SERIES
🐝 Green Dress
🐝 Expectation (requested) - only part 1 is A x R then it's B x R
🐝 Slumber (requested)
🐝 Confession (requested)
🐝 Lingering (requested)
summary: reader works in navy comms and jake falls in love with your voice ♡( ◡‿◡ )
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
“Dagger Two, this is Tower. Radio check, over.”
You adjusted your headset, scanning the screen in front of you as you waited for the response. Second week at North Island, and you were still getting used to the callsigns, the voices, the particular rhythm of these pilots.
“Tower, Dagger Two. Loud and clear. How me?”
The voice was smooth, confident—maybe a little too confident. You checked your roster. Dagger Two: Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, callsign Hangman.
“Dagger Two, read you lima charlie. Standby for departure clearance.”
“Copy, standing by.”
Professional. Clean. Exactly how it should be.
Over the next forty minutes, you guided Hangman and his team through their training exercise. Hangman was… chatty. More than most.
“Tower, Dagger Two. You know, you’ve got a great voice for this. Very authoritative.”
You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. Confirm heading two-seven-zero.”
“Heading two-seven-zero confirmed. Just saying, it’s nice to have someone competent up there.”
“Dagger Two, save the commentary for the debrief.”
You heard him laugh over the radio. “Yes ma’am. Hangman is buttoned up.”
He wasn’t, really. Over the next several flights that week, you learned that Hangman always had something to say. But he was also sharp—never missed a check-in, never fumbled coordinates, always three steps ahead. The banter was just… extra.
“Tower, Dagger Two. Requesting flyby.”
“Negative, Dagger Two. The pattern is full.”
“Come on, Tower. Just one?”
“Dagger Two, that’s a negative. Stop asking.”
“You’re breaking my heart here.”
“Your heart will survive. Bring it around for landing, heading one-eight-zero.”
“Heading one-eight-zero. You know, one of these days I’m gonna find out who you are.”
“Focus on your landing, Dagger Two.”
Friday night. The Hard Deck was packed, and you were nursing a beer while Phoenix told a story about Rooster’s latest landing that had gone slightly sideways.
“I’m telling you, he almost clipped the carrier deck. Swears up and down it was textbook, but I was right there—”
“It sounds like Rooster,” you said, grinning. You’d met Natasha—Phoenix—during your first week since you moved bases. She’d shown up at the tower to dispute a training score and you’d liked her immediately: sharp, no-nonsense, with a wicked sense of humor. She’d taken you under her wing, introducing you to the good coffee spots on base and insisting you needed to “actually have a life outside of work.”
Hence the Hard Deck on a Friday night.
“Speak of the devil,” Phoenix said, nodding toward the door where Rooster had just walked in with a few other pilots. “Brace yourself. When the squad’s all here, it gets loud.”
You watched as they made their way to the pool table—Rooster with his ridiculous mustache, Fanboy excitedly explaining something while Bob listened with quiet interest, Payback and Coyote already bantering back and forth about who gets next game, and—
And a blond guy who moved through the bar like he owned it, that easy confidence in every step.
“That’s Hangman,” Phoenix said, following your gaze. Her voice had gone slightly flat. “Total player. Goes through women like he’s collecting trading cards. We fly together, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”
“You work with him?”
“Unfortunately. He’s a good pilot—one of the best, actually—but his ego could fill a hangar.” She took a sip of her beer. “Why? Please tell me you’re not interested.”
“No, I just—” You paused as Hangman laughed at something Rooster said, and that sound.
You knew that sound.
“Oh God,” you said.
“What?”
“That’s Dagger Two.”
Phoenix’s eyes widened. “Wait. That’s your chatty pilot? The one who keeps trying to flirt over comms?”
“I wouldn’t say flirt—”
“You literally told me yesterday, and I quote, ‘if Dagger Two makes one more comment about my voice, I’m going to revoke his radio privileges.’”
“That was— I was exaggerating.”
Phoenix was grinning now, clearly delighted. “Oh, this is perfect. Hangman has no idea he’s been annoying you for two weeks.”
“Nat, don’t—”
But Rooster had spotted Phoenix and was waving her over. Phoenix grabbed your arm, hauling you up. “Come on. This is going to be hilarious.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
The group made room as you approached, Rooster clapping Phoenix on the shoulder. “Took you long enough. We’re already getting destroyed at pool and need backup.”
“That’s because Hangman keeps calling impossible shots,” Bob said with a small smile on his face.
“They’re not impossible if I make them,” the blond guy—Hangman—said. Then his eyes landed on you, and that easy smile appeared. “Hey. I’m Jake. Don’t think we’ve met.”
Phoenix was practically vibrating with suppressed glee. “Jake, this is my friend. She just transferred here a couple weeks ago. Works in the tower.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand.
The moment you spoke, Jake’s expression shifted. His eyes widened, his head tilted slightly, and you watched recognition dawn across his face like sunrise.
“Wait,” he said, his grin spreading slowly as he shook your hand, holding it maybe a second longer than necessary. “‘Your heart will survive.’ Tower. It’s you.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you absolutely do.” He stepped closer, completely ignoring Phoenix’s delighted snort. “That voice. Two weeks I’ve been listening to that voice, and here you are.”
“I told you to focus on flying.”
His laugh was the same one you’d heard over the radio a dozen times, but richer in person, warmer. “This is— I can’t believe this. Here I was thinking Tower was some grizzled veteran who’d seen it all, and instead you’re—” He stopped himself, but his eyes said the rest.
Rooster leaned over to Phoenix. “Is he… blustering?”
“I think he might be,” Phoenix whispered back, looking fascinated.
Coyote sidled up next to Jake with a knowing smirk. “Hangman’s actually speechless. Someone write this down.”
“I’m not speechless,” Jake protested.
“You kind of are, man,” Fanboy added, grinning as he chalked his pool cue.
You studied Jake for a moment. He seemed genuinely surprised, genuinely pleased. But Phoenix had warned you.
Player. Heartbreaker. The kind of guy who knew exactly what to say.
“Well, now you know,” you said. “Mystery solved.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I have one.”
“Another one, then. After that one.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
He didn’t push, just settled back against the pool table like he had all the time in the world, though his eyes kept finding their way back to you.
“Fair enough. You any good at pool? We could use someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
“She’s terrible at pool,” Phoenix interjected, grinning. “But I’ll play. You and me, Hangman. Let’s see if you can back up all that talk.”
As Phoenix and Jake started setting up, Rooster moved closer to you.
“Fair warning: those two are competitive. This might get ugly.”
“Nat can handle herself.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about Phoenix.”
You glanced at him, confused, but he was already watching Jake, who kept looking over at you between shots, like he was making sure you were still there.
You thought that would be the end of it. One conversation, curiosity satisfied, everyone moves on.
You were wrong.
Jake started showing up. Not in an obvious way—he was too smart for that. He’d just… appear. At the coffee cart you frequented before your shift. At the Hard Deck on Friday nights, always gravitating toward wherever you and Phoenix were sitting. At the O-Club when Nat dragged you to some mandatory fun event.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he’d say, like it was pure coincidence.
“It’s the base coffee cart, Hangman. Not exactly a secret location.”
“Jake. You can call me Jake, you know. When we’re not on comms.”
“I’m aware of your name.”
“Just making sure. You want anything? I’m buying.”
“I can buy my own coffee.”
“I know you can. I’m asking if you want me to.”
You’d usually say no. Sometimes you’d say yes, just to see what he’d do. He never made it weird, never acted like you owed him anything. Just handed you the coffee and asked about your day.
Phoenix noticed immediately.
“He’s like a puppy,” she said one afternoon, watching Jake walk away after delivering your usual order without you even asking. “A very tall, very blond puppy.”
“He’s just being friendly.”
“Uh-huh. Is that why he hasn’t looked at another woman in three weeks?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Hangman—king of the one-night stand, collector of phone numbers—hasn’t so much as glanced at anyone else since he met you.” Phoenix leaned back in her chair. “It’s actually kind of freaking the guys out.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m really not. Ask Bob. He’s been keeping track.”
You refused to think too hard about what that might mean.
Over the radio, though, nothing changed.
“Tower, Dagger Two. How’s your morning?”
“Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. You’re clear for takeoff, runway two-niner.”
“Copy that, Tower. Runway two-niner. Just saying, hope you liked the coffee earlier.”
“Dagger Two.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
It was Rooster who brought it up first during their next squadron meeting.
They were at the Hard Deck, the usual Friday night crowd, and Jake had barely glanced at the brunette who’d been making eyes at him from the bar for the past twenty minutes.
“Hangman,” Rooster said, setting down his beer. “You feeling okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Because that girl over there is definitely interested and you haven’t even looked at her.”
Jake glanced over briefly. “Not my type.”
Phoenix nearly choked on her drink. “Since when do you have a type beyond ‘breathing’?”
“Funny.”
But then the door opened, and Jake’s attention snapped toward it immediately. His whole posture changed—straightened up, ran a hand through his hair.
You walked in, laughing at something on your phone, completely oblivious.
“Oh my god,” Phoenix said, even though she’d seen this exact reaction a dozen times now. “You’ve got it so bad.”
“What?”
“You’re making moon eyes at my friend.”
“I don’t make moon eyes.”
“You absolutely make moon eyes,” Rooster said, grinning now. “How long has this been going on?”
“There’s nothing going on. We’re friends.”
Bob, who’d been quietly watching the exchange, spoke up. “Friends.” There was a knowing quality to his tone, subtle but unmistakable.
Jake shot him a look. “Yes, Bob. Friends. Some of us have those.”
“Some of us don’t turn into golden retrievers every time those friends walk into a room,” Payback added.
Coyote leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with an amused grin. “I’ve known you for years, Hangman. Never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” Jake asked defensively.
“Like you actually care,” Fanboy chimed in, exchanging a look with Coyote. “It’s weird. But also kind of nice?”
“I hate all of you.”
Phoenix was watching him with a calculating expression. “You’re serious. You actually like her.”
“Of course I like her. She’s—” He stopped, seeming to realize he was about to prove their point. “She’s nice.”
“She is nice,” Phoenix agreed. “She’s also one of my best friends, which means if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your callsign gets changed to Grounded.”
“Good. It should be.” Phoenix leaned forward, her expression serious. “I’m not kidding, Hangman. She’s not one of your usual conquests. She’s—”
“I know,” Jake said, and his voice had gone quiet. Serious. “Trust me, I know. Why do you think I haven’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m trying to do this right.”
Phoenix blinked. In all the years she’d known Jacob Seresin, she’d never heard him sound like that. “Oh. You’re really serious.”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” She studied him for a long moment. “Okay. But I’m still watching you.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
But he was already up, making his way across the bar to where you stood.
You saw him coming and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Which was becoming a problem, actually—how much you didn’t mind when he showed up.
“Hey,” Jake said, that easy smile in place but something softer in his eyes. “Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
“It’s Friday. I’m here most Fridays with Nat.”
“Right. Yeah. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m about to order one.”
“So that’s a yes?”
You rolled your eyes, but you were fighting a smile. “Sure, Hangman. You can buy me a drink.”
His whole face lit up like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.
From across the bar, you caught Phoenix watching with a knowing smirk. You made a mental note to interrogate her later about whatever that look meant.
The thing was, Jake was… different than you’d expected.
Sure, he had the callsign and the reputation and the smile that could probably stop traffic. But when it was just the two of you—usually with Phoenix somewhere nearby, watching like a protective older sister—he wasn’t Hangman.
He was just Jake.
He asked questions—real ones, not the smooth-talking kind meant to impress. He wanted to know about your hometown, your family, why you’d joined the Navy, what you wanted to do after. He listened when you talked, actually listened, his green eyes focused on you like you were the only person in the world.
And he told you things too. About growing up in Texas, about learning to fly, about why he flew the way he did.
“I know what they say about me,” he said one night. You and Phoenix had stayed late at the Hard Deck, and she’d stepped away to take a call, leaving you and Jake alone on the deck overlooking the beach. “Hangman. Like I leave people hanging.”
“Do you?”
“In the air? Yeah. Sometimes. Because I know I’m good enough to get the job done alone.” He picked up a handful of sand that had blown onto the deck railing, let it run through his fingers. “But it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because… if I’m the one taking the risk, then no one else has to.”
You looked at him—really looked at him. At the way his jaw tightened, the way he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes.
“That’s lonely,” you said quietly.
He did look at you then. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Something shifted between you in that moment. Something that made your chest feel tight and your breath catch and oh no, you thought.
Oh no.
Phoenix returned a moment later, taking one look at both of you and raising an eyebrow. But she didn’t say anything, just settled back into her chair and changed the subject.
Later, when Jake had left and it was just the two of you walking to your cars, Phoenix bumped your shoulder.
“So.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Nat.”
“He’s different with you. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like he’s actually trying to be a real person instead of just Hangman.” She paused. “I know I gave you the warning about him. And I meant it—the old Hangman, the one who went through women like they didn’t matter? I’d tell you to run. But this…” She shook her head. “Maybe people can change.”
“You think I should give him a chance?”
“I think you already are. I’m just saying… I wouldn’t hate it. If you two figured things out.” She grinned. “But if he screws it up, I get to kick his ass in training. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“He’s got it bad,” Rooster said two months later, watching Jake watch you from across the rec room. You were completely focused on the tablet in your hands, reviewing flight logs while Phoenix looked over your shoulder and pointed something out. Oblivious.
“It’s kind of painful to witness,” Fanboy agreed, shaking his head. “How long has this been going on?”
After a short pause, Bob spoke. "Three months? Maybe four?"
“And he hasn’t even tried anything?”
Phoenix, who’d joined them, shook her head. “Nope. He just… follows her around like a puppy. Gets her coffee. Listens to her talk about radio frequencies like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Hangman?” Rooster asked.
“Right?” Phoenix settled into a chair, still watching. “I gave him the shovel talk, like, six times. Told him if he hurt her, I’d never forgive him. You know what he said?”
“What?”
“He said he’d never forgive himself either.”
“Damn,” Payback said. “He’s really gone.”
Coyote whistled low. “Never thought I’d see the day. Hangman actually settling down for someone.”
“He’s going to crash and burn,” Rooster said. “She has no idea how he feels.”
“Oh, she knows,” Phoenix said. “She just doesn’t believe it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Hangman. And she’s…” Phoenix paused, trying to find the right words. “She’s careful. She doesn’t trust easy. And Jake’s reputation isn’t exactly helping.”
"I think it's nice. He's actually trying," Bob said, watching as Jake moved closer to you, saying something that made you laugh.
“He better be,” Phoenix said. “Because if he breaks her heart, reputation change or not, I’ll break him.”
You didn’t believe it.
Sure, Jake was… around. A lot. And yes, he’d stopped flirting with other women—Phoenix had confirmed that, even seemed pleased about it. And okay, maybe your heart did this stupid flutter thing every time you heard his voice over the radio or saw him waiting by the coffee cart in the morning.
But Jacob Seresin didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. This was just… friendly. He was being friendly.
The fact that his hand would linger when he handed you your coffee, or that he’d started texting you good morning every day, or that he’d shown up with soup when you’d mentioned feeling under the weather—that was just how he was.
Probably.
“You’re an idiot,” Phoenix said, not for the first time. You were in her apartment, having your weekly movie night, and she’d paused the film just to give you this look.
“I’m realistic.”
“He brought you soup!”
“He’s nice.”
“He’s not nice! He’s Hangman! He’s only nice to you!” Phoenix grabbed your shoulders. “Listen to me. I have known that man for years. Years. I have seen him go through women without learning their last names. I have watched him charm his way out of consequences and into beds without a second thought. And I have never—not once—seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
“Nat, really—”
“I’m serious. He’s different now. With you. And I know his reputation scares you, but people can change. He’s changing. For you.”
You wanted to believe her. God, you wanted to believe her.
But wanting something and trusting it were two very different things.
It was a Wednesday when everything changed.
You were in the tower, middle of a routine training exercise, when the alarm sounded.
“Dagger Two, Dagger Two, this is Tower. We have reports of a bird strike. What’s your status?”
Static.
Your heart stopped.
“Dagger Two, come in.”
More static, then: “Tower, Dagger Two. Confirm bird strike. Engine two is out. Engine one is… not looking great.”
His voice was steady, professional. But you could hear it underneath—the tension.
“Copy, Dagger Two. What’s your altitude?”
“Fifteen thousand and dropping. Trying to restart engine one.”
You pulled up his position, calculated distances, ran through every protocol you knew. Your supervisor was already moving, picking up the direct line to Base Operations.
“Ops, this is Tower. We have an in-flight emergency. Dagger Two, bird strike, dual engine failure. Pilot is attempting emergency landing at auxiliary field two-zero miles northeast. Launch crash crew and medical.”
Phoenix’s voice crackled through on the emergency channel. “Hangman, this is Phoenix. I’ve got Bob with me. We’re tracking you. Talk to us.”
“Phoenix, I’m losing altitude fast. Not gonna make it back to base.”
“Dagger Two, nearest divert is North Island. Can you make it?” you said, keeping your voice level through sheer force of will.
“Negative, Tower. I’m not going to make it to North Island.”
Your breath caught. “Dagger Two, there’s an auxiliary airfield twenty miles northeast of your position. Sending coordinates now.”
“Copy, I see it.”
Your supervisor was coordinating on the other line. “Crash crew is rolling. Ambulance and fire truck en route to auxiliary field. ETA twelve minutes.”
“Jake.” You never used his name over comms. Ever. “You can make it.”
A pause. Then, quieter: “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it.”
The next ten minutes were the longest of your life. You talked him through every step, keeping your voice steady even though your hands were shaking. Phoenix stayed on comms, her voice calm and professional, while Bob fed Jake technical readouts in that steady, measured way of his.
When he finally confirmed wheels down, safe, you had to sit down before your legs gave out.
Your supervisor touched your shoulder. “Good work. Crash crew is on scene. Medical is evaluating him now. They’ll transport him back to North Island by ground.”
You nodded, not trusting your voice.
Phoenix’s voice came through your headset. “Tower, Dagger Three. Bob and I are RTB. Ground crew has Hangman. They’re bringing him back by ambulance as a precaution.”
“Copy, Dagger Three,” you managed. “Safe flight.”
“Tower?” Phoenix’s voice was gentler now. “He’s okay. He’s safe. And knowing the squad, they’re probably already gathering at the medical building.”
Despite everything, you almost smiled. “Copy that.”
“You should probably be there too.”
You shouldn’t have left your post early. You definitely shouldn’t have been standing outside the base medical building with the entire Dagger Squad all waiting restlessly.
But there you were.
The ambulance pulled up, lights flashing but no siren, and the moment the rear doors opened, Jake climbed out on his own power, waving off the corpsman who tried to help him. He looked exhausted and rattled but whole.
His eyes scanned the group and found yours immediately.
Phoenix nudged Bob, who gave a small nod and stepped back without a word. “Come on. Let’s give them a minute.”
“The rest of you too,” Rooster said, herding the remaining Daggers toward the building entrance. “Move it.”
“But I want to see—” Coyote started.
“Move,” Phoenix said, her tone brooking no argument.
Then they were gone, and it was just you and Jake in the parking lot.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself.”
“Thanks for—”
You closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for half a second, then his arms came around you, tight and sure.
“You scared me,” you said into his shoulder.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“If you ever do that again—”
“I won’t.” His hand came up to the back of your head, cradling it gently. “I promise.”
You pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes were so green, so close, and he was looking at you like…
Oh.
Oh.
“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” he said quietly. “And all I could think was that I never told you—”
“Jake.”
“I’m in love with you.” The words came spilling out in a rush. “I know you probably don’t believe me, and I know I have a reputation, but I swear, I have never felt like this about anyone. You make me want to be better. You make me want to be the guy you see when you look at me. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I just needed you to know—”
You kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was soft and deliberate, your hand coming up to cup his jaw as you rose onto your toes. He made a sound—somewhere between relief and wonder—and pulled you closer, one hand sliding to the small of your back while the other cradled your face like you were something precious. The world narrowed to just this: the warmth of his mouth on yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment, the taste of salt from tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead dropped to rest against yours. His eyes were still closed, and when he opened them, they were bright with something that looked like reverence.
“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You terrify me.”
“I know.”
“I don’t do casual. I can’t— I’m not built for that.”
“Good. Because there’s nothing casual about the way I feel about you.” His thumb brushed across your cheekbone, gentle and reverent. “I’m all in. Have been for months. Everyone knows it. Phoenix has threatened me at least six times. I don’t care. I’d let her threaten me every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep bringing you coffee and hearing you tell me to maintain radio discipline and just… being around you.”
