Stealing Killuas Turtlenecks

Stealing Killua’s turtlenecks

-I have risen from the dead to make this post specifically -i can’t get over how adorable this boy is (in his own right lmao) -bullet points because I am too tired to write an actual one-shot (it’s 2:45 in the morn lmaooooo) -established relationship + aged up

-killua’s shirts look very comfy, be honest here lmao -he wears them all the time except when it’s sweltering hot (like on Whale Island–it’s way too hot there) -just seeing Killua bask in sunlight by the windowsill on a stormy night makes you wonder how comfy his shirts are -when Killua is off to have lunch and train with Gon, you decline -’I’m taking an active rest day today, you guys have fun’ -pfft, the heck is an active rest day? Killua has no clue. He brushes it off in favour of shrugging and bidding you a good day -that’s when you rummage through Killua’s room and find his shirts -they smell nice, like candy and chocolates (but not in a sense to overpower your nose) -it’s a soft smell and reminds you of childhood -killua’s shirts are very soft, you can’t help but flop on his bed and pull up the turtleneck -it’s sooooo soft -no wonder he wears them so often! -if it weren’t for the cool autumn air though, you would be sweating like crazy -it starts to rain outside as you lazily lay in bed -you wonder if Killua and Gon will stay out to train or come back home early -eventually you begin to fall asleep -it’s very cold in Killua’s room since he left the window open, and with the rain pelting outside, a draft causes it to feel like Siberia -but Killua’s turtleneck is warm and soft against your skin, like a warm hug that refuses to let you go -and his scent? Well, it feels like Killua is there with you, even though you know he’s out and about training/having lunch -eventually you fall asleep cuddled in the sheets -it’s too late when you realise the door has opened. Your eyes snap open and the familiar voice of your boyfriend fills your ears -”(Y/n)?” he calls. “I brought you something back for lunch. You’re always hungry, so I thought you’d want some. It’s your favourite.” -usually, you’d burst from your room and race through the halls to tackle Killua in a thank-you hug (just to see him get all blushy and flustered) -today? Well, you’re panicking -if Killua so much as sees you in his shirt, you’ll never hear the end of it -he’ll bully you to death with that stupidly handsome face of his, then make you all embarrassed and -the door opened before you could finish that thought -uh oh, it seems Killua is much too sharp for your groggy mind -he stares at you for a good moment before letting out something between a laugh and a snort -you see the look in his eyes. He’s ready to tease you to death -”Killua, if you’re gonna say anything mean–” -instead, he rips off the sheets and hauls you into his arms -he’s very strong (but so are you) -suddenly he’s burying his face into your shoulder, a cat-like smile on his lips -”You missed me that much? I was only gone for like, five hours.” -his lips are on yours and you swallow back a snarky retort to savour the gentle way he looks into your eyes -gosh, when he looks at you like that, it makes your heart melt

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.”

I wrote this for @neptunes-curse I hope you like it!

It is a Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Jake’s sister!reader imagine.

Thank you @lt-natrace for looking this over.

Warnings: cursing, this fic is racially and body type inclusive despite the moodboard suggesting otherwise

“Don’t you think we should tell your brother?” your good soul of a boyfriend asked as you laid comfortably in his arms one evening.

You smiled slightly as you shook your head, looking up at Bob to find a gentle but slightly concerned look on his face.

“You know Jake,” you tried to explain to him, putting your hand to his face to caress the side of it carefully.

“He’d just worry and take that out on you. You know how mean he can be without meaning to be hurtful,” you told him as you watched his eyelids flutter at your touch.

You really liked Bob, but your brother had already ruined other relationships by the way he behaved around your partners.

You didn’t want that to happen to Bob, especially not since they worked together.

It was best to keep your relationship a secret from Jake.

Bob nodded and you felt his fingers trace patterns onto your back.

He leaned in closely, his head lowering to your collarbone, sucking at the skin there, making you smile and forget your brother entirely.

A few days later you were sat in a stool by the pool table at the Hard Deck, the usual place for you and your friends to meet up.

You were proud to call your brother and his coworkers some of your closest friends, a night out with them always promised to be fun.

You were happy to just sit there and talk to your friends, having made an effort to look nice because you were going out, and loving the way Bob eyed you in secret.

While you had spent some time choosing what to wear you hadn’t entirely been very careful about how much your clothing revealed, which your brother addressed the moment he saw you.

When he was close enough to hug you his eyes fell to a deep purple spot near your collarbone.

It was something that you should have seen as well when looking in the mirror had you not been preoccupied by the thought of Bob.

The second Jake saw your hickey he let out a theatrical gasp while gripping your arm.

“Where did you get that from?” he asked, appalled by the bruise at the place of your skin that Bob had found that made you putty in his hands.

The heat was rushing to your cheeks and your heartbeat picked up, but you tried to stay level headed.

Jake wasn’t naïve, he knew a hickey when he saw one, which made a calm reaction from you crucial for everyone involved.

“I don’t have to justify my actions, J,” you answered him with a soft smile as you watched him grit his teeth.

He was silent for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes at you and studying you.

When Payback handed him a beer he snapped back into his usual form, glancing at you before raising his voice so everyone could hear him.

