Summary : Despite how much he irritates you, when Jake loses his father’s watch, you go to the moon and back to bring it back to him.
Pairing : Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Lightning ⚡️ :)
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so sorry for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading !💞
Word count : 5.5k
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
“Lightning watch out !”
You barely had time to register that Javy was screaming your call sign before a ball came crushing down next to you, sending sand flying everywhere on your opened book and sticky, lathered in sunscreen, skin.
Beautiful colors of pink and violet were painting the sky, the sun beginning his descent towards the western aerosphere. It had shined brightly throughout the entirety of the squad’s monthly beach day, bathing your skin in warmth and golden light.
“For fuck’s sake, Javy ! You guys can shoot down a target from two hundred feet while flying at Mach one but you can’t aim a volleyball for shit !” You snapped, dusting the thousands of grains of sands from your book and towel.
Next to you Natasha was hiding a laugh behind her own book.
Pointing a finger at her, you warned, “don’t you dare laugh at me, Nat.” You got up to brush off more sand off your legs, “that’s why I hate going to the beach with them, there’s nothing less relaxing on this earth,” you mumbled out, a frown making the lines on your forehead prominent.
“My bad, Lightning !” Jake called out, his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, though his tone was very much not apologetic, and the smirk stretching his lips only fueled the irritation simmering under your skin.
Glaring at him, you debated for a second on yelling back a piece of your mind, indulge into this game he seemed to initiate anytime he could. Riling you up, provoking you and then simply grinning like an idiot when you eventually ended up taking the bait.
But for once, you decided to be the bigger person. So you settled on raising your middle finger high enough that he could very much identify what lovely sign you were throwing his way.
“I love you too, darlin’ !” He yelled back.
You rolled your eyes so hard you feared for a moment that they’d get permanently stuck.
“Careful, you’re blushing,” Natasha snickered, still lying next to you.
Scoffing you flipped her off as well, “which side are you on ?”
“The side of love, darlin’.” She smiled in a perfect imitation of Jake’s Texan drawl.
You couldn’t have contained the laugh that broke out of you even if you tried, “shit, you actually sound just like him.”
“I know,” she cooed, obviously proud of her trick, “is it turning you on ?” She inquired, wiggling her eyebrows at you.
A shocked laugh escaped you, “Geez Nat—“
“OH MY GOD WHAT TIME IS IT ?” Javy’s sudden gasp made you both jump as he came running towards you, where all of the squad’s stuff was and he started abruptly digging through his bag.
“It’s seven.” Bob supplied after a quick look to his watch.
“I was supposed to meet my mom for dinner fifteen minutes ago,” he explained, panicked as he was hastily grabbing all his stuff and throwing it carelessly in his bag. “Jake, can you drive me ?”
Usually, you carpooled to avoid bringing everyone’s car and having to park too far away if the beach was busy that day.
“Let me think about it…” Jake walked over, deliberately slow, pretending to think it over.
Javy groaned, not in the mood to entertain his friend’s antics, “come on, man.”
Jake sped up a bit, raising his arms in mock defense, “alright, alright, don’t throw a fit mama’s boy. I’ll drive you.”
As he was gathering his own stuff, you suddenly saw him frown, and then frantically look around. Lifting his towel, emptying his bag only to pack it again, passing his hands in the sand in visible hope of stumbling upon something…
You were about to throw in a witty remark when you noticed something missing on his wrist.
His watch.
His father’s watch.
In its place was now a tanning line. A ribbon of whiter skin surrounded by his Californian and natural Texan tan.
It didn’t take a genius, nor being Jake’s best friend to know how precious that watch was to him, or to guess that it might have been one of the last few things left from his dad.
He wore it at all times. There weren’t much occasion you had seen him without it ever since you’d met him. It had stayed securely around his wrist all throughout Naval Academy, and then had stayed through every one of his deployment until he got permanently assigned in San Diego. During every flight, every mission, every exam even, every casual outing… You could always see the watch rest proudly on his cuff. Perhaps it was the only thing about him Jake didn’t feel the need to flex, a quiet legacy he carried around with him, feeling the weight of it in his every move, every decision.
The only times he ever took it off was during underwater training and at the beach if he went for a swim. Surely a watch like that was waterproof and even capable of descending a few feet deep, but the fact that Jake was unwilling to bring it with him in an environment it was specifically designed to survive in, was only another proof of its value to him.
He never talked about it. Never ever voiced the words ‘my dad’ out loud, but everyone knew. You knew.
Javy was ready to go, packed bag at his feet as he hastily threw in a t-shirt over his head, “Jake ? Are you good to go ?”
Jake froze for a moment. It was rare to see him display anything other than sheer haughtiness. And it weirdly tugged at your heartstrings to see him look so lost for an instant.
You were about to help him look for his watch — sure you hated him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel empathy for him losing something so precious to him, when—
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He said a bit absentmindedly, his eyes still frantically looking around as he stuffed, slightly violently, all his stuff in his backpack.
He quickly got up, threw the bag over his shoulder as Javy was waving everyone goodbye and starting to make a run for Jake’s truck.
You watched Jake with a shock you hoped wasn’t too visible. Yes, he was the emotionally constipated type, never one to speak about feelings or do so much as even mention or acknowledge them, but surely when he was about to lose, perhaps forever, the one thing that probably meant more to him than the whole world, he would say something, express himself, let it out.
And you knew that if he’d speak up right now, the whole squad would stop everything and help him look for it. Javy would run right back on the warm sand and rampage through the entire beach if he had to.
Surely, he had to know that the squad wouldn’t see him as weak over getting a little panicked upon losing the one item he held so dearly in his heart ?
But you watched, stunned, and for some reason with a weight pressing down on your chest, as Jake looked one last time at the beach, eyes boring into the sand as if the distance would give him some perspective and help him spot the watch in a nanosecond.
“See you on Monday,” he threw to everyone over his shoulder, soundly halfhearted as he turned around and began to walk towards his truck, joining Javy.
The image stuck with you for some reason. it was like seeing him willingly abandon a piece of himself behind, and for what ? Just so he could hold on to his ‘feelings make you weak’ Hangman persona ?
If you had been closer to him, and in any place at all to call him out on this, you would have screamed at him. Yanked him back by the collar and prohibited anyone to leave this beach until the watch wasn’t back on its rightful place, on Jake’s wrist.
“I think I’m gonna head out as well,” Reuben spoke up, “does anyone want me to drop them home ?”
“Me please,” cheered Mickey, dusting some sands off his chest.
“Yes, please. Thanks Reuben,” Bob smiled, gathering his things.
“I’ll ride with Y/N, we’re gonna head back as well, right ?” Natasha turned to you.
If you had been able to say anything other than insults and provocative remarks, you would have reassured him.
If you had been able to consider yourself his friend, you would have helped him look for it.
“Y/N ?”
But you were capable of none nor were you any of those things.
And still—
“Actually I’m gonna stay a bit longer,” you blurted out without really thinking about it.
“You sure ?” Natasha questioned, skeptical.
“Yeah, the sunset is beautiful, it’s still warm and my book is getting really good, I’ll stay for a bit.” You assured, as if trying to convince yourself more than Natasha.
“Alright,” she conceded, still eyeing you a bit suspiciously, “be careful, you text me when you get home and don’t forget that Penny’s right next door if you have any problem,” she pointed to the Hard Deck which was facing the beach.
“Yes mom,” you chuckled as she playfully rolled her eyes at you.
As Reuben’s car drove away, you stood there for a moment. Watching the waves crash on the beach, the soothing sound of it blending with the distant echo of music coming from the Hard Deck. This beach wasn’t an especially popular one, and you marveled for a second at being the only person standing there.
Why had you stayed ?
You kinda had blurted it out without any real thoughts of what you would actually do once left alone.
Because you hadn’t stayed for the sunset or your book, in fact, the book was getting a bit boring if you were honest.
Jake’s expression when being met with the realization he’d lost his watch suddenly flashed into your mind and it made your heart clench. And perhaps it was what prompted you to start digging in the sand where his towel had previously been lying.
“I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” you muttered to yourself while rummaging through the sand, the watch couldn’t be far… right ?
You didn’t even notice when the warm light of the sunset got subsided by the sharp, white one of the moon.
The spot where the squad had previously established its camp was empty. You didn’t find anything apart from a few seashells and a colony of small crabs that you had probably woken up from their slumber.
You probably should have gone home. The watch obviously wasn’t there. But then your gaze drifted out towards the ocean… the guys usually played volleyball closer to the water, perhaps Jake had lost the watch around there ?
The cold breeze coming from the ocean had started to pick up as you searched the grounds of what was previously the volleyball court.
And when you didn’t find anything there, you moved on to other parts of the beach, trying to remember and retrace the entirety of Jake’s steps during the day. Your knees were aching from being constantly on them, hands pruned from the wet sand you’d been digging up, nails completely darkened by the grains. Your phone was slowly dying, using all its battery to shine inside the holes you were digging up, desperate to see a flash of silver. And it was cold, so, so cold. The wind was getting stronger, making you clutch your hoodie tighter around yourself.
The moon had well settled into the sky now, an indicator of just how much time you’d spent there.
You had wanted to give up, oh so many times. But everytime you had wanted to get up and leave, an image of Jake’s face would flash back into your mind. The way he had looked back at the beach, like he was saying goodbye to his dad a second time. And every time, without fail, your brain had conjured images of him getting home, and calling his mom back in Texas, telling her about how he had lost the watch and the image was just too painful for you, enough to bring unwanted and in your opinion, unjustified, tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much.
Anyone could have argued you were being overly dramatic over a guy who you proclaimed your hatred towards from the rooftops. And you would have agreed. But you wouldn’t leave this beach until the watch was secured in your hands.
You were on your hands and knees, near shore where the water was gently lapping up at the sand, bringing new things and taking away some when—
“Y/N ! Is that you ?”
Penny’s voice from the front of the beach made you jumped.
“Jesus Christ, Penny !” You exclaimed, a hand over your racing heart, “you scared the shit out of me !”
Jogging up lightly to meet her, you saw her frown when she took in the state of you, her worried face illuminated by the Hard Deck’s sign.
“What are you doing out there, sweetheart ?” She asked softly, and you could perceive the same tone in her voice she’d use with Amelia sometimes, no doubt that her maternal instinct were kicking in, seeing you all alone, covered in sand and digging up holes in the dark.
“Oh I was— I lost my bracelet earlier, you know we had our beach day with the squad ? Yeah, so the bracelet means a lot to me and I— I couldn’t leave without it.”
You pestered Jake for being emotionally constipated but you couldn’t even admit to Penny, of all people, sweetest woman alive who’d never judge you, that you were doing this solely for him.
“I see,” she said, an empathetic smile pulling at her lips, “I’ll help you.”
“No don’t worry Penny, it’s alright, promise. I’m all good.”
Was there a sick part of you that wanted to be the one to find Jake’s watch ? Maybe, you would deny all of it thought.
“At least I’ll wait for you, I just closed the bar.”
“Don’t worry,” you repeated with the sweetest smile you could mutter out at the moment, “I won’t stay much longer anyway.”
“You sure ?”
“I am, thank you though that’s really nice of you.”
“Could you at least activate your location please ? And also text me when you get home, okay ?”
Saluting her you let out a chuckle, “I will, Penny. Promise.”
“Alright.” She conceded, bregrundly.
She knew this beach was safe, otherwise she would have never left you alone. You parted with a warm hug and watched her drive away, similar to how you’d watched your friends leave a few hours ago now… God, had it been really that much time ?
You were beginning to lose hope, Jake’s watch seemed to have truly vanished, and you tried to ignore the heavy feeling sitting on your chest that came along with this conclusion. Telling yourself to check towards the west side of the beach before leaving, though you knew it was useless, you couldn’t really recall Jake going there, you still crouched, and began to dig, again…
Phone flash blasting in the dark, the light reflected on something then…. Silver !
“Oh my god !”
You rubbed your eyes to make sure the sight in front of you was real and not the fatigue making you hallucinate. But it was real, the small silver circle was still there.
“Oh my god !” You exclaimed again in a laugh, immediately digging in.
And sure enough, the watch was there. Covered in sand, but there. You carefully inspected it for damage, but other than the general dirt, it seemed fine.
Turning the watch over, your eyes caught something. The initials of who you could only guess was his father were delicately engraved in the metal, G.S. Before you could even think about it, your thumb passed, almost tenderly over the gravure.
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped you again, and it was incredibly chocked up. You didn’t even notice you’d been tearing up until you felt something wet roll down your cheeks.
Quickly you wiped the tears off, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck even though you were the sole person standing on this beach, moonlight illuminating your figure.
Forcing your emotions to settle down, it was only a watch for Christ’s Sake, you practically ran all the way back to your car. It felt as if your whole body was buzzing, and you couldn’t explain this weird feeling of excitement and… was it fulfillment ?
A genuine giddiness was coursing through your veins as you drove home, you couldn’t wait for Jake to have his watch again. See him settle, knowing his father’s legacy was in him, like it’s always been and always would be, but the physical representation of it, back on his wrist. The comforting weight of it bringing meaning to every one of his moves.
The excitement kept you awake once you were home, so you took the time to carefully clean the watch. You physically couldn’t give it back to him like that. And soon enough, once you were sure that there was not even the tiniest grain of sand left in any notches, only then, did sleep finally caught up to you.
The sun wasn’t even up yet when you made your way to base the next morning. You had decided that you would just leave the watch in his locker, he didn’t need to know who found it, and maybe he wouldn’t be too happy to see you holding his father’s watch, considering you hated each other…. Right ? At least that’s what you told yourself.
Arriving in front of his locker, you opened his numbered lock, honestly who was stupid enough to put in their birthday as a password ?
But then, anyone could argue that it was weird you knew his birthday, as someone who hated him so much.
Refusing to give this any more thought, you neatly placed the watch in his locker, on a little rag. You made sure one last time that it was perfectly clean, made sure it was not askew, made the sure the rag wasn’t wrinkled…. And for a moment it felt as if you were stalling.
“My god, I need to get a grip,” you mumbled to yourself, finally closing the locker door, a bit more forcefully than you had intended.
“I’m telling you, my mom is obsessed with getting me in a relationship !” Javy complained to Jake on their way to the locker room, “last night she just kept showing me pictures of her friends’ daughters and being like ‘you two would make an adorable couple’ like, oh my god, can’t a man go at his own pace ?”
Jake only hummed, not exactly in the mood to discuss Javy’s mom self proclaimed matrimonial agency.
Each of his step was heavy. Heavy with the lack of sleep and the mass pressing down on his chest. The missing weight on his wrist made him feel strangely stripped bare, like a piece of himself was missing, left where he had abandoned it on the beach the night before.