You laughed, slightly watery. “You’re really in love with me?”
“So much it’s actually embarrassing. Have been since the first time I heard your voice over the radio. When I finally saw you at the Hard Deck and realized the voice I’d been falling for had a face to match…” He shook his head. “I was done for.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m scared,” you said again. “But I— I think I might be in love with you too. Which is terrifying because I didn’t think that was possible four months ago.”
His smile was incandescent, and then he was kissing you again—softer this time, sweeter, like a promise. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to spend every second of it right here with you.
From somewhere behind you, you heard Phoenix’s voice carry across the parking lot: “FINALLY!”
"okay okay i'm going to give the ER fic writing a go, so please send some moodboard+drabble requests for carter and doug! (maybe more in the future, but i'm starting small)" - how do you feel about married couple who were childhood sweethearts with John?
You've always known that you'd marry John Carter eventually. From the day you moved in next door at five, to becoming best friends at six, to him being your first kiss at fourteen, and first everything else at sixteen.
From a young age, you've been a pair. A unit.
Sure, your family weren't as well off as his were, and the engagement at twenty raised a few eyebrows, but neither of you care.
You're happy, and that's all that matters.
You go to med school together, and get couples-matched to County General - him in emergency medicine, you in respiratory.
You both keep quiet about the marriage - not out of shame, but just practicality. Nobody thinks that two junior doctors who got married at twenty-one will be able to make it work.
It isn't until New Year's Eve, six months after starting at County, that you're finally caught. The clock has just gone midnight, and you have enough of a lull upstairs that you figure you can take your break down in the ER with John.
"Mr Carter," You greet, closing the door behind you as he immediately crosses the room to pull you into his arms. "Happy New Year, my love."
"Happy New Year to you too, Mrs Carter," He murmurs, dipping his head to kiss you deeply. Your hands tangle in his hair, and you let out a sigh as his grip on you tightens.
When the door opens, you don't have time to leap apart, and are instead treated to the eyes of Mark Greene, Susan Lewis, Carol Hathaway and Doug Ross landing straight on you both.
"Oh my god," You breathe.
"Carter?" Susan frowns, gaze darting between you both. "But you're- but she's married?"
Brows furrow, while Doug hides a smirk in the background. "You're having an affair?" Carol asks. "With a married woman?"
"What?" You and John both echo at once.
"That's quite the rock you've got there, kid," Doug comments, earning a smack from Mark.
Neither of you can get a word in edgeways, with some of the nurses coming over to see what the fuss is. Before you can speak, clear your names, you hear murmurings of Carter and affair ricochet round the ER.
"It's not an affair!" You finally burst out. "We're married!"
A quiet falls, as everyone looks at you both, jaws dropped. "But..." Lydia begins, directed at John. "You don't wear a ring."
Letting out a sigh, he reaches under his shirt, pulling out a chain that it hangs on. "Don't want to risk losing it."
Ever the leader, Mark speaks next. "That's very nice, Carter. Congratulations to you both."
He starts ushering everyone out of the trauma room, and back to work, shooting you both a smile as he goes.
"Thank you," John nods gratefully, and suddenly you're alone again.
Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader (3k words) - body shots and ex-boyfriends send Jake over the edge
Request: if requests are still opennn (pls ignore if closed) can i request 20 + 37 for a jake seresin fic please 🥹 maybe they’re bickering partners in the air or smthh hehehe super thank u! fell in love w ur writing so quickly ure insanely talented
Warnings: Heavy petting
Note: I give you full permission to be mad at me for how long this took 😭 I'm moving and getting ready for grad school so I've been losing my mind a bit. I hope this is good!
Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief
🦋 Masterlist 🦋
“Fuck!” You ducked beneath the bar of the Hard Deck, squeezing yourself between the stools and Jake’s long legs.
“What? What’s wrong?” It was sunset and he still had his aviators on, blocking the late summer sun. It was Friday night and the entire team decided to hit the bar—it was made clear that you’d been slacking on your fun teammate duties in the weeks that you’d been grieving the relationship that was no longer.
“He’s here!” You whisper-screamed.
-
“Who?” Jake was now completely folded at the waist. Did he have to make it so obvious, looking around the place like a lost meerkat? You said as much to him to which he responded with a light bat to your head. Of all the Dagger Squad, you might have been closest to him. Sure, Nat was your roommate but Jake was the one you called when you were bored waiting for your nails to dry.
“Darren,” you said with a sharp look in his direction.
Jake scoffed, “Like he ever wanted to come here when you were dating.”
“No, exactly!”
He helped you off the floor, settling you into the stool opposite him as you smoothed down your hair. “You look fine,” he said.
“Fine is not great.” You snuck a peek at Darren over his shoulder, cringing when you make eye contact.
“I meant great,” he mumbled as he flagged down Penny.
“Please tell me he’s not coming over here.” You were feeling a bit desperate. You were over him, for the most part, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still sensitive about the whole thing.
“He’s not.”
“You’re lying.” You could always tell when Jake was lying; he almost looked sharper when he did.
Penny swatted Jake’s hand away from grabbing extra limes before setting two shots of tequila and a salt shaker in front on you.
“Do you trust me?” He said. It was in these moments that Jake was most irresistible to you, when all of his focus was directed onto you and you alone, in these moments when he was waiting for you.
“Yeah,” you said. “Of course.”
You watched in fear and frozen awe as Jake brought your wrist up to his mouth and licked your pulse point. “One for courage,” he said and doused salt on the now glistening stretch of skin.
You went for it: sucked the salt, downed the shot, and bit into the lime wedge he held between his fingers. This was far from the most physically intimate you had been with him, you shared a bed after many a drunken night out, but unlike those times, you couldn’t seem to help the butterflies that erupted in the pit of your stomach.
“Ready?” He didn’t even wait for a response before he hooked the toe of his boot to the bottom rung of your stool to pull you closer. “I need you to face away from me,” he whispered and you did it without question. You weren’t sure if it was the burn of the liquor or the adrenaline of the moment but you were absolute putty in his hands. You swiveled away from him, gaping as he moved your hair away from your neck.
“Hey.” You’d been so distracted that you hadn’t even seen Darren standing right in front of you.
“Oh, hi.” You weren’t really the jealous type but he certainly was and you couldn’t help the sick satisfaction you got from the twisted look on his face. “How are you?”
You watched as his lips moved but couldn’t decipher any of his words as Jake began sucking on your neck. What the fuck was happening? Was this the trust? You watched Darren trail off, mouth agape in shock and discomfort, certain that you wore a similar expression but…you couldn’t deny Jake knew what he was doing. You uttered an unconvincing “that’s great,” hoping that it disguised you shifting in your seat—it did not, judging by Jake’s deep chuckle vibrating down the column of your throat.
That should’ve been it, clearly you were occupied (ruse or not) but, to your horror, Darren just kept talking. You knew he was doing it to spite you, forcing you to sit in your shame and beet red face.
“Hey, do you mind?” Jake said, cutting Darren off. He was standing now, between you and your ex. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
“Yeah like the entire time we were dating,” Darren said. You peeked over Jake’s shoulder to catch the smug look on his stupid face.
“No,” he said before facing you again. "Ready?" He held the lime wedge at your lips, patiently waiting for you to part them to hold it between your teeth.
"You don't have to do this anymore," you said. You were quite certain Darren had left and this entire charade could end. You were torn between genuinely enjoying yourself and his company and feeling no different from all the other heartbroken girls who dared to fall for Jake—not that that’s what he was doing.
“You’re going to deprive me from doing a body shot off the most beautiful woman in the bar?” He looked at you so sincerely; you couldn't find it in yourself to deny such an adorable Jake, high off playing hero. You rolled your eyes but let him put the wedge in place.
He sucked the salt off your neck in a way that was far more lascivious than it needed to be, took the shot, and pressed his lips to yours.
Your breath caught in your throat. Just as quickly as the contact was made, it ended. Your eyelids fluttered, trying to blink away whatever trance Jake’s pretty smile trapped you in.
The clarity came when he dropped the rind into the empty shot glass. You felt off balance and ridiculous. “Sorry,” you mumbled.
He pinched your cheek, “Over too soon?”
Sudden rage surged through you. How he could look so smug with the glitter from your lip gloss still on his lips? You had no idea.
“I think it worked,” he said, subtly gesturing to a sulking Darren in the corner of the bar.
“Great,” you said. You slipped off your stool, forcing him to take a step back. You needed to get away from him and possibly ignore him completely until you were forced to interact on Monday at work, but he had other plans.
“Aw come on,” he said, pulling you back to him with a warm hand on your wrist. “Don’t be like that. I should have been more responsible with my irresistibility—“
You stomped on his foot.
Jake winced, folding a bit, but kept you caged you against the bar.
“I knew you were self-obsessed but this is ridiculous.”
“You’re just lucky I didn’t actually kiss you.” He licked his lips in a way that gave you the distinct impression that he was playing with his prey.
“Oh?” You pressed yourself against him and blinked, feigning innocence. Two could play at that game, one with a slight quiver in her voice. “And why’s that?”
“‘Cause you would be so gone.”
And, without thinking, you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and slammed your lips to his. He kissed back immediately, wrapping he arms around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.
You were a good kisser. So good, in fact, that you could’ve listed it on you resume under special talents. But Jake wasn’t so bad himself—you practically shuddered when he lapped into your mouth. It’s like his hands were everywhere, hot under your shirt and roaming your back. He groaned when your nails dragged through his hair and, like being touched for the first time, an incredible heat pooled at your core.
A gentle poke from Penny snapped you back to reality. You pushed him away and, against every impulse, kept him away when he went in for more. “Don’t,” you said. You needed to get away, just a second to yourself before you burned up inside.
“F-fuck!” You hyperventilated in a bathroom stall. You and Jake were friends. Friends. Coworkers. But you could still feel him on you and all those times before when you woke up next to him, with his arms tight around you and his heart beating in your ear. You hated waking up next to Darren, frigid blanket hog, and would sneak out late at night after you were certain you had fallen asleep. You even slept in your car a couple times and returned before he woke up, so as not to hurt his feelings. It was Jake massaged the kink out of your neck the following morning. “Fuck.”
“Julep?” Nat called (it was a cute call sign now but was given after a particularly rough night involving about six of them.) “Are you alright?”
You burst out of the stall, “I think I like Jake.”
“No shit.”
“No, like like like him.”
“Yeah, I know,” Nat said, smoothing the line of her hair in the mirror. “Everyone knows.”
“What?” You bit your thumb nail. Did he know? Was he just messing with you?
“It’s insufferable watching Hangman mope around base on your days off. And even Javy, saint that he is, is so over hearing all the ‘will they won’t they’ anxiety warbling.”
You cleared your throat and straightened the hem of your skirt. You could do this, and if he laughed in your face then you’d only let these feeling surface for twenty minutes and could easily shove them back down, deep.
You stepped into the hall, emotionally prepared to scan the bar for Jake.
“I knew you were into him.” Darren.
“Please, spare me your paranoid fantasies.”
“It was always ‘Jake and I had Chinese last night.’”
“That was one time.” The bar had gotten significantly more crowded and the people seemed to blur into one another. Your courage was finite and whatever you were going to do needed to be done now. If only you could find him…
“Are you looking for loverboy?”
You looked at Darren then. His eyes were darker than you remembered, his shadows more prominent. You nodded, hesitantly.
He didn’t say a word, only pointed. You smiled and eagerly pushed past him, rushing his direction. As you approached, Jake’s golden hair came into view above the other patrons. You called his name, squeezing between your last obstacle, only to find him and his tongue interlocked with a woman's in red cowboy boots.
Your eyes burned but you couldn’t move a muscle. You weren’t exactly shocked, having prepared yourself for the possibility that this was all just a game, but you did think that Jake felt some emotional responsibility towards you.
“Did something happen?” Jake asked. He must’ve seen Darren hovering behind you because he led you out onto the sparsely populated deck and repeated his question.
“No,” you laughed bitterly. “I’m just an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he said. “Darren's the idiot.” He moved to touch your cheek but you flinched and he dropped his hand limply at his side.
“You couldn’t help yourself for twenty minutes,” you mumbled but you knew he heard you. The noise from the bar was muffled to the extent that you might hear a pin drop if you knew it was falling.
“Twenty minutes?” he repeated.
“Your ego is so fragile, you had to make out with some random just because you got told no?” You folded your arms over your chest. The distance between you had grown enough that it felt as if you were on opposite sides of the deck.
“I get rejected all the time!” You weren’t sure if you had ever heard Jake raise his voice. Always so cool and collected and gentle, at least with you.
“But getting rejected by me, that’s too low of a blow…” Tears welled once more and it was everything in your power to keep them at bay. He couldn’t see this, he couldn’t know how much he had hurt you. You still had to work together and there was no universe in which it was acceptable for him to think you weak. So you turned on your heel and left.
“It's not like you're interested!” You heard him shout but ignored it, tear streaming down your face.
You didn’t interact until Monday at work, when you had to. You and Jake had been trying to get Maverick to pair you up for months and, of course, today was the day he’d finally given in. Fortunately, you were working on positioning drills so the entire team was in the air—you would only had to interact with him for takeoff checks so far which were professional if not stilted and awkward.
“J, I found the perfect guy for you last night,” Fanboy’s voice crackled through the comms. You pinched yourself to keep from audibly groaning. The day had gone so smoothly thus far; you were certain nobody knew about your tense interchange with Jake and when Nat got home and asked about your intended declaration, you just told her you chickened out.
“I doubt she’s interested,” Payback said, for which you were grateful. You crossed your fingers that that would be the last of it.
“Sorry Fanboy, she already has her eyes set in another direction,” Nat practically sang. What choice did you have but to remain silent? You weren’t sure you were capable of making some quip without all your unresolved emotions bleeding into it.
“Please tell me it’s not that Darren loser again,” Rooster said.
“It better not fucking be.” Jake sounded bitter. Your heart seized in your chest.
“Focus up.” Maverick ended it which should have been a relief but only left you more frustrated.
You were exhausted by the time you were dismissed. Training felt hours longer than it should’ve and was conducted in silence, Jake’s uncharacteristic anger ringing through all your ears.
You weren’t sure how you were going to get home as Phoenix shouted a quick “Hangman will drive you” over her shoulder as she walked out with Bob. She didn’t want to wait until after Jake finished talking with Maverick and you both wrapped up your checks and, frankly, neither did you.
“Done?” You asked squinting up at him as he completed your deplaning checklist, the sun was setting bright in your eyes. It was just you and he now and you wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“Yeah,” Jake nodded. You took a few steps in the direction of the locker rooms until you were stopped by the sound of his voice. “Just tell me it’s not Darren.”
“It’s not Darren.”
“Really?” He too a few steps closer and you let him. “You’re not just saying that?”
You shook your head. Jake shifted, blocking the sun with his shoulders. You could see his expression and your heart broke at how solemn it was.
He wiped his face with his hands and groaned. “I want to know who he is.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do. I really do.” A metallic clang echoed through the hangar and Jake cringed. “Can we go somewhere more private?” And you followed him into the empty men’s locker room because part of you, beyond what was sensible, yearned to be in his proximity.
“I-I don’t understand what you want me to tell you.” You underestimated how claustrophobic you would feel amidst all the green lockers, overwhelmed by the warmth radiating off his body and sweet smell of his sweat.
He took in a ragged breath, “I want you to tell me that you want me more. That you think I’m funnier and better looking and-and more than—”
“Fuck, Jake.” You wiped your face with the sleeve of your flight suit. “I kissed you.”
“I know-I know.”
Anger surged through you at how pliable he was. “You kissed some other girl right after! I mean, what the fuck was that?”
“You pushed me away! What was I supposed to— ”
“You were supposed to wait the twenty fucking minutes for me to— ” This had taken so much out of you. You slumped onto the bench and Jake fell to his knees in front of you, desperate. You weren’t going to do this. You were going to shove all this down and gaslight your way to platonic.
“You win,” he said. “I’m pathetic and jealous and so ridiculously into you that I had to come up with some stupid ploy, involving Douchebag Darren of all people, just to kiss you.” He wasn’t looking at you, but your lap. “And then I got scared—”
“Scared?” It came out like a squeak.
He met your gaze then. “Because if I lost you, your friendship, your existence in my life over this… I couldn’t live with myself.”
You were leaning forward in your chair, inches from him. “Then why did you—”
“Because I thought— I wanted to downplay it.” His voice was barely above a whisper, “I thought I ruined us.”
You kissed him and he deepened it. Jake pulled you down into his lap, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip and eliciting your gasp. Your head was swimming, consumed with nothing but him. He kissed down your neck, mumbling sweet nothings in between. “God, we could have been doing this all weekend.”
Your laugh quickly dissolved into a moan as he tugged down your shirt.
“Wait,” he paused, fingers creeping beneath your bra. “Who’s the guy?”
“It’s you, stupid!” You kissed him once more and dragged him towards the showers.
if requests are still opennn (pls ignore if closed) can i request 20 + 37 for a jake seresin fic please 🥹 maybe they’re bickering partners in the air or smthh hehehe super thank u! fell in love w ur writing so quickly ure insanely talented
Hi! Thank you so much, that’s so nice to hear!! I love your request and I literally dropped everything to start working on it lmao. It might not be done for a week or so but know that I’m working on it!!!
Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader (8k words) - Jake is your older brother's best friend. So when he lets you live with him to get out of your childhood home, you're dying for him to see you as more than the 'kid sister.'
Warnings: This actually ended up being kind of filthy! mdni!
Note: Somehow, this took me three weeks to write. I think I'm happy with it but it took a few rounds of edits so who even knows. I hope you like it <3
🦋 Masterlist 🦋
You and Jake had been living together, in relative domestic bliss, for nearly eight months when you decided that you needed to bring him to his knees.
When you moved in, you hadn’t seen him since his flight school graduation. Your older brother Aaron insisted you all go to support Jake, not that your parents put up much of a fight–growing up, he’d been at your place more than he’d been at his own. He was relatively the same, if not broader, tanner, and more sure of himself if that was at all possible.
You had always had a familiar relationship and fell back into that pattern relatively quickly when you moved in, desperate to leave Texas. It may have been possible that you had the teeniest crush on Jake when you were teenagers (what sixteen year old, wouldn’t? Handsome, kind, athletic Jake who ate your waffles and bought you ice cream to make up for it.) So, one evening, when you were wrestling for the remote–he wanted to watch the taped Cowboys game, and you wanted literally anything else–you casually said, “What if I flash you? Then can we watch Love Island?”
It was a joke, mostly. And it had become a secret pastime of yours to try to make the cocky aviator blush. So far, you had only succeeded once: when he threw you over his shoulder when you tried to walk into the second Sephora that day. But you were wearing a mini dress and you shrieked that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He dropped you so fast, his cheeks a bright red that only subsided after minutes of your cackling and a peek at your bike shorts.
He was laying on the couch and you were on top of him, teasing him with your fingers around the hem of your shirt. You were expecting him to roll his eyes or push you off like he had hundreds of times before, so it surprised you when he scoffed out a “Please.”
You sat up in his lap, arms crossed, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know.” Jake brought his large hands up to your hips to steady you but you slapped them away.
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated slightly exasperated. “In my mind you still have headgear.”
“I never had headgear.” You frowned and got off his lap, no longer interested in being in his proximity. He was messing with you. Intellectually, you knew he was messing with you but you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting.
“Didn’t you?” That evil glint that you knew so well resurfaced in his green eyes.
“No!”
“But you get my point.” He only spread out further, taking up the space you were once in.
You were standing, sleep shorts scrunched in your fists. This was so ridiculous but you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at Jake’s jabs. And his amusement only made it worse. “Just fucking say it,” you spat.
“Say what?” he asked, folding his arms behind his head.
“Say it, Jake.”
He heaved a sigh, like this conversation was an inconvenience. “I don’t find you attractive.”
And you decided, right then, that you would break him.
–
“So, what’s the plan again?” Natasha asked. The two of you and Bob were sitting at her dining room table surrounded by Chinese takeout. You were closest to them of the rest of the Dagger Squad and when you asked to convene an emergency meeting, Nat immediately offered her place.
“To make him beg for me,” you said simply. They were well aware of your borderline antagonistic relationship with Jake and had given up on trying to understand it a while back. She even said that it “explained a lot about him.”
It hadn’t always been this way. In school, when your brother and Jake were thick as thieves, before Aaron got himself a wife, baby, and medical degree, Jake was nearly reverent of you and your family. He would help with dishes and offer to go grocery shopping, and even dropped you off at soccer practice a few times. But as the two of you got closer through your regular correspondence during his deployment and his time staying at your house when he was on leave, the relationship became more…playful. It didn’t really matter that no one else understood it, because you and he did.
