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The soft glow of the desk lamp is the only light left on in the house. You're seated at the dining table surrounded by scattered papers, trying to finish a task you'd promised yourself wouldn't take all evening. Outside, the world is quiet, the hour growing later and later until you almost convince yourself to head to bed. Then the front door opens.A few moments late, Izuku Midoriya steps inside.
The sight of him immediately makes your heart soften. His hero costume is partially unzipped, curls flattened from hours beneath his hood, and exhaustion clings to him in a way that no smile can quite hide. Still, the moment his eyes find you, his expression brightens. The tiredness doesn't disappear, but it becomes easier somehow, as though seeing you has given him permission to finally stop carrying the weight of the night.
"There you are," he murmurs.
You rise from your chair just in time for him to reach you. His arms slide around your waist, and he pulls you close with a relieved sigh. At first the embrace is gentle, careful in the way Izuku always is, but within seconds it tightens. His forehead settles against your shoulder, and you can feel the tension leaving him little by little with every slow breath he takes.
"Long shift?" you ask softly.A quiet laugh escapes him.
"Very."The answer is simple, but the exhaustion in his voice says enough. You thread your fingers through his hair, smoothing back the curls that have fallen into his face. The reaction is immediate. His eyes close. His shoulders relax. He leans into your touch with a level of trust that never fails to make your chest ache.
You suggest tea. A shower. Something to eat. Izuku hums thoughtfully at each suggestion but makes no effort to move. Instead, he lifts his head just enough to look at you, green eyes warm despite the fatigue pulling at them.
"In a minute," he says.
His hands remain firmly around your waist.
"Can I stay like this first?"
The smile that follows is small and sleepy, and by the time you nod, he's already resting against you again, content to remain exactly where he is.
The movie playing on the television has long since become background noise. You're curled up on one end of the couch with a blanket over your legs, only half-paying attention to the screen while occasionally glancing at the clock. It's well past midnight, and although you know you should probably head to bed, experience has taught you that waiting up for Katsuki Bakugo is usually worth it. The sound of the front door unlocking immediately grabs your attention.
A few seconds later, Katsuki steps inside. His hero jacket hangs loosely from one shoulder, and exhaustion is written plainly across his face. The sharp confidence he wears so naturally in public seems worn thin tonight, replaced by heavy eyes and slumped shoulders. He pauses when he notices you sitting there, and for a brief moment, something unexpectedly soft flickers across his expression.
"Ya still awake?" His voice comes out rough.
You smile.
"I could ask you the same thing."
A quiet scoff leaves him, but there isn't much energy behind it. He kicks off his boots near the door before making his way across the room. Instead of disappearing into the kitchen or heading straight for bed, he drops heavily onto the couch beside you. The cushions shift beneath his weight, and before you can say anything else, he leans toward you.
His forehead comes to rest against your shoulder.
The movement is so natural that it takes you a second to realize what happened. You lift a hand and run your fingers through his hair. Almost immediately, Katsuki's eyes drift shut. A slow breath escapes him, and the tension that had been holding his shoulders rigid finally begins to ease.
"Tough shift?" you ask quietly.
A grunt answers you.
Then, after a moment, "Yeah."
You continue smoothing your fingers through his hair, feeling him gradually lean more of his weight against you. The longer you sit there, the more obvious it becomes that he's exhausted. Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes immediately, but the kind that comes from spending hours carrying responsibility and refusing to let anyone see the strain.
When you eventually shift, intending to get him something to eat, a warm hand closes around yours.
Katsuki opens one eye."Where're you going?"
"Kitchen."
"Later."
His fingers slide between yours.
For all his stubbornness, the quiet request hidden in that single word is impossible to miss. He settles back against your shoulder, eyes closing once more, and this time you stay exactly where you are.
The rain has been falling steadily for hours, tapping softly against the windows while you sit curled beneath a blanket in the living room. A book rests open in your lap, though you've reread the same page three times while waiting for the familiar sound of the front door.When it finally comes, you glance up immediately.
A few moments later, Shoto Todoroki steps into the room.
Most people wouldn't notice anything unusual. His posture remains straight. His expression is calm. But you've spent enough time with him to recognize the subtle signs. The slight droop of his shoulders. The way his gaze lingers on you the second he sees you. The quiet relief that flickers across his face before he can hide it.
You set your book aside.
"Welcome home."
Something soft settles into his eyes.
Without a word, Shoto crosses the room and lowers himself onto the couch beside you. The space between you disappears quickly. His shoulder brushes yours beneath the blanket, and after a few seconds, his head slowly comes to rest against your own.
The gesture is small.
For Shoto, it's everything. You smile and lift a hand to smooth his hair back from his forehead. His eyes drift shut almost immediately. The tiredness he'd been carrying all night suddenly becomes obvious now that he's no longer trying to hide it.
"Busy patrol?" you ask.
A quiet hum answers you.
The sound vibrates against your shoulder. For a while, neither of you speak. The room remains warm and peaceful, filled only with rain and the occasional crackle from the heater. You eventually reach for your book again, only for a hand to gently catch yours before you can open it. Shoto's eyes remain closed.
"Later."
You can't help laughing. His fingers slide between yours beneath the blanket, and his grip tightens ever so slightly. It isn't a demand. It isn't even a request. It's simply his way of asking you to stay close for a little longer.
Needless to say, the book never gets reopened.
The bedroom is quiet except for the occasional scratch of your pen across paper. You're sitting against the headboard, making notes for the next day, when the door finally creaks open sometime after midnight.
The first thing you notice is the mess of purple hair.The second is the exhausted expression on Hitoshi Shinso's face. He looks completely drained. Not physically injured. Not upset. Just tired in a way that seems to settle deep beneath the surface. His capture weapon hangs loosely around his shoulders, and his eyes immediately find you the moment he steps inside the room.
"There you are." The words leave him in a low murmur.
You smile and set your notebook aside.