When Jake had gotten home after dropping Javy off, he had cursed himself. He couldn’t believe he had actually walked away, without even taking the time to look for the watch, no he had just left.
He had to refrain back tears when his mom had called him that night, asking him about his day, and he hadn’t had the courage to tell her what had happened, consumed by sorrow and shame. He felt pathetic. He spent that entire night sulking, thinking about how ashamed his father would be if he saw him like that. It felt like letting him down.
“Like she doesn’t get that I don’t want to settle down, I mean not yet anyway—“
“Yeah, tell her you want to keep bringing girls home from the Hard Deck every weekend for a little while longer, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear it.” Jake finally answered Javy’s rant, trying to give his remark its usual wit.
“You fucking jerk, you’re supposed to be on my side !” Javy whined, opening up his locker.
Jake was abort to retort something but the words died on the tip of his tongue when he opened his own locker.
He froze.
He was met with his watch. Neatly placed on a small rag, looking as new as the day he had received it from his dad, just a few days before losing his battle against cancer.
His heart skipped a beat in his chest. How ?
Jake stayed there for what felt like an eternity to him, but was only a few mere seconds, just staring at the watch. He could faintly hear Javy next to him still talking, now rambling about how his mother compared him to his cousin or whatever, but the sound of his voice was drawn out, an echo in Jake’s ears.
With shaky hands, he gently grabbed the watch and immediately turned it over, eyes fixed on his father’s initials that he traced with a tender pass of his thumb, and his heart clenched, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of emotion.
He had no idea how the watch had gotten there, and perhaps it should have worried him a bit more — whoever this was had cracked the impossible code of his locker for Goodness’s sake ! — but he chose to pay it no mind.
Now Jake wasn’t superstitious or a believer of any kind, far from it, actually. But in this moment, he chose to believe that whatever, whoever had found his watch and brought it back to him, had somehow been missioned by his father, who had probably been very upset about his son being so careless with the precious time teller.
Jake knew it was stupid, truly. His father, from the beyond, somehow orchestrating a whole plan to find the watch left on the beach and leave it in his locker on base, was a stupid theory. But the thought of it made a warmth spread out in his chest and his eyes sting slightly. So he decided that for once, he would let himself believe in a little stupidity.
This weird mix of euphoria and serenity hadn’t left him the entire week. He felt good, more confident now that the watch was back on his wrist. And he would sometimes just stare at it for a few moments, in amazement and incredible gratefulness for having been given a second chance, that’s how he saw it. And he would honor his father in every action he took while securely wearing the watch.
He had found a new vigor, a new desire to win, one that made him better, he thought. Though the squad would probably argue it just made him more insufferable.
So that’s with a pumped up step that Jake walked into the Hard Deck that week end, closely followed by everyone.
“Alright, what do you guys want ?” He cheered, still in an exceptionally good mood.
The squad all gave him their orders before going to find some seats, you merely grumbled a ‘nothing that comes from you’ and somehow, Jake understood it meant a virgin mojito.
He made his way to the bar, patiently waiting for Penny to finish off her conversation with a customer.
“Hey, sailor !” She greeted with a smile when she saw him, “what can I get you and the squad ?”
After he told her, she started to prepare the drinks on front of him, making small talk, asking about training, how life was on base when—
“Oh by the way,” she seemed to remember, momentarily stopping the making of your virgin mojito to look at Jake, “do you know if Y/N found her bracelet ?”
Jake frowned, confused.
“Um, I don’t know. I didn’t know she had lost a bracelet,” he said, head turning slightly to look for you in the crowd and he suddenly frowned more, looking back at Penny, “in fact, I didn’t even know she wore bracelets, her wrists are usually bare.”
“Oh, because I saw her last week, after your guy’s beach day. I closed the bar a little earlier than usual because it was pretty quiet, and she was there, digging in the sand, looking for her bracelet. I proposed to help her but she said she was fine. It was quite late though, so it really must have mean a lot to her, that’s why I was wondering if she’d found it. But I’ll ask her myself later then, thanks Jake.”
Penny’s words had the effect of a sledgehammer hitting Jake right in the chest. The realisation dawned on him and he froze for a moment, not sure what to do with the newfound piece of information.
“You okay ?” Penny asked him, his shock seemingly visible on his features.
Her voice got him out of his trance.
“Yeah, yeah I’m good, thank you for the drinks Penny, talk to you later !”
He made a beeline for the spot the squad had settled in, their usual one, next to one the pool tables. He absentmindedly handed the drinks to everyone, keeping your virgin mojito in his hands and making his way over to you. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that it was borderline painful. It seemed as though his vision had zeroed in on you, only you. Images of you on the beach at night, cold, alone, tired but still looking for his watch flashed into his mind and he felt a knot get caught up in his throat.
He barely heard the ‘thank you’s’ the squad threw him.
Leaning over some of the high tables near the windows, you were watching Mickey, Reuben and Bob engage in a heated game of pool.
“No Mickey it’s still my turn,” you watched with a smile as Reuben interjected his friend, “you sinked the cue ball so I get to shoot twice, gosh you’d think that you’d know the rules after playing literally every week end !”
You snorted, amused by their banter. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake walking towards you. Expression unreadable but his step visibly determined.
Arriving in front of you, he practically shoved the drink in your hand.
“I told you I didn’t want anything,” you said, monotonously, nonetheless still grabbing the glass.
Any excuse was good enough to start a fight with him.
You turned your gaze back to the pool game unfolding in front of you, but when the quick wit you were expecting from him never came, you turned back to him, frowning.
His jade green eyes were trained on you. Chest rising up quickly, like he’d ran a marathon before coming here. You didn’t think you had ever seen him so… moved.
“You good ?” You asked, letting your tone convey the tiniest bit of concern.
Jake took a shaky breath, “why didn’t you tell me ?”
The hand that was bringing the glass to your lips froze halfway through.
“Tell you what ?”
“My watch.” Was all he said, eyes still boring into yours, seemingly looking for answers you were absolutely not intent on giving.
Your eyes quickly flicked to the leather band sitting proudly on his wrist.
You had noticed it all week, how it was right back on shining on his cuff. How Jake had seemed to smile even more cockily than before, brighter. And you hadn’t been able to ignore the weird, warmth feeling spreading in your chest every-time you had caught him eyeing his wrist with a flash of pride and cherish.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, forcing yourself to keep an annoyed tone as your eyes flicked back up to meet his.
“There’s no use in lying, I know it was you.” He said, voice firm and steady despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to choke him up, “why ?”
You weren’t known to give up that easily.
“Jesus Seresin, I literally told you I have no idea what you’re talking about, go win at darts or something, leave me alone.”
Swallowing uncomfortably under his prying gaze, you silenced the tiny voice in your head that was telling you just how much similar to Jake you were in terms of showing feelings.
Facing your stubborn resolve in not telling him the truth, Jake let out a small, humorless laugh, “Y/N I just want to thank you properly, so please, for once, just let up.”
Let up. Stop fighting me for a second, was really what he was saying. And looking at him be willing to be honest and open for once did something to you.
“I did it because you looked all pathetic, okay ? And really, I didn’t want you sulking all day on base and mess up every training.” you finally conceded, tone annoyed despite the loud thumping of your heart in your chest, “besides it was just underneath where you had put down your towel, so really you could’ve found it if you had put a bit more effort into it. But I guess that it’s just another thing I’m better at than you, huh ?”
It was a complete lie. And both of you knew it.
Just the fact that you had been the only one to notice he had lost his watch told him everything he needed to know. And he knew from Penny that you had stayed well past midnight looking for it. To see you in front of him, knowing the length you had been to for him — despite what you were saying — made his heart do something inexplicable.
And Jake moved before he could think any more about it. He slightly bent down to wrap his arms around you, slipping under your own and hugging your middle, bringing you into his chest, chin resting on your shoulder, head touching yours.
All your muscles stiffened on instinct. The contact took you by surprise and you stayed frozen like that for a second, letting him hold you without reciprocating the touch.
He was warm, very warm. His arms were tightly wrapped around you, one draped across your shoulder blades and the other one across your waist. His body was firm against yours and for a moment, you almost thought you could feel the thumping of his heart against your chest. Your head was resting just shy of the crook of his neck, on his shoulder, and despite yourself, you caught a whiff of his smell, residue of jet fuel, his expensive cologne, the warmth of his skin and something so undeniably him it almost made your head spin.
“Thank you,” he whispered shakily, a small crack in his Hangman armor.
Those words and his tone felt like a detonator, hearing him sounding so small almost broke your heart. It only took a second after that for your arms to wrap around his neck. And as soon as your arms made contact, you felt his whole body relax and melt into you.
“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered back, rubbing his back comfortingly.
He seemed so small in this moment and it pulled at your heartstrings to know he was letting you be the one to seem him like that.
“You don’t know how much this means to me.” He murmured into your neck.
Oh, but you did. That was the whole reason you had done it.
It seemed as thought the entire bar had gone quiet, leaving only Jake and you, wrapped up in each other. You had no idea how long you stayed like that. But you certainly weren’t complaining, your arms tightening around him was met with the same intensity from Jake.
But the sudden sharp sound of a glass hitting the floor and shattering in pieces took you both out of the peaceful and comfort trance the embrace had took you both in. And you both found yourselves pulling away, reluctantly.
You noticed the slight pink hue dusting Jake’s cheeks, and his green eyes were bright, almost glassed over, shining with unshed tears.
God knew that if you had the courage you would take him into another embrace right here and then, and not let him go until the first rays of sunshine peaked through the windows, or realistically, probably until Penny kicked you out.
But unable to succumb to your deepest desire, no matter how much you wanted to, you instead fell back into your old ways.
“Try not to lose it again, cause I won’t get it for you next time.” You warned, though your tone was missing its usual bite.
You would.
You would do it all over a hundred times if needed.
Jake let out a laugh, a bit choked up, but a genuine one nonetheless.
“I promise.” He said in a smile as bright as a thousand suns.
And you had a scary realization then.
That in fact, there was not a lot you wouldn’t do to see him smile like that again.
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
author's note : I have had this fic idea for literally forever and I’m so happy I finally got down to write it.
I really wanted to kinda ‘dig deep’ into Jake’s character here, I hope it worked and that I was able to do him justice. He’s my baby I love him so much.💞
Also quick question, are we sick of Jake and reader being rivals ? It’s like my favorite trope with Jake and the only one I really see fit with a character like him, and I have so many more ideas but they are all with rival reader and I don’t want it to feel redundant for you guys, so tell me what you think !
Falling in love with Bradshaw's best friend has never been in Jake's life plan. Falling in love with your best friend's cocky arch rival has never been in yours. Somehow, the two of you make it work.
▸ PAIRING: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader
▸ WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, dirty talk, sex on the couch, a lot of jealousy on both sides, switch POV, slightly toxic dynamic at times but nothing crazy (aka arguing is their foreplay), long-term illness in family member, some angst rooted in insecurities (both reader and jake!), alcohol consumption
▸ WORD COUNT: 12.2K
▸ A/N: another one that was supposed to be quick but ended up here aha. i like the idea of an insecure jake having to compete with bradley for your attention and trust. pls note this dynamic may not be for everyone. first time with switch pov!
↤ main masterlist
Jake
Jake is not an insecure man by any means. Far from it, in fact.
In the air, he flies the F-35 like it’s an extension of his own body. His kill count has only gone up and he’s on his way to becoming a legend just like Iceman and Maverick. While he needs a little more training in conducting training for other pilots, his flying has no doubt earned him a place on the wall.
In his relationships – or at least romance, he does relatively well. He knows he’s fantastic in bed and a pleasure to be around, even if some may disagree. He has never had any problems winning women over.
However, he can’t deny that there is something that unsettles him when it comes to you. And that something is none other than your best friend, Bradley Bradshaw.
To be fair, Jake shouldn’t be complaining. The whole reason he met you was that Bradshaw had introduced the two of you. Of course, it came with the warning of “don’t even think about it, Hangman.” But Jake has never been a great listener, especially when it comes to people who catch his eye.
And you didn’t only catch his eye, you took his breath away.
It’s your laugh and your smile. When it comes to you, Jake would happily dub himself a sucker for a pretty smile. The first time he sees it, he can feel his heart stutter in his chest. He’s never had that reaction to anyone before.
By some miracle, you decide to give him the time of day. It starts off with flirty comments at the place where you bartend. Since he’ll be around for at least six months, he figures it wouldn’t hurt to charm the pretty bartender – great company and potentially free drinks? Say less.
After your third meeting, Jake finds himself in your bed. Your lips are chasing each other, hands scrambling desperately. He ends up spending too much time between your thighs, but he would also say there’s no such thing as too much with you.
It’s not just how sweet you are in bed. He adores having late-night bites with you. When the sex is done, the two of you spend an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen trying to one-up each other in preparing the ultimate midnight snack. He ends up laughing more than he ever has in his entire life with anyone else.
And that realization sinks in slowly and comfortably.
He’s in love with you.
It’s not a grand realization that comes with fireworks. It’s a little lightbulb going off in the middle of the night as he strokes your hair, your face against in his chest. He realizes that he’s never felt more at peace. Never so content with someone. It’s like finding that last missing piece of the puzzle that he’s been searching for and pushing it into its rightful place.
However, his love for you may not be something special for you. He’s likely not the only one.
Jake should’ve known from the moment he met you, when he saw how Bradley wrapped both arms around you in a tight embrace, your face buried in his neck as he swung you around. There’s an ease to the way Bradley keeps an arm tucked around your waist as he introduces you to Jake. One that has been trained over the years that you’ve known him.
It’s a bond that Jake can’t possibly comprehend. You and Bradley aren’t only best friends. You’re soulmates, bound together by experiences Jake has never been a part of.
And he has been in these situations before, it’s nothing new. A male best friend is no threat to him. But a male best friend who is virtually a more empathetic version of Jake, one that has more context to the person you are today, that’s a different story that he hasn’t even begun to read.
But when he kisses you, all those thoughts melt away. It’s only you in his arms. You are his and he is yours. He finds solace in holding you close to him.
He doesn’t think of all the other boys you might have had before him. He thinks himself lucky to be one of them, to be the current one.
Jake certainly tries not to think about it too much. He tries to close his eyes to how close the two of you are tucked together in the bar booth, giggling about something he is not privy to. He tries to push away those intrusive thoughts from a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he should be worried. He tries to ignore his squadmates asking him persistently if you’re Bradley’s girl.
Because you aren’t. You’re his.
At least, that’s what Jake tells himself now when he stands frozen a couple of feet away from the table Bradley had booked at a club. His feet are rooted to the spot when he spots the two of you.
It’s Bradley’s thirty-fifth, a momentous occasion. He’s excited to be here to celebrate with everyone else, he can never pass up an opportunity to dress up a little and go out dancing. It’s the southern boy in him. Plus, he knows you’ll be there because it’s Bradley’s birthday – of course, you’ll be there.