“No, I got that part,” Natasha said. “ I just don’t understand how we get there.”
“Be sexy,” Bob said with this awkward grimace on his face. “I assume.” It took you a little longer to get close to Bob but after weeks of snapping back at Jake for him, you eventually wore him down. He was the one that was able to get you a job with one of the civilian contractors on base.
You were honestly so grateful for, really, the entire Dagger Squad who had taken you in as one of their own when you had spent so long feeling trapped and alone at your parents’ place.
“He already said he didn’t find you attractive,” Nat said. “Which is crazy by the way.”
“Thank you,” you said, mouth full of egg roll.
“So what are you going to do? Single White Female all his exes?”
Your eyes blew wide. “Natasha, you’re a fucking genius!”
“I’m on it,” Bob said, already starting his research and ignoring Nat violently shaking her head.
Jake had had very few actual girlfriends, maybe five altogether but that’s all you needed.
Candace
Candace was Jake’s most recent girlfriend and the only woman to make it onto his instagram grid (besides you). You had only interacted with her once in the first week you lived with him until she unceremoniously disappeared from his life, but the picture was still up. She was in a strappy red bikini sitting on Jake’s lap. Bob found the exact one online and you were now wearing it underneath your clothes for the team beach day. It was flattering, if a little annoying to put on—it’s structural integrity completely dependent on a series of bows you tied that morning.
“You still mad at me, baby?” Jake smirked, dropping himself into the beach chair next to yours. He was still panting from touch football, his golden abs glistening with salt water and sweat but you weren’t paying any mind to that.
“Of course, baby.” You batted your eyelashes. “Why would I be mad?”
“Maybe because I–”
“Just hold that thought,” you interrupted him, turning your whole attention to Javy who wanted someone to go into the water with him. You readily agreed and stood, casually angling your body to face Jake and took off your shirt. You worked slowly and turned away to give him the most advantageous view of you shimmying out of your shorts. If you weren’t so set on revenge, you might have felt embarrassed but when you looked at him, in all your bikinied glory, you absolutely relished in his eyes scanning your body.
“What were you saying, Jakey?” you asked as innocently as possible and left him a stuttering mess.
You stood in the surf, wanting to remain as elegant as possible to emulate Candace and avoid a drowned rat look. Javy, bless him, eased in also, talking animatedly about the John Wick movies that you admitted you had never seen. “We should do a movie night,” he said resolutely. He peeked behind him at the rest of the group, but did a quick double take. “Incoming,” he warned.
You barely had enough time to turn around when Jake hauled you in a fireman carry, bringing you deeper into the ocean.
“Jake!” you wailed. “What the hell? Put me down!”
“And swim alone?” he asked but it came out breathless, as he tried to keep you contained despite your squirming.
“You’re an adult, aren’t you? Maybe act like one.” You were panicking a bit. It had taken you an hour to get your hair into the perfect breezy but sexy updo and the water would totally ruin it.
“You first,” he said and dropped you.
The rest of the day went by smoothly, hanging out with your friends and drinking spiked seltzers. That is until you left completely dehydrated and with the most awkward sunburn of your life.
You hissed as Jake helped you out of his truck, your tender skin sticking to the leather seats.
“I know.” He frowned, leading you into your shared apartment. “I think I have aloe in one of these drawers.” He immediately began rummaging, first in the junk drawer and then in the bathroom cabinets. You followed him, carefully removing Jake’s oversized shirt that he leant you.
“I think I just need a cold shower.”
“Just let me do this first.” He spoke softly, squeezing a glob of gel on his fingers and delicately rubbed it on you. “Isn’t this usually why you wear a rashguard?”
“I just wanted to try something different.” You held the bikini top to your chest, letting him pop the knots at your shoulders so he could gain better access. The fabric gave immediately, falling limp at your fingers.
“Is it because of what I said?” he asked. You were facing away from him now and couldn’t see his expression. But his cool fingers across your back felt heavenly and you couldn't help but close your eyes.
“No.”
“Why is it so important to you?” Jake spoke barely above a whisper.
You whipped your head around to look at him now and flinched from the pain of it. Your eyes narrowed, “It’s not.”
“Does baby have a crush on me?” You saw challenge in his eyes and if anyone was going to rise to it, it would be you.
“And if I did?” Your tone was firm, not giving away a single thing. You squared your shoulders and tightened your jaw, portraying confidence despite being half naked and bright red.
Jake’s eyebrows raised. He took your face in his hand and inspected it. Your breath caught at his close proximity. After what felt to you like a minute but was probably no more than a few seconds, he released you. “Stop fucking with me,” he mumbled, smirk firmly in place.
Athena
According to Bob, Jake and Athena dated for two months and the only reason they knew it lasted that long was because of the lingerie she left hanging in his bathroom. When it was gone, they knew, so was she.
Your Saturday morning was spent with Natasha in Victoria’s Secret (Bob, understandably, passed on this excursion). Your burn had faded but your relationship with Jake hadn’t healed similarly. You weren’t sure if he’d intentionally been giving you the cold shoulder or if he’d just been having a busy work week but regardless, you hadn’t seen him more than ten minutes.
“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” Natasha asked after you had explained your last interaction with him. “I mean, it seems intense.” She held up ruffled pink boy shorts eliciting a laugh from you.
“It’s always intense,” you shrugged. “It’s kind of our thing.” You started digging through a drawer for the matching black lace thong to the bra you already had.
Nat made a face. “That looks so itchy.”
“I don’t exactly have to wear it.” You flashed her a devious smile before moving to the next one.
“Did anything ever happen between you two?”
“Are you kidding? Aaron would never have let that happen.” Much to your teenage annoyance, your brother was very protective of you. The only boyfriends you had in high school were secret, sneaking kisses underneath the bleachers or in your room before he got back from football practice. You remembered one afternoon in the tenth grade when Aaron and Jake came home early and caught a boy sneaking out your window. Jake held you back, stroking your hair as tears streamed down your face, while your brother chased him down the street. No one got near you after that. Even after they graduated.
“Jake did come back to take me to prom,” you said. “He got special dispensation and everything.”
“That was sweet of him. Maybe–”
You shut that down immediately. “It was practically punishment for scaring off anyone else who would’ve taken me.” Unfortunately for you, Jake left a lasting legacy.
“I need to see those pictures.”
“You definitely don’t.” You laughed and poked her in the side.
Before Jake got home from the gym you washed your new lingerie in the sink and hung it on the shower rod to dry. Despite Natasha’s reservations, you were feeling giddy. You kept your bedroom door ajar, waiting with bated breath to hear the familiar jingle of his keys in the hall.
You snuck a peek at him, taking in his disheveled hair and rippling back muscles as he stripped walking into the bathroom. Jake had always been gorgeous, even when you were kids all the mothers would coo over him. The boy could get anything he wanted with a smile and a “ma’am.” It was infuriating but you couldn’t say you didn’t understand it.
When he got out, you were bundled up in a blanket on the couch. He ran a towel through his hair and you watched his deft fingers push each button through its respective hole up his fly and followed the line up his happy trail to his face, looking straight at you. You were certain you blushed.
“Hey.” He cleared the gravel from his throat before continuing, “Are you going out tonight?”
“Just to the Hard Deck with y’all,” you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “If that’s okay.”
“Can you be ready in twenty?”
When Jake ducked into his room, you tip-toed over to the counter, swiped his car keys into the sleeve of your sweatshirt to keep them from making noise and set them down in the bathroom. It was steamy and smelled like his body wash. You noticed your lingerie set had been carefully moved to the counter and you were nearly giddy. You brought them with you into your room to get ready.
You took a deep breath outside the double doors of the Hard Deck. Jake went in but you took a beat to smooth your hair and apply lip gloss. You wore a white summer dress with little pink rosettes all over it and a high slit up the thigh. It was the perfect night for it with a fantastic breeze, if only you could keep it together. You tried to wear the lingerie beneath it but Nat was right, it was not comfortable.
You shouldn’t have been this nervous, you were walking into a bar that you had walked into a million times before, but the look Jake gave you after he retrieved his keys from the bathroom kept replaying in your mind. Judging by his sharp intake of breath, the way he jerked his hand back like you burned when he led you out the front door, he must have noticed the empty space next to the sink.
You forced your shoulders back, fixed your face into the confident girl you were and pushed the doors open with a bang.
The bar seemed to stand still, all eyes on you, as you paused in the entry for the moment, feigning that you were searching for your people (you knew exactly where the Dagger Squad was, in the same spot they always were) while you let the wind blow through your dress to flash a little leg.
Penny called you over and handed you a beer, “Don’t you look gorgeous!”
Before you could rebuff, the man next to you leaning against the bar interrupted: “That you do.” He introduced himself as naval officer Danny. He wasn’t bad looking by any means with his big biceps and flashy smile, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Jake.
You giggled as he twirled you to show off the dress. “What other tricks you got?” he asked with a raise of his brow.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You winked at him. It felt great; clearly this had potential.
“I think we’d all like to know.” Jake was here to break up your party.
“Christ, Hangman. Why do you always ruin a good thing?” You couldn’t even see Danny with Jake standing between you two. You knew Jake meant this little intrusion as a bucket of ice water, but it had the exact opposite effect. You were practically thrumming.
“Fuck off, Danny.” Jake asked Penny to put your drink on his tab before dragging you away by the wrist.
“Bye, Danny.” You couldn’t resist waving at him because it meant more of Jake’s hands on you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, tight like you might escape.
“Bye, sweetheart.” Danny gave you a lascivious smile.
You laughed at the scowl on Jake’s face. You, reluctantly, escaped his grip and turned to face him. “Aw Jakey, you can twirl me too.” You wrapped your hair around your index finger. “If you want to.”
He pulled you back so close to him. “Maybe later,” he sneered but you ignored it.
“I’ll hold you to it,” you said and sauntered over to your friends.
You and Jake certainly had your soft moments too. He cooked you dinner more nights than not and always asked about your work day and you did the same, keeping him company in the kitchen and making sure that he had everything he needed. You knew everything about each other and enjoyed being around one another–even when one of you was being annoying as hell.
You weren’t very good at pool, but that didn’t matter when you leaned over the table, letting Jake get an eyeful. He beat you, easily, but not without a few unforced errors. You caught him a few times staring hard at your dress, as if he was trying to see through it.
“Lost your edge, Bagman?” Natasha joked.
“What could I have lost when I won?” You liked Jake when he was so sure of himself, it's what made him so fun to mess with, to flap the unflappable man.
“Your dignity.” You smiled sweetly.
“I have it on good authority that I never had any.”
You squeezed into the booth between Bradley and Jake. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed up,” Rooster said between sips of beer.
“I just thought it was time to get out of my work clothes.”
“And thank god for it!” Reuben called from across the table.
You flipped him off, only making him laugh harder. You enjoyed the easy banter between the Dagger Squad, the companionship and in-jokes. You had never really experienced that before, being a part of a tight knit group, and you loved it.
After the third brush of Jake’s knuckles on your bare thigh, you thought you would give him an opening. “You coming on to me, baby?” You kept your voice low so only he would hear.
“Why?” he asked, smirk blooming on his face, giving you exactly what you wanted. “You want me to, baby?”
“Can’t a girl just want a little male attention?”
“Not when she’s you.”
You recoiled, ready to fire back but you didn't want to argue with him in public. You fought every instinct in you and decided to extricate yourself, “Let me out.”
“Where are you going?” Jake asked, not moving an inch. He was infuriating.
You schooled your features, being careful not to betray how upset you actually were, and said, “I want another drink.” When he still didn’t move, you got up on your knees and straddled his hips. It was your intention to quickly maneuver over him but he stopped you before you could get out on his other side, his hands automatically moving to your hips.
“I could get it for you,” he said, thumb caressing your hip bone through the thin material of your dress.
You hated the way heat pooled at your core and how your eyes flicked to his lips. You leaned forward even closer, taking the opportunity to ruin his night, nearly pressing your chest to his, “What the fuck are you doing, Seresin?”
His hands couldn’t have left you faster; Aaron calls him that, Mav calls him that, not you. And you left him before the shock wore off.
You made a beeline to the bar, asked Penny for a shot of tequila, and downed it ignoring her concerned look.
“Hangman let you down, honey?” Danny asked, still in his exact spot.
“Something like that,” you mumbled.
“I promise, one night with me and you’ll be wondering what his name was again.” He reached out to grab you but you were too quick.
“Fuck off, Danny.” You tried keeping your voice light but your head was swimming and you really just needed some air. But Danny followed you. He was clearly drunk, swaying a bit as he stood.
“Don’t be cute,” he said. You kept walking but he grabbed your wrist, “You can’t wear a dress like that and not expect a man to–”
It happened in an instant. Danny on the ground and Jake looming over him with a swollen fist.
“Sorry, Penny.” Jake looked almost sheepish before turning to you. He touched your face and inspected your wrist. “Are you okay?”
You could only nod.
Penny gave him a towel full of ice and ushered you both into a back room, letting Javy get Danny in a cab.
You watched Jake, he didn’t betray that his hand hurt but you knew it did. “Sorry,” you said. “I was on one tonight.”
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Those are usually more fun for me.” He passed you his scotch to sip. “It’s fine, he deserved it.”
You fell into a comfortable silence, sharing Jake’s drink, until he opened his mouth to speak. Then, he shut it.
“What?” you asked but he just shook his head. “Are you shy?” You were teasing but, for perhaps the first time in his life, he actually did look shy.
It took him a second but he finally asked, “Why did you dress up tonight?” Once the words were out, his nerves disappeared like you had imagined them. A total blip.
“I wanted you to think I was pretty,” you said honestly.
He blushed and it felt like a win, even if he responded with a quip. “Is it my birthday?”
Cassandra
The only time Jake accidentally sent you an email that was meant for your brother was about Cassandra. Endless paragraphs waxing poetic about the nightgowns she wore; thin and silky and revealing…
Javy’s John Wick movie night was taking place at his studio apartment. It took some wearing down but he eventually agreed to making it a sleepover and everyone was going to be there. You even borrowed Jake’s sleeping bag.
Bradley brought what could only be described as a fuck ton of beer and Mickey dumped out a duffel bag full of boxes of candy and microwaveable popcorn on the coffee table.
“Where’s your sleeping bag?” Reuben asked him.
“You have it,” Mickey said.
“No—“
“Yeah, when we were at Walmart. It was in the shopping cart and I was holding the candy and I asked you…” He trailed off, the crease between his brow only getting deeper.
“No, you didn’t.” Reuben’s arms were crossed but his expression betrayed his sadistic glee.
“Fuck! Javy?”
“Yeah, we can share my bed.” He rolled his eyes. This was the first team event Javy had ever hosted and you had a feeling it would be the last.
Before the first movie started, you and Nat squeezed together into Javy’s tiny bathroom to change into your PJs.
“Show me,” Natasha nearly giggled as you reached for yours. It was an ivory silk nightgown that stopped barely at mid-thigh and a little pair of matching bloomers. The fabric was thin but opaque so you didn’t feel totally exposed. “He’s going to lose his mind,” she said.
You and Nat settled into the spaces on either side of Jake on the couch and Javy pressed play on the movie. You did miss Jake’s double-take when you came out in the nightgown—and neither did Nat who gave you a wink.
Honestly, it may have been the quietest the group had ever been. You were the only one who hadn’t seen it and yet they were all rapt. Even Jake’s focus was completely captured, the only time he looked away was when you reached over him to grab a handful from Natasha’s popcorn bowl.
Reuben fell asleep first. 11:30, right on the dot. That was his schedule and he was notorious for sticking to it. The rest of you got into your sleeping bags shortly after, unable to concentrate on anything but his snoring.
You tried getting comfortable but it just wasn’t happening. You had no choice but to lie there and watch Bradley scroll through his phone in the next sleeping bag over.
“Any progress?” He whispered.
“Some,” you said, inching closer to him.
“He’s stronger than I thought. I for sure would’ve cracked by now.” He looked at you, smiling face illuminated by the glow of his screen. “I mean, who sleeps in that?”
You punched his shoulder. “Shut up.”
Bradley chuckled but stopped quickly when Jake got up to get water. He urged you to go with him, practically unzipping your sleeping bag.
“Alright!” You rolled your eyes.
The kitchen wasn’t much more than a wall of cabinets and appliances and a tiny island. The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted when he saw you. “You hungry?” He asked, head in the fridge. “Javy’s got celery.”
“Anything else in there?”
“Nope,” he said and closed the door, enveloping you back in darkness. He handed you his glass of water and you took a few sips before handing it back. This wasn’t unlike what the two of you did when you were at your own apartment except it usually devolved into the both of you passing out on the couch to the sound of the Food Network.
“Where’s Guy Fieri when you need him?”
“Tell me about it,” Jake mumbled as he refilled his glass. He walked you back to your spot on the floor. “Is this new?” He asked, rubbing the material between his fingers.
“Kind of,” you said, glad for the darkness.
There was a long beat of silence. You were waiting for him to say something about the emails or Cassandra. But he didn’t.
“It looks good on you,” he said and headed quickly back to his own spot on the floor.
Warmth bloomed in your chest, encouraged by the compliment, and you didn’t want him to leave just yet. “Hey, Jake,” you called. “Do you want to go to that diner in the morning?”
“Absolutely,” he said and took a few steps toward you. “I would kill for those blueberry panca—“
But he didn’t see Bradley stick out his foot and he tripped, his full glass of water landing all over you.
You gasped. The fabric clung to your skin, cooling you down to freezing.
Jake swore. He apologized profusely and ushered you into the bathroom. “Maybe Coyote has a hair dryer.”
He flicked on the light and began rummaging under the sink. You were totally blinded, your eyes weren’t able to adjust to the sudden change in light with any speed.
You heard Jake stop before you saw it. When your vision came into focus, he was staring up at you slack-jawed. The nightgown had gone completely sheer. He could see everything.
“Jake!” You shrieked, wrapping your arms around yourself. This was too much, even for you.
“Sorry! Sorry!” He ran out of the bathroom and came back with his hoodie, offering it to you.
“Well, turn around!” Once his back was turned, you stripped off the wet top. It landed on the tiled floor with a smack. You languished in Jake’s hoodie, it was warm and soft and smelled like him. Next thing you knew, he had taken off his sweatpants and was helping you step into them. He crouched down, only in a t-shirt and briefs and pulled the drawstring tight around your waist, tying it into a neat bow.
“We can go home,” he said, his expression holding nothing but concern.
“I’m good,” you promised and scurried back to your spot next to Bradley, at a complete loss for what just happened. You were breathing heavily despite not having exerted yourself.
“How’s that for progress?” He whispered.
“You’re such a fucking douche.” But every time you closed your eyes, there was Jake with an unmistakable hunger in his.
Kennedy McMaster
Kennedy was the only of Jake’s girlfriends you knew personally. She was your next door neighbor, head cheerleader, and his longest high school relationship. He took her to his prom. Your strongest memories of her were her glaring at you when he drove her home after their dates and the cloying scent of her pink sugar perfume that lingered on all his clothes.
You were determined not to let your last encounter deter you. It was shocking and something you were not at all prepared for but it, ultimately, served your mission. Now you knew with near certainty that he was attracted to you, he just needed a little push to admit it.
Your boss was out of the country this week so you were working from home and Jake’s truck was in the shop the last few days so you’d been driving and picking him up in your old Jetta without temperature control to make up for Maverick’s disappointment at seeing his bruised knuckles.
“Don’t you think these women are exes for a reason?” Nat asked under the spray of the shower. You and she often FaceTimed when she was alone in the women’s locker room. She was one of the bravest people you knew, but even she was better safe than sorry.
“I mean, yeah. But he was dating them for a reason too.” You were squeezing yourself into an aesthetic that could only be described as “yummy mummy”--it was the closest thing to wearing a cheerleader uniform as an adult. You wore leggings, a matching little zip up jacket, and a brightly colored sports bra. “The goal is for him to think I’m attractive, not for him to fall in love with me.”
“You sure?” Nat asked but you didn’t hear her, distracted by an incoming text.
~ Bob: I can’t believe you made me do this but it’s done
You squealed–you tasked Bob with spraying your perfume into Jake’s flight suit while Mickey and Reuben ran interference.
“He fucking did it?” Natasha laughed incredulously. “I for sure thought he would chicken out.”
“And we still would have respected him for it.”
“As if.”
You laughed but even to your own ears it sounded nervous.