"Tough night?"
Hitoshi gives a noncommittal shrug before making his way toward the bed. For a moment, you expect him to sit beside you. Instead, he simply collapses forward. His head lands directly in your lap, and a dramatic sigh escapes him as though the effort of remaining upright has finally become too much.
You laugh softly, already reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.
The reaction is immediate.
Every trace of tension seems to leave his body at once.His eyes slide shut. His shoulders loosen. One arm lazily wraps around your waist, holding you close without a second thought.
For several minutes, neither of you speak.
The room settles into a comfortable silence.
You continue running your fingers through his hair while he lies there enjoying the attention, looking more relaxed than he has all week. Eventually you glance down and find him watching you through half-lidded eyes.
"You should probably get some sleep," you tell him.
A sleepy smile appears."I am."
"Hitoshi."
"I'm serious." His arm tightens slightly around your waist.
The smile grows.
"I'm exactly where I want to be."
Judging by how quickly his eyes close again, you suspect he means every word.
You're sprawled across the living room floor assembling a puzzle that's proven far more difficult than expected when the front door suddenly flies open.
"I survived!"
The announcement echoes dramatically through the house.
A second later, Denki Kaminari stumbles into view.
His hair sticks up in every direction. His jacket hangs half-open. He looks like someone who hasn't sat down in approximately twelve hours. Yet despite the exhaustion weighing down every movement, his face immediately lights up when he spots you.
"There you are!"
You laugh.
"There you are."
The grin he gives you is bright enough to make your chest ache.
Without hesitation, Denki drops onto the floor beside you. For a moment he watches you work on the puzzle. Then, as though deciding that sitting upright requires entirely too much effort, he flops sideways until his head lands directly in your lap.
The impact nearly makes you lose a puzzle piece.
"Denki!"
"I'm charging."
You stare down at him.
"Charging?"
"Hero batteries empty." His eyes close dramatically.
"Need affection."
The laugh that escapes you earns a pleased smile. You reach down and begin combing your fingers through his hair, and the reaction is immediate. His shoulders relax. His breathing slows. A content sigh slips out before he can stop it.
"There it is."
You continue petting his hair while he lies there completely unashamed of how much attention he wants. Every time your hand slows, he nudges closer. Every time you attempt to return your full attention to the puzzle, he finds a way to reclaim it.
Eventually you realize he isn't actually falling asleep.
He's simply enjoying being taken care of.
The realization makes you smile.
Judging by the content look on his face, Denki considers that a complete success.
The kitchen is filled with the scent of fresh bread when the back door finally opens. You've spent the last hour baking simply because you couldn't sleep, and you're in the middle of cleaning up when Eijiro Kirishima walks inside.
The sight of him immediately makes you pause.
His smile appears the moment he sees you, but it's smaller than usual. More tired. His normally energetic posture has softened with exhaustion, and there are faint shadows beneath his eyes that weren't there yesterday.
Still, he brightens the second your gaze meets his.
"There you are." You barely have time to set the dish towel down before he's crossing the room.
The hug arrives a moment later.
Warm.
Strong.
Entirely Eijiro.
His arms wrap securely around you, pulling you against his chest as he lets out a long sigh. The sound is quiet, but you can feel it vibrate through him. For a moment neither of you move. He simply stands there holding you, as though the act of finally being home has allowed him to let go of everything he'd been carrying throughout the night.
"You okay?" you ask softly.
"Yeah."The answer comes immediately.
Then he laughs.
"Just really tired."
Your hand rubs gently up and down his back, and you feel him relax beneath your touch. The tension leaves his shoulders little by little until he's practically leaning against you.
You suggest food.
A shower.
Sleep.
Eijiro hums thoughtfully at each option but makes no effort to move. Instead, he lowers his chin onto the top of your head and squeezes you a little tighter.
"Five more minutes."
The words are accompanied by a sheepish smile.
When you glance up, you find him looking at you with the same fond expression he always wears after a difficult day. The exhaustion is still there, but somehow it seems lighter now.
And judging by the way he refuses to let go, being home with you is probably the reason why.
The glow from your laptop casts soft light across the living room as you work through a project that's taken much longer than expected. The rest of the house is dark and quiet, making it easy to lose track of time until the sound of the front door opening breaks your concentration.
You glance up just in time to see Hanta Sero step inside.
The exhaustion on his face is immediate and obvious.
His scarf hangs crookedly around his neck. His posture has completely abandoned any attempt at proper form. Even his usual easy grin seems worn around the edges.
Then he notices you.
Instantly, the smile grows.
"There you are."
The words leave him with such obvious relief that you can't help smiling back.
"Long shift?"
"The longest."
His dramatic groan earns a laugh from you.Hanta drops his bag near the door before making his way toward the couch. A few moments later, he stretches out beside you, shifting until his head ends up comfortably in your lap. The movement feels practiced, familiar, as though he's done it dozens of times before.
Maybe he has.
You glance down."Comfortable?"
"Extremely."
His eyes close.
Your fingers find his hair automatically, brushing through the dark strands while he relaxes beneath your touch. Little by little, the exhaustion leaves his face. The crease between his brows disappears. His shoulders loosen. His breathing becomes slower and steadier.
The room settles into a comfortable silence.You return your attention to your laptop while continuing to run your fingers through his hair. Every so often, Hanta opens one eye to make sure you're still there. Each time he finds you exactly where he left you, his expression softens again.
By the time you've finished your work, he's nearly asleep.
One hand remains loosely wrapped around your wrist, not enough to stop you from moving, just enough to stay connected.
As though after a long night away, that's all he really wanted.
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₊˚HIIIIII SO LONG SINCE I WROTE SMTH 😭😭 consistency obvi can't be expected but rqs are open!!!
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You’ve been in love with Bakugou since you two were little. Pining after him for years gets tiring when all he does is push you aside. Maybe it’s best for everyone if you two stayed friends. It’s not like he’s going to have a moment of realization of his feelings for you...right?