However, he’s questioning his decision to come when he finds you on Bradley’s lap, throwing your head back and laughing. You’re in a little black dress, your favorite one that has also become his favorite. You even sent him a picture of you in it before you arrived to give him a preview. His own little fashion show.
He thought it was his, but judging by the fact that Bradley’s hand is settled comfortably on your hip, he’s beginning to doubt it.
His temper flares instantly but a worse burn lights up his heart.
Jake knows the two of you are just friends. Good friends. He shouldn’t be upset. He shouldn’t be jealous. You’ve told him time and time again that the two of you are just friends.
Who’s to say that you and Jake aren’t just friends? Friends who happen to fuck from time to time. It’s not as if he ever put a label on the two of you, thinking it too childish and awkward a topic to bring up. Don’t relationships just happen?
You still flirt with your regulars at the bar to get tips and Jake can’t help the easy charm that slips from his lips to other people. He always thought of those things as innocent. Individual events that do not influence the two of you. The exclusivity is implied, everything else is moot.
It certainly doesn’t help when Atlas stumbles over drunkenly to him, sloshing around some purple concoction in his glass. “Hangman! You made it. Look at you all cleaned up. Blue is your color, my friend.”
You mentioned once that you like navy on him, it makes his eyes pop.
Atlas leans towards his ear, hot puffs of his alcohol-laced breath touching his skin. Jake flinches away. “Did you look at Bradley’s girl? Fuck, I’ve seen her around but did not know they were together. I was thinking of asking her out too.”
His skin prickles with irritation. He’s sure Atlas means well but all he sees is red in that moment.
“She’s not his girl,” is the only thing he manages to mutter before he shrugs the other man off and makes his way towards you.
You spot him quickly, eyes shifting to his tall frame stalking closer towards them. “Jake!” You leap off Bradley (thank god) and throw yourself into his arms.
He feels his annoyance shrink when he feels your warmth on him. He tilts his face down to face you. Your lips are shiny with gloss, tempting him to lean down and kiss you – and who is he to deny such temptation? You become putty in his hands, molding yourself into his body.
When he pulls away, your eyes are glowing, and there’s a bashful smile dancing on your lips. “Hi, darlin’,” he says.
“You look good.”
He flashes you his signature smile. “I feel good.”
“Hangman!” Bradley jumps to his feet next and you step aside to let him through, much to Jake’s dismay. The man is clearly inebriated, slumping against Jake and hugging him tight. He even goes as far as to paste a wet kiss on Jake’s cheek. “So glad you could make it, man. Get yourself a drink, you have some catching up to do.”
“I bet,” Jake replies, anger fizzling out into amusement.
Then Bradley turns back to you, and Jake’s displeasure returns just as fast. “Let’s go dance.”
Your eyes seek out Jake’s – part mirth and part question. Jake reluctantly nods. “Go ahead, I’ll catch you later once I get a drink.”
Bradley lets out a holler as he takes your hand and recruits a few others to disappear into the dance floor. Jake snags a tequila shot from the table and throws it back, letting out a hiss. He’s going to need more than one to survive tonight. Especially looking at the way you’re moving on the floor.
He has a semi in his pants and he hasn’t even really touched you yet.
He can’t say the same for Bradley, who has his hands planted on your hips as you’re dancing with him, giggling and laughing when he ducks his head to whisper things in your ear. Your gaze flits over to Jake briefly, eyes crinkling in the corners with a grin.
Don’t let it get to you, he tells himself.
Jake ends up stewing on his own, nursing a beer that tastes like piss, while he watches you dance with Bradley for what feels like hours. The way you’re moving on the floor, he’s seen what those hips can do. He has felt it firsthand.
He wants to play it cool. He doesn’t want to feel like an asshole who interrupts your precious time with your best friend. It’s been a busy few weeks, which means you haven’t seen Bradley much. But it also means that you haven’t seen Jake much and the fact that you’re out there with Bradley instead of here with him vexes him more than he would like to admit.
It seems like an eternity before you’re stumbling off the floor and back to the table. Your hair clings to your skin slightly with the sweat, your entire body glowing underneath the moving lights. You find your way to him, sitting next to him and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
His cheek? He wants to kiss you stupid in front of everyone.
“Enjoying yourself?” He asks. Maybe he sounds a little petty.
You grin and he immediately feels a pang of regret. You’re just being a good friend who is spending time with your best friend on his birthday. Jake shouldn’t hold it against you – nor can he really when he can’t even call himself your boyfriend. It’s not as if he could get past the awkward feeling of asking you.
“You don’t look like you’re having that much fun.”
“Well, it’s better now that you’re here,” he murmurs in your ear, eliciting another delighted giggle from your lips. He’s finding that it’s becoming his favorite sound.
You turn and slide your lips against his, whispering, “Aren’t you the charmer?”
His mouth moves against yours in sync, chasing after it whenever you even think about pulling away for a breath. He buries his fingers in your hair to hold you firm against him, to keep you in place. He tastes the sweetness of whichever syrupy cocktail you’ve selected for the night, drinks in the little gasps that rise up your throat, and leans into the way you’re twisting your fingers in his shirt to pull him closer.
When there is no choice but to break for air, he pecks your lips a few more times before drawing back to look at you. Your lips are deliciously swollen, he notes proudly as a mark of his efforts.
“You look gorgeous.”
You blush. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself. Always thought navy was a good color on you.”
He knows that. That’s why he chose to wear this shirt tonight.
Before he can say anything else, Bradley swoops in again to pull you away.
Jake will consider it an accomplishment if he doesn’t strangle Rooster by the end of the night.
You
At this point, you are convinced that Bradley is trying to sabotage your night with Jake. He had been so supportive earlier, helping you pick out the right outfit to seduce a man he doesn’t even consider a full friend – yet.
“I’m still not sure what you see in him,” Bradley said from where he’s spread out on your bed. “The guy has an ego the size of Jupiter, his head is bigger than the jets we fly. He’s also a bit of an asshole.”
“He also saved your ass once,” you pointed out.
“That’s his job!” Bradley argued then looked at you in the top and jeans you have on. “No, pick something else. That one won’t do the trick.”
Bradley: pilot, best friend, fashion critic.
You grunted and flipped through your closet again before you spotted your favorite dress. You had worn it in one of your earlier dates with Jake and — let’s just say you ended up losing it somewhere between your front door and your room by the end of the night.
“That’s the one,” Bradley flagged, closing his eyes as you swapped out the clothes. When he opened his eyes again, he nodded. “This is the one.”
The short black dress isn’t anything particularly special, but somehow it feels like it was stitched to your exact measurements. It has the perfect silhouette that hugs your frame to show off every curve and dip on your body. The back hangs low, showing enough skin to have you shivering. The hem rests more than a couple of inches above your knee. If you bend over slightly, people will get a glimpse of what you have underneath.
Perfect to hook, line, and sinker Jake Seresin.
“I really want this to work out. I really like him, Bradley.”
You could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Still don’t understand why I’m hearing about my best friend and my arch nemesis getting it on. Hell must be freezing over.”
“Oh, shut up. I don’t even know if he actually likes me. We fuck, sure, but he’s also probably fucked half the city.”
“Exactly why you shouldn’t be seeing him!” Bradley groaned. “Okay, to be fair, I’m pretty sure he’s just as obsessed with you. That man can’t stop grinning like a fuckin’ idiot on base when you’re texting him. And I know you’re texting him because then he won’t shut up about you texting him.”
You chewed on your bottom lip, turning around again to gauge how the dress looked. The thought did make you smile. You could admit that you too grin like a fucking idiot when he texts you. “I don’t know,” you sighed, “he still flirts with other girls at the bar, which is fine, because it’s not like we ever made it exclusive. He could still be fucking other people for all I know.”
“You know I’ll beat the shit out of him if he is, right?” Bradley cocked an eyebrow with the threat. You give him a look that says, ‘Stop with the caveman behavior.’ “Regardless, I just want you to be happy and if that is with Jake Seresin, then I guess I’ll have to suck it up.”
Smiling at him, you patted him on the head. “Thanks, Bradley.”
“Now, get your phone and let’s send this man some thirst traps before tonight.”
You thought that you had it in the bag. You looked fierce, you felt hot. You’ve got this and you’re going to get Jake Seresin.
At least, that’s what you think until he walks in with that crisp navy blue shirt that makes his eyes glow even brighter. Fuck.
You had spotted him from a mile away but your goal for tonight is to play it more aloof. You’re a strong, independent woman. Jake is just a man. A man you really want in your bed tonight and potentially for a very, very long time.
The only thing helping you is the fact that Bradley is already incredibly drunk and he has you on his lap to stop himself from getting up and hitting on that pretty blonde in the other table who has been eye fucking him all night. You’re pretty sure her husband notices her doing it too.
“She looks like a mistake, you can’t let me go over there,” Bradley moans and then his eyes follow your gaze. “Speaking of mistakes…”
You swat him on the chest and tell him to shut up as you peek at Atlas who is the first to greet Jake when he arrives. You’re impatiently wriggling around Bradley’s lap, forcing a laugh at whatever the man next to him is saying. When you finally see him drifting towards you, you’re immediately on your feet.
Screw aloof.
He smells so good, a mix of his natural scent and that woodsy cologne you adore. You have to actively stop your muscles from throwing yourself at him.
Dancing with Bradley and the others is a good distraction, but it doesn’t help when Bradley leans down to tell you that Jake is still keeping a close eye on you. It makes you smile when you notice just that.
When you finally break free of the crowd and you’ve sweated off enough of your sexual frustration, you come back to Jake hungrier for more. His eyes have been locked on you the entire time, his gaze burning a trail up your naked legs to where they disappear underneath the tiny skirt.
The kisses are intoxicating, his touch is fire on your skin. God, you wish you could be here forever. You want him to whisk you away far from this place, press you against any functioning surface, and claim you as his.
But then Bradley’s back.
You’re about to make this birthday his last when he once again drags you to introduce you to his other friends. You’re getting sick of trying to remember people’s names in your dizzy state. All you want is to get all wrapped up in Jake.
The conversation drags on and, while entertaining, they can’t hold your undivided attention the entire time. Instead, you let yourself glance at Jake, who is still sitting on the couch, looking at you. You shoot him an apologetic look, which he only purses his lips at.
At least it isn’t just you who isn’t pleased with the circumstances.
Your efforts to escape Bradley’s grasp on your waist are futile. The man is strong even when he’s stupidly drunk. So you relent and give it a few more minutes before you return to Jake’s side.
However, by the time you manage to loosen his grip slightly, you notice that your spot next to Jake is now occupied.
Fucking hell.
It’s Daisy or Sunflower or whatever the fuck her name is. She’s one of the pilots in the same group deployed in the area. She’s fucking stunning with luscious honey curls that cascade down her back. She’s got an endearing southern twang that rivals Jake’s and a heart so sweet, it could attract bees.
She’s sweet. You like her. But not in that moment.
Because Jake is now busy accommodating this girl, you begrudgingly stay by Bradley’s side. It irritates you even more when you hear her high-pitched giggles, which draw your gaze to her just as she lands a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. You glare at the way the hand drags across his broad chest, to his shoulders, and down his arm.
And then that hand is traveling back up and curling around his neck to pull him close.
You turn away quickly. The last thing you need tonight is to see Jake kissing someone else.
You are forced to reckon with the fact that the two of you are not together. You are not exclusive. He is not yours. He apparently belongs to every fucking woman in this goddamn town.
To ease the sting, you end up swallowing down more shots than you’d like. The burn helps alleviate the pain that pricks your heart as you feel tears well up in your eyes. Drinking while you’re upset is not a good combination because you’re an emotional drunk, which means you are getting teary-eyed over something so ridiculously stupid.
You’re a grown woman and you’re crying over a boy. How dumb is that?
Even in his state, Bradley notices how many drinks you’re inhaling from the table. Straight shots. No chasers. You’re going to regret this tomorrow, but that’s a problem for another day. He keeps you company and away from Jake, balancing enough non-alcoholic drinks in your hands to get your spirits up.
And it works to an extent. You like this group he’s deployed with. They’re fun and friendly, some of them a little flirty. It makes you want to give Jake a taste of his own medicine. If he can pick up other girls, then you have every right to hit on other guys.
Atlas isn’t a bad pick. He’s taller than Jake, he smells good (but not better than Jake), and he has very large hands that are perfect for manhandling you when you don’t feel like thinking. He has you out on the dance floor, your back pressed against his front. He feels firm, steady behind you. Steadier than you’d like.
You do like the chase with Jake. You like that you’re always learning new things about him, constantly being challenged by whatever new ideas he has. You like being pushed to be a better version of yourself, who is constantly thinking about what it is you want with him.
You had started the night wanting to be his girlfriend and now, you’re too pissed off to even consider it an option.
“Thought you were Hangman’s girl?” Atlas calls out in your ear.
Jake’s call sign only proves to annoy you further. “Apparently fucking not.”
Atlas frowns as he pulls away from you slightly. “Whoa, I’m not looking to step on my teammate’s toes. If y’all are a thing, then I’m not stepping a foot out of line, honey.”
Your eyes fly over to Jake whose gaze is trained back on you again. But Poppy or whatever the fuck her name is is still there. Her hand is still on his shoulder.
You clench your jaw, mirroring his own expression of equal irritation.
Two can play this game.
Jake
If Atlas lays another finger on you, Jake might just consider breaking it.
He’s been trying to be a gentleman all night and it clearly isn’t working because you are still so far away from him. Every time he thinks he has you, someone else gets in the way. Earlier, he could’ve sworn you were going to come back to him after Bradley finished introducing you.
But then Daisy sat down and, while he is doing his best to be polite, his patience is wearing razor thin. Team morale can go suck a dick – or so he wishes. The last thing he needs is an awkward interaction with someone in his squad when they’re stuck together for months. This is why he doesn’t mix business with pleasure. No matter how many times he tries to pry her grabby hands away, she manages to put them back on him.
It’s beginning to piss him off and he doesn’t know how much longer he can handle her.
At the same time, he wants to get up to go to you. But you’re with Atlas and you seem to be enjoying yourself a little too much. He still catches you looking over at him a few times. He knows you want him. And he has no problem admitting how much he wants you too, so he doesn’t understand why you’re putting each other through this mess.
“Hangman, are you listening?” Daisy says next to him, but her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard right now.
No, he is not listening. He’s currently watching the way you’re moving your hand up Atlas’ shoulder. It’s some sort of divine punishment, he’s sure of it. All those broken hearts he left in his wake, this is some higher power delivering the consequences. Because at this point, you’re breaking his heart.
