Below is my updated list of masterlists. Please note that some of my fics will appear in multiple characters' masterlist with the same name. This is because it heavily involves these characters, whether it be a threesome, exes, a friend fic. All fics are 18+, all warnings appear with each fic. My other masterlist is still online, I just won't be updating it.
summary: as the squad is giving jake as much shit as possible for the new offensive hair growing on his lip, you are frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader
warnings: explicit language, realization of feelings, alcohol consumption to combat dirty thoughts.
word count: 2.2k
a/n: based on this lovely gifset by unicornships
If you were being completely honest with yourself, you always kind of had a thing about Hangman.
Look, you didnât hate him, per se, but he definitely stirred some feelings in you that were less than normal. He made you feel totally feral, if you will, unrestrained and vicious. The sort of anger that made you want to scratch your skin off, vibrating and seething, screaming at the top of your lungs.
Being obsessed with your own OCs but literally never creating any art or content for them is such a curse. You'll be like "this reminds me of blorbo from my head :)", and everyone else will just be like "? who thef uck"
Summary: Jake Seresin's past unexpectedly catches up with him. Will he finally be able to make things right, or will they only get worse?
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC
Warnings: 18+ Only, MDNI, angst, mentions of alcohol use, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of vehicular accidents, swearing, probable typos (I will update warnings with each chapter)
WC: 2500
As always, thanks to @sylviebell for being awesome! None of my stories would exist without you!
The June sun was beating down on his truck, A/C blasting. Jake huffed as he turned off the highway. All he wanted to do was go home, heat up his leftover Chinese food and crack open an ice-cold beer. But Bradshaw was sitting in his passenger seat, humming along with the oldies station he found. The pilot was dancing on his last nerve with every note that floated from his chest.
âWhy did you pick a mechanic all the way over by me?â Jake snipped, letting his eyes dart to the mustached man.
âPenny highly recommended Angel at Redâs,â Bradley rebuffed.
âAnd Angel had to do your oil change?â he asked incredulously. There were at least a dozen places near the base that could do it. Hell, Bradshaw could probably change his own oil at Mavâs.
âI only take her to Angel,â Bradley insisted. âBest mechanic in California.â He looked down at his hands, a small smile filling his lips. âSheâs really hot tooâŠmight ask her out for a drink finally.â
Jake rolled his eyes as he turned into the parking lot of a small autobody shop. Bradley had been on a dating spree after Emily left him two months prior. Didnât seem to want to be by himself after the brunette walked away. Never made it more than two dates with anyone else before he lost interest. He just needed to suck it up and give his ex a call.
âThanks for the ride, Bagman,â Bradley said unhooking his seatbelt.
He looked up at the garage that stared back at him. âAre you sure itâs even open?â he mused, throwing the truck in park. His brow furrowed as he scanned the building. It was almost six and the place seemed deserted. There was something about the small garage that reminded him of his hometown. Something raw and out of place about it in comparison to all the shiny, bright places that seemed to adorn California.
âShe promised sheâd stay until I got here,â he assured him, reaching for the door.
âWhy donât I hang back, just in case she didnât,â Jake suggested. Heâd rather wait a few minutes than have to turn around after he got home for the night.
âItâs alright,â Bradley waved him off. He slid out of the door, Hawaiian shirt blowing in the gentle breeze. âThanks again.â
Jake groaned softly as he watched the brunette skip away. There was something deep in his gut telling him to wait, that he shouldnât just rush off to spend yet another night alone. He raked a hand over his face. It had been a hard day in the air. Mav had them running tactical drills with the new recruits and one of them had to eject. He had been in the air with Sea Biscuit when he went down, felt the weight of that in his gut.
Maybe he would just go home. He threw an arm over the passenger headrest, turning to back up. Something black was sitting on the seat. Bradshawâs wallet mustâve slipped out of his back pocket. A satisfied smirk filled Jakeâs face as he shut off the truck. He liked it when his gut feeling was right.
He would get to see just how hot this mechanic was. He chuckled to himself as he strolled through the small door he had watched Bradley disappear through. The overwhelming scent of grease filled his nose as he entered the threshold of the room. The Bronco was sitting in the bay, hoisted up on a lift. Mustâve needed more than an oil change. He sighed, realizing that his friend would probably need a ride home, back to the other side of town.