Second Time Around
It's been eight years since Bakugou handed you the divorce papers without any reason, leaving you and your two children. But when co-parenting gets difficult and old feelings come back, you struggle with whether you can fall back in love with your ex-husband.
Your Biggest Fan
During the day you work under number one hero Ground Zero’s agency as a receptionist, but at night you run the biggest hero fansite wholly dedicated to the number one hero, Ground Zero himself. When Bakugou stumbles upon your fansite, he goes undercover as a fan using a fake account. Eventually, you both slowly fall for the other’s online alias, completely unaware of who’s behind the accounts.
crush
when you ask kirishima to be your “fake boyfriend” to get bakugou’s attention, things don’t go exactly as planned.
Katsuki who reads a lot in his freetime, though he’d never let any of his friends find out. It’s something he enjoys doing privately, he’s not exactly into the whole idea of them knowing what types of books he enjoys, what genres, or the types of literature. He’s definitely read a couple graphic titles in his spare time.
Katsuki who spots you sat in the common room with the others, but unlike them your nose is buried in the latest book you’ve been able to get your hands on. He’s curious about it, about the types of books you read, and so one day, while doing homework in your dorm, along with many of your friends he decides to swipe a book from your shelf, silently hoping you won’t notice. And you do notice it’s gone, though you’re not sure who’d taken it, you’re not entirely upset, mostly because your friends could really benefit from reading a book or two…
Katsuki who gets really into it. Like glued to it. And it’s probably the fastest he’d ever finished one before. So the next time there's a study session in your room, he returns the book, along with a note “8.7/10 that guy pissed me off fr” But he doesn’t just return the book, no. He leaves one of his own in place of the new book he’d decided to steal. A book he thought you might be into.
Katsuki who spots you reading the book he’d left behind the literal next day. And then, about two days later he sees you reading a new book. So, the following night, at your weekly study session he decides to swap the books out again, leaving behind yet another note. “7/10 why the hell would she get back with her cheating ex?” When he gets back to his dorm that night he sees a note you’d left behind in his book. “9.2/10 loved the slowburn”
Katsuki who forgets to lock his dorm one night, he’s not doing anything scandalous, he’s simply reading whatever book he’d swiped from your shelf this week. But boy is he surprised when you barge in. “Bakugou! Can I borrow your study sheet! I promise I’ll give it back before–” It’s then you notice the book in his hands. The one missing from your shelf, the one he’d swapped for one of his own. “So it’s been you?” . . . “What about it?” “Nothing, I just didn’t take you for the type of guy to read smut.” “I don’t fucking read it for that.” “Right, right, added bonus.”
Katsuki who’s a bit surprised when you knock on his door the following night. Letting yourself in the second he opens the door, planting yourself right on his bed, book in hand. Though he allows it, not wanting his secret to get out; not that you had any plans to leak that information. He finds it oddly comforting, the two of you sitting in silence, while reading. And he feels an odd sensation in his chest, watching you read the book he’d suggested to you.
Katsuki who enjoys the routine the two of you have built, swapping books back and fourth; while no longer having to hide it. He enjoys when the two of you sit down and talk about them, how you two have similar thoughts and feelings about them. But the second, you even suggest bringing someone else into the equation he’s fully against it. Why? Well why would he want anyone impeding on the time you’d been spending together? Why would he want someone else getting close to you the same way he had?
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary : There wasn’t anything in this world you feared more than the sight of blood. And when Jake gets hurt during a mission, despite everything, he’s the one who steps up to calm you down.
Pairing : Jake "Hangman" Seresin × Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Lightning ⚡️:)
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so apologies for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading, also I have zero knowledge of the military or the navy so sorry for any inaccuracies in that area ! Also, reader in this has a phobia of blood, which I do not have at all so the writing of it might be widely inaccurate, deepest apologies for that.
And more than that it was a true fear that you harbored for the liquid pumped by your heart, sending life flowing through your veins.
It had been that way ever since you were a kid. Just the sight of the tiniest speck of blood made your skin crawl. It wasn’t always easy, considering the thing you were so afraid of lived just beneath a thin layer of skin, so easily breakable that just a scrape could reveal a crimson red that would send you into an irrational and uncontrollable state of panic. But you had always managed. Turning your head away and squinting your eyes closed during medical check ups and blood drawings, always being careful of the parts of your body that could easily get scratched or scraped — especially your hands… just some little things you were extra careful about in order to live a normal life.
Not a lot of people actually understood your phobia, most thought it was stupid and downright ridiculous. And you partially agreed with them, but that was the thing with phobias, they weren’t meant to be reasoned. They were, by nature and definition, irrational. Besides, this was not something you could do anything about, so really you just let all the dumb jokes and question roll off you. You had to admit some questions were quite funny though. If you were feeling down, you’d remember that one time Mickey asked you if that meant that you were afraid of your own period blood and it would still make you laugh as hard as when you’d first heard it.
Some people were scared of clowns, others of spiders or snake, some were even deathly scared of the ocean and could not set a foot in it. Your fear was blood, and in some way you were grateful for your brain to have selected that phobia among the thousands that inhabited and plagued the human mind, at least this one kept you out of harm’s way most of the time, never would you be caught attempting something stupid just to receive validation, or prove yourself. That’s how you decided to see it.
And right now your blood was quickly flowing towards your legs, seemingly preparing to choose the ‘flight’ option over the fight. Except that there wasn’t anywhere for you to run in the cramped confine of your cockpit.
Your ears were ringing and you could feel your blood pumping in your ears, your heart jackhammering through them. The only thing your mind was able to register was the loud, incessant beeping of your jet, while an urgent, mechanical voice was urging you to pull up. You could faintly hear Maverick’s voice through the comms, screaming at you to eject but his instructions were wildly overridden by the adrenaline coursing in your veins. The mission had seemed pretty simple on paper. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing you couldn’t do with your eyes closed. And yet.