But he isn’t the type to sit around. Jake gets up and moves towards you, shoving through the crowd until he’s right next to you. He slips an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Atlas looks taken aback, his wide eyes darting between the two of you. Understanding dawns on his features and he holds his hands up in surrender as he backs away. He’s not touching this mess with a ten-foot pole.
Good call.
“Hi, stranger,” you smile coyly up at him.
“Playing a little too nice with others, don’t you think?” He raises an eyebrow as he sways with you, keeping his large hands firmly on your body. His palms circle your waist until he’s getting a handful of your ass – arguably his favorite part of you after your mouth.
You grin up at him. “Well, my mama did raise me well.”
“Yeah, you seem to be enjoying everyone’s hands on you tonight.” The words leave his mouth before he can think twice about them. He winces, already expecting the retaliation to come.
Something about you and Jake. Every time you actually talk, both of you end up dissolving into an argument that leaves both your heart rates skyrocketing.
“The fuck does that mean?” You snap back, jerking away from him.
“Don’t know why you let Atlas and Bradley put their hands on you like that.”
Your eyes narrow into slits. You’re clearly unhappy with the accusation. “You’re one to talk, letting Dahlia touch you all over.”
“Her name is Daisy.”
It’s a patently stupid response. Jake needs to stop putting his foot in his mouth. Before he can add anything else, you’re already yanking yourself away from him and making your way towards Bradley.
Always back to Bradshaw.
Irritation claws at his skin as he watches Bradley lean down to let you talk in his ear. Bradley looks confused and tries his best to calm you down. His gaze flicks over briefly to Jake before returning to you. Clearly, whatever Bradley says doesn’t work because you’re already stomping away towards the entrance.
Fucking hell.
He is hot on your trail, long legs catching up quickly to you, who’s already trying to flag down a cab. His hand shoots out to catch you before you stumble off the curb and into the street. You whip around only to give him another dirty look.
“What are you doing, darlin’?”
“Trying to get home and away from you in case that wasn’t clear enough.”
Jake internally groans. “Listen, I fucked up, alright. I shouldn’t have let her touch me, I was trying to be polite.”
“Polite?” You growl. “Polite is telling her no and moving on.”
“I know, I should’ve done that.”
“Glad to hear you’re reflecting on your actions.”
Annoyance bubbles up inside him. “What about you then? Atlas was all over you.”
You scoff, “Only because Daisy was all over you.”
“So you were jealous?”
“I’m—” you stop yourself, fully aware that anything close to denial will be a lie. “So what if I was?”
Jake can’t help his lips from curling into a smirk, which only irritates you even more. God, he’s getting hard in his pants just from looking at you glaring at him. He approaches you and leans down to capture you in a knee-weakening kiss. His arms wrap around you before you could melt into the ground, tugging you tight against him as his mouth moves languidly against yours.
“That’s sexy as fuck,” he grins against your lips. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you. I know you saw me watching you all night. I’m yours, darlin’.”
He sees firsthand how your eyes soften, your pupils still blown wide with desire, but the hard lines are gone. He loves that he has that effect on you.
“Shall we go back to yours?” He murmurs.
The two of you don’t waste any time. He hails the first cab he sees, spits out your address, and his hands are instantly on you. They roam and explore every inch of you, cupping your face, pulling you flush against him in the darkness of the car. His mouth slants across yours again, tongue swiping across your bottom lip to draw a needy whimper from your lips.
He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in between and presses it against yours. You taste like sugar and spice. Your breath is hot against his lips, and he swallows the sounds that surface from your throat.
The car ride feels all too quick. He swipes his credit card and leaves an inordinate tip for the inconvenience. Jake does his damndest to not separate from you, only briefly parting when you struggle to push the key into the lock. Even then, he keeps his arms around you, lips trailing a line of fire down your neck.
He falls onto the couch and pulls you on top of him, your legs straddling his body as you lean down to kiss him again. He’s had his fair share of drinks but nothing makes him feel as intoxicated as he does with you.
Your skin is soft in his hands, his fingers digging into your hips. Without breaking apart, he pulls the zipper on your dress down and lets the straps slide down your arms. Fuck, he’s so painfully hard in his pants, but the sight of you naked from waist up makes it worth it. It drives him insane knowing that you were out there, other men watching you, and you didn’t even have anything underneath. If you just let this dress slip down a little, he and a whole lot of other people would get a glimpse of your gorgeous tits.
You lean back and grin wickledly at him, your clothed pussy over the zipper of his jeans. Even through the thick fabric, he could see the strain of the outline of his cock. It certainly doesn’t help when you start moving your hips around, pressing down on the sensitive length.
“You’re killin’ me,” he groans.
You duck your head to whisper in his ear, “It’s a little early for that, Seresin. I’m going to need you to last tonight.” Your teeth catch his ear and it takes everything in him to not rip everything off and fuck you senseless.
Your lips press wet, hot kisses down his neck and his eyes slide shut as you shift your body down. Within minutes, you have your mouth wrapped around his length. Your eyes are trained on him even in the dark, watching every twitch on his features as he tries to control himself.
The sultriness in your gaze is dizzying. He can’t help but be charmed by how closely you’re observing him. When you twist your tongue a certain way, he feels his face contort. You take that opportunity to repeat the motion. You find the patterns in what makes him tick and you use them to torture him senselessly.
He can’t fault you for it. He does the same to you. That’s why the two of you work so well together.
Before long, Jake flips the two of you over and presses you down against the couch. He traces a finger down the curve of your jaw, the length of your neck, and down your sternum. You shiver deliciously under his touch. His hand slips between your legs as his mouth covers yours again.
Fuck, you’re so wet. He can feel the slickness coating his fingers. He uses it to slide one then two fingers. It’s slow at first until you’re arching your back in an attempt to get him to move faster. With a smile against your lips, he presses his thumb against your clit as he continues pumping his fingers into you. The jerk of your hips is satisfying.
But he can’t last like this. He could cum in his pants just seeing how responsive you are to him. Every drag of his fingers draws another moan out of you. “Needa fuck you, honey,” Jake mutters, “need to be inside you right now.”
You nod with a small whimper, looking up at him with wide eyes. He pulls his fingers out of you and, with his eyes trained on you, he puts them in his mouth. He licks his fingers clean, tongue circling the digits as he watches your lips part. Your hand catches his shirt and pulls him down again to kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue and the act only serves to rile him up further.
Jake gets up momentarily to strip off his shirt and pants, then he’s grabbing a condom from his wallet and rolling it on. In a blink of an eye, he’s on top of you again. His length compared to your body — fuck, this is why he can always fill you up, reach the deepest parts of you.
The couch isn’t ideal but he’s always loved fucking you out here. Something about being more out in the open.
He’s also impatient so he’s tugging one of your legs up to angle himself to slide inside you. The first drag is a mind-blowing sensation. You’re warm and tight, pulsing demandingly around him. His escaped groan meets your desperate whine.
He thrusts in and out of you quickly, his wanton need taking over to pursue the pleasure he’s been craving all night. Your soft body underneath his, his cock wrapped in the heat of your core. He buries his face in your neck and his lips suck on the sensitive skin. You crane your head back slightly to allow him more room to paint your skin with territorial marks. As he pulls back, all that comes out of his mouth are filthy words that have your breath hitching.
“So fuckin’ tight, honey. This pussy was made for me.”
“You’re soaking my cock. Did me getting jealous turn you on? Would you prefer I fuck you on the floor instead? Bet everyone would love to get a good look at this pretty cunt taking my cock.”
“Look at how your tits are moving when I fuck you. Shit,” he curses and his fingers fumble around your nipples.
“Pretty baby just wants to get fucked stupid, all you want is cock to take care of you tonight.”
Your whimpers escalate as your hands find purchase on his shoulders. He can feel your pussy flutter around him with every word, tightening and gripping him hard. His movements are deliberate with only one focus in mind. Your satisfaction.
Jake’s always been good at that.
It’s not long before you’re squeezing around him as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. That prompts him to follow suit as he spills into the rubber. Sometimes it embarrasses him how quickly he gets off with you, but you’ve always found it sweet. Like it’s flattering how it only happens with you.
He slumps on top of you, body lined with sweat as he places a kiss on your damp hair. “Always feel so good, sweetheart.”
You shiver underneath him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Mmm, so do you.”
“Let me clean you up.”
“Let’s just do it tomorrow, I’m exhausted,” you say and, on cue, a yawn slips past your lips.
Jake hesitates and you quickly kiss him to reassure him. With a sigh, he gets up only to toss the condom out and then he’s back with his arms around you and your back pressed against him.
“I really like you,” you mumble sleepily.
Jake isn’t even sure if you realize you had said that. He feels his heart skip a beat as he smiles softly. “Me too.”
Before long, your breathing evens out. Jake reaches up to stroke your head one last time before he tucks his face into your hair and falls asleep.
You
Waking up the next morning feels like an impossible feat. Not only are you nursing the aftermath of your terrible drinking habits, you also do not want to leave this uncomfortable sofa when you’re cuddled up against a very comfortable Jake.
The man only stirs slightly when you roll off.
It’s a quiet morning with the sun filtering through your sheer curtains. You appreciate the peacefulness after last night’s activities. You blush just thinking about it. Jake’s grip hot on your thigh, the feeling of him pushing inside you and filling you up.
Shaking your head, you instead refocus your attention on finding your phone to find the time – because who has clocks these days? In the rush to reach the couch, the two of you had tossed them both somewhere in this room. You sink to your knees to look under the table and, sure enough, your phone is there.
The time catches your eye first. It’s only nine. Relatively early. But it’s the string of missed calls that has your heart dropping. Gone is the high from last night, replaced by sheer panic as you see calls from the hospital and Bradley. All within the last three hours or so.
You never have your phone on silent. You know how important it is to always have it on hand. Somewhere along the way, you must’ve accidentally turned on the do-not-disturb function, which virtually blocked all incoming calls.
“Fucking shit,” you curse and immediately dial Bradley.
He picks up almost immediately. “Hey, shit, are you good? You didn’t pick up earlier and I was—”
“I’m fine. What happened?”
You’re already on your feet, rushing to your bedroom to scramble for a t-shirt and jeans. You trap the phone between your ear and shoulder as you button yourself up. “It’s all good now. Hospital called me. She fluctuated last night, blood pressure dropping. They probably just wanted to be safe, but I’m here with her so don’t stress too much.”
Blood drains from your face. How could you be so stupid? So careless. Guilt gnaws at you immediately, gripping your heart tight. The voice inside your head calls you irresponsible. While you were busy with Jake, Bradley had been there to take care of your mom.
“I’m leaving now. Be there soon.”
You hang up the phone and rush outside again. Jake is surprisingly awake, sitting up on the couch. He perks up when he sees you. A grin slowly rolls out across his face. Any other day, you’d be back there with him, going for a second round. But you can’t even stomach the thought this morning.
Something on your face must’ve caught his attention and he’s immediately getting up to move towards you. A frown mars his face now. You don’t like that look. You never want him to worry about you. Not when you’re too busy worrying about someone else. “What’s wrong?”
“I—” You hadn’t told Jake about your mom. It was something that felt a little too heavy for two people who were barely in a relationship. It was a burden that you had to carry, it wasn’t for a man whom you weren’t even brave enough to call your boyfriend yet. “I have to go, something came up. I’ll— I’ll text you later, okay? Feel free to stay as long as you want. You know where the coffee and food are.”
As you move towards the door, Jake catches your arm again. His brows are still furrowed in confusion and concern. “Hey, are you driving? You don’t look like you should be driving. Let me call you a car.”
“No, I’m okay. I promise. I’ll call a car.”
“Do you want me to go with you? I can try to help with whatever it is.”
Your heart aches at the thought. You’d love to have him there with you. Despite what most people believe about Jake, he’s actually very thoughtful. He is the type to remember how you take your coffee and bring you a cup if he comes over in the morning. He sends you check-in texts throughout the day between times in the air. And he cares about your response.
The moment you reply with a one-word message on a particularly tough afternoon, he is there with your favorite sweet treat at the end of the day.
As much as you want to say yes, you don’t want to put this weight on his shoulders. It’s not his problem, it’s yours.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a personal family thing. I’ll be fine,” you smile weakly, reaching up to press your lips against his. “I’ll see you next time.”
With that, you’re out the door and making your way over to the hospital. Your nerves haven’t stopped buzzing. You don’t even notice your leg bouncing until your phone rattles off your lap and onto the taxi floor. The car barely pulls to a stop before you’re launching yourself out the door and heading straight for your mom’s room. Muscle memory takes over. The hospital blueprint is imprinted onto the back of your brain.
When you walk in, Bradley stops you before you can say anything, and you find your mom asleep in bed. You can feel your chest split in two at the sight. She looks as frail as ever. You should’ve been here. You should’ve been the first one here. Bradley shouldn’t have even been called. Fuck. Especially on his birthday.
He wrangles you into a hug, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Don’t do that to yourself,” he murmurs. “It’s not your fault. It was late.”
“My phone should’ve been on, Bradley. Fuck, I fucked up so bad. What if this happens again and I—”
“Hey, hey, it won’t. It’s fine.”
You look up at him, closing your eyes and releasing a deep sigh. “I’m sorry for pulling you away from your birthday.”
“I was done anyway. It was a good call because I was about to let that blonde last night take me home.” His smile is a clear attempt to get you to feel better, but it only worsens your guilt. “I’m telling you that it’s fine. Nothing happened. Now, come sit down before you pass out.”
The adrenaline from the past hour is beginning to wear off. The two of you sit outside in the waiting room to avoid disturbing your mom. “How is she? I mean, is it anything serious? Permanent?”
“No, they monitored her all throughout this morning and she seems okay. It was just an odd change but the doctor thinks it’s all good.”
Your mom’s been in and out of the hospital for as long as you can remember. It was cancer first and then she went into remission. The brief reprieve in those short years was welcome. You were able to live life normally with her for a while. You didn’t think it would come back when you took a job in another city. It had been your dream position, at least for a little while.
When the cancer came back, faster and worse than before, you picked up your entire life and moved back home to be closer to her. The doctor insisted that she stay in the hospital for constant monitoring. It seems to be spreading too quickly and treatment has become ineffective. The treatments that she goes through have her weak, which means full-time care is necessary.
For a while now, it seems to have reached a plateau. To be safe, you let her stay in the hospital and visit her every day.
“God, I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here.”
“Kid, don’t worry about it. You deserve to catch a break every once in a while too, live your life. I’ve got your back, alright. Me and your mom had a fun little chat when I got in earlier.”
You frown, brows puckering in confusion.
“Told her about you and Hangman.”
You pale immediately. “W-what? Why would you do that?” You sputter.
“Well, she’s worried that you’re always here, worrying too much about her and not worrying about getting yourself a life partner.”