The light in the office was on, Bradshawâs deep voice floating from it. Jake bit the inside of his cheek as he approached it. He didnât want to interrupt Bradley if he was asking his mechanic out. God, he wished he would just listen to the squad and try to reason with his ex. She stormed off over something so purely stupid, it wouldnât take Bradshaw much to reenter her good graces, but he was too proud.
âHow long for it to come in?â Bradley sighed as Jake reached the door.
âMaybe a week,â a soft voice answered, making Jake freeze. He knew that voice somehow.
He knocked gently on the doorframe, seeing his friend fidgeting in his seat. Bradshaw definitely wasnât expecting added repairs, that was for sure.
âIâm sorry, weâre closing,â the sweet voice sighed.
Jake took a step into the small room, holding the wallet out for Bradley. âIâm sorry, maâam. He left his walleââ the words fell silent on his lips as he took in the woman sitting before him. His heart was pounding, tears sprouting in his eyes already. He would know those hazel eyes anywhere. Heâd only spent the last fifteen years dreaming of them. It was her. It was the only girl he ever mourned. The girl all the others were trying to be for him without knowing it.
âRory?â He gasped, taking a step closer. âIs it really you?â
He watched her, feeling lightheaded as his lungs constricted. Her face twisted, thin bottom lip sliding between her teeth. She removed her hat, scratching her head almost comically. The sight of the large scar that ran from her forehead onto her scalp had his stomach sinking. Her beautiful strawberry blonde hair was gone, a bald head greeted him.
âShould I know you?â she whispered.
âItâs me,â he said excitedly. âJake.â He paused, watching her face contort in confusion. His heart broke. âJake Seresin, your old neighbor.â
He watched those beautiful hazel eyes go wide. âIâm so sorry, IâŠI forget things,â she gasped.
His stomach flipped. He felt like an idiot. Of course, she wouldnât remember him. The only thing he ever learned after she moved was that she was having a hard time recalling things that happened before that day. He fumbled with his own wallet, pulling out the old photo that he always kept with him. Had a copy in his plane. A few stashed around the house.
âYou were my best friend,â his voice cracked as he handed her the worn photograph. The love of my life, he bit back.
He watched her intently as she looked at the memory. Her gasp filled the small space, making his breath hitch. She surely had to recognize herself. He wanted to let himself believe that he tugged on some deep memory in the back of her brain. That she would miraculously remember him. But he knew better than to get his hopes up.
âI turned seventeen that day,â he said hoarsely. âMy sisters took us for a long hike.â He took a step closer. âWe fell asleep in the back of the car on the way to get ice cream.â His mouth tasted sour. âIt wasâŠwas a week beforeâŠâ
He watched as her hand instinctively brushed over the scar atop her head through the fabric of her hat. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at him, brows scrunched closer together. Her bottom lip trembled, and his world tilted. He had to fight every instinct to stay glued to the spot he was standing on. He knew her, but she didnât know him. He couldnât just pull her into his arms and promise her that everything would be alright.
âEverything okay in here, Angel?â a deep voice asked from the door.
Jake turned to see a larger man, no older than Rooster. He wore grease covered overalls and a skeptical gaze. He shivered under the manâs gaze.
âFine,â she whispered. Jake could hear the pain in her voice. âJustâŠJustâŠâ
âAlright, fellas,â the man boomed. âWeâre closed. Come back in the morning.â
Jake looked back at Rory, watching as her tears slipped silently down her cheeks. His heart was shattering as she gently traced the photo. His arms itched to hold her close like he used to. He wanted nothing more than to wipe those stray tears away, make everything better.
âCan IâŠâ her voice trailed off, holding up the photo.
âItâs yours,â he said softly. He grabbed a pen from the desk, writing quickly. âIf you want to get coffee.â He handed her his number, sparks shooting through him as her fingers brushed his. âI could fill in some gaps.â
Rooster was tugging him harshly by the arm as she nodded gently, still transfixed on the photo in her hands. His feet didnât want to move. He hadnât seen her in fifteen years, and he couldnât fathom leaving her. The last time he did, sheâŠThe brunette tugged him harshly through the shop, all but carrying him. He couldnât take his eyes off the girl he once knew, sobbing behind the window of the shopâs office, the tall man holding her in his arms.
âWant to tell me what the fuck I just saw?â Bradley barked, parking in front of Jakeâs small home.
He let his head hit the headrest harshly. He didnât remember getting into the truck. Didnât even remember Bradley driving. All he seemed to focus on was that Rory had been ten minutes away from him for years. Ten damn minutes.