You wouldn’t even be able to explain how and when everything started going to shit. Oh well, maybe you could. It all had started when Maverick designated you as Jake’s wingman, that alone should have warned you about how this mission would end, up in flames. Quite literally.
A louder beeping overtook the first one, this second one was higher, almost screeching, so loud in fact you thought you felt you eardrums pop for a second. A quick check to your panel control showed you that you right engine was on fire. Jesus fucking Christ could this get any worse ?!
How could a mission on your own soil could go this wrong ? You guessed the very little time of preparation for it and having to cooperate with a squad from another base you knew nothing about certainly didn’t help. And a close fly by with another pilot and their wingman had sent both Jake and you into an unrecoverable flat spin.
“Y/N !” Maverick’s voice finally came through the panic fog clouding your brain, “there’s nothing you can do, eject, now !”
Cursing, you grabbed the handle situated in between your legs and pulled as hard as you could. You had never had to eject before, and you prayed you’d never have to do it again. For a split second after you pulled the trigger, you must had pulled something like fifteen G’s, your body flew out of your cockpit while your jet continued its supersonic descent towards the ground.
You were thankful your instincts kicked into gear to somehow try and maneuver the parachute, trying to secure you a safe landing on the ground. The loud sound of your jet splitting the air had you turning your head at the last second, just in time to catch sight of your precious, multi million dollar SuperHornet crashing into some nearby trees in a roaring and deafening sound. Your heart fell down at the pitt of your stomach and an uncomfortable and dreadful shiver shook you at the realization that this could’ve been you, had you not listened to what your wise instructor was yelling in your ears.
Landing was rough. Your legs couldn’t quite maintain you upright with the speed at which you hit the ground, the force of it sending you stumbling forward, even rolling in on yourself. Flopping miserably on your back, you were just thankful you didn’t break your legs or impaled yourself on some tree. You got up on shaky legs and hastily put your parachute away in its bag while trying to contact the base.
“Maverick…? Rooster…? Phoenix…?” You tried, without receiving any answer on the other end, you tapped the side of your helmet where the microphone and speakers were, “anyone ?”
No answer.
Shit, the comms must have gone to shit when you ejected or hit the ground. Well, at least you weren’t on foreign soil so there wasn’t any immediate danger you had to worry about. Looking around you caught yourself thinking that there were worse places to land in after an emergency and possibly deadly ejection. The grass was bright green where you had tumbled, trees were standing high and proud, guarding the borders of what looked like a valley that led to some hills. That was definitely a contrast compared to the sandy and arid grounds of San Diego, and it was a surprisingly welcome one, despite the situation.
You were turning on your beacon when the roaring sound of a jet’s engine made you jerk up. Immediately looking up, you spotted Jake’s jet, spinning at uncontrollable spin towards the high trees. Your heart stopped in your chest, surely he had already ejected and had safely landed somewhere near the end of the valley ? There was no possible way a pilot like him — no matter how much you hated admitting how good he was — still thought he had a chance of coming back from a spin like that—
But your lingering fear suddenly hit you full force in the chest when Jake’s engine sputtered on and off, the undeniable sign that Jake was still inside, trying to pull up his F/A-18.
Good god was he fucking dumb sometimes !
You watched, frozen and powerless as his jet continued its supersonic descent towards the trees. It was like time had stopped for a second, a suspended moment where the only thought flashing painfully in your mind was : Jake is going to die. This is it. After all the shit he’s pulled, his fucking ego is gonna take him out because mister thinks he’s just that good that he would be able to recover from an unrecoverable spin.
But before your thoughts could spiral anymore and your heart stop completely at the prospect of losing the one man you claimed you hated body and soul, you saw something fly out of the jet, mere seconds before the metal bird crashed though the trees. You inhaled sharply, a breath that felt like breaking through the water after being under for too long. And before you could think about it any longer, your feet were already carrying you towards where Jake’s parachute was falling.
Helmet in hand, and heavy gear slowing you down, you still sprinted as fast as you could through the trees, mindful of potential holes and roots. Jake hadn’t even been no where near close the altitude he should have been at to eject safely, he’d been alarmingly low and you feared that his parachute wouldn’t slow his fall enough. Damn him and his stupid fucking ego.
Calling out his name as you got near where he should have landed, the lack of response was making your skin prickle with anxiety and dread.
“Jake ?” You called out, voice growing more desperate than you’d ever admit it.
You stopped, intensely listening for any answer back when—
“Over here !”
His voice felt far away and…strangely strained. You desperately tried to ignore how your heart clenched, no matter how much you hated him and could not stand him, Jake was still one of your squad mate, it was normal to worry about him, right ?
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you resumed your dart in the direction of his voice, and after a full minute of sprint in your entire gear, your lungs were screaming, and a side stitch was beginning to puncture your left side. But you didn’t stop, continuing to run towards him.
And finally, when you felt like your legs were actually about to give out, you spotted Jake, sitting up against a tree, facing a clearing. Rushing one last time to get to him, Jake’s face seemed to illuminate when he spotted you.
“Took you long enough,” he said when you kneeled down next to him, “thought you were about to leave me here for a second.”
You glared at him, catching your breath, “keep up the attitude and I just might do that.”
His infamous smirk slowly pulled at his lips as his eyes took you in.
“You hurt ?”
“No, you ?”
Jake shook his head and you eyed the way his helmet was weirdly placed on his lap.
“Are your comms dead as well ?”
“Yep.”
“Did you activate your beacon ?”
He let out a laugh at that, “Jesus Lightning, do you think it’s my first day in the navy or something ?”
His arrogance rubbed you the wrong way, like it always did.
“It might as well be !” You snapped a little, “I mean what the fuck was that, Seresin ? Ejecting at low altitude could have gotten you fucking killed ! But let me guess, you thought that the great Hangman would be able to undo an unrecoverable spin ?!”