That sounds like your mom. Even when she’s the one stuck to a hospital bed, she’s still thinking about whether you’re eating enough or drinking enough water. And apparently dating enough.
“For a while, she might’ve been worried you’re going to adopt 72 cats, so I figured I’d ease some of that stress for her.”
“What did you even tell her?”
“That you met someone, someone you really like. And that’s where you were when you didn’t pick up. She was happy, trust me. Told me not to even call you. I only picked up because I knew you’d be tearing your hair out if the hospital didn’t call you back.”
Groaning, you press the heels of your palms against your eyelids. Fuck. This has been a shit morning. Now, you also have to be concerned about your mom berating you for not telling her about Jake.
Speaking of Jake, you feel horrible about the way you left him this morning. You quickly pull out your phone to send him a quick text — only to see that he beat you to the punch.
Let me know how your thing goes. I’ll be around if you need to talk xx
The kisses at the end have your lips tugging up. He started adding those to his texts a couple of weeks back. It’s something so small, yet comforting. Like a reassurance that this thing between you means something. That it’s meant to be something.
All good. Sorry for leaving so quickly this morning. Rain check in post-sex snack?
You barely put your phone away before it pings with another message.
You got it. I’ll stay at yours in case you need me.
Your heart leaps in your chest. God, you’re going to marry this man someday. If he doesn’t propose to you, you’re going to buy a ring and do it yourself.
“Gross,” Bradley grimaces as he peers over your shoulders to see the messages. “Never took Hangman for such a sap.”
“Probably learned it from you,” you point out, jabbing him with your elbow and earning a satisfying oof.
“I’m surprised he didn’t come with you. He sounds worried.”
You lick your lips nervously. Bradley will disapprove of this, you know it. Even at a young age, you knew what it meant to grow up in a small home. With your father gone and your mother falling sick, you had to learn quickly how to raise yourself. Taking care of yourself – relying on yourself – is your first instinct.
Bradley had gone through the same thing. If it weren’t for Maverick, he might be the same way. You never had a Maverick. An adult you could look up to, who could take care of you when shit hit the fan.
Instead, when things got tough, you got tougher.
You always told yourself you didn’t need anyone to care for you. If there was something you needed, you’d learn yourself how to get it. Bradley had experienced this side of you. It’s how he managed to crawl into your heart and built a home for himself there. He taught you that it was okay to rely on others, that it was good to let others take care of you. It’s a slow lesson learned but it’s been easier with Bradley around.
Nobody else has ever come close to him. Until Jake.
And Jake cares. He cares about you like no one else. Bradley is your best friend but he has other priorities and you could never blame him for it. Jake acts like you hold the moon and the stars in your hands. He reminds you over again that he’s there. It’s never been with words, but with his actions. The little things that he remembers. The little things that show you that he cares.
He cares enough as is. The last thing you want is for him to care even more – no matter how lovely that would be. You don’t need to put more things on his plate.
“I… haven’t told him.”
Bradley jerks back in surprise, brown eyes blown wide. “You haven’t? Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s such a big thing to drop on someone. Hey, by the way, my mom is really sick so I go to the hospital to see her everyday, that’s why I can’t have dinner with you today. Or lunch tomorrow.” You sigh.
It’s his turn to scowl. “Kid, if you like this man that much, if you trust him, you can tell him.”
“But why? It’s not like it’s going to change anything.”
He snorts. “It’s going to change a hell of a lot. He’s going to want to be with you, support you through all this. I keep telling you it’s okay to accept help.”
“I don’t want him to,” you wince. “Not that I don’t trust him. I just don’t want to scare him off.”
“You’ve got that man wrapped around your fingers. Hell, he would probably kiss your feet if you asked. You can’t scare him off.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, I know. Trust me. The way he was last night – it was confirmation for me that he’s serious about you.”
Your teeth catch your bottom lip. Last night had been something. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” Bradley ruffles your hair. “So you better tell him before he finds out from elsewhere. Think he wouldn’t appreciate hearing something that big from someone else.”
“You’re right.”
“As always.”
You chuck your phone at him.
Jake
To say that he’s worried would be an understatement. The look on your face this morning, how frazzled you were. He’s been pacing your living room anxiously for hours. His stomach screams its protests but he can’t bring himself to care.
You mentioned that it’s a family thing so he’s trying hard not to pry. However, curiosity nags at him. Taunts him. You haven’t told him anything else since you left, only that text to let you know that things were good. Still, he can’t help himself. He won’t be appeased until he sees you and sees that you’re alright.
Jake doesn’t think he’s ever been in your apartment alone. In an attempt to distract himself, he wanders around the house and observes every little detail. He’s not snooping per se, you told him he could stay, which means he could at least see all the common spaces. He thinks going into your bedroom alone would be a little bit questionable.
He spots the little gallery you have set up on your bookshelf. There are pictures of you and Bradley, younger and with much more hair and at times fewer teeth, he laughs to himself at those ones. Pictures of you with friends he doesn’t recognize, a few from your college years based on the university logo in the background. His chest warms when he spots the photograph of you, him, and Bradley at the bar where you first met him.
Back then, he knew you were going to be something special. He just didn’t know how much.
Then there’s a picture of you and your parents. You were a child, maybe eight by the looks of it. You’re an exact replica of your father but there’s a softness in your gaze that mimics your mother’s. He knows little about your family, you don’t talk about them much. He just figures that they aren’t around anymore and he doesn’t want to ask questions that could upset you.
He does want you to be able to be honest with him though. He wants you to share your thoughts, your worries. He wants to be able to help you.
This morning left him feeling helpless. The vagueness of your words. Personal family thing. He wonders if you’ll tell him at some point about this thing.
He supposes there’s no use worrying about it now. He just needs to wait for you to come home. Instead of idling around, he decides to prepare dinner for you. If you don’t eat it tonight, you can still have it for tomorrow.
Now, he just has to figure out how to use the stove.
He’s playing a stupid phone game when he hears the rumble of a car outside. Then there was the jingle of keys by your door.
He’s on his feet in an instant. However, much to his dismay, you’re not alone.
You’re laughing at something Bradley said and you don’t even notice Jake standing there with his fists balled on his side. Confusion and annoyance fuse inside him.
When your eyes finally land on him, you look surprised. He can’t tell if that’s a good thing. “Jake! You’re still here. I thought you left.”
He had mentioned that he was going to be at yours.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. I would’ve come home sooner,” you say, regret lacing your voice.
“I’m gonna head out. You gonna be good tonight?” Bradley pipes up. The man looks uncomfortable. He likely saw the expression on Jake’s face and decided that he wanted no part of whatever conversation you’re about to have.
“I’m good. Thanks, Bradley, appreciate you.”
Bradley nods, eyes flying over to Jake. “Hangman.”
Jake’s jaw clenches. “Rooster.”
Then he’s gone, leaving the two of you alone. You don’t seem privy to his frustration.
A part of him knows that this annoyance doesn’t only come from a place of jealousy, but it also comes from hurt. You had mentioned that it was a family thing, and yet you were with Bradley. It was Bradley who probably helped you. It was Bradley who was able to get that distress off your face.
“Are you hungry? Did you eat yet?” You ask, hand reaching out towards him.
He draws back instinctively. His emotions are all over the place right now, and he doesn’t trust himself to not say things he won’t regret. A flicker of pain crosses your eyes at the gesture and you let your hand fall to your side.
“I made dinner. Guess I should’ve asked you if you were going to eat out.”
Your lips part. “You didn’t have to, but thank you. We can still eat together.”
“No, it’s fine. I should head out.” Jake picks up his jacket from the floor.
You’re looking at him expectantly, lips pursing when you realize he’s going to leave. “You don’t want to stay? I was thinking we could do a movie or something.”
How can you stand there and suggest that? The irrational part of his brain overwhelms him now. He can’t stop the words that leave his mouth. “Why were you with Bradley?”
You blink, seeming genuinely taken aback by the question. “He was helping me out with something.”
“The personal family thing?” His tone comes out harsher than intended. It’s that ugly monster inside him shining through again. He knows he’s going to hate himself tomorrow for how firm he’s being with you.
He tries to calm the racing of his angry heart. He tries to ignore that voice inside his head telling him things he doesn’t even know to be true. She was with Bradley because she trusts him more. She loves him, she doesn’t love you.
“Yes,” you enunciate slowly, carefully, “it was honestly just a personal thing. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“You didn’t want me to worry?” He asks incredulously, “Have you ever considered that I want to worry? That I can’t exactly stop myself from worrying about you. You were so panicked this morning and I’m trying to be patient. I know that it was something that was stressing you out. But you don’t talk to me. You talk to Bradley instead.”
His words are honest. Pained. It’s a struggle for him to articulate these questions when he’s so visibly upset, but he’s trying. God knows that’s all he can do with you.
You hesitate for a second before replying. “He’s my best friend, Jake. I just thought it would be easier.”
And you’ve just confirmed it. One of his worst fears. Maybe the voices in his head aren’t so far off after all. It would be easier. It’s easier with Bradley. Jake doesn’t know what he should’ve done. If there’s anything he could’ve done differently to reassure you that you can trust him, that you can rely on him for your worries too.
He takes in a shaky breath as his hand reaches up to wring through his hair. The words that leave his mouth come out weak, broken. Like pieces of him are ingrained in the syllables. “What am I to you? I don’t really understand what we’re doing here.”
“What do you mean?” You’re frowning again. On a normal day, Jake would kiss your temple to smooth out those creases. He’d want to chase away your concerns.
“I don’t know what you want from me. I thought— fuck, maybe I’m an idiot, but I thought we had something here.”
“Of course, we do. I’m with you, Jake.”
“Really?” He laughs bitterly. “You don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on with you. You left so worried and stressed, and you come back smiling with Bradley. I don’t know what else I can do. What does he do that I can’t? Why can’t you trust me the same way you trust him?”
He sees your throat move. Your eyes are shining with unshed tears now and he feels even worse. He put that look on your face. You’ve clearly had a long day and he’s just making things harder for you. This is why you don’t lean on him.
While you make his life easier and better, he does the opposite for you.
The realization sinks in his gut like a heavy stone. “I should go,” he repeats hoarsely, shrugging on his coat.
“Jake, wait. Don’t leave like this. I haven’t had much sleep. How about you stay over? We can talk in the morning.”
He’d love nothing more than to tuck you in and pull you close. He wants to end and start the day with you. But right now, he’s doing the responsible thing. He can’t trust himself to not fuck things up even more with you. He needs to rethink things. Maybe kick his bruised ego to the curb.
“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, pulling you close just enough to press his lips against your forehead. It’s the one thing he allows himself, one act of reassurance to you. “I can’t— I don’t trust myself right now. We’ll talk another time.”
Before he can hesitate further, he walks out the door.
You
Jake’s words — the way he kissed your head — felt like goodbye. Panic and pain claw at your chest. Breathing is difficult and you stumble to your couch to process what just happened. You’re not even sure you’re clear on it.
One moment you’re walking in with Bradley after a late lunch, the next you’re listening to Jake question why you don’t trust him. Questioning where the two of you stood. While it was never explicitly established, there was never a doubt in your mind after last night that he was yours and you were his. You think about Jake’s eyes, how they had stayed on you all night.
So what went wrong?
You’re exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day. Your head is pounding. But the worst part is when you notice your trembling fingers.
You’re scared.
Jake left. You had asked him to stay and he left. I don’t trust myself right now. You’re immediately swiping up to open your text chain with him. He did say that he was going to stay here in case you needed him. It slipped your mind once you left the hospital after you talked to your mom.
It’s terrible timing considering you just told her all about Jake. How you’re pretty goddamn sure that you’re in love with this man. Your mom had told you to bring him around. And you were going to. God, you were.
You were going to tell him tonight or tomorrow. Yet here you are, alone again.
But you’re not. Jake didn’t say goodbye. He said that the two of you would talk. You cling to that morsel of hope as you type out a message to him.
I’m sorry. Can we please meet tomorrow? I think we really should talk.
The message delivers quickly and, despite how responsive Jake usually is, the reply doesn’t come. It doesn’t come over the next hour nor the morning after. You spend your Sunday milling about your home, constantly glancing at your phone for a text.
Your mom notices your dire mood when you go to visit.
“I think I might’ve messed up,” you admit to her. You’re fucking scared. Jake still hasn’t said anything. What if this is his way of ending things? A clean slate. Cutting you off completely? He hasn’t blocked you yet so you’re hoping that’s not the case.
“Oh, honey. Mistakes happen. You can still fix things.”
“I don’t know if I can,” you say as you wrap your fingers into your palm. They haven’t stopped quivering since this morning. Jake’s lack of response puts you on edge.
Bradley doesn’t seem to have a clue either. You don’t tell him the entirety of your conversation yesterday, despite being a big part of the argument in the first place. You don’t think it would be a good idea to discuss this with him before you even talk to Jake about it.
Bradley: I tried asking but he told me to fuck off.
As you’re lying in bed that night, you replay the conversation in your mind over again. It was about trust. It was about figuring out who he was to you. It was also about Bradley. You’re trying to piece things together but the harder you think, the more cloudy it gets.
Your friendship with Bradley had scared away other people before but Jake has never felt threatened by him. If anything, he was understanding for the most part.
Restless sleep only finds you late into the night.
A couple of days go by and Jake still hasn’t texted you back. According to Bradley, he’s also been fumbling at work and decided to forgo their weekly Taco Tuesday with the squad, which never happens. You’re grateful to Bradley for keeping you updated, but it doesn’t help calm your nerves.
Everyone leaves. The voice that’s been gone for so long, the one that Bradley had chased out and Jake kept out, returns. You try to ignore it. Everyone leaves eventually.
You know it’s not true. It’s just your anxiety speaking.
It’s by the fourth day that you decide enough is enough. You can’t wallow at home for too long, otherwise your thoughts will eat you alive.
The drive to Jake’s is short, perhaps a little too short. You don’t have enough time to plan this conversation. The most you can do is try to calm yourself down. Jake wants you. He said so himself. That’s not the question.
The question is whether you trust him and the answer is a very simple yes. It’s not about trust. It’s about responsibility and how you’ve handled it yourself for years. When Bradley came into the picture, it was difficult enough to release some of that control. The thing that scares you most with Jake is that you want to let it go — you want to rely on him. But there’s always that worry crawling around in the back of your mind that he would leave if you rely on him too much.
Knocking on his apartment door, you wait outside in silent anticipation. Your fingers unknowingly shake as you hold onto your keys, flipping them around just to help keep the uneasiness at bay. No answer. You try calling him but don’t hear his usual ringtone. He likely isn’t home yet. But it’s already seven and he’s usually—
Ding. The elevator arriving on the floor has you turning around.