By the end of the week, Jake was so looking forward to getting his truck back and you were ready to go back to wearing sweats, even though you were enjoying Mickey’s comments every time he saw you in the tight athleisure: “I wouldn’t even mind driving a minivan if it came with you.”
When you’d arrived on base to pick Jake up, you’d been informed that he was being held back for extra drills. Mav, not wanting you to die of heat stroke in your shitbox car, had invited you to enjoy the A/C inside. It was a particularly hot day and, even without the jacket, a sheen of sweat had developed on your body.
You sighed when the light breeze coming through the hangar hit you but the scene you walked into made you want to go back to your sweltering car. Maverick stood above a panting Jake, having just finished doing push-ups.
“Again, Seresin,” Maverick said. “You’re distracted. Making stupid maneuvers.”
By the dark green stains on Jake’s flight suit, you could tell he’d been doing them for a while. But he kept his expression neutral, taking his lashings.
“How many times do I have to say it?” Maverick’s arms were crossed. “You’re not alone out there.” Jake faltered a little. “Keep going,” Mav urged.
The rest of the Dagger Squad fell in line beside you, watching.
“I think you took it too far,” Javy said. You blushed, not realizing that he knew.
“Dude.” Reuben hit his arm.
Javy waved him off. “If you didn’t want me to know, you shouldn’t have fucking told me.” He turned back to you, eyes soft but firm. “It’s too much. You’re everywhere. He can’t concentrate. He’s making dumb mistakes and…” He trailed off, clearly trying of the right words. “That comes with a high cost in this line of work.”
You were fighting back tears, not wanting them to feel like they had to comfort you when you were the one who fucked up. “I’m so sorry,” you said to everyone. “I got carried away and involved you all in something that should never have happened in the first place. It was stupid and I’m sorry.” You took a deep shaky breath. “I’ll apologize to Jake too.” Just thinking about how you were going to explain all this to him made you severely nauseous.
“Don’t apologize to Hangman!” Mickey said.
“Yeah, he doesn’t need to know,” Reuben added, swinging his arm around your shoulder and giving you a squeeze. “Maybe just keep it out of work.”
You felt terrible the whole ride back to your apartment but Jake seemed happy as a clam. He asked to drive, so you let him, and he was humming along to the radio. He seemed more relaxed than he’d been in a while.
You were nearly home when he asked, “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your perfume?”
You practically jumped out of your skin. You analyzed his face, looking for any hint at how much he knew. He wore his same smug amusement.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.
“I didn’t think you would,” he laughed.
“Maybe you’re having a stroke.”
“Must be.” He nodded with pretend thoughtfulness. “Why else would my flight suit, which is always in my locker unless I’m literally wearing it, smell like you?”
You looked at him, grateful he had to keep his eyes on the road. All the windows were down, the breeze whipping through his hair. Even exhausted and covered in sweat, he looked incredible. “Is it such a bad thing?” You practically squeaked that out.
“Not unless you consider thinking about you instead of my training exercise a bad thing.” He threw his hand over the back of your seat to back into the parking spot to make it easier on you in the morning and, despite the heat, you shivered. When he had successfully made it into the spot, he stayed close to you for a beat longer. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Then you know how to make it stop.” You leaned impossibly closer. It wouldn’t take much for him to kiss you. He licked his lips and couldn’t tear his eyes off yours.
Your heart thundered. This had to be it.
“I should call Aaron.” He backed away. He couldn’t even meet your gaze. “He always takes forever to respond,” he mumbled. And in an instant, you were alone in the car.
Giulia
Not wanting to rely on the team, you dug back through your emails with Jake to find information. All he wrote was that she was a flight attendant from Milan who made insane baked goods. It was a single line in a single email dropped in the middle of a long-winded anecdote about starching vs. not starching his service uniform.
You were going to bake a pie. You had prepared the night before by watching Claire Saffitz videos and calling your mother, but your last meeting ran long and you were late coming home from work. You tried being quick but the custard curdled and the crust burned and this was all so stupid, you couldn’t even remember what you were doing it all for in the first place. You would’ve sobbed but you didn’t even have enough energy for that.
You ordered a pizza and thought about changing out of the ridiculous outfit you wore to work—your knee-length pencil dress looked flight attendant-esque, especially with the twilly scarf tied around your neck. But by the time it had arrived, you ran out of time. Jake was already at the door.
He sat down beside you at the counter and dropped his head in his hands with a deep sigh.
“You want a slice, baby?” But you asked softly, without the usual teasing associated with the nickname.
And he followed suit, “More than anything, baby.” The exhaustion resurfaced his home-grown twang exactly how it sounded in all your memories. The nickname thing started after Aaron had gotten his first girlfriend. He was in the eighth grade and they would hold hands and end each sentence calling the other “baby.” Jake had only started doing it with you because he was a little jealous of losing his best friend’s attention, not that he would’ve ever admitted it. But it was everything to you, to have an inside joke with him.
He didn’t even use the plate you set out, devouring half the slice in a single bite. “You look cute,” he said, tugging on your neck scarf a little. “You're usually in sweats already when I get home.”
“I tried baking you a pie.” You couldn’t even look at him. Somehow this felt so much more vulnerable than anything you had done thus far.
“You did?” His face broke into the goofiest grin.
“I burned it.”
“What was it supposed to be?” He squeezed your shoulder.
“Lemon.”
“I love lemon.”
“I know,” you demurred. You contemplated making lemon bars but making shortbread seemed much more involved than a cookie crust. Idiot.
“Do you remember the tiramisu you made for your parents anniversary?” He laughed, throwing his head pack. “How you managed to burn a dessert you don’t bake, I have no idea.”
“I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to bake it!” You cried, a grin resurfacing on your face.
“How–”
“The recipe was vibes based.”
“Whatever that means.”
“Yeah, whatever that means.”
You smiled at one another, both of you feeling more lively.
The two of you finished the pizza before deciding to get into more comfortable clothing. You contorted yourself trying to get at the invisible zipper until you eventually gave up. You didn’t really want to ask Jake because you were done teasing and torturing him. You were done with this entire endeavor. You didn’t need him to decide you were worthy of dating as long as you got to spend time with him and, in truth, you were quite certain that you’ve been hurting yourself more than you’ve actually had an impact on him.
But the dress didn’t fit over your head and the dumb little TikTok Shop magnet contraption broke after its first use, zipping up the dress that morning. So, after a great deal of effort, you padded over to his side of the apartment and knocked softly on the door. He let you in, dressed in navy briefs and a worn t-shirt. His room was neat as a pin with no clothes on the floor and hospital corners folded in his sheets.
“Can you unzip me?” You moved your hair to expose the zipper to him, watching his reflection in the mirror leaning against the wall.
You watched him sink his teeth into his bottom lip. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please,” you begged. “I’m stuck.” You were starting to feel claustrophobic, scenarios of wearing that dress forever clouded your mind.
You shivered when he hooked his fingers under the collar of your dress. Jake took his time dragging the zipper down, trailing his fingers down your spine.
He pushed apart the seam of your dress and splayed his hand against your skin, the tips of his fingers ducking just beneath the strap of your bra eliciting a gasp from your lips. Like a man possessed, he continued, a dark look crossing his face.
“Jake,” you moaned, as he snuck his hands around your hips, inside your dress and grazed the lacy trim of your underwear. You felt like you were on fire, every bit of you alight under his half-lidded gaze.
Jake traced the line of your jaw before tilting your chin up just the slightest bit, angling you just right to give him access to the knot of the scarf around your neck. You could have wept when he pulled his last hand out of your dress but the moment the scarf was gone, his hands were back dragging you flush to him.
“Say my name again,” he demanded, voice like gravel.
“Jake,” you moaned louder, having forgotten the ability to regulate. You were lost to the anticipation. And before you had a chance to gain any sense of composure, he drove his tongue into your pulse point.
Your whines turned breathy and knees weakened but he only held you tighter so he could continue his onslaught of nipping and sucking down your shoulder.
You arched your back, wanting to do more, feel more. And you watched him nuzzle into the line of your hair, hissing when you grazed his erection with your ass. Jake’s lips parted, flush, and you were sure he was going to say something.
His phone started to ring, and you cringed, an old picture of Jake arm in arm with your brother lighting up the screen. Jake unceremoniously removed his hands from you. “One sec,” he said and answered the fucking phone. “Yeah buddy, what’s up?”
You looked at him with shock and disdain but he was sitting at the foot of his bed. Your heart sank and you tried to step away but he latched onto the back of your dress and gently pulled you down to sit on his knee. His grip wasn’t tight, you could’ve left. But you didn’t. Instead, you sat there, uncomfortable in your freezing wet panties.
You could only hear Jake’s side of the conversation, he was hesitating and if you didn’t know him better you might have said he was nervous. “Look,” he said, “I was wondering…” He glanced at you, an expression you couldn’t read on his face. “How would you feel if I asked out your sister?”
You may have blacked out. You saw his lips move and the smile on his face but you couldn’t decipher the words, not when excitement, love, and rage were all rushing in your ears.
Jake tossed his phone, beaming, and slid his hand up your thigh. That seemed to snap you back to the moment because you stood, backing away from his touch. “What the fuck was that?”
He stayed sitting and spoke very calmly. It was infuriating. “I don’t have much in the way of family. You and your brother are everything—”
“So you have to ask him permission to fuck me?”
“Is that what we were doing?” He asked with this dopey look in his eyes. Butterflies erupted in your stomach.
“Don’t be cute,” you said, willing yourself to stay angry. “I’m not some fucking plaything—”
“But it’s fine to toy with me, right?” He stood, then. “That’s why I’ve been half-cocked in my jet all week.” He didn’t raise his voice or move closer when you took an instinctive step back, and you lost all of the moral high-ground you may have had.
Your back hit the door, you hadn’t realized you were so close to it. He followed you this time, resting his forearm above your head, fingers trailing up the back of your thigh to where your dress was nearly hiked up leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. With how close he was now, you were sure he could hear your heart thumping.
“Would you have stopped if he said no?”
“No.” Jake crashed his lips to yours. The kiss was sloppy and imbued with so much longing. It was everything you had wanted for as long as you can remember.
He pressed open-mouth kisses down the column of your throat and dragged your clothes down with him.
The dress hit the floor and he sank to his knees. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I-I don’t know.” You were completely overwhelmed, hot beneath his touch.
“You’ve been working me for months.” His smirk was salacious. “I can’t imagine you didn’t have something in mind.”
“Say it,” you demanded, regaining lucidity.
“What do you want me to say?” He laughed bitterly. “That you’re always on my mind? That you only get more beautiful every time I see you? That, every night, I think about you in that fucking nightgown?” He wiped his face, looking suddenly exhausted. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying not to think about you this way?”
You knelt down, slotting your legs on either side of his thigh. He brought his hands to your hips immediately, helping rock you back and forth across his hard muscle. He kissed your neck and you sighed, “I love that you do.”
“I want to watch you cum like this,” Jake mumbled.
“I’m not sure I can,” you panted, fully enjoying the friction but certain that it would not be enough to get you there until he yanked your cotton panties up, increasing the pressure on your clit.
A wave of pleasure shot through you. Jake deafened your moans with his kiss, keeping you steady as you moved your hips faster.
“Ja-ake,” you moaned, pleasure building in your core.
“Yeah, baby.” He flicked your nipple through the unlined cup of your bra and it sent you over the edge. His hands returned to your hips to help you ride out your orgasm.
You collapsed onto the carpet in a fit of giggles. This was so unbelievable. Even at the beginning, you never thought it would end this way.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said and the look of pure genuine love in his eyes took your breath away.
You pulled him down on top of you, kissing his cheeks and lacing your fingers in his hair. “Your turn?”
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” He teased, brushing the hair off your face.
“Do you have a condom?”
He reached over you to his jeans and took one out of his wallet.
“Aren’t we ambitious,” you said, already kicking off his briefs.
“And here I was, hoping you’d jump me in a supply closet.” Jake took his time removing your undergarments, taking you in as he teased your folds with his dick.
You groaned together as he pushed himself into you. “I’m not going to last that long,” Jake breathed into your skin and it only made you hotter. This man, who you’d been so taken with, was also incredibly taken by you.
You hooked your leg over his waist and he drove deeper into you. You ground your hips but he held you still to rub your clit in tiny dizzying circles.
A guttural moan erupted from your throat as you spiraled into your second orgasm. Jake kept going, rubbing and thrusting until your legs shook and the aftershocks became so intense that tears welled in your eyes. “Jake,” you cried, unable to take it anymore, and he came, nipping at your collarbone.
Once your breathing slowed and Jake disposed of the condom, he lifted you onto his bed. “Can I get you anything?” He asked with a kiss to your bare shoulder.
“Water.” He sat up to grab it and you followed.
“Darlin’, as long as I can help it, you will not be leaving my bed,” and Jake planted a long mind-numbing kiss to your already swollen lips.
As you sunk back into his pillow, watching the man you very nearly loved shirtless in the kitchen, you decided that wouldn’t be so bad.
Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader (8k words) - Jake is your older brother's best friend. So when he lets you live with him to get out of your childhood home, you're dying for him to see you as more than the 'kid sister.'
Warnings: This actually ended up being kind of filthy! mdni!
Note: Somehow, this took me three weeks to write. I think I'm happy with it but it took a few rounds of edits so who even knows. I hope you like it <3
🦋 Masterlist 🦋
You and Jake had been living together, in relative domestic bliss, for nearly eight months when you decided that you needed to bring him to his knees.
When you moved in, you hadn’t seen him since his flight school graduation. Your older brother Aaron insisted you all go to support Jake, not that your parents put up much of a fight–growing up, he’d been at your place more than he’d been at his own. He was relatively the same, if not broader, tanner, and more sure of himself if that was at all possible.
You had always had a familiar relationship and fell back into that pattern relatively quickly when you moved in, desperate to leave Texas. It may have been possible that you had the teeniest crush on Jake when you were teenagers (what sixteen year old, wouldn’t? Handsome, kind, athletic Jake who ate your waffles and bought you ice cream to make up for it.) So, one evening, when you were wrestling for the remote–he wanted to watch the taped Cowboys game, and you wanted literally anything else–you casually said, “What if I flash you? Then can we watch Love Island?”
It was a joke, mostly. And it had become a secret pastime of yours to try to make the cocky aviator blush. So far, you had only succeeded once: when he threw you over his shoulder when you tried to walk into the second Sephora that day. But you were wearing a mini dress and you shrieked that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He dropped you so fast, his cheeks a bright red that only subsided after minutes of your cackling and a peek at your bike shorts.
He was laying on the couch and you were on top of him, teasing him with your fingers around the hem of your shirt. You were expecting him to roll his eyes or push you off like he had hundreds of times before, so it surprised you when he scoffed out a “Please.”
You sat up in his lap, arms crossed, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know.” Jake brought his large hands up to your hips to steady you but you slapped them away.
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated slightly exasperated. “In my mind you still have headgear.”
“I never had headgear.” You frowned and got off his lap, no longer interested in being in his proximity. He was messing with you. Intellectually, you knew he was messing with you but you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting.
“Didn’t you?” That evil glint that you knew so well resurfaced in his green eyes.
“No!”
“But you get my point.” He only spread out further, taking up the space you were once in.
You were standing, sleep shorts scrunched in your fists. This was so ridiculous but you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at Jake’s jabs. And his amusement only made it worse. “Just fucking say it,” you spat.
“Say what?” he asked, folding his arms behind his head.
“Say it, Jake.”
He heaved a sigh, like this conversation was an inconvenience. “I don’t find you attractive.”
And you decided, right then, that you would break him.
–
“So, what’s the plan again?” Natasha asked. The two of you and Bob were sitting at her dining room table surrounded by Chinese takeout. You were closest to them of the rest of the Dagger Squad and when you asked to convene an emergency meeting, Nat immediately offered her place.
“To make him beg for me,” you said simply. They were well aware of your borderline antagonistic relationship with Jake and had given up on trying to understand it a while back. She even said that it “explained a lot about him.”
It hadn’t always been this way. In school, when your brother and Jake were thick as thieves, before Aaron got himself a wife, baby, and medical degree, Jake was nearly reverent of you and your family. He would help with dishes and offer to go grocery shopping, and even dropped you off at soccer practice a few times. But as the two of you got closer through your regular correspondence during his deployment and his time staying at your house when he was on leave, the relationship became more…playful. It didn’t really matter that no one else understood it, because you and he did.
“No, I got that part,” Natasha said. “ I just don’t understand how we get there.”
“Be sexy,” Bob said with this awkward grimace on his face. “I assume.” It took you a little longer to get close to Bob but after weeks of snapping back at Jake for him, you eventually wore him down. He was the one that was able to get you a job with one of the civilian contractors on base.
You were honestly so grateful for, really, the entire Dagger Squad who had taken you in as one of their own when you had spent so long feeling trapped and alone at your parents’ place.
“He already said he didn’t find you attractive,” Nat said. “Which is crazy by the way.”
“Thank you,” you said, mouth full of egg roll.
“So what are you going to do? Single White Female all his exes?”
Your eyes blew wide. “Natasha, you’re a fucking genius!”
“I’m on it,” Bob said, already starting his research and ignoring Nat violently shaking her head.
Jake had had very few actual girlfriends, maybe five altogether but that’s all you needed.
Candace
Candace was Jake’s most recent girlfriend and the only woman to make it onto his instagram grid (besides you). You had only interacted with her once in the first week you lived with him until she unceremoniously disappeared from his life, but the picture was still up. She was in a strappy red bikini sitting on Jake’s lap. Bob found the exact one online and you were now wearing it underneath your clothes for the team beach day. It was flattering, if a little annoying to put on—it’s structural integrity completely dependent on a series of bows you tied that morning.
“You still mad at me, baby?” Jake smirked, dropping himself into the beach chair next to yours. He was still panting from touch football, his golden abs glistening with salt water and sweat but you weren’t paying any mind to that.
“Of course, baby.” You batted your eyelashes. “Why would I be mad?”
“Maybe because I–”
“Just hold that thought,” you interrupted him, turning your whole attention to Javy who wanted someone to go into the water with him. You readily agreed and stood, casually angling your body to face Jake and took off your shirt. You worked slowly and turned away to give him the most advantageous view of you shimmying out of your shorts. If you weren’t so set on revenge, you might have felt embarrassed but when you looked at him, in all your bikinied glory, you absolutely relished in his eyes scanning your body.
“What were you saying, Jakey?” you asked as innocently as possible and left him a stuttering mess.
You stood in the surf, wanting to remain as elegant as possible to emulate Candace and avoid a drowned rat look. Javy, bless him, eased in also, talking animatedly about the John Wick movies that you admitted you had never seen. “We should do a movie night,” he said resolutely. He peeked behind him at the rest of the group, but did a quick double take. “Incoming,” he warned.
You barely had enough time to turn around when Jake hauled you in a fireman carry, bringing you deeper into the ocean.
“Jake!” you wailed. “What the hell? Put me down!”
“And swim alone?” he asked but it came out breathless, as he tried to keep you contained despite your squirming.
“You’re an adult, aren’t you? Maybe act like one.” You were panicking a bit. It had taken you an hour to get your hair into the perfect breezy but sexy updo and the water would totally ruin it.
“You first,” he said and dropped you.
The rest of the day went by smoothly, hanging out with your friends and drinking spiked seltzers. That is until you left completely dehydrated and with the most awkward sunburn of your life.
You hissed as Jake helped you out of his truck, your tender skin sticking to the leather seats.
“I know.” He frowned, leading you into your shared apartment. “I think I have aloe in one of these drawers.” He immediately began rummaging, first in the junk drawer and then in the bathroom cabinets. You followed him, carefully removing Jake’s oversized shirt that he leant you.
“I think I just need a cold shower.”
“Just let me do this first.” He spoke softly, squeezing a glob of gel on his fingers and delicately rubbed it on you. “Isn’t this usually why you wear a rashguard?”
“I just wanted to try something different.” You held the bikini top to your chest, letting him pop the knots at your shoulders so he could gain better access. The fabric gave immediately, falling limp at your fingers.
“Is it because of what I said?” he asked. You were facing away from him now and couldn’t see his expression. But his cool fingers across your back felt heavenly and you couldn't help but close your eyes.
“No.”
“Why is it so important to you?” Jake spoke barely above a whisper.
You whipped your head around to look at him now and flinched from the pain of it. Your eyes narrowed, “It’s not.”
“Does baby have a crush on me?” You saw challenge in his eyes and if anyone was going to rise to it, it would be you.