“Whoever my sister is dating, I hope it’s not one of you. I don’t trust any of you fuckers enough for that,” he said as he let his eyes wander over every one of his coworkers before flashing them one of his signature grins.

“Anyways,” he said as he stepped towards the pool table, not seeing Bob wipe his hands on his khakis in fear, “who’s ready to lose in pool?”.

The evening was beautiful, and every one of you had a lot of fun over the course of a few hours.

While you didn’t want the night to end you had work the next day so you made your rounds to say goodbye, taking Bob up on his very innocent offer to drive you home.

You had tried finding Jake to say goodbye but he was enthralled by some civilian woman who was staring him down, so you decided to text him when you were at home instead.

The second you left the bar your hand slipped into Bob’s who looked straight ahead, but you saw a smile spread over his face in response to your action.

He picked up his pace and you followed suit until you reached his car, and a wicked grin spread over your lips.

The moment Bob stood by his car you gently pushed him against it, reaching towards him to press an eager kiss to his lips.

One was followed by another as Bob finally reacted and let his hands roam your body.

You were so engrossed in each other that you didn’t hear your brother approaching until he let out an angry shout behind you.

“Get your hands off of my sister, you asshole,” he shouted and captured the attention of every single person who was outside of the Hard Deck.

When you turned around to face your brother he was already pushing you aside, grabbing Bob by his collar as he continued his angry rambling.

“I swear to God if you touch my sister again I’ll…,” he continued until he looked up into the wide eyes of his bespectacled friend.

Bob looked like a deer caught in headlights and Jake was as surprised as him, both of them just staring at each other for a second.

You took that time to shift in your stance to stand closer to Bob, trying to send your brother a message.

You were waiting on a reaction from either of them but Jake only blinked repeatedly, stepping back from Bob and looking at you.

He still looked majorly confused but his anger had vanished.

“You’re… he’s…,” he stuttered, trying to catch a clear thought.

“But you’re… he’s Bob. That’s fine,” your brother said, looking at you.

“You didn’t have to hide Bob from me, he’s Bob!” he exclaimed, making you chuckle as he obviously still had to process the developments.

Bob nudged your hand with his before intertwining your fingers, gaining the confidence to speak through your connected skin.

“We didn’t… we wanted to keep it private at first,” he explained, and you nodded along.

Leaning against your by now official boyfriend you looked over at Jake, and everyone else that was watching the scene in interest.

“We wanted to tell you in time, but it was just something between us. For us,” you added, feeling Bob’s arm snake around you as his lips found your temple.

He still seemed shocked by the developments and you were pretty sure he was also slightly scared of Jake, so you were happy to serve as his shield.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at you, feeling slightly guilty for outing you in such a manner.

Both Bob and you knew that he hadn’t meant to though, which was why you weren’t mad at him.

You chuckled as you pulled away from Bob, making the two steps towards Jake to hug him tightly.

“Thank you for looking out for me, J,” you smiled as you pulled away and he ran a hand over your hair in a brotherly gesture.

“Don’t hurt Bob, or I’ll kill you,” he poked fun at the usual threat that siblings made towards their newfound partners, and it made all three of you chuckle.

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Sooooo sweet *-* it makes my teeth rot, but I don’t care. It’s fluffy and it makes me happy

"it's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him"

-

thinking about being in a relationship with bakugou.

although he won't admit it (he'd rather hug deku than tell you he absolutely adores you), he loves it when you praise him.

now, it's not praise in his quirk, or how good of a hero he is.

just... him.

and that's how your entire relationship started.

~

the class had started, and you were sitting in the seat next to him, having been added to the class late due to some issues with enrolment. aizawa-sensei had just ended his lesson, and everyone was mingling about, getting to know each other.

you were talking with denki, who had approached you for the first time with another one of his cheesy pick-up lines.

"if you were words on a page, you'd be some real fine print."

a yellow-haired head popped into your peripheral, and you turned around, confused.

"me?"

he grinned, "who else, sweetheart?"

you stared at him, shocked, before breaking out into a fit of laughter. after you got it out of your system, you turned to him, a grin of your own making its way onto your lips.

"not bad. well, you'd be in bold, now wouldn't you?"

his eyes widened, and he stared at you for a good minute, before he burst out laughing.

"i'm denki," he smiled, stretching a hand out toward you. you took it in your own, shaking, "i'm y/n."

a growl was heard from your left, and you turned to see a spiky-haired boy glaring at the two of you. irritation shown plainly on his face, he scoffed.

"you guys are gross. throwing around half-assed pick-up lines."

you studied him for a moment, taking in the way he slouched in his chair with surprisingly intimidating grace. his hands shoved deep into his pockets, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. the blazer that seemed to stretch thin around his biceps.

and those eyes.

those ruby-red, captivating eyes.

your eyes met his, and a shock ran through you at his intense gaze.

"your eyes are beautiful" you blurted out.

shit.

those red eyes widened, and his mouth opened just a tad bit- not enough to be noticeable from a distance, but since you were sitting to his literal right, you saw.