Your heart stops at the sight of him. It’s only been days but you can feel the yearning consume you. There’s a light dusting of stubble along his jaw and shadows under his eyes. He’s decked out in his uniform but there’s a sagging to his shoulders that makes you press your lips together.
Jake looks up, eyes brightening ever so slightly when he sees you.
“Hi,” you start, clearing your throat.
“Hey,” Jake coughs. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Well, you weren’t exactly responding to my texts.” It isn’t meant to sound petty, but it comes out a little aggressive.
Jake doesn’t try to offer an excuse. Nothing about work being too busy or his phone falling into a river somewhere. That means that he was actively ignoring you.
“Can we please talk?”
His eyes slide shut as he takes a deep breath. “I’m really tired. Cyclone and Maverick put us through the wringer today. It’s been nonstop drills since six.”
You feel for him, you do. But if you leave now, you might never have the chance or courage again. “Can I come in? Stay over until you’re awake enough to talk.”
Surprise flits across his eyes. “Yeah, of course.” He opens his door and lets you in.
You’ve been here before, familiarized yourself with the place. There are a couple of t-shirts you left here from the last few times you stayed over. But today, you feel like wearing his. The two of you move wordlessly. Jake is stripping off his uniform for a shower and he doesn’t say a word when you swap into one of his college tees.
By the time he comes out to the living room with damp hair, you’ve settled yourself on the couch. The couch sinks as he sits down next to you. There’s space — small enough to remind you that he’s there, but noticeable enough that you feel the distance between the two of you.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts. Care to tell me what’s going on?”
“Training has been busy lately.”
“I’m trying here, Jake. You said that we would talk and yet here we are almost a week later because you haven’t responded to a single thing I sent to you.”
His reluctance is heavy in the silence.
And then you ask the question you fear his answer to. Your voice is tight when you say, “Is this your way of ending things with me? Are you cutting me off? Because if you are, I’d rather you tell me now rather than me humiliate myself further after showing up on your doorstep begging you to talk to me.”
“No, god, no,” he swiftly says. “I’m not. I’m not cutting you off. I’m not ending things.”
“Then what’s going on? Talk to me.”
“I was embarrassed,” Jake sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “I acted out that night. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that after you’ve had a long day. I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“It’s not that simple. I didn’t really trust myself to be mature talking to you about this. My concerns are not your problem, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
You’re quick to jump in this time. “That’s not true. I want to know what you’re thinking. I want to know what you’re worried about so we can work through it together.”
“It just didn’t feel right when you don’t share your concerns with me either. I don’t want my emotions to be your responsibility.”
And it dawns on you then. He’s doing the exact same thing you are. Hiding your mother’s condition. Not sharing the deepest worries that plague your everyday life.
“Anyway, can we just forget about everything I said? It was stupid and I don’t—”
“No. Look, if these are things you’re actually worried about, then I want to know. You’re my—” boyfriend? You bite your tongue. “I care about you. I want you to share these things with me and I’ll… do better with sharing with you too.”
“You don’t have to, not if you’re not comfortable.”
You wince. “I’m not uncomfortable doing it, I promise. I trust you. I do. I’m glad you brought this up — obviously the delivery could be improved, but I’m glad you trust me enough to talk to me about it. I appreciate communication, that’s something I’m trying get better at too. You’re setting boundaries and that’s completely fair.”
Jake looks at you and finally reaches over. The dam inside you threatens to burst, you could feel your lips quiver the moment he touches you. He catches it and immediately brings your hands to his lips. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been better. I shouldn’t have acted out the way I did.”
“It’s okay. I’m really glad we’re talking now. I also— I don’t really understand why you think I don’t trust you. Bradley’s been my friend forever, so I know I naturally lean on him for certain things, but I’d like to think that I do talk to you too.”
He avoids meeting your eyes. His gaze is trained on his hands wrapped around yours on your lap. His thumb is rubbing slow circles on the back of your hand, his face scrunching up in deep thought.
When he does finally speak, it’s slow, like he’s still processing his words as he goes. “I know. It’s understandable. I’m just being childish—”
“No, please. I want you to tell me these things.”
“I just want to be helpful to you too. I want you to be able to trust me to make your life easier. And I know that’s not an easy ask, but I’m hoping that you keep me in mind next time.”
You thread your fingers through his, bringing his hand to your lips this time. “Thank you. I will, I promise. As for my mom, I was going to tell you. I was, I swear.”
“Your mom?”
You take a deep breath. “Bradley lost his dad the same way I did mine. With my mom—” you pause, air caught in your lungs, “—she’s sick. She has been for a while and she’s been in full-time hospice. With Bradley, I knew he would understand. There’s so much going on right now. It’s put a lot on my plate and I just didn’t want to put it on yours.
“Since I didn’t really know where we stood, it didn’t feel right to tell you these things. It’s not your responsibility, it’s mine. It’s not as if we’re officially together or exclusive or whatever. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems, or guilt you into feeling sorry for me.”
Jake swallows thickly. “You know I’m deliriously in love with you right?”
The world tilts on its axis. The shell-shocked look on your face should make it clear that you in fact did not know. “What do you mean?”
“That means I’m stupid and I should’ve made it clear from the start. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time. I haven’t even glanced at anyone else since I met you. You’re it for me, sweetheart. Whatever your burdens are, they’re mine too. I want to take on whatever I can to make life easier for you because my life is easier, lighter, better with you in it.” Jake is smiling softly. It’s one of the rare times you get this genuine Jake Seresin smile and you drink it in, tattoo it into your memory. His hands cup your cheeks as he pulls you in for a kiss.
You’re giggling against his lips. He grins even wider. “You’re serious? You love me?”
“Mhmm, there wasn’t any doubt about that.”
“It’s funny because I was just telling my mom that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with this flying cowboy,” you tease. “She’s very, very excited to meet you.”
“I’m a crowd favorite, especially with parents.”
You roll your eyes. “Only you could ruin a sweet moment with your inflated ego.”
“This inflated ego is why you fell for me in the first place, darlin’.”
With a laugh, you shake your head and press another kiss against his lips. “You’ve got a lot of making up to do, Jake Seresin. Putting me through this rollercoaster.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve only got the rest of our lives.”
Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fe!Reader -> After a break-up, the last person you expected to help you get over it was Jake Seresin.
Disclaimer: Fluff, lots of domestic fluff, heavy on the friends-to-lovers, dash of enemies to lovers in the beginning, hint of fake dating, Penny gives reader a wake-up-call, slow burning, overwhelming emotions, symbolism, platonic!natasha, shitty ex, minor swearing.
You had been staring at several different colours of nail polish for what felt like hours.
Which colour should you choose? Blue was meant to instill a sense of serenity and calm, whilst forest green was supposed to show a sense of growth.
The pinks and reds were a symbol of love and attraction – neither of those were feelings that brought you hope in the moment. Nor did the purples, which were meant for creativity.
In truth, the colour that you wanted to choose was black. Individuality, strong-willed.
Mourning.
But you didn’t want the constant reminder of why being painted on your nails.
Thankfully, however, a knock to your screen door distracted you from the spiral you knew was imminent.
For a moment, you paused, standing in your hallway and looking at who was at your door. He just waved, awkwardly.
Well, at least you weren’t the only one feeling it.
“Is everything okay?” you asked him as you unlocked your screen door.
The weather had been too hot recently, so your door was already open.
Jake nodded. “Yeah.”
Others might have been confused by the question being asked without any happy smile or pretense. But, considering he was at your door, it wasn’t uncalled for that your first thought would be that something was wrong.
“Okay,” you nodded, hoping Jake would explain why he was standing on your porch at four in the afternoon. Or, on your porch at all.
Thankfully, he did. “I heard- well, Penny told me- Actually, Amelia told her mom and I just happened to be there so she-she told me, too and-”
“Hangman.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay?”
You nodded, slow. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
You nodded, again. “Pretty sure. Last week I had a boyfriend, this week I don’t. I don’t think there’s much to worry about.”
Jake took in a breath. “Right.”
He was still standing on your front porch. “Do you…wanna come in? Out of everyone, I didn’t expect you, like, at all.”
Jake nodded. “Me neither.”
“I don’t know what the hospitality code is,” you told him, honestly. “But…it’s hot and…I made fresh lemonade.”
Jake shrugged, shifting on his feet to try and feel less awkward. “Sure, I could go for some lemonade.”
You nodded, opening the screen door a little more. “I guess…come in then?”
“Shoes on or off?”
“Uhh, off. I-I mopped earlier.”
Jake nodded, following your preference.
“So,” you said, pouring two glasses of fresh lemonade, as Jake walked further into your house and met you in the kitchen/dining space. “Amelia told you?”
“Uh, yeah. Kinda. Well…yes.”
“Here you go,” you said, handing him the glass.
“Thanks. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Jake asked, noticing the array of colours on your dining table.
“Oh, no. Just…trying to pick a colour is a lot harder than I realised.”
Jake’s gaze travelled over your entire being as you looked at your dining table. Your house was almost spotless.
He didn’t know what he had been expecting. He knew, from others, you kept a tidy house. But, after a break-up? Your entire house was…freakishly clean.
Not psycho-medical clean – though, after finding out what your ex had done, he wouldn’t judge you if it was. But…clean like…wiping memories clean.
The entire house smelled of lemon lysol and bleach. There wasn’t a spec of dust or dirt to be seen. Not a single streak on your windows or cabinet, or your counters. The oven looked brand-new, and so did the sink.
And you…
Jake had seen you enough times to know you were clean and tidy. It was a very rare occurrence that he saw you with a hair out of place, looking frazzled. It was also rare he saw you look…comfortable. Don’t get him wrong, he’d known you long enough to know you were comfortable with yourself but he’d never seen you…like right now.
Rather than a trouser suit and heels, or pressed jeans and clean trainers, you were in a very old t-shirt. The kind you keep at the back of your closet and pull out when you need to get shit done or feel comforted. Old paint splatters, torn and faded writing.
It looked soft against your skin, and skimmed your thighs. Under its length, the calming colour of your cotton shorts poked out. Your hair, which was usually neat, even when it was in a blow-out, was tied into a messy knot at the base of your skull.
“Want some help?” Jake asked, motioning to the nail polish colours. “I do have sisters so I have some experience.”
“If you ask me what vibe am I going for, I’m gonna tell you now that I don’t know.”
Jake chuckled, taking a seat across from the one that was already away from the table. “Well, for starters, we can take this one out.”
“Why?” You asked, sitting down in your seat.
“Because you wore that last time I saw you.”
You were too tired to question how, or even why, he knew that.
“Okay.”
In the space of two minutes, Jake had whittled your options down from seventeen to one.
A fresh mint green.
“Seriously?”
Jake just looked at you, calmness in his eyes. “It symbolises freshness and a renewal.”
You stared at him. “What?”
“Don’t judge me for knowing what colours symbolise.”
“I’m not. I’m just…shocked.”
“Well,” he held the bottle up to you. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises, sweetheart.”
Taking the bottle from him, you sat forward and unscrewed the cap. The prep for your nails had been finished before Jake had knocked on the door. Halfway through painting, you smudge the paint a little. But, before you could ask, Jake held out a q-tip soaked in nail polish remover.
“Thank you.”
“Told you, I have experience.”
You nodded, cleaning up the edges. “Your sisters taught you well.”
“I’ll tell them you said so. They’ll be thrilled to hear it.”
“The team's worried about you,” Jake said after you had finished. “They haven’t seen you around The Hard Deck for a week. Or on base.”
“So they sent you to investigate?”
Jake shook his head, sitting forward. “No. I came here because…I don’t actually know why. Amelia told me what happened and then…I was here.”
Rather than ask questions, you switched subjects just a little. “I’ve been busy.”
“Cleaning?”
“I did that today. No, with work.”
“You’ve still been going to work?”
You shrugged. “Just because my relationship ended, doesn't mean the rest of the world ended with it.”
“That’s true but–”
“It’s better for me if I work.” You cut in. “It keeps me distracted from…dealing with what happened.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy.”
“Neither does burning down his life,” you said. “At least, this way, I don’t sit and overthink everything at once. I don’t let the anger consume me. I…can take a step back. Judge it. Find some…clarity and then…try and find a way to move on.”
“Still,” Jake took a sip of his drink. “If you ever want to burn his life down, I know of at least a dozen people who will help you. Myself included.”
You chuckled, quietly. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry for what he did to you.”
You just shrugged. “It is what it is. I can’t…change the past. Or his feelings. Or his opinion of me.”
“He’s an asshole, Y/n. You deserved better. You deserve better.”
You just nodded, rolling your lips together. Logically, you knew he was right. But…you’d been with your ex for so long, and had suspected the truth he’d told you that you couldn’t bring yourself to agree with Jake.
“Truth is,” you looked away for a moment, before looking back at Jake. “I think I knew. I knew he was settling. I knew he wasn’t happy.”
“Settling? Is that what he told you?”
You looked down at where your two hands were lightly gripping your lemonade glass. You couldn’t look at Jake, not fully, not while you told him. It was hard enough re-living the memory in your head.
“We, uh,” you sniffed, willing the tears away. “We had been talking– discussing our relationship for a couple hours. And, I’d asked him to tell me the truth. His truth. And he did.”
“Y/n-”
“He said that I was the one guys settled with, not the one they looked for.”
It had hit you like a punch to the gut, then. But now it was hitting you like a freight train.
“A-and it’s…well, it’s the first time it’s been phrased like that. But…” You looked up at your ceiling, quickly wiping the falling tears away. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been told something like that, you know? I don’t even know why I’m getting upset-”
In barely half a second, there was the sound of wooden chair legs scraping across your kitchen tiles before Jake was by your side, hugging you.
And you just cried.
“I’m really sorry.”
Jake shook his head as he crouched beside you, keeping his arms around your frame as he pulled away. With the back of his fingers, then his thumb, he wiped away your tears.
“No. You have nothing to be sorry for. Your ex is an asshole. And a liar, to boot. Y/n…you are so much more than what he thinks.”
Jake wanted to kick your ex into next Sunday. And the Sunday after that. And the one after that. Until he felt as much pain, as Jake currently did with anger.
“And so much more than whatever – whoever said things like him. Jesus, you are a powerhouse. And a knock-out. I have seen you walk into Navy bars and have everyone in there following your orders before they’ve even asked your name. You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to hurt, and feel hurt. You have nothing to apologise or be sorry for.”
Then, he placed one hand in yours, gripping it tightly, before laying his other gently at the side of your face.
“Sweetheart, I need you to look at me when I say this. You are a wonderful person. You are smart, and strong, and capable of doing…pretty much everything. In fact, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do. Kinda annoying really.” Jake mumbled the last bit.
You chuckled through your tears, tasting the salt on your lips.
Jake smiled at you. “But you are and deserve so much more than those assholes have ever tried to make you think.”