âBradshaw, call your fucking ex and leave your mechanic alone,â he whispered flatly.
âNo,â Bradshaw hissed. âDo not turn this on me, Seresin.â A sigh filled the truck cab. âYou know Angel?â
Bile rose in his throat. They were all going to find out. They were all going to know what he did. What he lost. âYou all wonder why I canât commit to anyone? Why I donât date seriously?â He huffed. He felt like he was going to puke. âShe is why. She will always be why.â
He slipped out of the truck before another word could fall from the mustached manâs parted lips. He just wanted to be alone. Wanted to go back through all the old photos he lugged with him during each move. Wanted to let his own tears fall without fear of judgement. He heaved behind the row of bushes he had been neglecting to trim, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He didnât feel his knees hitting the concrete. All he was vaguely aware of was the guilt blossoming in his stomach. It had always been there, but he was able to push it down the longer he went without seeing her. The pain was crushing him with every passing second.
~~
Memories were splayed around her in the dimly lit carriage house. Nonexistent tears fell from her eyes; her actual tears dried up hours before. She didnât notice. All she focused on was trying to remember; trying to piece together who Aurora McHenry was before the accident. Trying to remember who he was.
âRor,â her uncle called from outside the door. âOpen up, kiddo. You need to eat.â
âIâm not hungry,â she called out, voice as stable as a Jenga game.
Her fingers traced over the picture he had given her. It seemed well worn, folded and unfolded countless times, perhaps. She smiled softly at the thought of a happier time. A week before, he had said? Her heart was pounding as her lip quivered. The strawberry blonde atop her head wasnât jarring, sheâd been thrust with countless images of herself over the years. What was unsettling was how comfy they seemed curled into each other. How at peace she seemed. A large white crease split them down the center of the photo. She gently probed the scar atop her head, heart sinking.
The worn newspaper caught her eye. She didnât know how many times she read it. Didnât know how many times she was tempted to rip it to shreds, but she couldnât. Sheâd read it so many times she could recite it. She let her eyes close as she fell onto the hardwood with a harsh laugh.
âTeen injured in DUI accident,â she whispered. âAurora McHenry, 15, of Green County, was taken to Memorial Hospital on Tuesday afternoon.â She sniffled, laughter bubbling from her chest as her sanity seemed to wane. âShe is in critical condition, but stable.â
âAurora,â her uncle called again.
Her breathing was erratic as her eyes opened, the off-white ceiling glaring down at her. âThe driver, Brian McHenry, was thrown from the vehicle.â She paused, sucking in a harsh breath. âPronounced dead at the scene, Mr. McHenry was found to have four times the legal limit of alcohol in his system. McHenry had two prior charges for driving under the influence.â
She blindly reached for a photo that was beside her. She was no older than twelve, a large trophy in her hands. Dread filled the pit of her stomach. She knew that she had won the spelling bee, it was written on the back of the photo like a flashcard. But why didnât anyone comment on the blonde boy standing beside her, large smile plastered on his face?
There was an itch deep within her. She recognized him. Her body did at least. His voice had been familiar. But it was an itch she couldnât scratch. A connection she couldnât make. And she desperately wanted to remember him. Wanted to remember why she was happy in all the photos she found with him. Did she feel butterflies when she looked at him back then too? Did those gorgeous green eyes ever leave the forefront of her mind before the accident or was this something new entirely?
Her feet acted on their own accord, carrying her to the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. It was a sparse collection that she kept. Audio books were more her thing. She still couldnât read long without getting a migraine, but she couldnât find it in herself to let any of them go. Her hand landed on a large book. âSalemâs Lot scrawled along the spine. Her heart was in her ears as she pulled it out, blowing the mountain of dust away from it. She flipped the cover open to reveal the inner page. The letter J was emblazoned in sloppy black ink, a number scrawled below it.
Aurora pulled the scrap piece of paper from its home in her pocked. I could fill in some gaps, he said. Jake Seresin. That was his name. The same sloppy script matched the book. The number was identical. If anything, it was slightly harder to read in the rushed ink. She swallowed thickly.
Her phone was filled with dozens of numbers she had never used. Some were clients that never bothered to come back. Some were doctors she didnât see anymore. But she knew that she didnât need to type the number on the white scrap paper. It had been programed in years earlier, fifteen to be exact. She had always wondered who J was. Would they call one day? She had fanaticized more than once that she would just call. Would they remember her? Would they tell her they missed her?