"hah?!" recovering fast, he snapped at you. "don't bullshit me!" turning away from you, he dropped his gaze to the papers laid out on his desk.

denki was laughing behind you, saying something about emotions and how he thought the ash-blonde didn't have any.

but your gaze was on his ears- bright red. the only tell that what you'd said had affected him.

looking down at your desk, a small smile played onto your lips.

cute.

~

as time went on, you guys moved from strangers who had just met in class to proper classmates.

the two of you were often paired up to work together since you were sitting side-by-side, and although you barely knew his name, you were glad.

aizawa-sensei had just grouped the two of you up for an assignment, and you'd decided to move to his desk so you guys could work together.

"the hell are you doing here?" he hissed, stopping his writing to shift his gaze to you.

"we needa start this shit," you said simply, gently pushing his papers so you could dump your arms onto his desk. you dropped your head onto them, before looking up and seeing him momentarily stunned.

that didn't last long.

"what the hell are you doing?! move it, dumbass!" he lifted his hand to shove you off the desk, but you ducked out of the way, almost falling off your chair in the process.

"come on blondie," you protested, "we better get going otherwise we're gonna end up failing!"

he glared at you, anger rising.

"don't call me blondie, you extra!"

sighing, you shifted your eyes to his paper, trying to figure out his name. catching sight of the word at the top of the page, you raised your eyebrows.

"bakugou?"

raising your head, you studied him. "bakugou. alright then, blondie."

"tch, whatever."

he went back to continuing his writing, paying no more attention to you. you, however, kept your gaze on him, before dropping it to his page.

the words flowed from his pencil, and you watched his hand flex and fingers tighten every so often as he kept answering the first few questions of the template aizawa-sensei had handed out.

"you have nice hand-writing, bakugou."

his hand came to a sharp stop, the nib screeching slightly. alarmed, you looked up at him, but you saw he was watching you oddly.

his ears were red again.

"the fuck you saying that for, dumbass?"

you grinned, and you met his ruby-red eyes, amusement growing.

"the name's y/n."

~

the school year went on, and eventually you guys progressed from classmates to friends. or at least, that's what you called it.

it's not like bakugou would say that himself, however he didn't make an effort to correct you.

he dropped it overtime.

it was a late afternoon, and aizawa-sensei had created units for realistic hero training. you, unfortunately, had not been paired with a certain blonde-haired boy.

however, you were more than happy to watch him fight.

standing in front of the live stream of the ongoing battle, you watched jirou get cornered by mantis, his blades speeding towards her. shouts rose from both class 1a and class 1b.

"crap, he's gonna get her!" mina's voice rang out from behind you.

however, he didn't.

there was a blur of black in the corner of the screen, and suddenly bakugou blasted his way into view. his foot coming down on her back, he shoved her out of the way, before raising his head to snarl at the fanged "villain."

"as if you'd get someone from my team on my watch."

a loud *BOOM* echoed through the speakers, and the reverberations were heard from the arena itself. An explosion erupted on the screen, blinding you, and when you looked up again you saw mantis lying on the floor with bakugou standing over him.

wow.

the fight ended soon enough, and you waited until class was dismissed to catch up with the explosion boy.

"hey, blondie!"

bakugou turned, his trademark scowl plastered onto his face.

"what do you want, idiot?"

you stopped beside him, before smirking up at him.

"you were good out there."

he whirled towards you, teeth bared. "of course i was good out there! the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

you let out a dramatic sigh, before slinging your arm over his shoulder and yanking his face down towards yours. he let out a snarl of protest, but made no move to pull away from you. you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

"i mean~" you sang out teasingly, "you looked out for your teammates. you don't have to tell me you were good out there, blondie. i know you were."

he opened his mouth to butt in, but you silenced him with a finger to his lips. he looked down at it, irritated.

"kicking jirou outta the way was one way to save her ass. but you did."

you lifted your gaze to his, a genuine grin on your face.

"you do care. you've just got your own way of showing it, huh? it's nice, seeing you looking after other people. plus, i'm almost 100% sure you're actually a big softie on the inside."

whatever bakugou was going to say didn't come. he just looked at you, slightly taken aback by everything you'd just said.

realizing that you'd said a way more than you'd intended, you cringed internally, quickly turning to look at where you guys were going rather than him.

oh crap, he's gonna eat me.

instead, he averted his gaze, an arm coming up to cover his face.

"shut up."

surprised, you turn back to him, expecting a sudden blast to your side. but you take in his body language- the way he was covering his face and avoiding your gaze, and don't say anything.

besides, seeing his bright red ears was enough.

~

it was the end of the first year at ua, and class 1a had decided to throw a party to celebrate. the dorms were alive with laughter and movement. sato and momo had decided to team up with a few of the students from class 1b to prepare a variety of different dishes for the occasion. there were activities and other things set-up in order for everyone to enjoy their last day as first years.

however, it was loud.

feeling overwhelmed by the constant noise of the party, you headed outside for some fresh air. going out in the court yard and turning into the garden located in front of the dorms, you inhaled a long breath of fresh air.

this is nice.

"what are you doing out here?"

you stayed where you were leaning against the grill blocking the fountain, knowing who it was without turning around.