“And if I did?” Your tone was firm, not giving away a single thing. You squared your shoulders and tightened your jaw, portraying confidence despite being half naked and bright red.
Jake’s eyebrows raised. He took your face in his hand and inspected it. Your breath caught at his close proximity. After what felt to you like a minute but was probably no more than a few seconds, he released you. “Stop fucking with me,” he mumbled, smirk firmly in place.
Athena
According to Bob, Jake and Athena dated for two months and the only reason they knew it lasted that long was because of the lingerie she left hanging in his bathroom. When it was gone, they knew, so was she.
Your Saturday morning was spent with Natasha in Victoria’s Secret (Bob, understandably, passed on this excursion). Your burn had faded but your relationship with Jake hadn’t healed similarly. You weren’t sure if he’d intentionally been giving you the cold shoulder or if he’d just been having a busy work week but regardless, you hadn’t seen him more than ten minutes.
“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” Natasha asked after you had explained your last interaction with him. “I mean, it seems intense.” She held up ruffled pink boy shorts eliciting a laugh from you.
“It’s always intense,” you shrugged. “It’s kind of our thing.” You started digging through a drawer for the matching black lace thong to the bra you already had.
Nat made a face. “That looks so itchy.”
“I don’t exactly have to wear it.” You flashed her a devious smile before moving to the next one.
“Did anything ever happen between you two?”
“Are you kidding? Aaron would never have let that happen.” Much to your teenage annoyance, your brother was very protective of you. The only boyfriends you had in high school were secret, sneaking kisses underneath the bleachers or in your room before he got back from football practice. You remembered one afternoon in the tenth grade when Aaron and Jake came home early and caught a boy sneaking out your window. Jake held you back, stroking your hair as tears streamed down your face, while your brother chased him down the street. No one got near you after that. Even after they graduated.
“Jake did come back to take me to prom,” you said. “He got special dispensation and everything.”
“That was sweet of him. Maybe–”
You shut that down immediately. “It was practically punishment for scaring off anyone else who would’ve taken me.” Unfortunately for you, Jake left a lasting legacy.
“I need to see those pictures.”
“You definitely don’t.” You laughed and poked her in the side.
Before Jake got home from the gym you washed your new lingerie in the sink and hung it on the shower rod to dry. Despite Natasha’s reservations, you were feeling giddy. You kept your bedroom door ajar, waiting with bated breath to hear the familiar jingle of his keys in the hall.
You snuck a peek at him, taking in his disheveled hair and rippling back muscles as he stripped walking into the bathroom. Jake had always been gorgeous, even when you were kids all the mothers would coo over him. The boy could get anything he wanted with a smile and a “ma’am.” It was infuriating but you couldn’t say you didn’t understand it.
When he got out, you were bundled up in a blanket on the couch. He ran a towel through his hair and you watched his deft fingers push each button through its respective hole up his fly and followed the line up his happy trail to his face, looking straight at you. You were certain you blushed.
“Hey.” He cleared the gravel from his throat before continuing, “Are you going out tonight?”
“Just to the Hard Deck with y’all,” you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “If that’s okay.”
“Can you be ready in twenty?”
When Jake ducked into his room, you tip-toed over to the counter, swiped his car keys into the sleeve of your sweatshirt to keep them from making noise and set them down in the bathroom. It was steamy and smelled like his body wash. You noticed your lingerie set had been carefully moved to the counter and you were nearly giddy. You brought them with you into your room to get ready.
You took a deep breath outside the double doors of the Hard Deck. Jake went in but you took a beat to smooth your hair and apply lip gloss. You wore a white summer dress with little pink rosettes all over it and a high slit up the thigh. It was the perfect night for it with a fantastic breeze, if only you could keep it together. You tried to wear the lingerie beneath it but Nat was right, it was not comfortable.
You shouldn’t have been this nervous, you were walking into a bar that you had walked into a million times before, but the look Jake gave you after he retrieved his keys from the bathroom kept replaying in your mind. Judging by his sharp intake of breath, the way he jerked his hand back like you burned when he led you out the front door, he must have noticed the empty space next to the sink.
You forced your shoulders back, fixed your face into the confident girl you were and pushed the doors open with a bang.
The bar seemed to stand still, all eyes on you, as you paused in the entry for the moment, feigning that you were searching for your people (you knew exactly where the Dagger Squad was, in the same spot they always were) while you let the wind blow through your dress to flash a little leg.
Penny called you over and handed you a beer, “Don’t you look gorgeous!”
Before you could rebuff, the man next to you leaning against the bar interrupted: “That you do.” He introduced himself as naval officer Danny. He wasn’t bad looking by any means with his big biceps and flashy smile, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Jake.
You giggled as he twirled you to show off the dress. “What other tricks you got?” he asked with a raise of his brow.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You winked at him. It felt great; clearly this had potential.
“I think we’d all like to know.” Jake was here to break up your party.
“Christ, Hangman. Why do you always ruin a good thing?” You couldn’t even see Danny with Jake standing between you two. You knew Jake meant this little intrusion as a bucket of ice water, but it had the exact opposite effect. You were practically thrumming.
“Fuck off, Danny.” Jake asked Penny to put your drink on his tab before dragging you away by the wrist.
“Bye, Danny.” You couldn’t resist waving at him because it meant more of Jake’s hands on you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, tight like you might escape.
“Bye, sweetheart.” Danny gave you a lascivious smile.
You laughed at the scowl on Jake’s face. You, reluctantly, escaped his grip and turned to face him. “Aw Jakey, you can twirl me too.” You wrapped your hair around your index finger. “If you want to.”
He pulled you back so close to him. “Maybe later,” he sneered but you ignored it.
“I’ll hold you to it,” you said and sauntered over to your friends.
You and Jake certainly had your soft moments too. He cooked you dinner more nights than not and always asked about your work day and you did the same, keeping him company in the kitchen and making sure that he had everything he needed. You knew everything about each other and enjoyed being around one another–even when one of you was being annoying as hell.
You weren’t very good at pool, but that didn’t matter when you leaned over the table, letting Jake get an eyeful. He beat you, easily, but not without a few unforced errors. You caught him a few times staring hard at your dress, as if he was trying to see through it.
“Lost your edge, Bagman?” Natasha joked.
“What could I have lost when I won?” You liked Jake when he was so sure of himself, it's what made him so fun to mess with, to flap the unflappable man.
“Your dignity.” You smiled sweetly.
“I have it on good authority that I never had any.”
You squeezed into the booth between Bradley and Jake. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed up,” Rooster said between sips of beer.
“I just thought it was time to get out of my work clothes.”
“And thank god for it!” Reuben called from across the table.
You flipped him off, only making him laugh harder. You enjoyed the easy banter between the Dagger Squad, the companionship and in-jokes. You had never really experienced that before, being a part of a tight knit group, and you loved it.
After the third brush of Jake’s knuckles on your bare thigh, you thought you would give him an opening. “You coming on to me, baby?” You kept your voice low so only he would hear.
“Why?” he asked, smirk blooming on his face, giving you exactly what you wanted. “You want me to, baby?”
“Can’t a girl just want a little male attention?”
“Not when she’s you.”
You recoiled, ready to fire back but you didn't want to argue with him in public. You fought every instinct in you and decided to extricate yourself, “Let me out.”
“Where are you going?” Jake asked, not moving an inch. He was infuriating.
You schooled your features, being careful not to betray how upset you actually were, and said, “I want another drink.” When he still didn’t move, you got up on your knees and straddled his hips. It was your intention to quickly maneuver over him but he stopped you before you could get out on his other side, his hands automatically moving to your hips.
“I could get it for you,” he said, thumb caressing your hip bone through the thin material of your dress.
You hated the way heat pooled at your core and how your eyes flicked to his lips. You leaned forward even closer, taking the opportunity to ruin his night, nearly pressing your chest to his, “What the fuck are you doing, Seresin?”
His hands couldn’t have left you faster; Aaron calls him that, Mav calls him that, not you. And you left him before the shock wore off.
You made a beeline to the bar, asked Penny for a shot of tequila, and downed it ignoring her concerned look.
“Hangman let you down, honey?” Danny asked, still in his exact spot.
“Something like that,” you mumbled.
“I promise, one night with me and you’ll be wondering what his name was again.” He reached out to grab you but you were too quick.
“Fuck off, Danny.” You tried keeping your voice light but your head was swimming and you really just needed some air. But Danny followed you. He was clearly drunk, swaying a bit as he stood.
“Don’t be cute,” he said. You kept walking but he grabbed your wrist, “You can’t wear a dress like that and not expect a man to–”
It happened in an instant. Danny on the ground and Jake looming over him with a swollen fist.
“Sorry, Penny.” Jake looked almost sheepish before turning to you. He touched your face and inspected your wrist. “Are you okay?”
You could only nod.
Penny gave him a towel full of ice and ushered you both into a back room, letting Javy get Danny in a cab.
You watched Jake, he didn’t betray that his hand hurt but you knew it did. “Sorry,” you said. “I was on one tonight.”
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Those are usually more fun for me.” He passed you his scotch to sip. “It’s fine, he deserved it.”
You fell into a comfortable silence, sharing Jake’s drink, until he opened his mouth to speak. Then, he shut it.
“What?” you asked but he just shook his head. “Are you shy?” You were teasing but, for perhaps the first time in his life, he actually did look shy.
It took him a second but he finally asked, “Why did you dress up tonight?” Once the words were out, his nerves disappeared like you had imagined them. A total blip.
“I wanted you to think I was pretty,” you said honestly.
He blushed and it felt like a win, even if he responded with a quip. “Is it my birthday?”
Cassandra
The only time Jake accidentally sent you an email that was meant for your brother was about Cassandra. Endless paragraphs waxing poetic about the nightgowns she wore; thin and silky and revealing…
Javy’s John Wick movie night was taking place at his studio apartment. It took some wearing down but he eventually agreed to making it a sleepover and everyone was going to be there. You even borrowed Jake’s sleeping bag.
Bradley brought what could only be described as a fuck ton of beer and Mickey dumped out a duffel bag full of boxes of candy and microwaveable popcorn on the coffee table.
“Where’s your sleeping bag?” Reuben asked him.
“You have it,” Mickey said.
“No—“
“Yeah, when we were at Walmart. It was in the shopping cart and I was holding the candy and I asked you…” He trailed off, the crease between his brow only getting deeper.
“No, you didn’t.” Reuben’s arms were crossed but his expression betrayed his sadistic glee.
“Fuck! Javy?”
“Yeah, we can share my bed.” He rolled his eyes. This was the first team event Javy had ever hosted and you had a feeling it would be the last.
Before the first movie started, you and Nat squeezed together into Javy’s tiny bathroom to change into your PJs.
“Show me,” Natasha nearly giggled as you reached for yours. It was an ivory silk nightgown that stopped barely at mid-thigh and a little pair of matching bloomers. The fabric was thin but opaque so you didn’t feel totally exposed. “He’s going to lose his mind,” she said.
You and Nat settled into the spaces on either side of Jake on the couch and Javy pressed play on the movie. You did miss Jake’s double-take when you came out in the nightgown—and neither did Nat who gave you a wink.
Honestly, it may have been the quietest the group had ever been. You were the only one who hadn’t seen it and yet they were all rapt. Even Jake’s focus was completely captured, the only time he looked away was when you reached over him to grab a handful from Natasha’s popcorn bowl.
Reuben fell asleep first. 11:30, right on the dot. That was his schedule and he was notorious for sticking to it. The rest of you got into your sleeping bags shortly after, unable to concentrate on anything but his snoring.
You tried getting comfortable but it just wasn’t happening. You had no choice but to lie there and watch Bradley scroll through his phone in the next sleeping bag over.
“Any progress?” He whispered.
“Some,” you said, inching closer to him.
“He’s stronger than I thought. I for sure would’ve cracked by now.” He looked at you, smiling face illuminated by the glow of his screen. “I mean, who sleeps in that?”
You punched his shoulder. “Shut up.”
Bradley chuckled but stopped quickly when Jake got up to get water. He urged you to go with him, practically unzipping your sleeping bag.
“Alright!” You rolled your eyes.
The kitchen wasn’t much more than a wall of cabinets and appliances and a tiny island. The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted when he saw you. “You hungry?” He asked, head in the fridge. “Javy’s got celery.”
“Anything else in there?”
“Nope,” he said and closed the door, enveloping you back in darkness. He handed you his glass of water and you took a few sips before handing it back. This wasn’t unlike what the two of you did when you were at your own apartment except it usually devolved into the both of you passing out on the couch to the sound of the Food Network.
“Where’s Guy Fieri when you need him?”
“Tell me about it,” Jake mumbled as he refilled his glass. He walked you back to your spot on the floor. “Is this new?” He asked, rubbing the material between his fingers.
“Kind of,” you said, glad for the darkness.
There was a long beat of silence. You were waiting for him to say something about the emails or Cassandra. But he didn’t.
“It looks good on you,” he said and headed quickly back to his own spot on the floor.
Warmth bloomed in your chest, encouraged by the compliment, and you didn’t want him to leave just yet. “Hey, Jake,” you called. “Do you want to go to that diner in the morning?”
“Absolutely,” he said and took a few steps toward you. “I would kill for those blueberry panca—“
But he didn’t see Bradley stick out his foot and he tripped, his full glass of water landing all over you.
You gasped. The fabric clung to your skin, cooling you down to freezing.
Jake swore. He apologized profusely and ushered you into the bathroom. “Maybe Coyote has a hair dryer.”
He flicked on the light and began rummaging under the sink. You were totally blinded, your eyes weren’t able to adjust to the sudden change in light with any speed.
You heard Jake stop before you saw it. When your vision came into focus, he was staring up at you slack-jawed. The nightgown had gone completely sheer. He could see everything.
“Jake!” You shrieked, wrapping your arms around yourself. This was too much, even for you.
“Sorry! Sorry!” He ran out of the bathroom and came back with his hoodie, offering it to you.
“Well, turn around!” Once his back was turned, you stripped off the wet top. It landed on the tiled floor with a smack. You languished in Jake’s hoodie, it was warm and soft and smelled like him. Next thing you knew, he had taken off his sweatpants and was helping you step into them. He crouched down, only in a t-shirt and briefs and pulled the drawstring tight around your waist, tying it into a neat bow.
“We can go home,” he said, his expression holding nothing but concern.
“I’m good,” you promised and scurried back to your spot next to Bradley, at a complete loss for what just happened. You were breathing heavily despite not having exerted yourself.
“How’s that for progress?” He whispered.
“You’re such a fucking douche.” But every time you closed your eyes, there was Jake with an unmistakable hunger in his.
Kennedy McMaster
Kennedy was the only of Jake’s girlfriends you knew personally. She was your next door neighbor, head cheerleader, and his longest high school relationship. He took her to his prom. Your strongest memories of her were her glaring at you when he drove her home after their dates and the cloying scent of her pink sugar perfume that lingered on all his clothes.
You were determined not to let your last encounter deter you. It was shocking and something you were not at all prepared for but it, ultimately, served your mission. Now you knew with near certainty that he was attracted to you, he just needed a little push to admit it.
Your boss was out of the country this week so you were working from home and Jake’s truck was in the shop the last few days so you’d been driving and picking him up in your old Jetta without temperature control to make up for Maverick’s disappointment at seeing his bruised knuckles.
“Don’t you think these women are exes for a reason?” Nat asked under the spray of the shower. You and she often FaceTimed when she was alone in the women’s locker room. She was one of the bravest people you knew, but even she was better safe than sorry.
“I mean, yeah. But he was dating them for a reason too.” You were squeezing yourself into an aesthetic that could only be described as “yummy mummy”--it was the closest thing to wearing a cheerleader uniform as an adult. You wore leggings, a matching little zip up jacket, and a brightly colored sports bra. “The goal is for him to think I’m attractive, not for him to fall in love with me.”
“You sure?” Nat asked but you didn’t hear her, distracted by an incoming text.
~ Bob: I can’t believe you made me do this but it’s done
You squealed–you tasked Bob with spraying your perfume into Jake’s flight suit while Mickey and Reuben ran interference.
“He fucking did it?” Natasha laughed incredulously. “I for sure thought he would chicken out.”
“And we still would have respected him for it.”
“As if.”
You laughed but even to your own ears it sounded nervous.
By the end of the week, Jake was so looking forward to getting his truck back and you were ready to go back to wearing sweats, even though you were enjoying Mickey’s comments every time he saw you in the tight athleisure: “I wouldn’t even mind driving a minivan if it came with you.”
When you’d arrived on base to pick Jake up, you’d been informed that he was being held back for extra drills. Mav, not wanting you to die of heat stroke in your shitbox car, had invited you to enjoy the A/C inside. It was a particularly hot day and, even without the jacket, a sheen of sweat had developed on your body.
You sighed when the light breeze coming through the hangar hit you but the scene you walked into made you want to go back to your sweltering car. Maverick stood above a panting Jake, having just finished doing push-ups.
“Again, Seresin,” Maverick said. “You’re distracted. Making stupid maneuvers.”
By the dark green stains on Jake’s flight suit, you could tell he’d been doing them for a while. But he kept his expression neutral, taking his lashings.
“How many times do I have to say it?” Maverick’s arms were crossed. “You’re not alone out there.” Jake faltered a little. “Keep going,” Mav urged.
The rest of the Dagger Squad fell in line beside you, watching.
“I think you took it too far,” Javy said. You blushed, not realizing that he knew.
“Dude.” Reuben hit his arm.
Javy waved him off. “If you didn’t want me to know, you shouldn’t have fucking told me.” He turned back to you, eyes soft but firm. “It’s too much. You’re everywhere. He can’t concentrate. He’s making dumb mistakes and…” He trailed off, clearly trying of the right words. “That comes with a high cost in this line of work.”
You were fighting back tears, not wanting them to feel like they had to comfort you when you were the one who fucked up. “I’m so sorry,” you said to everyone. “I got carried away and involved you all in something that should never have happened in the first place. It was stupid and I’m sorry.” You took a deep shaky breath. “I’ll apologize to Jake too.” Just thinking about how you were going to explain all this to him made you severely nauseous.
“Don’t apologize to Hangman!” Mickey said.
“Yeah, he doesn’t need to know,” Reuben added, swinging his arm around your shoulder and giving you a squeeze. “Maybe just keep it out of work.”
You felt terrible the whole ride back to your apartment but Jake seemed happy as a clam. He asked to drive, so you let him, and he was humming along to the radio. He seemed more relaxed than he’d been in a while.
You were nearly home when he asked, “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your perfume?”
You practically jumped out of your skin. You analyzed his face, looking for any hint at how much he knew. He wore his same smug amusement.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.
“I didn’t think you would,” he laughed.
“Maybe you’re having a stroke.”
“Must be.” He nodded with pretend thoughtfulness. “Why else would my flight suit, which is always in my locker unless I’m literally wearing it, smell like you?”
You looked at him, grateful he had to keep his eyes on the road. All the windows were down, the breeze whipping through his hair. Even exhausted and covered in sweat, he looked incredible. “Is it such a bad thing?” You practically squeaked that out.
“Not unless you consider thinking about you instead of my training exercise a bad thing.” He threw his hand over the back of your seat to back into the parking spot to make it easier on you in the morning and, despite the heat, you shivered. When he had successfully made it into the spot, he stayed close to you for a beat longer. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Then you know how to make it stop.” You leaned impossibly closer. It wouldn’t take much for him to kiss you. He licked his lips and couldn’t tear his eyes off yours.
Your heart thundered. This had to be it.
“I should call Aaron.” He backed away. He couldn’t even meet your gaze. “He always takes forever to respond,” he mumbled. And in an instant, you were alone in the car.
Giulia
Not wanting to rely on the team, you dug back through your emails with Jake to find information. All he wrote was that she was a flight attendant from Milan who made insane baked goods. It was a single line in a single email dropped in the middle of a long-winded anecdote about starching vs. not starching his service uniform.
You were going to bake a pie. You had prepared the night before by watching Claire Saffitz videos and calling your mother, but your last meeting ran long and you were late coming home from work. You tried being quick but the custard curdled and the crust burned and this was all so stupid, you couldn’t even remember what you were doing it all for in the first place. You would’ve sobbed but you didn’t even have enough energy for that.
You ordered a pizza and thought about changing out of the ridiculous outfit you wore to work—your knee-length pencil dress looked flight attendant-esque, especially with the twilly scarf tied around your neck. But by the time it had arrived, you ran out of time. Jake was already at the door.
He sat down beside you at the counter and dropped his head in his hands with a deep sigh.
“You want a slice, baby?” But you asked softly, without the usual teasing associated with the nickname.
