly hoping that you’ll do a decent job.

“Of course.” Grinning, you grab the towel and soap, excited that he’s letting you do this. You wet the soap bar, rubbing it between your hands to generate some bubbles, and gently start the wash the old makeup off his face. The clown continues to stare at you, though his energy is much more relaxed than before.

“You’re really pretty,” he comments after a moment, causing your hands to falter. Feeling the heat rise to your face, you smile, taking a moment to meet his gaze.

“You’re pretty too,” you mutter softly. Now that his face is mostly clean, you see a light blush begin to form on his cheeks.

“I’m nowhere near as pretty as you.” The confidence is back in his voice, and he winks at you flirtily. You can help breaking out into a smile, choosing not to say anything in response. He watches you quietly as you wash the soap off of his face. Unbeknownst to you, Buggy never let anyone see him without makeup, but something about you told him that he could trust you. He’d also be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the view of your face being so close to his.

“Now for the fun part.” Grabbing the palette with one hand and a brush with another, you grin at him, excited to replicate his face paint. Truth be told, you loved doing makeup, but the only person who would let you do it was Luffy. There was one time Nami let you do hers, but it was after everyone else went to bed and she wiped it off immediately after. Your smile faltered at the thought of the orange-haired girl, and you remembered why Buggy was with your crew in the first place. The clown immediately noticed and looked up at you inquisitively.

“You okay?” He asks softly, already missing your smile. You nod and debate on telling him the truth, ultimately deciding that you should.

“I’m just thinking about Nami.” You force a smile back on your face, but Buggy can tell it’s not real.

“That’s the girl Arlong took, right? Fiery personality with hair to match?” He asks, and the description of her causes a genuine smile to come across your face. You nod softly.

“That’s the one.” Staring at him with interest, you wonder if he’ll tell you Arling’s location since he clearly knows it.

“We both know I know where they are, and truth be told I had no intention of telling any of you, but something about you is special.” Your eyes widen at his words, was he really going to give it up that easily?

“He’s at Arlong Park, and I’ll bet she’s with him. I’ll take you there, as a thank you for all this.” You beam at him, ecstatic at the thought of saving Nami. It’s at that moment when Buggy decides your smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You rush out, your excitement getting the best of you. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and nods, a smile on his face as well.

“Now be quiet so I can do your makeup,” you say cheekily, dipping the brush into the white knowing that it’s the base for his signature look. He laughs in response but has one last thing to say.

“Do you need me to tell you how to do it?” He looks at you as you shake your head, your smile still prevalent.

“I’ve seen so many of your bounty posters, I’ve practically got it memorized.” His eyes widen at this, and his grin gets bigger.

“Oh, do I have myself a secret admirer?” The clown asks smugly, and he notices the blush that falls upon your face. If he knew it was so easy to make you flustered, he would have done it far sooner, finding you absolutely adorable.

“Shut up and let me work.” You bark, your tone not holding any aggression. He laughs again but does as you say, and you begin to paint his face white. For once, he remains silent, watching you work. Before long, the base is done and you move on to the blue triangles above and below his eyes. You stay silent as your brush runs along his face, wanting to make it look perfect until a thought comes into your head.

“You know something?” He hums, prompting you to continue. “You have the most captivating eyes I’ve ever seen.” Said eyes widen, never having been told that before. Buggy silently thanks the universe for the makeup covering his face because he can feel the heavy blush rising to his cheeks.

“Th-thanks,” he mutters quietly, not sure how to respond. You tilt your head at him, curiously studying his face.

“You’re not used to receiving compliments, are you?” Smiling at him softly, you watch as he shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Usually I’m the one giving the compliments.” He looks up to meet your gaze, partially expecting you to laugh at him. You do nothing of the sort, instead smiling at him gently.

“Well, that’s a shame because I think you’re pretty handsome.” You wink at him, wanting to make him feel more comfortable since flirting seems to be one of his pastimes. His eyes widen again, the surprise written all over his face. Without saying anything else, you finish the blue around his eyes and move on to the red, cleaning the brush and dipping it into the face paint. The clown stays silent as you work on the red smile around his mouth, internally wondering if you meant what you said. When you get to his nose, he tenses up, a clear indicator that he’s insecure about it. You make sure to be extra careful as you paint the red onto his skin.

“I meant what I said, I do find you quite attractive.” His eyes search yours for any hint of insincerity but find none. The king of flirting himself is stunned into silence, feeling his heart flutter at your words. You say nothing else and go back to finishing the makeup. Deciding to observe your face while he had the opportunity, he notices that you stick your tongue out slightly when concentrated, and he swears he’s never seen anything cuter.