Jake watched your hissed rant with raised eyebrows, and despite yourself you noticed how strangely pale he looked.
“Careful,” he cooed, seeming all too satisfied by what he chose to be worry over him and not pure infuriation over a stupid and downright unprofessional behavior, “your soft spot for me is showing, but don’t worry I won’t tell the squad, I know how you like to keep your feelings secret.”
You scoffed, shaking your head, “I still don’t know how you haven’t got suspended for all the shit you pull,” you said, choosing to entirely disregard his take on how you allegedly felt for him.
“I’m too good,” he grinned, and your heart did something weird in your chest when you noticed his smile looked weirdly strained, forced. The pitt in your stomach felt like it was getting deeper, clawing away at your insides, a discomfort that only grew stronger the longer you stared at Jake, “they can’t afford to put their best pilot on the bench.”
Letting out an exasperated sigh, which Jake keened at, annoying you apparently being his second favorite thing behind flying, you began to get up.
“Let’s move in the middle of the clearing, so search and rescue will locate us better and it’ll be easier for them to land and come get us.”
“No.”
Dusting your flight suit once you were standing on your own two feet, you frowned down at Jake.
“The fuck you mean ‘no’ ?” You could feel yourself getting irrationally irritated, a familiar recurrence whenever you spent just more than a few minutes in Jake’s presence, you took a deep breath to try and swallow back the anger bubbling up in your throat, “I’m sick of your shit, Seresin. So stop being an asshole whose sole purpose is to disagree with me for a second and do what I say.”
“Come on, don’t be so mean Lightning.” He tried to joke, but the usual glint in his eyes was missing, he took in a labored breath, “besides moving is not gonna change a thing for search and rescue, don’t worry.”
Stopping for a moment, you got a good look at him. He was acting weird. He hadn’t so much as moved an inch ever since you had found him, he was just sitting there, his stupid helmet sitting on his lap covering a good chunk of his side with one of his hand seemingly under it.
“Why is your helmet on your lap ?”
“Why not ?”
You let out an incredulous laugh at that, “seriously, what is going on ? You’re being super weird it’s kinda starting to freak me out.”
Jake seemed to freeze, if only for a second.
“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one freaking out over nothing and asking weird ass questions. Just sit down and wait for search and rescue.”
But you stayed right where you were, towering over him — which didn’t happen often — and stared down at him, crossing your arms stubbornly.
“I—“ he started, before wincing almost imperceptibly, “I got a bruise, that’s all. Hurt myself when I landed.”
“And what, you’re telling that it’s the bruise making you act like that ?” You let out disbelieving scoff, “I mean are you hearing yourself ? You sound insane ! I don’t know about a bruise but you definitely hit your head when you landed, that’s why you’re saying weird shit.”
Jake didn’t answer, he just stared right ahead, past your standing frame, a far away look in his eyes. Worry began to seep into the hollowing hole in your stomach, maybe he had actually hit his head and he had commotion ? Or worse, what if he had brain damage or internal bleeding or something ? Just the thought made you shiver in horror. If he was truly hurt, it was best not to move him. You eyed him intensely, as if you could somehow get a look inside of his head to make sure he was okay.
You watched as he readjusted himself against the tree with a groan, the movement making his helmet roll right of his lap, revealing his second hand, very obviously pressing down hard on his side.
“Mmh, applying pressure on a bruise,” You mused, squinting your eyes at him in sarcastic fashion, “is this a new technique I haven’t heard about ? Did you attend a new medical seminar I wasn’t invited to ?”
“Will you just stop talking for two minutes, please ?” He asked, voice breathy.
“I mean, shit, honestly I never pictured you as a masochist, you were always more of a sadist type in my mind.“
That finally made him look back at you and you promptly ignored the slight and short lived feeling of relief it gave you. A grin made its way back on his lips, it was strained but it successfully illuminated his face, for a moment giving it the flair it usually held.
“Glad to know this is something you have clearly thought about,” he huffed out, “if you were so curious you should have just come to me my dear Lightning, you know I’d be more than happy to prove your theories.”
Seeing him joke and tease you like that eased your discomfort, and you turned around, pretending to look at your surroundings while you were hiding the small, incontrollable smile pulling at your lips.
“I mean this place seems pretty quiet, I guess we could give a go to outdoor sex if you’re open to it.” His smug voice said behind you.
“Okay shut up now.” You chuckled despite yourself, keeping your back to him to not give him the idea you were happy to see his quick wit was back.
Your eyes took in the forest that spread out in front of you, the cool wind coming from the clearing behind offering you some relief from the sweat clinging to your uniform. It honestly looked beautiful.
Just as you were about to turn back around, your eyes landed on a random piece of wood lying on the ground and—
You froze.
Whole body becoming rigid, the hair on your nape standing up, nervous system kicking in your flight or fight reflex for the second time in an alarmingly short time span.
The piece of wood was long and wide, chips coming off it, and the end of it was covered in a deep and thick crimson liquid.
No, no, no no no—
Your breath hitched in a pathetic choked up sound, one that held every bit of the terror paralyzing your body. Your stomach churned violently.
Behind you, Jake, alarmed by the sound coming from you, anxiously followed your line of sight, and he cursed under his breath when his eyes landed on the piece of wood.
“Lightning, look at me.”
But you couldn’t move. Your gaze was still fixed on the blood dripping from the piece of wood, staining the forest ground and painting it in that fateful color. Jake’s voice barely registered in your ears, it felt like a distant echo, drowned out by your own heart beating loudly and frenetically in your ears.
“Y/N.” His voice called out again, uncharacteristically gentle, and calm despite the situation, “look at me.”