Aurora McHenry, 30, of San Diego County finally found J. Her hand trembled as she pulled up his name in her messages app, hoping he could answer some questions for her.
It is OKAY to have content preferences and to be uncomfortable with certain ships or topics, controversial or not. It is OKAY to distance yourself from such content and block certain tags or creators.
It is NOT OKAY to actively hate and harass real people for creating content of fictional characters that features things that make you uncomfortable.
hey friends, i know it's been like over six months since i've jumped on and posted anything. life has been a lot, and muse has been lacking. i'm sorry i disappeared without a trace. i have a lot of reading and writing to catch up on.
i'm definitely going to be reading and reblogging for the time being and slowly getting back into writing. hopefully i still have some friends on here and if you want to shoot us a link to anything you've written or read that i've missed being away, please let me know xxx
Hi seb, i have the bobby feels right now đ do you have any fic recs for me?
Also i just re-read your navy ball fic and my cheeks may or may not be heating up
hi my dear anon!! iâd absolutely love to share these recs with you and iâm so pleased to hear the navy ball fic is still heating up your cheeks hehe đ„č <33
these are four fics/series i will swear by till the day i die.
âamidst field trips and booksâ & âtonight you belong to meâ by @withahappyrefrain
âteddy bearâ series by @thesluttyarchivist
âpicture perfect porcelainâ by @coyotesamachado
âreturn to meâ and âbefore the devil comes for youâ series by @lt-bradshaw
âHeâs my best friend,â you sigh, the love you have for him evident in your voice. Anyone with eyes can see that you and Bob are closer than close, so that doesnât really answer his question. Coyote wonders if youâve ever spoken about anyone else with the same adoration, and the tiniest spike of jealousy hits him. You can tell heâs waiting for more than that. You need to start letting your walls down with people who donât already know you. These people are going to be your family, theyâre going to be the people youâre going to have to fight beside, and perhaps die beside. Itâs only fair that they have a chance to get to know you in the same manner you get to know them. Â
Gosh, I didn't think it would take me this long to get this out. But I love this story, and even if it takes me forever to finish it, I will. The next chapter is already underway, but I hope you enjoy this. Big thanks to my love @notroosterbradshaw and @devvbabyy for beta-ing, I really appreciate it.
callsign: Mercy, it will be explained at some point in this story.
WC:Â 1.4k
series warnings:Â eventual smut, swearing, drinking, reader is a mom!, 18+ only. More warnings in each chapter.
chapter warnings:Â nothing really, maybe eating.
series masterlist | my masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter
High Control
He watches as your eyes close, and your head hits the back of the sofa you were sitting on. Theyâd been on early morning training for the last week, and it was catching up with you. Your daughter was still adjusting to a new house, a new daycare, and a new routine. It was a lot for her, as she reminded you with her constant tantrums when it came time for bed. It was hard, you had told her that over and over as you soothed her, rocking her back and forth while you rubbed circles on her back, trying to get her to sleep. You kind of wished you had someone who would do the same for you. All it would have taken would be a phone call to Bob, but he was on the same training you were, the same early mornings. There was no point in making his life more difficult for a little moment of comfort for yourself.Â
With the few moments of peace you get in the break room, you aim to get yourself in a little nanny nap before itâs your turn in the air. You pray that youâre one of the last in the air, knowing that youâll have to stay back for those dreaded push-ups if you fail in your goal. You find it utterly ridiculous and completely on brand that these pilots would come up with a bet on their first day back, and it continues two years later. Â
Javy wonders whatâs going through your head while you relax, but he pours you a cup of coffee, strong and black. He holds it out, gently wafting the smell of it to coax you from your stupor. Your eyes donât open as the smell hits you and you can practically taste the coffee at the back of your throat. Â
âYou better not be teasing me with that, because I will knock it out of your hands before you can move,â you threaten, eyes still shut. Â
âNah, I got it for you,â Javy says, and you squint up at him. Heâs looking at you with a genuine smile on his face, holding out the mug. You raise an eyebrow at him, considering him carefully. Â
âThis doesnât get you anything,â you say, taking the coffee anyway, âbut thank you.â Â
Thereâs a small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips, and he grins back at you, like maybe heâs still achieved something. Â
-Â Â