“All done!” You pull away proudly, assessing your work. It looks almost identical to his bounty picture, and you internally pat yourself on the back for your memory. Getting up to grab a mirror, you find one in the small dresser and bring it towards Buggy, holding it up so he can see his reflection. He looks in the mirror and instantly grins, impressed with your makeup skills.

“You know, you would be a wonderful addition to my crew.” You chuckle in response, not thinking that he’s being serious.

“You need a professional makeup artist?” You joke, internally glad he thinks you did a good job.

“No really, we could use someone like you.” His proposal shocks you, not expecting him to say something like that.

“You don’t know me,” you speak quietly. He just smiles at you, taking in your beauty.

“I know enough. You’re kind, funny, and great at makeup.” The clown winks at you, enjoying the surprise on your face. “I’ve also heard you are quite the fighter.” Smirking at you, he gives you a look that tells you he means what he says. You just stare at him in silence, having a hard time believing your ears.

“So, sweetness, what do you say?” Gaping at him, you blink a few times, processing his offer. After a moment, you sigh, indecision written all over your features.

“I don't know, I’d have to leave the straw hats, and I’m not sure I could do that.” Surprisingly, his face softens at your words.

“Tell you what, let’s head off to save your friend and find my body, and then you can decide.” His smile remains soft, which is unusual for the clown. “I don’t think your current crew appreciates you. I mean, look at today, they gave you the task of babysitting me when you have so much more to offer.” Eyes widening at his words, you realize that maybe he’s right.

“Luffy appreciates me,” you whisper softly, though you’re not sure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“He might, but grass head certainly doesn’t.” You want to smirk at the nickname for Zoro, but there’s too much going on in your mind for your facial muscles to pull through.

“All I’m going to say is this, you’d have a real place in my crew, and not just on the bottom of the totem pole. Besides, I think you like my company just as much as I like yours.” He gazes at you, studying your body language, and you realize that he’s right, you do enjoy his company. You start nibbling on your lip out of nervous habit, and he picks up on it immediately.

“You don’t have to decide now, we can go rescue your friend first, okay?” He watches your shoulders visibly relax at that, and smiles in return.

“Okay.” You say softly, smiling back at him. “Your hair should be dry now.” Moving closer, you carefully take the towel off his head and giggle at the fluffy blue mess.

“Thank the stars I have a brush.” Buggy chuckles at the comment and watches you grab the hairbrush with a smile on his face. Softly working through the tangles, you watch as his hair goes from frizzy to smooth. As you’re running the brush through his mane one last time, the door opens, revealing a shocked and somewhat appalled Zoro.

“What the hell is going on in here?!” Yells the swordsman, and you turn to him with a confused look.

“Well, you told me to watch him so I did.” You shrug, not liking the attitude coming from your crewmate.

“I said watch him, not give him a makeover! Did you do his makeup too?” The horrified look on Zoro’s face made Buggy laugh, not used to seeing the man lose his cool.

“You guys never let me do your makeup, so I had to improvise!” You bark back, crossing your arms. Zoro just stares at you silently, clearly having difficulty processing your kindness towards the clown. After a while, he rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“Whatever. Luffy needs him so we can find out where Nami is.” He mirrors your stance, crossing his arms.

“I already know where she is,” you spit, growing tired of the way he speaks to you. The swordsman scoffs, not believing you for a second.

“Oh, really? How?” A faux smile creeps onto his face, prepared to catch you in a lie.

“Because Buggy told me.” Zoro’s face drops and the man is stunned into silence. The clown immediately bursts into laughter, enjoying Zoro’s dumbfounded look. The green-haired man gawks for a moment, before moving his hands around, silently asking the question ‘how’.

“Because they’re nice and you’re an asshole,” Buggy says smugly, and you can tell he’d be crossing his arms if he had the rest of his body. You break out into a soft chuckle at this, which snaps Zoro out of his trance.

“I’m not explaining this to Luffy, so you better take the head and go find him.” The swordsman scoffs again before leaving the room, shaking his head the whole time. Rolling your eyes, you move back toward the clown, mumbling to yourself while putting his hair back in a ponytail.

“Don’t let him get to you, he won’t know what he has until it’s gone.” Buggy’s cheeky grin triggers your own, and you laugh softly, gently picking him up to go find Luffy.

Please do not replicate/repost :)

#my writing #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy #one piece #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #op buggy #op buggy x reader #buggy fanfiction #buggy fanfic #buggy the genius jester #buggy one piece x reader

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