And he followed suit, “More than anything, baby.” The exhaustion resurfaced his home-grown twang exactly how it sounded in all your memories. The nickname thing started after Aaron had gotten his first girlfriend. He was in the eighth grade and they would hold hands and end each sentence calling the other “baby.” Jake had only started doing it with you because he was a little jealous of losing his best friend’s attention, not that he would’ve ever admitted it. But it was everything to you, to have an inside joke with him.
He didn’t even use the plate you set out, devouring half the slice in a single bite. “You look cute,” he said, tugging on your neck scarf a little. “You're usually in sweats already when I get home.”
“I tried baking you a pie.” You couldn’t even look at him. Somehow this felt so much more vulnerable than anything you had done thus far.
“You did?” His face broke into the goofiest grin.
“I burned it.”
“What was it supposed to be?” He squeezed your shoulder.
“Lemon.”
“I love lemon.”
“I know,” you demurred. You contemplated making lemon bars but making shortbread seemed much more involved than a cookie crust. Idiot.
“Do you remember the tiramisu you made for your parents anniversary?” He laughed, throwing his head pack. “How you managed to burn a dessert you don’t bake, I have no idea.”
“I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to bake it!” You cried, a grin resurfacing on your face.
“How–”
“The recipe was vibes based.”
“Whatever that means.”
“Yeah, whatever that means.”
You smiled at one another, both of you feeling more lively.
The two of you finished the pizza before deciding to get into more comfortable clothing. You contorted yourself trying to get at the invisible zipper until you eventually gave up. You didn’t really want to ask Jake because you were done teasing and torturing him. You were done with this entire endeavor. You didn’t need him to decide you were worthy of dating as long as you got to spend time with him and, in truth, you were quite certain that you’ve been hurting yourself more than you’ve actually had an impact on him.
But the dress didn’t fit over your head and the dumb little TikTok Shop magnet contraption broke after its first use, zipping up the dress that morning. So, after a great deal of effort, you padded over to his side of the apartment and knocked softly on the door. He let you in, dressed in navy briefs and a worn t-shirt. His room was neat as a pin with no clothes on the floor and hospital corners folded in his sheets.
“Can you unzip me?” You moved your hair to expose the zipper to him, watching his reflection in the mirror leaning against the wall.
You watched him sink his teeth into his bottom lip. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please,” you begged. “I’m stuck.” You were starting to feel claustrophobic, scenarios of wearing that dress forever clouded your mind.
You shivered when he hooked his fingers under the collar of your dress. Jake took his time dragging the zipper down, trailing his fingers down your spine.
He pushed apart the seam of your dress and splayed his hand against your skin, the tips of his fingers ducking just beneath the strap of your bra eliciting a gasp from your lips. Like a man possessed, he continued, a dark look crossing his face.
“Jake,” you moaned, as he snuck his hands around your hips, inside your dress and grazed the lacy trim of your underwear. You felt like you were on fire, every bit of you alight under his half-lidded gaze.
Jake traced the line of your jaw before tilting your chin up just the slightest bit, angling you just right to give him access to the knot of the scarf around your neck. You could have wept when he pulled his last hand out of your dress but the moment the scarf was gone, his hands were back dragging you flush to him.
“Say my name again,” he demanded, voice like gravel.
“Jake,” you moaned louder, having forgotten the ability to regulate. You were lost to the anticipation. And before you had a chance to gain any sense of composure, he drove his tongue into your pulse point.
Your whines turned breathy and knees weakened but he only held you tighter so he could continue his onslaught of nipping and sucking down your shoulder.
You arched your back, wanting to do more, feel more. And you watched him nuzzle into the line of your hair, hissing when you grazed his erection with your ass. Jake’s lips parted, flush, and you were sure he was going to say something.
His phone started to ring, and you cringed, an old picture of Jake arm in arm with your brother lighting up the screen. Jake unceremoniously removed his hands from you. “One sec,” he said and answered the fucking phone. “Yeah buddy, what’s up?”
You looked at him with shock and disdain but he was sitting at the foot of his bed. Your heart sank and you tried to step away but he latched onto the back of your dress and gently pulled you down to sit on his knee. His grip wasn’t tight, you could’ve left. But you didn’t. Instead, you sat there, uncomfortable in your freezing wet panties.
You could only hear Jake’s side of the conversation, he was hesitating and if you didn’t know him better you might have said he was nervous. “Look,” he said, “I was wondering…” He glanced at you, an expression you couldn’t read on his face. “How would you feel if I asked out your sister?”
You may have blacked out. You saw his lips move and the smile on his face but you couldn’t decipher the words, not when excitement, love, and rage were all rushing in your ears.
Jake tossed his phone, beaming, and slid his hand up your thigh. That seemed to snap you back to the moment because you stood, backing away from his touch. “What the fuck was that?”
He stayed sitting and spoke very calmly. It was infuriating. “I don’t have much in the way of family. You and your brother are everything—”
“So you have to ask him permission to fuck me?”
“Is that what we were doing?” He asked with this dopey look in his eyes. Butterflies erupted in your stomach.
“Don’t be cute,” you said, willing yourself to stay angry. “I’m not some fucking plaything—”
“But it’s fine to toy with me, right?” He stood, then. “That’s why I’ve been half-cocked in my jet all week.” He didn’t raise his voice or move closer when you took an instinctive step back, and you lost all of the moral high-ground you may have had.
Your back hit the door, you hadn’t realized you were so close to it. He followed you this time, resting his forearm above your head, fingers trailing up the back of your thigh to where your dress was nearly hiked up leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. With how close he was now, you were sure he could hear your heart thumping.
“Would you have stopped if he said no?”
“No.” Jake crashed his lips to yours. The kiss was sloppy and imbued with so much longing. It was everything you had wanted for as long as you can remember.
He pressed open-mouth kisses down the column of your throat and dragged your clothes down with him.
The dress hit the floor and he sank to his knees. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I-I don’t know.” You were completely overwhelmed, hot beneath his touch.
“You’ve been working me for months.” His smirk was salacious. “I can’t imagine you didn’t have something in mind.”
“Say it,” you demanded, regaining lucidity.
“What do you want me to say?” He laughed bitterly. “That you’re always on my mind? That you only get more beautiful every time I see you? That, every night, I think about you in that fucking nightgown?” He wiped his face, looking suddenly exhausted. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying not to think about you this way?”
You knelt down, slotting your legs on either side of his thigh. He brought his hands to your hips immediately, helping rock you back and forth across his hard muscle. He kissed your neck and you sighed, “I love that you do.”
“I want to watch you cum like this,” Jake mumbled.
“I’m not sure I can,” you panted, fully enjoying the friction but certain that it would not be enough to get you there until he yanked your cotton panties up, increasing the pressure on your clit.
A wave of pleasure shot through you. Jake deafened your moans with his kiss, keeping you steady as you moved your hips faster.
“Ja-ake,” you moaned, pleasure building in your core.
“Yeah, baby.” He flicked your nipple through the unlined cup of your bra and it sent you over the edge. His hands returned to your hips to help you ride out your orgasm.
You collapsed onto the carpet in a fit of giggles. This was so unbelievable. Even at the beginning, you never thought it would end this way.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said and the look of pure genuine love in his eyes took your breath away.
You pulled him down on top of you, kissing his cheeks and lacing your fingers in his hair. “Your turn?”
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” He teased, brushing the hair off your face.
“Do you have a condom?”
He reached over you to his jeans and took one out of his wallet.
“Aren’t we ambitious,” you said, already kicking off his briefs.
“And here I was, hoping you’d jump me in a supply closet.” Jake took his time removing your undergarments, taking you in as he teased your folds with his dick.
You groaned together as he pushed himself into you. “I’m not going to last that long,” Jake breathed into your skin and it only made you hotter. This man, who you’d been so taken with, was also incredibly taken by you.
You hooked your leg over his waist and he drove deeper into you. You ground your hips but he held you still to rub your clit in tiny dizzying circles.
A guttural moan erupted from your throat as you spiraled into your second orgasm. Jake kept going, rubbing and thrusting until your legs shook and the aftershocks became so intense that tears welled in your eyes. “Jake,” you cried, unable to take it anymore, and he came, nipping at your collarbone.
Once your breathing slowed and Jake disposed of the condom, he lifted you onto his bed. “Can I get you anything?” He asked with a kiss to your bare shoulder.
“Water.” He sat up to grab it and you followed.
“Darlin’, as long as I can help it, you will not be leaving my bed,” and Jake planted a long mind-numbing kiss to your already swollen lips.
As you sunk back into his pillow, watching the man you very nearly loved shirtless in the kitchen, you decided that wouldn’t be so bad.
Notes: John Carter x Fem!Reader (857 words) -- I'm watching ER and I might just love him.
Summary: You needed stitches and that's something Carter could do.
Warnings: none
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Carter was having the worst day. He had already changed his clothes three times—1. Hot coffee (his own), 2. A patient with appendicitis threw up on him, and 3. Blood. Whose? He had no idea—and he was down to his last and least professional tie. It had a big fish on it.
He begged Dr. Benton for something easy, something he had done a million times before, and he directed him to the corner curtain where you had been waiting for close to an hour.
You slipped down the front steps of your apartment complex. It was raining and you were wearing old rain boots and traction was nowhere to be found. You had a fractured foot and were waiting on stitches. It was your elderly neighbor who called the ambulance. She had always been fond of you and freaked out when she saw all the blood.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Carter.” John came in looking at your X-Rays. “Your foot looks good.” He didn't want to look up, half certain that Benton was messing with him and he was just there to clean a bedpan.
“Nice tie.” You said with a crooked smile. You were on a lot of pain killers and he might’ve been the best looking man you had ever seen.
“Oh, thanks.” He glanced at you, laughing a little, and immediately looked again. “H-hi, I’m Dr. Carter.”
You giggled. “You said that already.”
“It remains to be true.” He grinned and you loved it. You wanted to see him do it again.
Carter rolled his chair to your bed and took a look at your head wound. He had very much learned his lesson about fraternizing with hospital admittants after his bout with Liz ended in gonorrhea but he couldn't deny you were very pretty. Beautiful, even. “Ready?” He asked and cleared his voice of its hoarseness.
You carded your fingers through his bangs. You really were never this forward, you had never even asked a guy out before, but the Ativan seemed to want to change that. He looked at you wearily but still let you do it. “Yep,” you said, popping the P.
You watched as he worked. He bit his lip in concentration. It was very cute. “Do you ever date your patients?” The you before your fall would have cringed and you could hear her screaming internally. Maybe you did have a concussion.
“Not anymore.” John was smirking at you. He couldn't believe it. He was actively talking about how he wasn't going to do this again and here he was, doing it.
“What if I asked for a different doctor?” You asked and he could barely contain his groan. He needed to focus on his stitch work.
His eyes flicked to you and you felt a little thrill run through you. “You want me to leave?” He asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.
“I guess not.” You sighed. “But what do I get out of this?”
He let his fingers steading the skin around your wound linger down to your cheekbone. “For one, you get to keep your blood in your body.”
You hummed, uninterested. He laughed, and real laugh that forced him to put down the forceps. “What’s the second?”
John cringed. He had a second answer but he was hesitating. It would put him firmly into flirting territory. “The second?” He was buying time, face scrunched up in embarrassment.
You yanked on his fish tie and batted him once in the face with it. “Are you shy, Dr. Carter?”
He smoothed out his tie and gave you a stern look. It was adorable.
“And second,” he said, “you get to look at my face.”
“My, aren’t we full of ourselves.”
John cringed. He knew it was stupid. He couldn't believe it said that, what an idiot, and now you were probably going to sue the hospital for harassment. Benton would never stop giving him shit.
“But you do make a good point.” You smile, lifting his head by the chin to see it. “What am I supposed to do when you’re done? How will I survive never getting to see your face again?”
He picked the forceps back up and resumed his work. “I think you’ll live.”
You let him work the remainder of your stitches in silence and you relished in the bob of his Adam’s apple when he caught you staring.
“I think we’re all done here.” He gave you a soft smile.
“Will you do one more thing for me, doctor?” You batted your lashes. Though unlikely, part of you really hoped you could see him again.
“Anything.” And he meant it to. Even under the fluorescent lights and hospital gown, he couldn't resist.
“Would you sign my boot?”
.
You waited about thirty minutes hoping to see Dr. Carter before your roommate brought you home. You were giddy on your cab home, talking her ear off about him up until the hour she helped you take off your boot before bed.
“The cute doctor signed your boot?” She asked, inspecting it.
summary: from the moment he laid eyes on you, he just knew, and he’s only ever referred to you as his wife.
warnings: she/her, mention of bars (idk), fluff fluff fluff!
word count: 521.
a/n: long time no see! i knewww i had to write something and this idea has been stuck in my noggin for quite a while. happy valentine’s day and i hope you love it!
***
The first time Jake Seresin saw you, he knew.
He hadn’t even spoken to you yet—hadn’t had the chance. You were laughing at something your friend said, eyes crinkling at the corners as you leaned against the bar at the Hard Deck, completely unaware of the way Jake was standing there, beer halfway to his lips, suddenly frozen in place.
That’s my wife.
The thought came out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of his chest. It wasn’t like him to get caught off guard, but here he was, struck dumb in the middle of the bar, watching you exist like you were placed on this Earth just for him.
The worst part? He didn’t even have the nerve to walk up and say hello.
Oh, he tried. Multiple times. But every time he got close, you were either walking away, mid-conversation with someone else, or—God forbid—he chickened out at the last second. He, Jake Seresin, who had never been shy a day in his life, had turned into a complete coward over one woman.
Still, it never stopped him from calling you what he knew you were.
Over the next few weeks, his friends caught on.
“Hangman, who the hell are you looking for?” Rooster asked one night, watching as Jake’s eyes scanned the Hard Deck like he was on a mission.
“My wife,” he answered simply.
Natasha choked on her drink. “Your what?”
“My wife,” he repeated like it was obvious. “She’s usually here on Thursdays.”
Phoenix’s eyes narrowed. “You mean that girl you won’t even talk to?”
Jake gave her a slow, lazy grin. “Manifesting, darlin’.”
Natasha and Rooster exchanged looks, then promptly burst into laughter.
“You’re ridiculous,” Rooster muttered, shaking his head.
But Jake didn’t care. Because deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time.
—
Years later, Jake leaned against the kitchen counter of the house you now shared, watching as you laughed at him—full-on, doubled-over, tears-in-your-eyes laughing.
“Wait, wait—” You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. “You’re telling me that for months before we even spoke, you were going around calling me your wife?”
Jake shrugged, sipping his coffee like it wasn’t a big deal. “Worked, didn’t it?”
You gaped at him, still half-laughing, half-astonished. “Jake. You manifested our relationship.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying, sweetheart,” he said, ever so smug.
You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing between his legs, hands resting on his chest. “So, let me get this straight—you saw me once, decided I was going to marry you, and just… ran with it?”
Jake set his coffee down and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Darlin’, the second I laid eyes on you, I knew there was no way in hell I was lettin’ you be anything but mine.”
You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in them betrayed you. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he said, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “But I was right, wasn’t I?”
You huffed a small laugh, leaning into him. “Yeah, yeah. You were right.”
Jake grinned, pressing his lips to yours. “Told ya.”
Notes: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader (4.6k words) -- working on writing longer fics; any feedback would be appreciated ♡
Summary: As part of an elite special-ops squad, you were required to report to base at the drop of a hat. Recently, it’d been happening at the most inconvenient times. Rooster was your longest friend, but no way did you want to talk to him about your hinge dates!
Warnings: Allusions to parental loss, allusions to sex, kinda angsty
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As part of an elite special-ops squad, you were required to report to base at the drop of a hat. Recently, it’d been happening at the most inconvenient times.
Your foray back into dating started with Hinge. Your options were bleaker than you anticipated due, in part, to the discovery that every pilot you worked with had a profile.
“Did I show you Harvard’s?” You asked Nat at lunch one day. “There wasn’t a single photo out of the helmet.”
“You’re kidding?” She scoffed, swiping through the screenshots on your phone.
“Join with me, would you?” You’d been begging her to do this with you for days at this point but she wouldn’t budge. Really, you just didn’t want to suffer alone.
“Yeah right! After that ringing endorsement?”
“Nat,” you whined.
“Why do you put yourself through this?”
It was a fair question but you hesitated to answer, embarrassed to admit how badly you wanted a boyfriend.
“Through what?” Bradley sat down next to you, halfway through his apple.
You cringed, trying to think of something he wouldn't ask questions about, “Gynecology.”
Bradley Bradshaw was your oldest friend; you speak every day, about everything. Except this.
--
You met at UVA when your respective roommates started dating and decided it would be easier to sexile together and even then, you avoided talking about your dating history. Granted, that might’ve had more to do with the raging crush you had on him but you were over it. Neither of you had much in the way of family and ended up spending breaks together, which turned into weekends, which all seemed to bleed together until you became inseparable, absolute best friends, the people you would do anything for, and you just never fell into the pattern of talking about it.
“What?” He asked with his arm slung on the back of your chair and a dumb crease between his brows.
“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d ask follow-up questions.”
“Whatever you say, Bunny,” he smiled and took back his arm brushing against the nape of your neck and you shivered. You could feel the heat creep up to your cheeks and for maybe the first time you were thankful for Jake, distracting Rooster before you became beet form.
You tentatively looked back at Nat who gave you a quizzical look which you chose to ignore.
The Hard Deck was in full swing that evening with members of the Dagger Squad gathered around the pool table. You were about four beers deep and quickly on your way to tanked.
“Come on,” Hangman begged. “Just one game.”
“I cannot believe Lieutenant Commander Seresin would try to take advantage of me to better his pool ranking.” You had been avoiding playing Jake. It was a total fluke that you had beaten him and it shot you up to the top of the leaderboard.
“We all know you can’t do shit without Rooster calling your shots.” Jake taunted as he sunk a striped ball into the corner pocket.
“What can I say? We’re a package deal.”
Hangman shook his head, “Shame you can’t stand on your own cue.”
“Unlike you, I’m not motivated by my pride,” you said, smiling when he scratched.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He winked, “Looks like Rooster got a new partner anyways.”
You whipped your head to the bar. It hadn’t been that long since Bradley had left to get another beer but there he was, chatting up a redhead. He came back with digits too.
“Forgetting about me already, Bradshaw?” You said, low enough that your other teammates wouldn’t hear.
He got in so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. You tipped your head up to meet his gaze and you never felt more at home than you did with him. “Oh, darlin’. How could I ever?”
You hummed, satisfied with his words, but sharpied napkin tucked in his back pocket still nagged at you. “What do you like about her?”
You were leaning together against the back wall watching Hangman play Coyote, again. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Is it just because she’s hot or do you see something?”
He searched your face, his fingers wandering up from your jean-clad hip to the bare skin beneath your flow top. “Are you jealous?” His grin was slow but broad.
“Shut up,” you groaned. “Just curious.”
“Yeah, Bunny. I think she’s hot.” His hand burned a trail all the way to the small of your back. He pulled you closer, “But no one’s as hot as you.” Bradley chuckled and let you, taking the pool cue from Hangman.
You left the conversation feeling toyed with, which had been happening more often than not lately, and couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off that damn napkin.
Fuck, you needed a date.
Brian, 28
The most boring man alive. You were almost relieved when you got the call. You should’ve known. Fish pictures.
The only issue was, you had to come to base in your date outfit. Considering this was your first date since sophomore year of college, you wore what made you feel confident then: strappy heels, mini skirt and an, admittedly revealing, halter top. It was more than Brian deserved, to be sure, but it sure made you feel good to hear him stammer.
Hangman let out a whistle and twirled you, “Hot date?”
“Something like that.” You winked. It was easy with Jake because it was so nothing. It was Bradley who you avoided looking at. You still sat next to him, though.
“You look nice.” He whispered.
“Thanks,” you elbowed him.
“Who—”
“What’s that?” You asked. You still hadn’t looked at him, keeping your focus on Maverick, but he had your whole attention.
“Nothing.” Rooster let out a little laugh, then. You snuck a peek. He was rubbing his face; it looked something like disbelief or pain.
“What is it?” You asked. But he only shook his head.
The debrief was quick. Only a few of you were chosen: Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob, so you essentially had the night off.
You waited by Bradley’s Bronco, dying to take your shoes off. “Unlock the car already!” Your voice echoed across the parking lot when you saw him and Mav step out.
“I don’t remember offering you a ride!” He yelled back. Pete was used to your antics at this point, accepting you both as a package deal when the two began to reconnect.