The coffee continues over the next week, strong and black, exactly the way you like it. You wonder how he knew how you like your coffee, but youâre not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not when your daughter is late to bed and early to rise, still unsure of herself in this new town. She doesnât have her grandparents visiting her every day anymore, instead, thereâs nightly zoom calls to them that result in you letting her stay up past her bedtime. You feel guilty that youâve taken her away from everything and everyone sheâs known for the last two years. Â
-Â Â
The following Monday, Coyote hands you a mug, a second for himself in his hands and takes a seat next to you. Â
âIâm curious about something, MercyâŠâ he begins, and you cringe wondering whatâs about to come out of his mouth next. âWhatâs the deal with you and Bob?â Â
You breathe an internal sigh of relief. You love your daughter, you really do, but you donât like fielding the questions that come when people inevitably find out about her. You donât like talking about her father, you donât like acknowledging that youâve done the last two and a half years on your own. You donât like the praise that sometimes follows because you donât think you deserve it. Your parents do. Instead, you settle in with new people, let them get to know you before hitting them with the fact you have a daughter. Â
You know you should tell Coyote, if heâs serious about pursuing you, but you also expect him to get bored pretty quickly. Thatâs your justification, anyway. Â
âHeâs my best friend,â you sigh, the love you have for him evident in your voice. Anyone with eyes can see that you and Bob are closer than close, so that doesnât really answer his question. Coyote wonders if youâve ever spoken about anyone else with the same adoration, and the tiniest spike of jealousy hits him. You can tell heâs waiting for more than that. You need to start letting your walls down with people who donât already know you. These people are going to be your family, theyâre going to be the people youâre going to have to fight beside, and perhaps die beside. Itâs only fair that they have a chance to get to know you in the same manner you get to know them. Â
And Jake trusts him, enough to call him his own best friend, so that tells you almost all that you need to know. Â
âHe was there for me when I was at my lowest and so close to a dismissal, it wasnât funny. He helped build me back up to this,â you say, gesturing down your body laid out in a relaxed manner on the sofa, ankles crossed on the floor. Coyote takes that as the permission you think you meant it to be, his eyes raking down your body and up again. He doesnât even blink when you smirk at him, when his eyes finally catch your own.  Â
âAny chance I can hear more about that?â he asks slowly before taking a sip of his coffee. Â
âThat is not a story for a morning when we have to fly. Another time,â you promise, and you mean it too. Â
âIâll hold you to that,â he says, fixing you with a look that says he will ask you again. Â
You close your eyes again, holding the mug under your nose, effectively ending the conversation. Â
-Â Â
You walk into the ready room on Friday morning, weirdly refreshed from your daughter sleeping the night before, and not waking you up before the sun even breached the skyline. For two weeks now, Coyote has your coffee ready for you, and yeah, that first number has been sitting at the tip of your tongue for a few days now. But you stand by what you said that first day, coffee is not worthy of a number. Youâre more impressed by the fact that itâs been two weeks and as far as you know Coyote hasnât asked any of your teammates for your number, disregarding your own rules.  Â
You see the two mugs on the bench and smile, but then you watch as Coyote reaches for the basket of muffins, pulling out the last chocolate one. You donât realize that the choked off groan you hear is your own, nor that other people can hear you. But he turns around to look at you, muffin still in hand. Itâs when you notice that everyone else in the room has turned to look at you that your face grows warm, and you look at the ground instead of Coyote.  Â
You slink your way over the couch that still doesnât have the impression of your butt yet, despite sitting in it every morning, waiting for the day to begin. Youâre not surprised when Coyote puts down a mug on the little side table next to you, nor when he walks around the back of the sofa to sit next to you. Youâre about to ask him for just a bite, one teeny tiny chocolate chip of the muffin when you catch a glimpse of it in your periphery. Next to your coffee. Â
You turn to look at him, the question written across your face. Â
âIt sounded like you really wanted that muffin,â he says, voice still gruff with sleep. You smile softly, and pick it up, breaking it and offering half to him.Â
âFive,â you say with no explanation before taking a bite, letting the sugar and coffee wake you the rest of the way up. Â
He looks at you confused for a moment, but takes your offering, nonetheless. Then he realizes what youâve just said, and his face breaks out into a grin that makes you want to spill the rest of your number. Â
#oh my god#this is so smart#please more#plsplsplsls#i will give u my kidney#aaaaaaaaaaaaaa this is so cute#plus w javy being good with kids!?!!!!#i cannot#deal#hes so tall and handsome and aaaaaaaaaaaa
there is definitely more coming and i'm so glad you enjoy it so far. don't need a kidney, just a chance to actually sit down and write. xx