Taking a breath, you nodded, holding his hand. “Thank you, Jake.”
Jake nodded. “I mean it. You are a true wonder, Y/n. Don’t let anyone try and convince you you’re not.”
On the brink of tears again, but for a separate reason, you leaned in and hugged Jake. And he didn’t hesitate in hugging you back.
“Just to be clear,” Jake said into your hair. “If you do ever want him to, you know, disappear…you’ve got a shit-ton of people who would help and wouldn’t bat an eyelid.”
You chuckled. “I’ll think about it.”
Surprisingly, or maybe not so, Jake stayed for the rest of the evening.
He ordered your favourite take-out. You asked how he knew, but when he gave a half-arsed excuse about Natasha mentioning it a while ago, you couldn’t help but wonder what the real answer was.
Was it the same reason he knew what nail polish colour you’d last worn?
You’d asked him about his family – mostly his sisters. You wanted to know more about the women that had trained him so well in the art of nail polish colours.
Out of all the films that were on your streaming services, he’d chosen one that you actually found comforting. It was also one you hadn’t seen in a while. Your ex didn’t particularly like it, so you’d just…not watched it.
It was somewhere, a few days later, as you were surrounded by multiple piles of books – some you owned, others you had just bought since Jake had knocked on your door at eight in the morning – that you realised Jake had done more for you, as a friend, in less than a week than your ex had done for most of your relationship.
He’d said he was taking you for coffee, then for lunch at the Hard Deck. Penny wanted to see you and you needed to get out of the house before the smell of lysol killed you off.
As a treat (though it seemed to be his plan anyway) Jake drove you to the bookstore where you bought most of the books on your TBR list. They were also the books you’d avoided buying because your ex said there was no room for them, despite four of the shelves in your bookcase holding one or two picture frames and a plant.
He actually listened when you talked. And, when you didn’t, he encouraged it.
Before everything had happened, you and Jake hadn’t exactly been close. Truthfully, you hadn’t even been friends. You thought, he thought you were too uptight. And you thought he was a fuck-boy turned slightly competent adult asshole.
Any conversations you did share before you cried in his arms, in your kitchen, had always been shut down pretty quickly.
But now? You found conversation easy with him. For every question he asked you, and you answered, you wanted to know the same about him. And, he answered you as honestly as he could.
“Let me help,” Jake said as he stepped back into the room.
“It’s okay,” you told him, as you teetered on a chair to reach the top of your bookshelves to shove a heavy basket on top. “I’ve got it.”
Where you expected him to just agree and walk away, Jake stood his ground. “You’re gonna fall.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sweetheart, I know you like doing stuff on your own. But, just because you can, shouldn’t mean you have to. Please, let me help?”
With a sigh (how the hell are books this heavy? They’re condensed in a basket), you balanced the basket on your knee as you stood, praying mantis style, on top of the chair.
“Please?” He asked, again, holding out his hands to take the basket.
“Just so you know,” you said, finally handing him the basket. “This goes against every fibre of my being.”
“I know it does,” Jake smiled, holding the basket under his arm whilst holding out his hand to help you down.
Once you were finally down, he stepped onto the chair and in one smooth motion, lifted the basket on top of the bookshelf and pushed it back.
“Thank you for letting me help you.”
You nodded, trying to remind yourself that you could accept help and didn’t have to push through to do everything alone. “Thank you for helping me.”
Jake smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your cheek as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on, I made dinner.”
“Oh, thank you god!” You turned around quickly, heading towards your landing.
“Thank god?” Jake laughed, following you. “Thank me, I made it.”
“Thank god and thank Jake!” You shouted, practically skipping down the stairs.
You’d been so busy organising your bookshelves, you'd almost forgotten about dinner. The second Jake had secured the new shelves to the wall, he’d left you to ‘talk to your books’.
You’d denied that you talked to your books, until you apologised to them when you accidentally dropped a hardback onto a set of paperbacks.
Before you knew it, more than six months had passed since your break up. And you’d never felt more free. Or more loved.
Jake had helped hype you up when you decided to get back into the dating game. Between himself, Natasha and, during one facetime call, Jake’s sisters – you’d been on a total of three dates out of a potential ten.
And they’d been…nice.
Until one got too suggestive, another bailed half-way through the date to go on another one, and one had admitted he already had a girlfriend.
“He’s an ass, but at least he was honest.” Natasha took a sip of her beer.
You shrugged, taking a sip of your own drink. “True. But, still.”
“Yeah…bar on the floor?”
You nodded. “Just about.”
“Actually,” Natasha sat up. “Maybe not. Am I right in saying I saw you and Bagman at that new coffee place the other morning?”
“Probably. What about it?”
Natasha smiled. “Think there’s something there?”
“Between…me and Jake?”
She nodded. “Why not?”
“We’re just…friends.”
Natasha laughed. “Sure.”
“We are!” You sighed in laughter. “Look, Jake…helped me after everything that happened. Our friendship is still in its early days, technically. And…I don’t know if I’m ready for another relationship yet. I like my space.”
“Even more when Jake’s there.”
“I won’t deny that…maybe it’s…nicer having him around.” You tried to hide your smile but you were failing. “But, seriously, we’re just friends.”
“Okay, fine.” Natasha agreed. “But when you two get married, I want people to know I called it first.”
Just a little over a year since your break-up, you didn’t realise just how close your reality would come to Natasha’s request.
With a rare weekend off, and with multiple errands to run, you and Jake decided to do them together.
He needed to pick up a few orders from the hardware store, drop off some dry-cleaning, and pick-up his click and collect orders from the bookstore. Meanwhile, you needed to do a bulk stock of groceries, return a clothing order, and having a look around the bookstore wouldn’t hurt.
In the hardware store, whilst Jake marched off with the customer sales rep to find the correct size of his items, you’d wandered off towards the paint sample and card displays.
By the time Jake had finished, and came to find you, you had a handful of different coloured cards.
“Thinking of redecorating?”
You hummed. “Maybe. Depends on if I prefer a different colour.”
Heading out of the store, neither you nor Jake noticed the wandering stare of a man, who was with his girlfriend as she picked out bathroom tile samples, followed you and Jake’s hand that gently rested at the bottom of your back.
By the time everything was done, and you had another pile of books to add to your collection, yourself and Jake had stopped off to pick up dinner and headed back to your place.
The next day, after doing a drop off at the recycling centre, yourself and Jake had decided to stop off at a small diner.
“Booth or counter?”
Both of you agreed on the counter. Between the two families of five on either ends of the room, the strollers at the end of a few others, and the time of day; it was safer and easier to pick the counter.
You’d be able to hear each other, at least. And keep out of people’s way as they wrangled their kids to sit down and eat their food.
At the counter, Jake sat facing you, your legs loosely slotted in between his own. The waitress took your order, and returned with two coffees whilst you both waited. However, somewhere between one of the families leaving, and a couple entering, your conversation with Jake over paint colours got cut short.
“Y/n?”
You did a double take over your shoulder as you heard someone say your name. But, the minute you realised who it was, you wished you’d pretended to ignore them.
Jake’s hand that had been resting loosely on his thigh shot out, discreetly to your knee.
“Simon?”
He smiled at you. Jake wanted to punch him in his teeth.
“Hi. Hey.”
“Hi? What…what are you doing here?”
He was still smiling, a little out of breath. The kind of smile that says he’s pleasantly surprised to see an old friend. Except, you weren’t an old friend. And you had no interest in ever seeing his face again.
“I just…we decided to stop in.”
“We?” Jake asked.
Over his shoulder, Simon motioned to the woman who was sliding herself into one of the empty booths.
“Does she know you’re talking to me?”
“I-I was coming to order, anyway. I just…” Simon’s gaze flicked between yourself and Jake. “Actually, I wanted to say…I’m sorry, are you two together? Or could I have a minute alone with-”
“That’s none of your business. And, no.”
Simon stood back, offended. “I don’t know who you are, but we actually-”
“There is no ‘we’. And he can stay.”
“Y/n-”
“I never wanted to see your face again, but you seem persistent. Say what you’ve got to say and then move the fuck away.”
Simion sighed, looking between you and Jake, clearly annoyed.
“I saw you guys yesterday. At the hardware store, right?”
You squeezed Jake’s hand.
“Are you stalking her?”
“No! No! We were picking out samples. Honestly. You can ask my girlfriend. But…Y/n, when I saw you…I made a promise to myself. If I saw you again, I’d talk to you.”
“And say what, Simon?”
“That I made a mistake,” he said, eventually. His voice went low, and soft. As if it was a secret he only wanted you to know, even though Jake could fully hear him. “You…you were great. Really. I-I’m trying to build my life with my girlfriend now, but-”
“I swear to god, if you say you’re still in love with her-”
“Jake.”
Jake stopped talking, but he continued to shift in his seat as you held his hand.
“Clearly, your boyfriend is the protective type.”
“After everything you did to me, if you’re about to profess your undying love for me, then I don’t blame him.”
Jake’s murderous gaze didn’t leave Simon’s face, but his ears did perk up at the fact you hadn’t corrected Simon.
“Look,” Simon took a step closer. “What I’m trying to say is…I should have settled with you. We had it good, right?”
“Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry,” he lifted his hand that had been reaching out to hold your arm. “But, we did, didn’t we? Surely, you can remember?”
For a moment, Jake got worried when you didn’t answer Simon. Your gaze just seemed to travel across his before it fell onto the woman sitting in the booth, waiting patiently.
Then you moved.
“Stay here,” you told Jake before ducking past Simon.
“Uh, Y/n- wait-”
Jake stayed where he was, and watched what was happening. And, apparently so was the waitress on the other-side of the counter.
She just smiled at Jake before turning back to watch what was about to happen.
Reaching the booth, you stopped. You seemed friendly enough, introducing yourself to the woman. She shook your hand with a welcoming and warm smile. Meanwhile, Simon looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
Then the pleasantries began to fade.
The woman looked from you, and then to Simon. Jake couldn’t hear what was being said, but he figured there were a lot of questions. Then a lot of pleading from Simon just before he tried to lay a hand on your arm again.
Both yourself and the lady told him to back off.
You seemed to be apologising, but explaining something. The woman shook her head and looked at you with a thankful look in her eyes as she explained something else to you.
Scooting out of the booth, the lady hugged you. Then turned to Simon. On the table, there was an old cup of coffee left.
Lifting it, she splashed it across Simon before looking at you once again with a thankful look. She also handed you a business card before leaving gracefully.
Meanwhile, you looked at Simon and said something before you turned your back on him for good.
Looking at Jake, you gave a relieved, if slightly awkward, look.
“What happened?”
“Uhh…”
“A lot to unpack?” Jake asked as you sat back down, and the waitress was called away to another table.
“Yeah,” you said, letting out a surprised breath. “She gave me her business card. Our next coffees are on the house.”
Jake looked at the business card. It was the same title and logo of the small coffee chain you had both been attending almost religiously.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Feel good?”
You nodded. “Definetly.”
“Well, let's wait til the waitress gets back. She seemed interested, too.”
You chuckled, looking down at the business card, feeling elated. But, then it dawned on you.
“I-I’m sorry for not correcting him, about the boyfriend thing.”
Jake shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t want you thinking I ignored it on purpose, or to make him feel jealous or-”
Jake smiled at you. “It’s okay. Besides, let him feel jealous. He’s an ass who didn’t appreciate you. He’s also an ass who didn’t deserve you.”
With a smile, you reached for Jake’s hand and squeezed it three times. “Thank you.”
“You looked pretty badass dealing with him.”
“It was a long time coming.”
Jake nodded. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Because I know I’m proud of you.”
You didn’t have time to respond further than a smile because the waitress suddenly appeared once more, armed with a dozen questions and compliments.
A few hours later, you and Jake pulled up to The Hard Deck to find most of the Dagger Squad running around on the beach, playing football. You stopped to talk with Penny, where Jake told her she should be proud of you, before he was called away by Coyote.
Pressing a kiss to your head, he held onto your hand only letting go when he got too far away, making you promise you’d come outside with Penny.
“You two look cosy,” Penny smiled, raising her brows as Jake disappeared outside.
“It’s been an eventful day.”
“Eventful weekend. I saw you two grocery shopping.”
“Penny.”
Penny just smiled, leaning on the bar top. “Call me old fashioned, but that’s usually reserved for either roommates or couples. And, since I know you both live separately and alone…”
“It’s not like that. We’re just…we’re friends.”
“Who hold hands?”
“Well-”
“And kiss?”
“Casually. And never, you know, on the lips-”
“And are inseparable?”
“We’re not-”
“Don’t even bother trying to deny it.”
With a defeated sigh, you gave up. Penny just chuckled.
“You can admit you have a feelings-”
“Whoa, hey, no. No- there are no feelings.”
Penny’s lips curved up. “But there is something?”
You sighed. “Okay. There might be a…” You rolled your eyes, feeling awkward as you admitted the truth. “Tiny, miniscule- like, so small it’s practically insignificant, crush on Jake. But, I mean, come on!”
You pointed your hand to the window where he was playing football with the rest of the squad.
“He’s smart, and capable. He doesn’t make me feel like shit. He’s my friend. And…he looks like that.”
Penny chuckled. “Sweetie, you don’t have to defend yourself to me. Or even to him if you were to tell him.”
“What? No. No, no, no.” You shook your head. “That can’t-”
Penny ignored you. “That boy had been pining after you for so long, I don’t even know how he hasn’t killed your ex for doing what he did.”
“What?”
Penny nodded. “Oh, yeah. A little pathetic, really. Sweet, mostly. But a little pathetic.”
“Seriously?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
Your eyeline drifted between Penny and Jake.
“You’re sure?”
“Sweetie,” Penny smiled. “The first day you walked into this place, that boy was falling all over himself trying to talk to you. Then, when he found out you had a boyfriend…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so jealous. It was all he could talk about for months. Any time he didn’t see you, he always asked about you. Natasha banned the topic of you for a couple months, unless you were in the bar. And the second Amelia told him what happened– Y/n. You’ve never seen a man move so quickly.”
As shock settled into your bones, you sat down.
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not! Honey, that boy has been in love with you from day one.”
“But we’re friends!”
Penny gave you a gentle smile, and held your hand. “A lot of people will stay in situations where, even if they’re desperate for the whole thing, the small pieces are better than nothing at all.”
You were completely in shock. “But he…he helped me with dates.”
“He might be a fighter pilot, but even they get scared once in a while.” Penny patted your hand. “He’s a good man, Y/n. All of his actions haven’t been just because he likes you. They’re a part of his reasoning, but…he’s a good man. Who has been in love with you for so long, he’s willing to help you find your ‘forever person’, even if that person isn’t him.”