And you don’t know why, but something in you instinctively listened to him this time. Slowly turning back around, your legs were shaky and threatening to give out at any time. When you were facing him again, your heart lurched, because your eyes didn’t immediately settled on his face, instead landing on the hand that was desperately applying pressure on his side. That same hand that was now stained in blood, the thick liquid coming through the gasps between his fingers. And now that you were looking, the fabric of his flight suit underneath his hand was ripped, letting you catch a glimpse of a deep hole into Jake’s flesh, one that was profusely leaking blood.
Funnily enough, your own blood drained from your face so fast it almost made you dizzy, and a horribly frightened sob left your lips. You didn’t remember your legs giving out but suddenly you were on your knees again, next to Jake.
“Don’t look at it, look at me.” Jake said again, his voice somehow breaking through the terror fog holding your brain hostage.
Your breath was coming out ragged as your eyes finally found his, bright green irises that held nothing but an eerily calmness in them.
“It’s okay, don’t look at it, just focus on me, everything will be alright.”
“What the fuck, Jake ?!” You exploded once it seemed your vocal chords were not entirely frozen by fear anymore, “what— “ you choked up on a sob and only then did you realize the ocean of tears dripping down your cheeks, “what happened ?! Oh my god—“ you felt a sudden wave of dizziness hit you as your eyes quickly darted back over to his wound, like despite the bone chilling fear you were still attracted to it like a magnet.
“It’s nothing, I told you I got hurt when I landed.”
“You told me it was a bruise !” The end of your sentence ended in a desperate cry, your hands were shaking on your lap, chest heaving furiously with each frenetic breath you took.
“It’s barely a scratch,” he assured, and the soothing tone in his voice did not have the intended effect, only drowning you further in panic.
How the fuck was he so calm right now ?
You could feel your chest contract, and suddenly it felt impossible to take a full breath, it felt as if your lungs were somehow too small, sheer panic was settling deep inside your bones with no apparent prospect of leaving.
“Lightning, don’t freak out, it’s gonna be okay, everything is fine.”
There were so many thoughts swirling in your head. The protocol for when someone got hurt during a mission, the knowledge that Jake was bleeding out in this fucking clearing while acting like everything was fine, the black dots obstructing your vision…
“Just take a deep breath for me, yeah ?” Jake’s calm voice reached your ears, “turn around if you want, you don’t have to be near me. You can even wait in the clearing for the helicopter.”
The fact that was he straight up proposing you abandon him so you didn’t have to endure the sight of him bleeding out broke your heart and only worsened your sobs.
“Y/N, it’s okay. You’re okay, everything is fine, I promise,” he soothed again, his voice never wavering no matter how much in pain he must’ve been in.
You took a deep breath that did little to calm you down, but it at least cleared your thoughts a little.
This wasn’t right. Jake wasn’t supposed to be the one reassuring you right now, he was fucking bleeding out for God’s sake ! You were a fighter pilot, amongst the best in this entire world. You had been trained for this and you’d be damned if a little blood was blocking you from doing your job and saving your squad mate.
“Move your hand,” you said in a shaky breath, definitely not as assertive as you had intended, your eyes fixed on him.
“What—?”
You didn’t give him the time to comprehend, instead blindly removing his hand from his side and putting both of yours, and pressing down, hard. He winced, letting out a pained groan and you ignored the pinch in your heart.
For the first time ever since you found him, he seemed to be the one panicking.
“No, hey, hey hey what are you doing ?”
“I’m helping you,” you supplied, with tears still raining down your cheeks, “this is the protocol. And besides you weren’t putting enough pressure on it.”
You squeezed your eyes closed as Jake’s blood started to push back against your hands, the warm liquid trying to spill through your hands as you desperately tried to keep it there. The sensation made you shiver in pure horror and disgust.
“Hey, Y/N, I don’t want you to freak out on me, yeah ?” His hand, the one that wasn’t stained in blood, hovered over your shoulder, unsure if he should touch you in your emotional state.
Your eyes remained closed, trying to focus on anything else rather than Jake literally bleeding out beneath the palm of your hands. The wind brushing your face and the sound the trees made swaying lightly because of it, birds chirping in the distance, the grain of Jake’s strained voice…
“Why didn’t say anything ?” You asked, your voice coming out as a shaky whisper.
When his answer didn’t come fast enough, your eyes snapped open, scared that he might have lost consciousness, but Jake was just staring at you, the faintest of smile pulling at his lips.
“Is that a serious question ?” He laughed a little, wincing when his chest shook a bit from the force of it, “no offense, Lightning, truly, but I don’t know if I would have been able to handle you fainting in my state.”
‘My state.’ You didn’t like that, didn’t like that one bit. His face was paler than you’d ever seen it, his natural Texan tan nowhere to be seen. His green eyes were missing their usual brightness and the underside were horribly dark and sunken.
You were about to say something, probably tell him to shut up, when blood suddenly came rushing out of his nose.
“Shit—“ he cursed before rapidly putting a hand over his nose, frantically wiping at the blood that just kept on coming out. “Don’t look, it’s okay.”
Your heart was beating so fast and hard against your rib cage it was borderline painful. This couldn’t be good.
“Y/N, please don’t look.” Jake’s voice sounded almost pleading now as he was desperately rubbing the blood away and keeping his hand in front of his nose, making him sound nasally.
Blood.
There was just so much of it. Never in your life had you seen so much of the dreadful crimson liquid, and you honestly didn’t know if you were more likely to throw up or faint at this point.
And lingering at the back of your mind, came another whisper of your mind, one that was progressively and terrifyingly becoming louder and louder, overtaking all your senses. There was a lot of blood, yes, and Jake was the one losing it.
Jake was bleeding out, alarmingly fast, out in the middle of nowhere while the only thing you could do to help him was just keep your hands on his gaping injury and prayed that search and rescue would hurry the fuck up.
“Look away, sweetheart, please.” He said again, tilting his head back lightly, as much as he could really, in an attempt to stop the blood from leaving his nose.