"i could say the same to you."

bakugou stepped up beside you, and you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

you'd be lying if you said he didn't look amazing.

he was wearing a deep red suit, the same colour as his eyes, and a black collared shirt. the blazer was closed, tailored to compliment his build. his hands were shoved into his pockets, and you could see the material strain along his biceps.

he looked absolutely gorgeous under the moonlight.

feeling your gaze, he turned to face you. "shouldn't you be inside, enjoying the dumb party?"

"it's loud in there," you replied.

is it just me or is there some favouritism going on with him and the moon?

"mm. i take it you don't like that shit either."

"nah."

the two of you lapsed into silence, staring up at the night sky. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing, pestering you to tell him tell him tell him. you'd ignored it all year, creating excuses for why not to, but now there was nothing in the way.

it was just you and him.

slowly, you tilted your head up to the stars shining faintly against the midnight sky, not having the courage to face him completely.

"hey bakugou."

he turned to you, concerned. you rarely called him by his first name.

is she alright?

internally cursing yourself for being a coward, you forced yourself to face him. meeting his gaze, you stared at him for a moment, before speaking.

"you're really pretty."

what?

he takes a step back, his arm flying up to cover his face like it did all those months ago. his ears are a burning red, and a flush creeps up on his cheeks.

"you... what?"

taking a step towards him, you say it again.

"you're pretty."

his heart beats hard in his chest, in his ears, in his head. his blood rushes through him at a faster pace than usual. his breaths come out short and sharp.

"you..."

he takes a step forward, then another, and another, until he's standing directly in front of you. he angles his head down to yours, his gaze filled with an emotion you couldn't place.

"do you know what you do to me?"

your heart beats hard in your chest, in your ears, in your head. your blood rushes through you faster than usual. your breaths come out short and sharp.

"what?"

"i said... do you know what you do to me?"

you stay silent, staring at him in complete shock. taking in your frozen state, he reaches for your hand dangling by your side.

his grip is surprisingly gentle yet firm, and his rough hands warm as he guides your own to his chest.

you can feel his heart beating wildly beneath your palm.

"every time you say something about me, i get like this. about me. every damn time. and it's been driving me crazy. did you know that?"

at a loss for words, you just stare. at him. at his face. at that mouth.

he notices.

"y/n..."

an explosion surges through your body- that was the first time he called you by your name.

"can i... kiss you?"

you meet his gaze, those ruby-red eyes that grasped your attention not so long ago.

"yes."

it comes out breathless, and bakugou still has enough bravado for a small smirk to make its way onto his lips.

lets see how long it says there.

grabbing his collar, you yank him down towards you, and he catches himself on the railing behind you before he stumbled into you completely.

his mouth is soft against yours, and you feel his hand come up to rest on the small of your back, pressing you closer to him.

definitely a softie.

after what feels like forever, he pulls away from you, sucking in a long breath.

"damn."

you grin, relishing the sight of his flushed cheeks, although you knew yours weren't any better.

"oh, shut up pretty boy."

he tsked, shoving you off him.

"cut it out with that mushy shit."

but he gave you a small smile, however self-satisfied it was.

and in that moment, you couldn't have been more glad of the fact that you had chosen to compliment him all those months ago on your first day of school.

-

word count: 2.2k

a/n: ok wOw. this was 11 pages in google docs omg. i hope you guys liked it! i know i did lmao

hear me out, that last dr stone angst but write a continuation where everybody learns that y/n was dead and senku’s reaction to discovering that it was his fault <3

"Amongst that crowd, Senku was one of those who stared at you in horror. "

hooooly this is finally finished! the long awaited epilogue to the hanahaki story! this was pretty difficult to write- i wanted to cover as much as i could without making it too lengthy while being realistic, which wasn't easy. im a bit iffy about some of the characterization, but nevertheless, i hope it was worth the wait! thank you for your patience!

warnings: detailed descriptions of death, blood, sickness, grief, intrusive thoughts, burning of a body (sorry its a lot but considering the theme...). if i should add any warnings, PLEASE let me know. some manga spoilers but nothing too major!

words: 3,374

Constructive feedback is always welcome! I’m always looking to improve!

Requests are open! (checked my pinned post!)

The concept of the Hanahaki disease was first introduced to Ishigami Village through the one hundred tales. It was mentioned briefly- a woman, in love with a man who didn’t love her back, had suffocated on yellow tulip petals that she couldn’t stop throwing up. There had been no record of anyone in the village ever experiencing such a sickness, and many assumed the story was a metaphor or a lesson like the other tales. Simply a fictional disease. 

“What a silly way to die.” You had thought to yourself when you first heard of the illness as a young child. If only you knew you’d be in the same position as the woman in the story, suffocating on yellow tulip petals because the man you were in love with didn’t love you back. 

In your final moments, you saw your life flash before your eyes, internally laughing at the cliché. You saw yourself with your best friends, Kohaku, Ruri, Chrome, Kinro and Ginro, little Suika and old man Kaseki. You saw yourself with the man you had fallen in love with, acquainting him, working with him, becoming friends. 