“I’d be happy to hitchhike!” You waited a few beats. When he didn’t unlock the car you hollered, “I’m sure I’d get a few bites in this get-up!” And the locks clicked. You let out a self-satisfied giggle, waving goodbye to Pete, and tossing your heels into the backseat.
The whole car smelled like him, like spearmint gum and that musky cologne he’s been wearing for a decade, but you were all over it. Your necklace hung from his mirror though you have no memory of putting it there, there was a nail polish stain on glove box from when you were painting your toes for the beach and he braked a little too hard, and so much of your crap in the backseat.
You kicked your feet up on the dash and watched him walk your way, enjoying the way his shirt clung to his defined chest and the golden curl of his hair.
The door yanked open and Rooster bent at the waist. His mouth hung open as if to speak but no words came out. You could have sworn he was running his eyes up your legs but then he said, “What’s my one rule?”
“No feet on the dash,” you said in unison.
He started the car, letting you fiddle with the radio. But most of the drive to your apartment was silent. You buzzed, really trying hard not to fill it.
“Say it,” Rooster laughed.
You bit your thumbnail wondering if you even wanted to know the answer to your question.
“Spit it out!” He pushed you playfully, just hard enough that your torso shifted towards the window.
“What were you thinking about before? In the briefing.”
“Oh.” You were stopped at a red light and, basked in the red glow, he looked at you and your stomach did a little flip. You wished it were brighter so you could see his full expression as he trailed your outfit again. “I was just thinking of the first time we met, Bunny. You were wearing something similar.”
You laughed.
It was probably 3 A.M. the first time Bradly came to your door and he was banging on it, “Open up, Bunny!”
You had just gotten home from a very lame frat party and didn’t want to deal with whatever fresh hell this was. Youquickly turned off the lights, hoping that he would just get bored and move on.
“I know you’re in there. You just turned off the light.”
You huffed, opening the door to find a very angry Bradly. He was in his boxers, hair sticking up in all different directions, and in his arms was a pillow and plaid comforter.
“Hi, Bunny. Our very considerate roommates decided to go at it like…” He pointed to you. “Well…and I have a very important final tomorrow so I will be crashing here, okay?” He said all this while forcefully making up his bed on the floor.
You kicked him. “Don’t fucking call me Bunny!”
“Your name? Excuse me Bunella.”
“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t tell if you were just so fucking drunk or if he was actually speaking gibberish.
“Is Bunny a family name or do you have a thick Southern accent I’m somehow missing?”
“Bunny’s not my name, douche!”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t Sheila whose name I just woke up to my roommate moaning and it’s the only other one on the door!”
“She transferred,” you said. “I moved in a few months ago.”
“Oh,” he extended his hand. “I’m Bradley.”
“No one fucking cares.”
“God, Sheila was such a bitch too,” you cackled. “No wonder the other girl transferred.”
“Trust me, Isaac was no peach either.” Rooster turned into your apartment complex.
“Maybe we should’ve been roommates, instead.”
“I would never have been able to control myself.”
You blushed, despite yourself.
You went up to his apartment and took a shower while Rooster got started on his Bolognese. This was your routine. After work, you and he went back to one of your apartments and you would get take-out or Bradley would cook.
“Do you think it’s weird that we don’t talk about our dating lives?” You asked, feet tucked under yourself at his kitchen island.
“I wouldn’t say I have much of one to talk about,” he said. “Which pasta shape do you want?”
“The twisty ones, please.” You took a sip of the glass of wine Bradley set in front of you. “I see you go home with women from the Hard Deck.”
“I wouldn’t really call that dating,” he said with this goofy smile on his face. “Is there something particular on your mind? Is this still about that redhead.”
You cringed. Bradley watched with amusement as you poured yourself a larger glass than he did you and took a long drag from it. “I went on a date tonight. That’s why I looked—”
“Oh.” You watched as some emotion passed on his face but it was gone before you could decipher it. “How was it?”
“Bad,” you laughed.
He laughed too and your nerves vanished. “What’d he show you his toe nail collection?”
You groaned, “I wish! He droned on about lures for an hour.”
“You told me you liked fishing!”
“I liked seeing you in waders and a dumb hat.” You grinned.
“I’m never taking you out again.”
Alberto, 34
He took you to the opera. His profile was promising with a dog picture and proof he is friends with women. He was attractive and well-read and bought you a $14 cup full of white wine but he was so fucking pretentious. In complete disbelief that you had never been to the opera, that you had never heard of Turandot. When you got the call, it was in the middle of “Nessun Dorma!” and the look he gave you was chilling. It’s not like you had your ringer on.
Really, the best part of the date was the dress you bought for it: a strapless black velvet floor-length gown that hugged your curves perfectly without being clingy with a slit up the side. You felt like Angelina Jolie—you were planning on returning it, being a whole month’s pay, so one night would have to be enough.
“Maverick owes you flowers for this one,” Nat said, loud enough for Pete to hear.
“Noted,” he replied from the podium. “What did I interrupt this time? Gala? Movie premiere?”
“Opera,” you said.
“Who’d would go with?” Bradley sat next to you; arms crossed. His tone was firm, leaving no room for hesitation.
“Some guy,” you mumbled.
“I would’ve gone with you.”
“That’s not exactly—”
“Focus up!” Maverick started the briefing.
The mission was difficult but mercifully quick. You and Reuben were in and out without issue, successfully neutralizing the target. But you were exhausted. The terrain was difficult and the visibility was low, forcing you to take blind turns relying solely on your nav system, unable to trust your eyes.
Bradley waited for you in his Bronco with the windows rolled down. The sun was rising and his eyes were closed.
You didn’t want to wake him, enjoying the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“Hey,” you caressed his cheek. “I can drive if you want to keep sleeping.”
“It’s fine,” he rubbed his eyes.
You cheesed, you couldn’t help it, he just looked so cute. “I don’t mind.”
He got out to help you with your things, back muscles rippling beneath his thin cotton t-shirt. Bradley rolled his eyes at your expression and poked you in the ribs. He had only let you drive the Bronco once, when he sliced his hand open on moving day reaching into a box with broken glass.
“Thanks for waiting,” you said one you were both settled in your seats.
“I wouldn’t have been able to leave until I knew you were on the ground anyways.”
You pulled your knees up to your chest and smiled into them.
He drove straight to his apartment and set you up in his bed. After missions like these, you wanted to feel close to your people. You used to call your dad.
“Do you mind hanging my dress?” Your words muffled by his pillow.
You listened to Bradley move around the one-bedroom, no longer able to keep your eyes open. But you felt the bed dip and he lied next to you, above the covers.
“The tag’s still on it.” He spoke softly.
“I’m returning it,” you yawned.
“Don’t.”
You shifted towards him, curling yourself into the space the sheets pulled taught beneath him. The whole world felt fuzzy as you drifted in and out.
“Are you dating seriously?” Bradley whispered.
“Kind of.” Your voice sounded distant. “Aren’t you?”
“I can be.”
You woke up around two in the afternoon to the smell of bacon and padded out to the kitchen in one of Rooster’s shirts and a pair of sleep shorts you kept there.
“Sit!” Rooster ordered, handing a giant stack of waffles and pointing to the dining table. They were piled high with strawberries and whipped cream. He then followed you with his own and a plate of bacon which he set in the middle.
You took another bite and moaned. “See, we would’ve made perfect roommates.”
“I cook and you eat?” He laughed.
“What more could you want?”
“Fair compensation, for starters.” He leaned back in his chair.
“I have nothing to offer you.” You licked your finger clean of syrup. “What could you possibly want?”
“Back then…” he trailed off but his cheeks were bright pink.
Your pulse sped up. Had he been into you too? You wanted to push. “That whole ‘control’ thing again?” You tried sounding unaffected, unclear if you were successful.
“Bunny, do you remember what you used to wear?” Bradley rested his forearms on the table, making his biceps bulge, his voice rough. “Boxer shorts, year-round, and Ugg’s.”
“And that was attractive?”
He shrugged, running his fingers through his curls.
“And how is that different from what I’m wearing now?” Your voice wasn’t louder than a whisper.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m a grown man, now.”
You practically thrummed, unable to look away. You shifted slightly, a failed attempt to alleviate the ache between your legs.
“Try on the dress.”
You stood immediately like a puppet on his string, going back to the bedroom to put it on.
You felt powerful, watching his eyes roam your body as you stepped between his knees.
“You really should keep it.” He looked up at you, thumb tracing the velvet at your hip.
“Ready for the best part?” You asked lowly.
He nodded, molten eyes never once leaving yours.
The slit parted to show off your leg. Bradley sucked in a sharp breath and trailed the back of his fingers down the soft skin of our inner thigh.
You gasped. This was the first time Bradley had ever touched you like this and you never wanted anything more in your entire life. All those feelings that you’d been struggling to tamp down for a decade came roiling back and it all seemed so pointless somehow. He was your whole world; what were you so afraid of?
“Brad—” you practically whimpered and he yanked his hand back like you burned. He looked back up at you, eyes wide.
“I think you need to get your stuff out of my car,” he blurted.
You took a step back, dress falling back into place. You didn’t want to say anything that might cause your welled tears to spill.
“I just,” he sighed, legs tucked back under the table. “I can’t exactly take girls in it. They’ll think I’m cheating on you.” It was a joke, it was phrased like a joke, but there was no levity to it. He wouldn’t even look at you, focusing instead on the frayed edge of his placemat. Fucking coward, you thought, allowing the bitterness to overwhelm you.
You quickly gathered your things, not bothering to take off your dress. You emptied a banker’s box full of old chargers and electronics on his bed and shoved the spare toiletries and miscellaneous items you left at his place in it. You put your heels back on, just as a final fuck you, and marched out the front door.
“Bunny.”
You paused but didn’t turn back. He sounded wrecked and you knew that one look at him and all your defenses would melt.
“Let me help you,” he said.
“No.”
Rooster kept his keys on the back wheel of the Bronco, in case of emergencies, which you were silently grateful for. You sent a quick text to Nat, asking her to pick you up, and got to work.
Shoes and hoodies and deodorant all went into the box. You grabbed the necklace off the mirror and were even able to remove the nail polish with a little acetone wipe you kept in your purse. It was like you were never there.
You waited until you were safely in Natasha’s car, walking barefoot across Rooster’s lobby to get there, to break down.
“What happened?” She stroked your hair.
“Please,” you begged. “Just get me out of here.”
Matt, 30
He showed up with roses on the first date. He was a sweet dentist with a dimpled smile and showed you pictures of his black Labrador Retriever, Moe. He told you immediately that he’d been with a girl for a long time but they ended up wanting different things; him marriage, her not.
You were giving Rooster the cold shoulder but he still sat next to you at lunch, straddling the bench. “Seriously? You got the nail polish out?”
“I wouldn’t want to make your dates insecure.”
“Bunny, come on.” He groaned, not even hiding his sorrow. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” You whipped to face him. “Before I embarrassed myself like that.”
“Why the fuck did you do that in the first place?”
You reeled back, ran to the restroom once you were out the lunchroom doors, and dry heaved into the toilet. You could never face him again. It suddenly felt as if you had misjudged your friendship completely, like you didn’t know him at all.
By your second date with Matt, you knew about his high school punk phase and how his parents met. You liked him. Your body wasn’t attuned to him like it was with Bradley but you got along and your lips tingled when you kissed and maybe that was enough.
You hadn’t spoken to Bradley. You made curt small talk at work but that was about it. You never furthered the conversation or offered more than a polite smile and it hurt you every time. But he did text you. A lot. His last said, peace offering? And came with a picture of the dress you returned, nestled in tissue paper.
Your heart lurched. You wanted nothing more than to forgive him, but you could still feel the harsh sting of embarrassment. Not completely mended from the last time he hurt you. You ignored it.
When the call came through, it was your third date with Matt and he dropped you off at the base.
“I’m so sorry, again,” he said, kissing you on the cheek.
“Seriously, it’s no problem.” You were wearing an old t-shirt and gym shorts of his. Moe had gotten into some mud.
You made your way down the long linoleum hallway towards the briefing room until you were yanked into the men’s locker room.
“What the hell?”
“Put this on,” Bradley said, tossing you a sweatshirt from his locker.
“Why?” This was the most conversation you’d had in weeks.
“I don’t want to see this,” he said, the hem of Matt’s t-shirt pinched between his fingers, and left.
You put it on quickly and followed. “Hey!” You yelled but he didn’t stop. Anger boiled up inside you, from the day he asked you to get your shit out of his car and every awkward and intolerable interaction you’ve had since then. You pushed him.
He stumbled forward, barely. “You pushed me?!” He was incredulous with a fire you’d never seen.
“What is your problem?” You dug your index finger into his chest.
“My problem?” He huffed, taking up your entire field of vision. “You want to know what my problem is?”
You pursed your lips, waiting.
“You don’t have the decency—”
“Decency?” You wanted to punch him.
“You show up in some guy’s clothes—”
“You’re out of your mind. Do you have any idea—”
“Do you? Because seriously Bunny I’m about to—”
You grit your teeth, “Don’t fucking call me Bunny.”
“Enough!” Maverick yelled, breaking you two apart. “I don’t want this shit in my briefing.”
“Sorry, Mav.” Rooster said.
“Yeah, we’ll—”
“No, get out.” He was already turning back, locking you out of the room. “I don’t want to see your faces till you’ve sorted this.”
You and Rooster walked separately and silently out to the parking lot. You stopped to order an Uber, letting him walk ahead.
“What the hell are you doing?” He asked.
“Ordering an Uber.”
“Just get in the car.”
“It’s fine.” You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see the bare Bronco or, even worse, see some other woman’s stuff in it.
“Get in.”
“No.”
He crossed the space between you in an instant, lifting you over his shoulder.
You thrashed and pounded on his back. “I’m not some petulant child you can just force into a corner!”
“Then stop acting like one.” He threw you into the passenger seat and slammed the door. If you weren’t so angry, you might have laughed at the way he stomped over to the driver’s side.
Bradley started up the car and turned the radio off. It wasn’t a comfortable silence between you but it was no longer hostile. You looked around, craning your neck to the backseat.
“What are you looking for?” He asked.
“Panties.” He laughed, despite himself. You could tell because he looked surprised that he did it at all. But you couldn’t just let a moment be good. You couldn’t help yourself. “I mean that’s what the whole ‘get your shit out of my car’ was for, right?”
“That’s not—” He took a deep breath. “That’s not what I said.”
“I was fucking there, Bradley. I know what you said.
“Y/N!” He pulled over on the side of the road. It was dark now and empty. He ran a hand over his face and said your name softer, like a groan. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” You could barely speak, like your lungs were being compressed.
“Not talking to you… Talking to you…”
You pinched the skin beneath your thumb to keep from crying. “You don’t—” Your voice faltered.
“No, I do.” His knuckles turned white as he clenched the steering wheel. “These past couple weeks have been torture. Do you know how many times I had to stop myself from calling you? I wanted to tell you about some stupid shit Jake said or about a Bronco I saw with a red stripe or… Any time a thought came into my head really. And that’s the whole problem.”
“That you don’t have many thoughts?” You tried but your voice was trembling.
“No,” his laugh sounded like a cry. “I know that tonight was your third date with that guy. I know because I’ve been begging Nat for status updates about you like six times a day.” He took another ragged breath without looking up from his palms. “She said that you liked him, that he made you laugh.” He faced you. His gaze held so much pain it nearly knocked the wind out of you. “I didn’t want to stand in your way.”
“You’re the most important person—”
“But you want something more. Something you can’t find in me. And I can’t watch you find it in someone else.”
You couldn’t choke back your sob. You tugged on his shirt trying to find the words to explain. “Bradley, I want that with you.” He stroked your cheek, the hope in his eyes bringing another wave of tears. “I thought—” You wiped your face and shoved him back. “You idiot! How much more obvious could I have been? I’ve only been in love with you since fucking college.”
“Really?” His smile was glorious. You tried to push him away again but he pulled you to him by the front of his hoodie. “Say it again.”
“I’m in love with you.” And he crashed his lips onto yours. Fireworks lit up in your chest, booming as he lifted you into his lap. You moaned as he licked into you, deepening the kiss.
He pulled back, looking at you like you hung the moon. “God, I’m so in love with you.”
You giggled, kissing him again. “Can we please get off the side of the road?”
“Only if we can burn these,” he said, tugging on Matt’s borrowed shorts.
“Christ, I got mud on my clothes. From the dog!”
“That’s alright, Bunny. You won’t be needing them anyway.”
summary: the squad challenge hangman to charm any girl in the bar, and phoenix chooses you, but you end up making more of an impression on him than he's is expecting
notes: i asked for some inspo and i got some! i hope this is okay, i wrote it in a day and just had a bit of fun, so let me know what you think! (i also got another request for jake, and honestly if he's who y'all want, i'm so here for it)
warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, text screenshots, and it's a little horny but otherwise fine (let me know if i've missed anything!)
word count: 3304
“Any girl in the bar?” Reuben echoes Jake’s words, disbelief saturating his tone.
Jake nods. “Any available girl in this bar.”
Bradley chuckles into the mouth of his beer bottle as he tips it to his lips while Mickey and Bob crane their necks to survey the busy bar.
“What about that one?” Mickey nods toward a high table where a woman is sitting by herself.
Jake rolls his eyes. “I said available. She’s clearly got a date and he’s just gone to get a drink. Do you see the keys on the table?”
As if on cue, a tall man with thick brows and a very square jaw places two drinks on the table before sitting across from the woman.
Javy chuckles as he subtly points toward the main door where two women have just entered the bar. “What about one of those two, Hangman?”
Jake’s green eyes dart toward the door before returning to his friend and narrowing. “Be kind, Coyote. I would prefer under the age of sixty-five.”
Natasha’s brows shoot up. “Prefer, but you’d be open to-”
“No.” Jake scowls across the table at her.
The group share a laugh before they all return to scouring the bar for an acceptable target. Jake Seresin makes big claims about his ability with ‘the ladies’ but the dagger squad are yet to witness such skill in action.
“Her.” Natasha says, brown eyes focused on someone at the bar.
Every single one of them turn to follow her gaze, and Jake’s mouth twists up into that signature smirk.
-
You sigh and slide your phone out of your back pocket, opening the text chain that made you leave the restaurant you’d been waiting at and order an Uber to the nearest bar. Another message pops up as you stare at the screen, asking where you are and if you got a table yet. You roll your eyes and take a screenshot before going to your text thread with your best friend and sending it to her.
You slide your phone back into your pocket just as the bartender places the beer you ordered in front of you. You glance up with a small smile and open your wallet to find your credit card, but someone beside you is quicker to hand the man some cash.
“It’s on me,” the stranger says, wearing an irritatingly gorgeous grin.
Your eyes narrow as you assess the man beside you. He’s wearing a well-fitting pair of jeans and a dark green button-up shirt, untucked. He’s effortlessly handsome, with sparkling green eyes and light brown hair that is perfectly combed into place. It’s almost as if someone cast a spell on a Ken doll to bring him to life. But you can tell by the way this man is grinning at you that he is much more devious than a newly animated children’s toy.
You pick up your drink and turn to face him, silently asking him to explain himself.
“Hangman.” He winks.
You frown. “I prefer Pictionary.”
His pretty smirk falters for a second before he fully processes what you said, and then he chuckles. “No, it’s my callsign. I’m a naval aviator.”
You’d figured as much – duh, you live on North Island – but you’re not in the mood for this guy’s bullshit right now. “That must be so fun for you.” You push off the barstool with your drink in hand. “Thanks for the beer.”
“Wait a minute.” He doesn’t block your path, but his words are enough to stop you out of sheer habit. “I didn’t catch your name.”
You give him a tight smile. “That’s because I didn’t throw it.”
Despite the dim, yellow lighting inside the bar, his eyes still sparkle like freshly tumbled jades. He doesn’t look as smarmy as he had a few moments ago, he looks more intrigued than cocky now. His smile isn’t quite as smirky, and his gaze is less predatory, but his eyes are still raking up and down your body. On any other day, you’d be willing to give this charming man a run for his money. You’d drag him into a booth and see if he could keep up with your verbal warfare before deciding whether or not you wanted to take him home. But not tonight.
“I’d be willing to earn your name if you give me a chance.”
You look down at your beer and sigh quietly before glancing back up at him. “Look, Hangman, I don’t doubt this routine – this charm – works on most girls, but you have really picked the wrong one tonight.”
He raises one challenging brow. “You look like the right one to me.”
“The right one for what?” You cock your hip and hold it with your free hand. “A good one-night stand or something real? Because you don’t strike me as a guy who’s looking for something real, and I’ve just about had it with one-night stands.”