But not looking was not gonna change a thing anymore. Because somewhere along the lines, the fear had shifted. Blood still very much terrified you, no doubt, but right now you were covered in it, and yet, you weren’t dead, you hadn’t fainted and the world was still spinning.
And still, something was very, very wrong.
Jake’s nose bleed seemed to have calmed down, he finally put his hand away, which was bright red, and stared at you.
“You know, you are doing much better than I thought you would,” he praised, and given the situation it absolutely shouldn’t have made your stomach flip, “look at you, could it be that the great Lightning has finally conquered her fear ?” He grinned.
You didn’t know if you should be happy he was joking again or not. Your hands had begun shaking again where they were pressing against his bloody side, you still couldn’t bear to take a look at it but you knew by the way it was still profusely leaking blood against your hands, and by how big the piece of wood looked a few centimeters away from you that his injury must have been deep, way too deep.
Very unaware of your internal breakdown, Jake just kept on talking.
“I didn’t even know it was possible to overcome a phobia as deep as yours, but hey, I guess there’s no stopping you, huh ?”
“Stop talking,” you said, trying to hold in a fresh wave of sobs, unwanted images of him lying dead in your arms kept flashing through your mind.
What the actual fuck was search and rescue doing ? It wasn’t like you were on the other half of the fucking planet, you weren’t even on the other half of the country !
Jake didn’t pay any mind to your order.
“At least crashing was good for something in the end.”
Him saying that while literally bleeding out was physically tearing your heart apart.
“Shut up.” You said through clenched teeth.
“Hey I just thought about something, if I die out here you’ll become the best pilot in the squad, perhaps I should be worried this was your plan all along—“
“Shut up ! Shut up, shut up !” You snapped, eyes wide and staring straight at him with a mix of despair and fear, “stop fucking talking about dying ! It’s not funny, and for fuck’s sake stop wasting your breath saying useless shit, just shut up !”
Tears were freely raining down your cheeks now, and you didn’t know how it was possible you still had any left to cry.
Jake was stunned for a second by your outburst, he just stared at your for a moment before his expression broke into something undeniably soft and gentle, his features morphing into something you’d use to approach a frightened animal.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, that was a joke.”
You didn’t think you had ever heard Jake apologize in all the time you’d known him.
“Well it’s not funny !” Your bottom lip quivered, another pathetic sob threatening to break out.
“I know, I’m an idiot,” he said, “you’re right, that wasn’t funny.” His voice was low, acting like a soothing balm on your own open wound, the one ripping your heart apart at seeing him like that.
His hand that had been awkwardly hovering off and on above your shoulder finally made contact, squeezing you lightly. And his touch completely finished to break your heart. You burst out in a very inelegant sob, you couldn’t even see through the tears clouding your vision. It was the inevitable consequence of enduring all the events of the day, the mission going to shit, the ejection, the crash, the blood, Jake…
“I don’t want you to die,” you cried out, completely exhausted and at the end of your rope, “so stop saying that.”
“I’m not gonna die, sweetheart,” his thumb rubbed gentle back and forth on your clothed shoulder, occasionally squeezing it.
“But you’re b—“ a hiccup interrupted you, “you’re bleeding out !” The word alone burned on your tongue.
You heard the sound of a zipper opening, trying to blink the tears away you saw Jake open the top of his flight suit before his blood stained hand, the one that wasn’t on your shoulder, came down to take one of yours that was still pressing on his open wound.
“No, no, no Jake— you need pressure—“ you tried to say when he took your hand away, guiding it to his chest.
“It’s okay, honey,” he soothed, “just don’t look down, remember ?” he added when your eyes almost darted down to both of your bloodied hands.
Jake, while maintenant eye contact with you, his green eyes holding an almost tender glint, guided your hand up to his chest, right over his heart.
“You feel that ?” He asked, voice slightly hoarse due to the effort and the pain, but never ever losing its gentle edge.
And sure enough, underneath your palm, was the steady beat of Jake’s heart. A calm and rhythmic thump-thump that didn’t waiver and the rational part of your mind wondered how he could stay so calm under such circumstances, and it probably should have worried you a bit, but the irrational part of your brain, the one that had been running on fumes ever since you spotted the first speck of blood, seemed to finally quiet down a bit.
You let out a breath you didn’t even know you had been holding all this time.
“Yeah, that’s it, see ? I’m okay, it’ll be fine.” His hand was placed right on top of yours, his warmth seeping into your skin and radiating in your entire body.
Your fingers flexed a bit against his clothed chest, a sudden urge to feel more of him, make sure that his words were real, that he was truly gonna be fine, shook you. Jake gave you a reassuring smile and between the tears that still blurred your vision, you took the time to look at him. His blond hair was disheveled and darken by dirt, his jade green eyes held an immense tiredness to them but the tender glint in them, directed towards you, never ever left. There was some dried blood just underneath his nose, and a bit of it also on his lips, that still held that little reassuring smile. His whole face was livid, as pale as a ghost and the visual stripped him of his usual Hangman bravado. Objectively, he wasn’t looking good right now, he looked sick. But somehow, to you, he still did, looked good. There was something so vulnerable and tender about him right now, something that was slowly stitching back together the pieces of your heart Jake had himself, involuntarily, broken.
But being yourself, there was no way you’d be able to properly express the overwhelming whirlwind of emotion taking your body hostage, so instead—
“You look like shit,” you said, sniffling.
Jake let out a chuckle, the sound alone warming you from the inside out.
“Yeah, well, you don’t exactly look like you could run a marathon either, sweetheart.”
That made you laugh. You didn’t even want to think about what you must looked like right now, blotchy and red eyes from the tears, cheeks stained with the salty liquid, hair wild from the ejection… But you didn’t see any disgust or reject in his gaze. Only fondness.