Senku Ishigami. The brilliant scientist who Kohaku one day brought home and helped heal her sick older sister. A man of the future who told you all sorts of stories, created all sorts of things from his time and shaped your world into something magical. Senku Ishigami is quite a guy.

Which is why in the end, you didn’t regret loving him. Though you wish you could’ve lived long enough to start a new chapter with him after defeating Tsukasa, you passed on to the next world happy that you were able to indulge in everything he was. 

You did feel guilty leaving your friends--your family--behind though. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t find a cure to heal you of your sickness. Keeping your condition hidden (with the exception of your mentalist friend finding out) made it difficult to focus on finding a cure, covering for yourself and helping the Kingdom of Science in their war against the Tsukasa Empire. And so one day during your final stages of hanahaki, Gen Asagiri had found you dead in your tent, covered in yellow tulips and stained with blood, and rushed off crying for help. 

Ukyo, with his super sharp hearing, was the first to hear Gen’s distant cries. He called for everyone’s attention and they all turned toward the sound of Gen’s panting and shouting. When he finally reached everyone, he stared at the citizens wide eyed. Though the war against the Tsukasa Empire had ended, the Kingdom of Science had a new mission: to establish cities all over the globe. To do that, they needed to make a ship and prepare for the journey. Senku and some others had returned only minutes ago from retrieving a ship captain- he could tell by the  unfamiliar stranger standing next to them. Gen didn’t have time to think about it. “It’s Y/N.”

Something wasn’t right. Gen had a wild look in his eyes as if he’d seen a dead man, was visibly shaking, and Senku deduced he had just returned from visiting your tent as you weren’t present when the group left. Kohaku too could tell that something was off and made the same deduction Senku did. In her hard-headed nature, she rushed past Gen and toward your tent in a panic. Some people tried stopping her, but gave up quickly upon realizing their efforts were futile.

“Gonna need you to be a bit more specific, Gen.” Senku's tone was airy, but he was trying not to make his desperation to know what happened to you evident. 

“Y/N…”

“C’mon mentalist, spit it out.”

“...is...dead.”

-

When Kohaku barged into your tent, she was appalled at the horrifying sight. She collapsed at your side, crying out at you and cradling you in her arms.  Pools of blood, flowers, flowers drenched in blood, all of it surrounded your body. “Y/N? Y/N, say something. Please, Y/N, please say something.” She pleaded at your body as she pressed her forehead against yours, tears rapidly falling from her eyes and onto your blood stained face. You couldn’t hear any of it.

A crowd shortly formed at the entrance of your tent where gasps and mutters were exchanged. Some stared at the sight in shock and horror, some looked away in disgust and anguish. 

Amongst that crowd, Senku was one of those who stared at you in horror. 

Hanahaki wasn’t an unheard of disease in the modern world. Of course it existed, but little was known about proper treatment. In the age of advanced medicines, there were only two sure cures: one was surgery, the other was requited love. 

Kohaku turned toward the crowd with a heavy flow of tears rolling down her face. She held you close to her chest in a protective manner, as if attempting to shield you from the damage you had inflicted onto yourself. “We’ve got to be able to do something! Senku! We have to help them!”

For the first time ever, Senku’s senses dulled for what seemed like an eternity. His mind couldn’t process the sight of his friend covered in their own blood, unconscious and completely unmoving. His mind rejected the fact that your body had been completely drained of life as his fingers brushed yours while checking your pulse. When did he force himself through the crowd and crouch down beside you? 

“Senku! We have to act now!”

Everyone dies at some point, Senku knows and accepts this, but he’s never felt more distressed than he does right now looking at your lifeless, sickly frame. He’s had to cope with a lot of hardships in a short amount of time- the loss of his dad, his life, his departure from his two best friends, and though he could argue that the worst has come to shove, he felt physically sick as he continued to stare at you, head spinning, his chest blazing. 

“Senku! Say something!”

“T-They’re beyond saving. Too much blood loss…” Snap out of it, Senku, he told himself firmly. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head and let out a deep exhale, frustration and grief slowly overwhelming both his mind and body. “They lost too much blood overnight, and even if we were to find them sooner, blood transfusions can have their own complications. There’s-,” Senku swallows. What he said next pained him from the very depths of his soul. He’s the calm and collected type who works well even under extreme pressure and always keeps his wits, always finding solutions despite having terrible luck on his side, and so the crack in his voice betrays his attempt at remaining composed when he utters “there’s…not much we could have done.” 

Senku slowly turned toward the crowd and fixed his gaze on Gen, who was staring at you with sheer terror in his face. He seemed to be two seconds away from a complete breakdown. “Gen, did you know?” 

The mentalist’s eyes snapped toward the scientist’s, hard to detect emotion in his crimson ones. Gen gulped; he knew Senku was referring to the disease. “Yes. It was important to Y/N for their condition to be kept secret. I…connected the dots on my own.” 

“Hang on, condition? What condition?” Chrome’s uneasy and slightly angry voice suddenly rang out as he pushed past the crowd toward the front to stand beside Gen. Kohaku’s teary eyed darted from you to her friends. She thought hard. Condition. Flowers. Death. 