His mouth pops open, but no words come out.
“And while I don’t doubt that it would be a really good one-night stand, because- well, I’m not blind, I’ve just had a really crappy day and would like to drink my beer in peace while I craft a careful and incredibly scathing text to the asshole who put me in this mood.”
You pause, waiting for him to respond or tell you that you’re crazy, but he doesn’t. He just looks at you with that same curious stare, like you’re a fascinating piece of art in a gallery.
“So, thank you for the drink, but could you please let me have my pity-party alone? You can go tell your friends you got my number, and we can just pretend that I reacted to this whole situation like any other normal person would have.”
His brows pinch as you offer him another tight smile before turning and walking toward a spare table. Once you settle in one of the chairs – your back to the room –, you have to resist the urge to turn around, because a tiny part of you wishes that you could have humoured him. He was hot, there’s no denying that, but he also seemed like an actual gentleman – an experienced gentleman, but one, nonetheless. Which is something that your life is sorely lacking.
You pull your phone out again and open up your text conversation with Declan – the guy you thought you’d been dating for the past three months.
You were supposed to have met for dinner at 7PM, and you'd been waiting at the restaurant since 6:45PM because you were so excited for your date. But after those texts, you threw your napkin on the table and walked right out the door. You hailed a cab and told the driver to take you to The Hard Deck, a bar you’ve only heard of from your friend. The same friend who you’d sent the screenshots of your conversation with Declan.
You shake your head and decide to compose a ‘get fucked’ message to Declan later. You're tired and a little upset, so you tip your beer to your lips and scull the rest of it, plonking the glass down harder than necessary as you stand up.
You call an Uber to take you home and when you slide into the back seat, you feel utterly drained and more than a little guilty about blowing off that gorgeous guy. You open your phone and tap on your text messages, pulling up your conversation with your best friend and typing out a few new messages.
Natasha’s ambiguity would usually make you nauseous with curiosity, but after the day you’ve just had, you can’t find the energy to be anxious about whatever it is she wants to talk about. You send her an affirmative text, accepting the boozy brunch, before tucking your phone away and staring out the car window for the rest of the drive home.
-
Jake has been lying awake for over an hour by the time his alarm goes off. It’s Saturday, which means he doesn’t have to be at the base, but he still likes to start his weekends early with a good workout. Normally, he’d jump out of bed at the sound of his alarm and slip straight into his gym gear, but not today. He’s barely slept, and he feels like his consciousness is on a completely different plane of existence.
He can’t stop thinking about you.
You’d caught him completely off-guard last night. When Natasha had pointed you out, he could clearly see that you were gorgeous, which is why he was more than happy to accept the challenge of ‘charming’ you. Then you had the audacity to be witty, and Jake Seresin is nothing if not a sucker for a woman with a sharp tongue. You didn’t fall for his smirk or his cheesy lines, but you weren’t rude about it either. You’d clearly had a bad day, and he felt bad for borderline harassing you, but now he feels even worse for not at least getting your name.
Jake has never believed in love at first sight, but last night is starting to prove him otherwise.
His workout today is half-assed, and he knows it, but he doesn’t bother pushing himself any further by the time his hour in the gym is up. Usually, he wouldn’t leave until his whole body was slick with sweat, but not today. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see your face, and then he doesn’t want to open them again. He’s worried that the details will start to fade, and he never wants to forget the face of the woman who has so thoroughly rocked his foundations. So that’s why when he gets home, he lays on the couch and closes his eyes, trying to burn your image into the back of his eyelids.
A couple of hours and a lot of unsuccessful internet sleuthing later, his phone rings, the screen lighting up with Natasha’s caller ID photo.
“Hello?”
“Bagman, you sound tired.”
“I’m busy. What's up?”
“Well, now you sound depressed.” He can hear the amusement in her voice. “Are you still bummed about striking out last night?”
He doesn’t care about striking out, he cares about the fact that he’s now seemingly obsessed with a mystery girl he might never see again.
“I’m not in the mood, Phoenix.”
“Alright, alright. I just wanted to see if you were coming to the beach barbecue tonight.” He can hear another muffled voice in the background, but he can’t discern who it is. “It was Payback’s idea, and everyone else is in, but you didn’t reply to the group chat. So?”
There’s a beat of silence. Jake is usually always down to hang out with his friends, but he has half a mind to spend his night scouring every bar and restaurant in town to see if he can run into you again.
“Come on, Seresin,” she presses. “One of my friends is coming too, and I really think you’ll like her.”
At that, Jake’s curiosity piques. Natasha has never offered to set him up with any of her friends before. In fact, she has distinctly threatened him should he ever try to go near any of them.
“You want to set me up with your friend?”
She scoffs. “Well, no, but- Look, you’ll understand if you come. Am I counting you in?”
He lets out a long breath as he falls back against the couch cushions. “Yeah, sure.”
- Three Hours Earlier -
You stare at your best friend in disbelief. You’ve barely taken a sip of your first mimosa, and she’s already telling you that not only was she at that bar last night, but she was the one who told the gorgeous man to approach you.
“Are you mad?” she asks, holding her champagne flute in front of her face as if it could protect her.
You take a deep breath before blowing it out through your nose. “Well, no, but I’m kind of hurt that you saw me walk into the bar and didn’t come say hi.”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “That would have ruined all the fun.”
You raise your brows. “The fun of sending one of your friends into a losing battle?”
Her smile is sheepish. “Look, if you knew Hangman like I do, you’d completely understand. And when I saw you sit at the bar, of course I wanted to come and give you a hug, but then I had this beautiful opportunity presented to me. You got to take out a little bit of frustration on the male species, and Hangman got a nice big bruise on his ego. It was a win-win.”
You take a generous sip of your mimosa and point a finger at her. “Win.”
She gives you a wink before taking a big gulp of her own drink. You spend the rest of the morning talking about Declan and crafting a simple but nasty message to send him before you block his number. After three mimosas and a shared croissant, you’re starting to feel a little boozy.
“Okay, I think we should stop.”
She nods. “Probably. I still need to go shopping for tonight. You’re coming, right?”
You roll your lips and avert your eyes, instead deciding to stare at the crumbs on the plate between the two of you.
“Come on, please.” She leans forward, doing her best puppy-dog eyes. “I know you don’t know my navy friends, but you’re never going to if you keep avoiding meeting them. Plus, Hangman should be there.”
Your heart begins to thump heavily against your sternum, which is ridiculous because you barely know the guy.
“I guess I should probably apologise to him.”
She scoffs. “You don’t need to apologise. I was kind of hoping that maybe you’d reject him again.”
You roll your eyes. “Nat, come on. I was rude to the guy, and he was perfectly-”
“Wait.” Her eyes go wide. “You actually think he’s cute, don’t you? Like, not in a flippant ‘that guy is hot’ kind of way, but in the way where you can’t stop thinking about him.”
Your pulse thrums even faster. “Pfft, no.”
“Oh, my God.” She holds a hand up to her lips to stifle her laughter. “You don’t want to apologise to him, you want to fu-”
“Nat!” you exclaim. “We are in public.”
She can’t stop giggling, her brown eyes like saucers above the hand covering her mouth, and it only takes a few more seconds before you dissolve into laughter too. You’ve definitely had enough mimosas for the morning.
It takes a few minutes, but eventually you compose yourselves enough to pay and exit the cafe. Neither of you had driven this morning, thankfully, so you decide to Uber to the nearest grocery store to get supplies for tonight’s beach barbecue.
You’re turning into the cold aisle where all the meat is cut and packaged when Natasha pulls out her phone and calls Hangman. It’s stupid the way your heart races when you hear his muffled voice, but you can’t help it. You’ve been thinking about this man nonstop for the past fourteen hours and now you’re going to see him tonight. You’ve never really believed in love at first sight, but the memory of those sparkling green eyes is starting to convince you otherwise.
Hours later and after trying on every bathing suit you own, you find yourself walking toward the gazebo on the beach where Nat’s location on your phone is pinging. There’s a fold out table with a portable barbecue on it and half a dozen beach chairs scattered across the sand. There’s also a volleyball net set up, where two very fit men are batting a white ball back and forth.
You’re starting to think that maybe you were doing yourself a disservice by not meeting Nat’s navy friends sooner.
“Hey!” Nat exclaims, yanking two beers out of the ice tub before jogging toward you. “I’m very impressed that you didn’t bail.”
You roll your eyes and try to be discreet about surveying the group for a face you’ll recognise. “Of course I didn’t bail.”
“Come meet everyone.” She links her arm with yours and leans in to whisper in your ear. “Hangman isn’t here yet.”
She points at the two men playing volleyball and tells you that they are Rooster and Payback. Then she pulls you into the gazebo’s shade and introduces you to Coyote, who is manning the barbecue, and Fanboy, who is second in charge. Harvard, Fritz, and Halo are occupying a few of the beach chairs, and apparently there are two more naval aviators on their way. One of which you’ve already met.
Everyone is super nice and incredibly fucking fit. It doesn’t take long for you to relax and enjoy the conversation with Fanboy while Nat argues with Coyote about what ‘medium rare’ looks like.
“Oh, and here’s another one,” Fanboy says, glancing over your shoulder with a grin. “This is Hangman.”
Your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you turn around and come face to face with those gorgeous green eyes.
He smiles, and it’s hot enough to melt your bikini bottoms. “Pictionary, right?”
You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, that’s right. Nat tells me you’re actually Bagman?”
He rolls his eyes and turns to your best friend, who is grinning like a maniac. “Jake Seresin, this is my best friend. Have you two met?”
Jake.
He says something to Natasha along the lines of calling her evil, but you’re not listening anymore. You’re too busy drinking him in, and oh my, is that a big drink.
He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of khaki shorts, and his taut tan skin is making your mouth water. He has to have been sculpted by the gods, that is the only explanation for this man. Your eyes rake across his broad chest, the smattering of hair at his sternum, and down his defined abdominals. You can imagine licking every line, tasting every inch of his skin and following that V with your tongue below the waistband of his shorts.
Natasha nudges your ribs as she walks past, and you only just catch her wink before you look up and find Jake’s eyes on you. He’s smirking, and this time, it’s working. “Phoenix said you wanted to tell me something.”
Oh yeah, he definitely knows you were just checking him out.
You clear your throat. “I- um, I wanted to apologise for being rude last night. I’d had a bad day, but you honestly didn’t do anything wrong. Any other day I’d probably have jumped right into bed with you.”
Your eyes widen and you smack a hand over your mouth, heat crawling into your cheeks as you realise what thoughts you just let slip through your lips. Jake laughs, his smirk morphing into a genuine and breathtaking grin.
“I’m so sorry,” you say quickly. “I have no filter sometimes.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He licks his lips and looks you up and down, like a predator sizing up its prey. “You don’t have anything to apologise for, but considering this is any other day, why don’t you start by telling me your name? Then we can see about jumping into bed.”
You can feel yourself melting faster than a popsicle in the sun. It’s not that you want to be immediately smitten by this ridiculously gorgeous and charming man, but you can’t help it. Ever since last night, you’ve had a weird feeling about him. A feeling that makes you think he’s important to your story, one way or another.
All you can do now is hope that it’s in a good way.
Notes: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader - This is my first attempt at smut 😭 (1.4k words)
Warnings: Smut, no actual sex but pretty close, mdni!
This is for y'all: @lomlbuckybarnes @sisterslytherinog @fandomhopped @ohhdarlingxo @shawnsblue @saltyturtlejudgeflap @callsign-magnolia @calirindo
🦋 Masterlist 🦋
Jake showed up two hours early from your requested time and you were nowhere near ready. The guy was never early, priding himself with being exactly on time—with military precision, of course—but not today when you ignored his knocking for twenty minutes because you were sure it was your horrible neighbor Judy who never seemed to buy her own sugar.
“You’re early,” you said, still in your oversized Navy t-shirt and sleep shorts.
“I brought coffee!” He handed you a to-go cup from the hand not carrying a toolbox, much too chipper for 8 A.M. on a Saturday.
“How’d you get in the building?”
“Tyra buzzed me up.” Jake said, distracted by your apartment. It was the first time he’d been there and hadn’t expected it to be so green. For some reason, he would have assumed you had a black thumb, maybe because you all spent so much time on base. Who’s been watering your plants?
“Another one of your conquests, I’m sure.” You rounded the corner into your kitchen, putting the island between you and Hangman.
“Am I just some slut to you?” He smiled.
“Absolutely.” You said and planned to stop there but curiosity got the best of you, “Speaking of which, how was your night?”
—
Jake didn’t want to tell you that he didn’t go home with Daniela. He showed up early because he was sure that seeing you back to normal, bleary-eyed and bed-headed even, would snap him out of whatever that red dress did to him. But it didn’t. Not even a little. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”
But he did. Frequently. You didn’t want to push but you noticed his smile falter and wondered if something happened. You lingered a little after you walked out of the Hard Deck. You saw Daniela walk up to him. You saw them talking. You left after that, sparing yourself from the scene of them leaving together, but you couldn’t imagine anything happened but that. Did it not live up to his expectations?
Jake saved you from inquiring further by digging through your pantry, “Don’t you have anything besides sugar cereals?”
“What, my Trix aren’t good enough for you?” You reached to grab the box back from him but he yanked it away.
Jake bit his tongue. “Haven’t you heard of a well balanced breakfast?” He towered over you, holding the cereal box well above your head.
“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “Sucrose and Red 40. What else is there?”
“I don’t know. Protein, fiber…” Jake trailed off, enjoying himself more in this moment, with you looking up at him like a cat plotting its attack, than he had in a while.
You jumped, hand outstretched to grab the box, catching Jake off guard. On reflex he tried to catch you, palm slipping beneath your shirt to find the expanse of your back where he should have felt the band of your bra.
He sucked in a sharp breath and the cereal box fell to the floor, scattering little puffed flowers across the kitchen tile. “I-I’ll clean this up,” he stammered. “You go get dressed.”
.
You retreated to your bedroom, at a complete loss for what the hell just happened. Hangman had seen you in casual clothes before, covered in sweat and grime from long training days, bloody and exhausted but he had never reacted like this. Jake had always been calm, collected, and completely in charge. But this was…whole new territory. Did Daniela hurt him?
“You want to go to the beach later?” You yelled. The main reason you decided to buy this condo was because of its proximity to it. Sure, you were totally house poor now but you spent most of your time at work anyway.
You couldn’t decipher his response but it sounded something like an affirmative. You had never known him to pass up a beach day; and despite how much he usually annoyed you, you were enjoying his company this morning. So you slipped on a black bikini beneath your cut-offs actually looking forward to the day ahead.
Jake remembered being cool once, maybe. There was a slight chance he’d always been a bumbling idiot and this was his own personal Twilight Zone episode on the perils of an overinflated ego. He texted Bob a quick I’m cool right? And looked under your sink for a dustpan. He was just glad he had dodged the beach bullet.
He had seen you in a bathing suit before, during team building exercises with Maverick, but he wasn’t sure that was something he wanted to deal with right this moment.
His phone buzzed with Bob’s reply: are you sick???
That was probably it, he thought, he needed to do whatever chore you needed done and isolate himself before the brain dead spread.
“The dust pan is in the front hall closet,” you said emerging from your bedroom. You needed to dig through the pile of freshly laundered clothing on your couch to find a shirt and didn’t think much of Jake seeing you in just your bikini top.
“I thought we weren’t going to the beach.” Jake looked wide-eyed. He felt like he was back in middle school, when his attraction to girls was new and not fully within his control.
“Oh, sorry. I just assumed—“ You stopped dead once you caught a glimpse of his face. “Oh my god!” You couldn’t help your grin. Suddenly it clicked, why he was acting strange, Jake didn’t find you so plain anymore. “You’re so into me.”
Jake groaned.
“Admit it.” You prodded.
“Admit what?” He rubbed his face, so pained by this entire interaction.
“That you’re obsessed with me.”
.
You made it your goal to make him absolutely miserable for the rest of the morning and boy were you succeeding. You never did find that shirt, but you did blow out your hair because, more than anything, you wanted him to admit that he found you super crazy scorching hot.
“You know, I have been needing a good drill.” You had your back up against the wall he was working on. The gallery wall was nearly complete, all Jake needed to do now was install the screws and actually hang the artwork. “Really I just haven’t had anyone to teach me.” You bit your lip, “Would you teach me to drill, Jake?”
His hand slipped, the drill bit missing the screw entirely and making a hole in your wall.
You couldn’t help but laugh, partly in disbelief. You could believe the effect you were having.
“You think this is funny?” He said, setting the drill on the floor to box you in.
“Kind of.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes and pushed back your hair to expose your neck. It was as if the character from last night had taken over and it almost scared you how much you liked it.
This was the most turned on Jake had ever been in his life and you hadn’t even touched him. His initial contact was hesitant, tracing up your arms and along the strings of your bikini.
He kissed your neck and nuzzled his way down to suck on your pulse point. Your breathy moan went straight to his cock.
God, he couldn’t fucking believe it. Jake got bolder, pulling you flush against him by the belt loops. He kissed your clavicle, breath heavy, and flicked your hard nipple through the triangle of your bikini.
It was nearly painful how hard his dick strained in his jeans thanks to your breathy whine.
You turned to face the wall, ass grinding into him. It felt incredible. You felt incredible.
You pulled your hair aside so Jake could watch as you popped the bow of your bikini knotted around your neck. “Fuck,” he swore as the top fell. “You’re so fucking hot.”
He reached around you to touch your breasts but you grabbed his wrists and moved them down to your hips, letting him control the speed.
You ground faster and he couldn’t help but buck into you. “Baby, wait,” he whispered, “I’m gonna—”
You laughed, tying back your bathing suit before you turned to face him and his wet jeans. “Did you—”
“Yeah,” he said completely breathless. “I can’t believe it.”
“Can’t believe Plain Jane made you cum your pants?”
Jake actually blushed and satisfaction bloomed in your chest.
“Find me on the beach after you deal…” You gestured vaguely at his crotch. “And don’t forget to finish the wall!” You said, already out the door.
Request: Can you please do Michael Stirling × Reader fic with prompt 9 (“I love seeing you smile.”) & 19 (“You’ve changed.”)?
Notes: Michael Stirling x Reader (536 words) -- Super angsty and short but I did it!
Watching him pine for Francesca was the worst thing you could do, but you did it anyway; like some horrific carriage accident you could not tear your eyes from, not only because she was very much in love with her John--his cousin and best friend--but because you had not stopped thinking about him since he tucked a flower behind your ear to make up for his not being home for your fourteenth birthday.
You were at John and Franny's house party, an intimate gathering to celebrate the coming of cool weather or, at least, to pretend it was something to celebrate. There were only perhaps three families other besides yours and the Stirling's. Their ballroom was massive, made even more so by the lack of numbers, but the happy couple wanted to dance.
Michael was on violin and you volunteered to flip his pages. The song was not very impressive and most of the heavy lifting was done by Anne, the young girl who lived down the road, on piano forte.
"You did not wish to dance?" Michael whispered, his bow hovering above the instrument.
"Who do you suggest I dance with? Anne's father?" Your eyes drifted to her: brow furrowed, jabbing furiously at the keys despite the slow pace of the piece.
"He has been known to have wandering eyes."
"And hands," you retorted.
He looked to you, "Did he..." It always struck you how he could share the most salacious of tidbits without so much of a blink, but he did not look impassive now. Anne cleared her throat; you were behind. You reached out to turn the pages but he grabbed your hand, "answer me."
You whipped your head to him, eyes wide in surprise, "O-of course not." You could hear the breath of his exhale before he took his position to drag the bow across the violin's strings.
"Did you really believe..." you couldn't finish. You had not lied, but you had never seen the man's hands wander past his wife.
"You've changes," his gaze did not leave the sheet music, "you don't smile." His voice dropped lower, you had to strain to hear him, "I love seeing you smile."
A blush scorched your cheeks, detracting from the severity of his meaning. You took his wrist in hand, dangling at your sides, angling yourself so he would have to look at you and spoke in the same whisper, "I am intact."
It was much too intimate, much too revealing. You had known him your entire life but never had you... You blushed again.
Sparkling laughter broke your contact. It was Francesca's. You watched as Micheal tore his eyes from you and fixed them onto his cousin's wife. His face softened in ways you had never seen before, in ways you didn't know were possible.
Anne was playing the same notes over and over, waiting-- even she noticed the gravity of it all. You turned the page and nudged Michael to get on with it. Tearing his eyes from Francesca looked as if it were the most difficult task he had ever completed.