Suddenly feeling bashful under his stare, you made a move to look down but before you could, Jake’s hand that was on your shoulder moved quickly, surprisingly so for someone that injured, catching your chin with two of his fingers, preventing you from looking down at the bloodied mess on which you still kept a firm pressure with your free hand. Instead, he made sure your gaze stayed right on him. This quiet gesture that so blatantly showed how much he cared about how you felt, which definitely felt ridiculous next to his predicament, just sent a sudden rush of affection run through you.
Not knowing what to do of this overwhelming urge, but nonetheless needing to express it, to get it out, to show him, your body acted on its own. Your hand still on his heart, you leaned in and gently placed your lips on his forehead, hoping the soft press would somehow convey every bit of what you were feeling. You stayed perhaps a bit too long for a conventional forehead kiss. Almost imperceptibly, you felt his heartbeat quicken under your hand, the realization making a warmth akin to the first summer rays spread out in your body. When you pulled back, there was a flash of something unreadable in Jake’s eyes.
“You’ll be okay,” you said with a tiny smile, lips wet from your tears and voice hoarse from your sobs.
And truly you said it more for yourself than him.
Jake reciprocated your smile and squeezed your hand, “you’re so brave, Y/N.” He said, full of admiration, and just a tiny bit choked up.
Before you could add anything, tell him how ridiculous it was for him to say that while he had to step up and be the rock for the both of you while he was on the verge of dying, the faint and distant sound of propellers could be heard coming from over the clearing. And just seconds later, the search and rescue helicopter came into view.
The biggest sigh of relief left your lips, you felt the tension slowly leave your body. You, not without regrets, retracted the hand that was on his chest to put it back on his wound, the added pressure made him groan.
“Sorry, sorry, I know,” you said, “it’s almost over, Jake, we’re almost out.”
He smiled at you, and you tried to ignore the ridiculousness of you trying to comfort him at the last minute, while he had spent the entire time trying to calm you down.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
The helicopter landed in the clearing, as close to you and Jake as possible, and seconds after six people from search and rescue came rushing towards you. They carefully hosted up Jake on a stretcher and up in the helicopter, all the while your hands never left him.
“Alright, Y/N, you can stop now, he’ll be fine, we’re gonna clean and bandage him up,” Martin, the main medic, told you just as the helicopter was taking off to the air.
But you hesitated. With the stress and emotion, the time you had spent out there in the clearing had felt like an eternity, and it felt scary to let go of him now, even though you knew it was to leave him in better hands. While deep in your thoughts, you didn’t register Jake asking for a cloth, it was only when you felt his hand land on top of yours that you got out of your anxious trance.
“Everything’s fine now, remember ?” He said gently as his eyes bore into yours, “they are gonna take good care of me, you can let go.”
His hands very gently took yours off his side, cleaning them with the cloth all the while keeping eye contact with you.
“But I don’t wanna leave you,” you said in a breath.
It was a strange feeling, to feel so open and raw emotionally, a state that had been forcefully provoked by the unfortunate events of the day.
“You’re not leaving me, you’ll stay by my side, right ?”
He let out a small, fond chuckle when you nodded almost solemnly.
“Nobody’s making you leave, baby.” He said, tossing the cloth away after wiping your hands clean of his blood.
“Jake ?” Martin grabbed both your attention, “we’re gonna put you under,” he explains, showing off an oxygen mask, “we’re gonna start patching you up while on the way to the base’s hospital.”
Jake nodded before looking at you.
“You gonna kiss me goodnight ?” He asked, his characteristic smirk making a return on his face.
Wordlessly, and perhaps a bit too happy by him prompting it, you leaned in, placing your lips in a delicate kiss on his forehead, one hand coming up to cup his face. You heard him let out a little breath as you pulled away and placed another lingering kiss on his cheek.
“Sleep tight.” You smiled as a tear rolled down your face, not out of fear or sadness but simply out of feeling too much in such a short amount of time, and you quickly wiped it away.
Martin put the mask on Jake’s face.
“Alright Lieutenant, take a few deep breaths for me.”
Doing as he was told, Jake was looking at you with furrowed brows.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he lazily protested, voice already slurred from the anesthesia kicking in.
“I’m not crying,” you assured, a genuine smile stretching your face, “it’s fine, go to sleep, Hangman.”
“I prefer when you call me ‘Jake’.” He whined.
Yeah, he’d be gone any minute now.
You chuckled, “sorry, Jake.”
“That’s better,” his eyes fluttered closed and opened again, clearly fighting the anesthesia, “and when I wake up you can find out.”
“Find out what ?”
“You know…” he trailed off, his eyes closing entirely now, “if— if I’m a masochist or not…”
You burst out laughing, and even in his dazed and near coma induced state, Jake smiled at the sound.
“We’ll see about that, cowboy,” you said when your laughter died down a bit.
And just like that, he was out.
Looking at him just a second longer, feeling your heart settle down at knowing he wouldn’t feel any pain and would be taken care of, you moved away from him, letting the team of medics do their job. Martin kneeled beside Jake and began to cut his flight suit open around his wound. Removing the fabric, about to reveal just how bad the injury was, he paused and turned to you.
“You’re not afraid of blood, are you ?”
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Author’s note : I have mixed feelings about this fic, the idea had been in my head for soooo long and I fear I failed the execution of it, but oh well, I hope it was still good for you !
I’m gonna repeat myself but I do not have a phobia of blood at all so if the way I wrote reader’s reaction seems unrealistic I’m really sorry, please do let me know if it’s so unrealistic that it stops being enjoyable to read, I’ll try to change it if that’s the case
Also if you’ve read my others fics Saltwater Monster and 8-pool meltdown you might notice a pattern, that I desperately need to be comforted by Jake, and those fics are my most popular ones so I’d say we’re all in this together !💞
Finally (god sorry I’m talking a lot) a huge thank you to @berrybigpossibilities who agreed to read the first part of the fic when I was feeling really down about it and gave me their opinion, it helped a lot to finish it so thank you again !🫶
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