“Could it be…”

“Gen.” Senku yet again directed a question to the magician, cutting off Kohaku. “Why don’t you explain to all of us what happened to Y/N?” 

-

It was important that the entirety of the Kingdom of Science was informed of your death and the events leading up to it. The crowd that had formed at your tent, mostly your friends and those from Ishigami Village, rounded up the elders, newcomers, and former members of the Tsukasa Empire to the middle of the base, where Gen began his explanation. 

He explained what the Hanahaki disease was, the coughing of flowers and petals, the two known cures, and how either were unavailable to you. He recalled first noticing your symptoms, his confrontation on the eve of delivering the cellphone and your desperation to keep the disease a secret, afraid of burdening others during a critical period in the waging war between the Tsukasa Empire and the Kingdom of Science. He admitted to covering on behalf of you and even explained how he tried curing you with the sulfa-drug. 

Senku had cut in to explain to the angry villagers why the so-called “panacea” didn’t work on you. “The sulfa-drug is meant to cure bacterial infections such as Ruri’s pneumonia. Hanahaki, however, doesn’t work like most sicknesses and normal means of treatment aren’t successful. Considering the nature of the disease, no ordinary medicine would be able to fully cure it.” 

“Someone could’ve saved Y/N though, right?” Someone in the crowd called out. “Someone had to return their feelings!” 

“...Yes.” Senku turned toward Gen, but kept his gaze fixed to the ground. “So Gen, who was Y/N’s sweetheart?” 

Gen smiled as he regrettably told the scientist, “It was you, dear Senku.” 

Senku’s convinced that this is the worst of his bad luck. 

-

The Kingdom of Science’s first loss was a heavy burden on everyone, especially those from Ishigami Village who considered you family. 

Kohaku’s face was grim the first couple of days with you gone. Being known as the strongest out of everyone in her village, she felt angry for being so powerless. Feelings of regret only fueled her anger and grief as she reflected on times when she would catch you coughing or sneaking off and not persist with questions or investigating. She dropped her guard and wasn’t able to help her loved one, and she felt disgusted with herself. Ruri did her best to comfort her younger sister, but even she felt a tremendous guilt. As someone who suffered with an illness her entire life and had an important role to play in the village, she regrets not being more concerned with your symptoms and shared Kohaku’s regret in not persisting enough with questions. 

All Suika ever wanted was to be helpful, and she failed in assisting you with your sickness. The seemingly never ending energy she always had was drained for a long while. She looked up to you as an older sibling, perhaps even a parental figure, and now you were gone. You had always done so much for her, constantly making sure she was safe, teaching her things you learned from Senku and the other villagers, and comforting her when she felt scared or sad, yet Suika wasn’t able to repay you. You saved her so many times, but she couldn’t save you. Nobody let Suika go anywhere near your body, but she managed to catch a glimpse of you being carried out of your tent with a white cloth over you, and as the reality of it all settled in, she panicked so bad she passed out. 

Kinro and Ginro had a duty to protect their village and everyone in it, yet they couldn’t protect you. Admittedly, they don’t understand much about science and medicine, but they trained hard and stood guard day and night so the villagers of Ishigami Village could go about themselves without having to fear any doom. Ginro, in his anxious nature, was horrified by your death, scared for his life and set into a panic. He was afraid that the hanahaki disease would claim his life next, and Senku had to explain that the disease isn’t contagious when Gen addressed everyone. While Ginro was making a fuss, Kinro hit him over his head with his spear and told him to can it. Kinro wished the disease was a physical foe he was able to defeat or at least had known about. He, like Kohaku, felt angry for being so powerless. He did his best to appear strong, though his teary eyes betrayed him.

Chrome had millions of thoughts and feelings rushing over him at once almost 24/7, all of them suffocating. You had been best friends ever since the two of you were young, and instead of figuring out you were ill, he had to witness you bathe in a pool of your own blood. He felt sick, hell, he even got sick multiple times, the sight and situation heavy on his mind and heart. Chrome was angry at you, but most especially angry at himself, and the questions he had for you were meters of mental parchment long. Why didn’t you feel like you could confide in him? How could he not notice the pain you were in? Couldn’t you trust him to help you? What troubled him the most was the recurring and realistic thought that, even if you did bring your situation to his awareness, he couldn’t have done anything about it. 

Kaseki didn’t disguise his sadness and openly cried over your death, which only made those who tried to appear strong, like Kinro, more emotional. He spoke about how your life was taken so tragically and far too soon, sorrowful that an old man like him outlived a spunky young person such as yourself. He cursed out the disease and how something so beautiful such as flowers could be so deadly and lead to your demise. 

Those who didn’t know you very well were still shocked that someone had passed. Ukyo, who had joined the Kingdom of Science under the condition that not a single life is lost, felt very conflicted about the circumstances of your death. He knew that nobody was responsible for your death, and it was the disease that had claimed your life, but he couldn’t help feeling a little resentful. He kept a close eye on Senku ever since Gen revealed that it was he who could’ve saved you. 

Like Ukyo, Taiju and Yuzuriha couldn’t believe that someone had actually died. They too kept close eyes on Senku and did their best to give him the space they knew he needed to reflect. Neither of them knew you very well, but from the short time they did, you seemed like an amazing individual and could tell you were special to many, including their best friend, from the impact your death had on them all. 

Gen was scared and felt largely responsible for your death. Intrusive thoughts and dreams about you plagued him day and night, your strained voice echoing in the back of his mind feeding into his guilt. You killed me, choked out your voice. I don’t wanna die, you cried out, and nothing Gen did could drown out your voice. He felt hopeless, weak and a coward. Before, he didn’t mind being all these things, but now with you gone, with the slight chance that he could’ve been able to save you, he regretted demonstrating these qualities in such a serious situation. He’d shrink into himself, hiding his face behind his face while thinking “why trust me, Y/N? Why me?” 

-

“Why me, Y/N?” was a frequent thought Senku was plagued with. While everyone was taking time off their tasks to cope with your passing, Senku spent a lot of his time holed up in the lab back at Ishigami Village. 

He was frustrated, like many others. He was conflicted on how to feel about your death and didn’t know how to react. You were a close friend of his that he cared very deeply about, a friend that he cared about in the same way he cared about Kohaku or Chrome. You didn’t do anything wrong, his friends have told him, and though he knows himself, he’s glad because admittedly, he finds himself needing the reminder. 

To think that it was because he didn’t return your romantic feelings for him that led to your death was a heavy burden that he knows you did your best to avoid shouldering onto him. He knew how you were; selfless and courageous to the very end. It was one of the things that he liked so much about you, but in this instance, he wished you were a little bit selfish. Senku knew that you kept your illness a secret to avoid weighing down the others, and he regrettably admitted to himself that if you were to come forward with your disease, it may have slowed down productivity. Along with the burden of war would come the burden of sickness, and that was an obstacle that everyone had already celebrated in overcoming. For it to be revealed that there was a new sickness to be concerned about would’ve lowered morale significantly. 

But it was your life on the line. You could’ve at least come to him. He’s a scientist, but most importantly, he’s Senku. He isn’t the type to walk away from trouble or to back down from a tricky problem. He sticks with something till the very end; until he’s found a loophole, concocted a seemingly impossible plan, or has gone through every single step of a painstaking project. He would’ve been by your side, he would’ve helped you. 

He’s ten billion percent sure of it. 

And he has to stabilize himself by putting his hand on the table as the thought of being too much for your friend to handle brought tears to his eyes. He constantly puts his trust in those around him, sometimes because he needs to, but mostly because he chooses to, and from the very first day he’s met you, he chose to trust you. 

So why couldn’t you trust him? 

He’s let you down. He’s done so much for others, and yet he’s let his friend down. 

-

Eventually, everyone had to proceed with their travel plans. There was still a lot that had to be done before a crew could set off establishing cities around the world. 

Ryusui had suggested that you were set out to sea as a symbolic gesture to represent where you grew up and where you were headed off to. A small boat was created for your body to lay in, along with your possessions and flowers. It felt ironic to some to send you off with the very same thing that killed you. When you drifted far enough, Ukyo drew a fire arrow and shot it onto your boat. The flames devoured everything on board, and many couldn’t bear to watch as your body became engulfed in the scorching fire. A gravestone was marked in Ishigami Village’s cemetery with your name, date of birth and death. Below, “beloved friend and family” was carved by Kaseki. 

Many people visited your grave regularly while preparations were made, vowing to continue doing their best and to create the future you dreamt of being a part of. They paid their respects and said their goodbyes before departing for the long journey ahead of them, and once they returned, they sat around your grave and talked to it about all of their adventures and achievements, laughing and feeling comforted by the presence of your spirit. 

-

Though Senku had said his goodbyes with the rest of the group, he returned to the cemetery in the early morning of the crew's departure. He kneeled and bowed his head, placing one hand on the stone with your name carved in front of him. Tears trickled down his face and onto the soil that you were raised on, on the same Earth that you trekked on and explored with Senku. 

Senku thinks he’ll always be angry over your death. He’s lost a lot, and the grief will always be with him, but he swears to you as his grip on the stone tightens that he’ll bring the future you were so enamored with to fruition. He got up and headed for the docks with the promise of restoring humanity for the sake of you and all those who never were able to live to see it. He’ll keep you in his thoughts throughout every step.

And that proves true years later as Senku works on his newest science project with his unwavering determination and resolution that was fuelled by the idea of being able to see you again.

second, first meeting | chishiya shuntarou

spoiler warning for ending of aib season 2

after the meteor, chishiya notices the all too familiar person. their a pull towards you - like maybe you’ve met somewhere? (gn reader)

words - 1.1k

a/n: WOW AIB 2 FINALLY OUT AND THE ENDING WAS REALLY GOOD I THINK. anyways arisu and usagis ending was so cute and i needed literally the “have we met?” scenario with ALL of them. and i’m a weak so i made this, very shoot, not beta’d, just a small and sweet drabble. enjoy reading!!!

—

Chishiya is alive.

He sure as hell didn't feel like it, but he was. The meteorite took a lot out of him, physically and mentally. Waking up in the beeping hospital room with a sudden new look on life, and he was going to do something about it. No more being a messenger for bad news, slowly tearing down people's hope one referral after another.

Dozens of people just experienced the same pain and trauma as he walked around him, some looking better than others. A girl with an amputated leg, a man in a coma as he passed by his room, and a girl and boy walking hand in hand with injuries littered over them. Humanity– always finding love in terrible suitaions.

Chishiya stood in one of the hospital common rooms, people-watching as he always does. God– it feels like a lifetime had passed since the meteorite. Chishiya was familiar with the whirring and beeping sounds of hospitals, people chatting and crying, and the strong smell of disinfectants and bleach. He was a doctor, all these things filled his life to the brim, it was familiar.

Even you.

You, who stood across the room; tucked into a corner (like chishiya), people-watching, snacking on crackers, and keeping yourself comfortably hidden. Yes, you’d caught his eyes. But something felt off deep inside his stomach, something was off about you. Almost like you were too familiar, chishiya could see a lifetime in your eyes and this is the only time he's ever seen you. Maybe, it wasn't?

Chishiya knew better than to laser focus on one person in the room, because your head perked up. Right into his direction, but chishiya’s gaze didn't falter– he couldn't even if he wanted to. The pull towards you was too intense, it made him dizzy. shock, confusion, remembrance? Flashed across your face, similar to him.

A small, sweet smile grew on your face. Fuck, what medication did they put him on? That meteorite really did a deal on him because suddenly he can’t breathe. For a moment he thought maybe his stitched came undone, half expecting to see blood soaking his scrubs when he looked down. But no– it was just you. Chishiya’s has never seen a smile so familiar, yet foreign.

Your eyes narrowed in his direction, like you were trying to read him. Something many people found difficult in the past, Chishiya didn’t put up a fight or a stone-cold face. Chishiya narrowed his eyes back, like a challenge.

So wrapped up in you that he didn't see the teenage boy wheeling a little too close to his toes in a wheelchair. “Ow!” chishiya yelped.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” the boy began to spew out a plethora of apologies, frantically bowing his head to the elder.

“It's okay!” chishiya reassure, the sting in his toe had already been subdued– an easy injury compared to the bandaged and stitched-up ones he gained a few days ago. “Seriously, it’s okay.”

The boys' apologies slowed and he wheeled off, practically still bowing. Chishiya chuckled under his breath at the gesture. Looking back up to find you again, weird– what's got into him? Your spot ghosted empty and chishiya’s eyes frantically searched for you, only to find your back now turned to him and trudging down the hallways. Right as his eyes landed on you, your neck turned and you glanced back at chishiya.

A challenge indeed.

Chishiya curiously cocked his head, looking something like a cat. And then one foot in front of another, chishiya was following you down the hallway. He wasn't sure why, maybe he didn’t need a reason. I mean, he almost died, chishiya felt like he didn’t need a solid reason to do anything anymore besides what he wanted. And he wanted to follow the beautiful, mysterious, and weirdly familiar person around in a hospital. Like cat and mouse.

And that's how chishiya ended up in a quieter, more intimate area. Middle of a hallway, near a set of tables and a vending machine. Usually, where loved one would sit weary-eyed and waiting for good news. You came to a halt, chishiya stopped. You turned around slowly, that sweet smile that made chishiya’s stomach feel weird (apart from the wounds.)

“You're following me.”

Something that would so usually sound like a question, was a statement. Because it was meant to be, because you knew he was from the beginning. You intended on it. Chishiya already likes you. And hell– your voice almost gave him whiplash, so silk and sweet. Echoing distantly in his head, like he's heard it a million times before.

“And you wanted me too,” chishiya replied coyly. His voice felt so scratching and his throat burned as he spoke, being without water and unconscious for too long. Shoving his hands in his pockets, leaning back slightly. Even half dead he must keep up his cool-guy image.

You didn’t reply, only a wider grin growing on your face. And chishiya found it hard to bite back one of his own. How so uncharacteristic of him – he felt so warm.

“Maybe.” you finally said.

Chishiya hummed, beginning to close the distance – one foot in front of another – between the two of you.

You watched him intently, chishiya knew it. Normally he’d perceive this as someone sizing him up, but your eyes told a different story as they trailed up his body. Something that'd make his ears hot and red.

“Meteor?” you asked, gesturing to his wounds. Chishiya nodded. “Me too.”

It was awkward for a moment, but not uncomfortable. The silence was deafening as if it wasn't meant for the two of you. Like there were so many words only on the tip of his tongue, words unsaid, words he didn’t even know – but they were begging to be spoken.

You were the first to break the silence, stepping closer. Now only 2 or 3 feet in front of him. “Have I, sorry, this is weird– but, have we met before? Like even passed each other on the streets.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

You hummed, looking around to avoid the intense eye contact that tugged you closer, and closer and–

“Would you like to know me?” chishiya said, his eyes not leaving yours. A weird sense of home lay in your eyes, chishiya was ready to jump fully in.

You tried to cover the eagerness in you, waiting a moment. Dramatically tapping a finger to your chin as you thought. “I think that’d be nice.”

Chishiyas lip quirked up, following yours.

He may not know you the way he feels, but he will.