It was a lot of information to take in at once. You’d only processed a third of it by the time Natasha had come running inside to drag you out to help her.
Between herself, Bob, Payback and you – you defeated Jake’s team by the skin of your teeth.
“No hard feelings?” You asked, standing over Jake as he lay down in the sand.
“I think I’m dead.”
You giggled, holding your hand out. “Come on, Hangman. I’ll get you a drink.”
With a groan, he lifted his arm and clapped his hand into yours. As he stood, he threw an arm over your shoulder, whilst you kept hold of his hand and started to walk towards the bar.
“That is the last time I ever trust Bob.”
You laughed. “That’s just your bruised ego talking.”
“Oof- harsh.”
“I think you’ll survive,” you smiled.
You managed to act normal, for the most part. But what Penny had told you continued to play on your mind.
Jake liked you? He had feelings — feelings stronger than friendship — for you? Since the beginning?
No. That can’t be—You gave an internal, mental gasp. Then the dread quickly started pouring in. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Oh…fuck!
You felt horrible.
You’d known Jake Seresin for, what? Four? Almost five? Years. And in that time you’d done nothing but completely misjudge him.
Well— to be fair. From the stories Jake had told you over the last year about his childhood, his teen years, his time off-base from the Navy…your judgement was pretty spot on.
But that didn’t change the fact that you’d held it against him. Jesus, no wonder he hated your guts.
Yet, that was the thing. According to Penny's accounts of things, he…didn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact.
But—
You grumbled, tossing over in your bed and staring at your moonlit ceiling. You’d been going over Penny’s testimony in your head for literal hours.
You had a million and one questions you wanted to ask. But, despite mentally going to each of the Dagger Squad for their opinions (all of whom gave a similar result as Penny). There was only one person who could answer all your questions and give you the right answers.
You groaned again, slapping your hand onto your face.
“Jake?”
Poking your head through the door of The Hard Deck, you looked around hoping to find him. But, after no reply came, you stepped further inside, lifting the sunglasses from your head and folding them in your hand.
“Jake?”
He was nowhere to be seen. You had been stressfully asleep when your phone had loudly woken you up, a little before seven in the morning.
“Jake?!”
“Hey.”
A surprised sound came from your mouth as you turned, finally seeing him.
“Hi. What’s going on?”
Walking closer to you, he laid down the box of supplies in his arms onto the table. “Rooster called me – it’s kinda an all hands on deck situation.”
You nodded. “Okay. What happened?”
Jake’s face was washed in frustration and sadness. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Walking you into the backstore, you saw it. The back supply room at the back of the kitchen was covered in water. There was a pool of water at your feet, just under an inch deep. The damp was firmly making itself at home in the walls. A lot of the cardboard boxes were slowly melting, along with the paper straws and napkins.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Pete’s gone with Penny to wake up her plumber. He wasn’t answering his phone. Rooster got called in for a meeting, so he called me. And then I called you.”
You nodded, “Okay. Okay. Yeah, we can…try and salvage this.”
“Sorry to wake you,” Jake apologised, but you shook your head.
“No, it’s good you called me. Penny got a mop and bucket round here?”
Jake nodded, pointing to the bar. “Back there. I’ve been trying to get most of the stuff out for now. I shut the water off, but I swear this thing is still rising.”
For the next two hours, you and Jake worked to save, salvage and soak up everything in the supply room. Meanwhile, Penny stood over the shoulder of her plumber who had sworn to her that his work wasn’t the problem, only to find out it was.
There had been a small leak for months and then, in the middle of the night, it decided to push past the dam.
Over the following week, whilst Penny was getting the backstore fixed, you were trying to find the courage to ask Jake the truth. But, the longer you tried, the more your anxiety grew. So, you took a step back.
You’d watch his actions. You’d try and listen to his words more. Maybe something would give the truth – his truth – away to you so you didn’t feel like an idiot when you would ask him and find the answer to be he just saw you as a friend.
That turmoil carried on for a month.
For every slightly friendship fueled gesture, there was a glaring romantic gesture staring you right in the face. In a crowd, he’d hold your hand. At the bar, he knew your drink order. He knew your work schedule well enough to know when to call you, or when to text you.
But during those moments: his eyes were on you during the conversation, his hand lingered on your hip and waist when he stood beside you, if you were intentionally separated in a crowd and you looked for him…he was already looking at you.
The bar had practically been on the floor before you got to know Jake. You also didn’t want to warp that into something that was just made up in your mind because other people were convinced, too.
“Earth to Y/n!”
Nearly jumping out of your skin, you turned your head and looked at Jake. He was standing in your backyard.
“Jake?”
He smiled at you. “You really need to get security cameras or something. I could have been an axe murderer.”
“I’ve got cameras,” you told him. “And you could never be an axe murderer. They’re the silent type.”
“And I’m not?”
“You're chatty.”
Jake chuckled, walking up the steps of your back porch. “Yeah, my mom always got that on my report card.”
You chuckled. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Jake shrugged, taking his usual seat in the deck chair beside yours. “What can I say? If I wasn’t in the Navy, I’d be a reporter. Or a talk-show host.”
You chuckled, again. “I can see that for you.”
“Thank you. Now, you wanna tell me why you didn’t hear that massive lock on your side-gate?”
You shook your head, avoiding his eye contact. “It’s nothing.”
“Can’t be nothing. I was standing there for, like, half an hour!”
“It was not half an hour,” you said, rolling your eyes at Jake’s dramatic tone.
“Might as well have been. Talk to me, what’s going on?”
“Nothing-”
“It’s not nothing-”
“Jake-”
“It’s not nothing,” he said. “Seriously. What’s going on-”
“Do you like me?”
You blurted out your question before you could stop and think about…literally anything else.
Jake’s facial expression faltered. “W-what?”
Despite the pang in your chest as you saw his face shift, you decided to become a masochist.
“Do you like me?” You asked him, again. “Because…someone told me something and with how I’ve been feeling recently…I’ve been trying to figure it out, Jake. And…I can’t. I can’t even trust my own judgment of it because, if it’s what I hope it is but not what I think it is– my brain is trying to sabotage it. Whilst trying to keep my feet on the ground.”
Jake remained still, apart from leaning in just a little. “And what do you hope it is?”
You felt your heart begin to pound in your chest, as well as your cheeks heat. “I don’t want to say.”
“What do you hope– why?”
“Because I don’t want to be right. And I don’t want to hope for the wrong thing.”
Throughout your head, you were reminding yourself that Jake just saw you as a friend. That you both would only ever be friends.
But your heart was hoping for more.
“What?”
His confusion just solidified your reality. So, taking a panicked breath and standing, you turned to him.
“You know what, just– just forget it. This was stupid. I-I’m sorry.”
“Y/n-”
“You should probably go. I-I’ll see you when I see you. I’m sorry for saying…just literally everything.”
“Y/n, wait-” Jake stood as he watched you try and find your bearing before making a beeline for your screen door.
“Goodbye, Jake.”
Just before you could reach out to tear open your screen door and walk into your home, where you fully planned to bury yourself under the covers of your bed and wait for the next apocalypse, Jake pulled you back.
A grasp of your hand, a tug of your arm and you were spinning quickly into his arms where he kissed you.
His hand held your head steady, and despite the shock, you closed your eyes. After a moment, you kissed him back. The second you did, his other hand finally settled against your skin. With his fingers first skimming your bare thigh, slipping under the short dressing gown and then firmly anchoring you to him, he pulled your entire body flush against his.
“I like you,” Jake confirmed, breathless. “I more than like you.”
“You do?”
Jake nodded. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“My brain needed a second to catch up.”
“I meant…before. Why didn’t you tell me anything…before?”
Jake swallowed. “The first couple years, you seemed happy with someone else. When we finally became friends…you seemed to finally be finding you, again. I love you, but I wasn’t about to jeopardise that for you.”
“What about the dates you helped me with?”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know if I would be someone you’d…” Jake took a breath, loosening his grip on you. “If I wasn’t, I wanted to make sure you found someone who saw you. You deserve the world, Y/n. You deserve someone who sees that, too.”
“Jake…”
Every emotion within you felt like it had been dialed to eleven. Tears were brimming in your eyes, but you didn’t know if they were from being overwhelmed with relief, worry, fear, love or frustration.
And Jake caught them in an instant.
Anchoring his hands by your neck and shoulders, he held onto you. And you held onto him, your fist gently gripping at his t-shirt.
“I’ve…I am in love with you, Y/n, And I have been for a long time. But, first and foremost, you are my friend. I want the best for you and I’ve had a long time to deal with the fact I might not be that person–”
“Jake, please. Please.” You were definitely crying. “You have to know that you are. You are that person for me. I know you. I wish to God I’d known you sooner. But I know you. And I know myself.”
Reaching up, you leaned in to kiss him and he met you instantly. Through the tears of overwhelming emotion, Jake’s kiss was untamed and constant, with a wisp of desperation. Whilst you flushed yourself against him, he was careful in walking you backwards to lean against the porch post.
His heavy boots clunked against the wood, but he made sure to avoid your bare feet.
Bracing one hand against the post beside your head, he lifted you with his arm and sat you on the beam of the porch.
“I love you.”
Gently, he wiped away the drying tears from your cheek.
“I love you.”
With a smile, you bit your lip to try and suppress the urge to beam. “I love you, too.”
Warning: Unexpected Pregnancy, Inspired by Purple Hearts, I've never been pregnant so idk how the appointments really go
Part Summary: You and Jake finally move in together. You also finally get health insurance: It's time to see your baby for the first time.
*Not Proofread*
Marrying a Stranger Masterlist
Jake's true to his words.
Every time I pull into the parking lot after a closing shift at the bar, Jake's there already waiting. He walks me up to my door, making sure I get inside safely.
I feel a little guilty. Some days I can tell he's really tired, but he still shows up and goes out of his way to walk me to the door.
I try take back the arrangement, let him know I'll be okay coming home by myself. He's tired and he should be resting, not walking me to my door at 3 in the morning.
He doesn't budge.
I feel a little better when it's finally time to move. It only takes my parents, Jake and I a few hours to move everything and clean out the apartment. My mixed feelings however, make it feel longer.
This place was mine. My first apartment, the first place I could call my own. Sure, it has problems. My neighbors are difficult, it's sketchy at night, everything's falling apart... but it was mine. I worked for it.
It's hard to let it go and say goodbye.
When I have to turn in the keys, I feel my heart ache a little. So much has changed in such a short amount of time. It's hard to wrap my head around it.
But, it's not like I can back out of this now. I have to keep going forward.
"This is it." Jake unlocks the door, pushing it open to reveal a small but neat apartment.
The furniture is simple, functional, all neutral colors. A worn leather couch sits against the wall, with simple coffee table in front of it, holding nothing on the surface. There are no throw pillows or blankets, no photos on the walls, just the basics.
The kitchen is the same. Spotless, but empty. The counters are clear, the fridge hums in the corner, and there's nothing on the shelves except for a coffee maker, a box of cereal, and a few mugs.
It feels quiet. Like a place that has only ever been lived in halfway.
Jake sets the keys on the counter, turning to look at me. "Not much to look at," he admits with a little shrug.
But it's clean. His shoes are lined up by the door, his jackets hung neatly on the back of a chair. The bed, when he shows me, is made with military precision, corners tucked tight enough to bounce a coin off.
It is not warm. It is not cozy. But it is Jake's.
And for now, it is mine too.
----
The first week felt like a learning curve. Neither of us had lived with someone else like this before and even though we were married for the baby, it was clear we were still figuring out each other's rhythms.
At first I wasn't sure how much of my stuff I should put out. His apartment was so bare, and I didn't know if he even wanted decorations on the walls. My picture frames and throw pillows sat in their boxes, and every time I thought about unpacking them, I hesitated. It felt like I was invading his space.
But Jake made it clear in little ways that he wanted me there. He cleared out a couple drawers in his dresser for my clothes, pushed some of his things aside in the closet, and even moved his bottles around in the shower so I had room for mine. He made space in the bathroom cabinet too, just enough for my stuff.
The place itself is small, just a one bedroom, one bath, which is why most of my bigger things ended up in storage. My mattress, a few pieces of furniture, and some extra boxes had to stay there. Jake insisted I take the bed, and that he would sleep on the leather couch. Even though I was nervous about sharing a bed with a man I still barely know, I couldn't let him do that. He needs to get good rest for his job, and he's not going to be able to get that if he's sleeping on a couch every night. We kept a large gap between us, neither of us wanting to accidentally make the other uncomfortable.
The morning after I moved in, I woke up to an empty apartment. Jake had already left for training at 5:30, just like he told me he would the night before. I didn't notice it at first. My picture frames, the ones I had unwrapped but hadn't hung up yet, were already on display. My throw pillows were sitting on the couch too, brightening up the worn leather.
On the counter, there was a note in his handwriting.
'We missed a few of the boxes last night. I'll put the rest up when I get home.'
I stared at it longer than I probably should have. It felt like his way of telling me it was okay to make the place mine too. That he wanted me to.
He wanted this to feel like my home now too.
That means a lot.
----
It's almost 6, earlier than my usual time off but Penny lets me go home early. Jake's not back yet, but I know he will be soon.
I barely finish setting the table when I hear the soft click of the front door unlocking. Jake steps inside, boots thudding against the wooden floor. His hair is a little messy like he's had a helmet on all day, and there's a worn-out edge to his eyes. He looks tired.
"Hey, smells great in here." He gives me one of his easy grins as he bends down to unlace his boots. He lines them up neatly against the wall next to mine, like he always does. Even exhausted, the man treats the entryway like inspection's coming any minute.
"Hi," I say, setting down a fork on the table. "It's almost ready. Ten more minutes."
"Perfect. I'm starvin'. He stretches his neck like it's been stiff all day. "I'm gonna clean up real quick. Be back in a minute."
He disappears down the hall toward the bathroom, and I swear I hear him sigh as the door shuts. It makes me feel weirdly soft, knowing he's probably been running on fumes all day. Makes me glad I cooked.
While he showers, I finish cooking our dinner. I turn off the burner when I hear the bathroom door open.
Jake walks back into the kitchen, freshly showered, hair damp and pushed back with a comb. A small strand of hair hangs against his forehead.
It's kind of adorable. Is that weird to say about a grown man?
He's swapped his uniform for a soft gray t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants that sit low on his hips. He looks much more relaxed than when he arrived. Still tired, but less tense.
There is an ease to him like this, clean and comfortable, that makes it hard not to stare. I catch myself and look away.
Yeah, he's attractive. Obviously.
Don't make things awkward. I scold myself.
Jake doesn't seem to notice my staring or internal battle, thankfully. He pauses by the table, eyebrows lifting slightly as he takes in the setup. "Damn," he says with a low whistle. "This looks amazing."
"Thanks. I hope you like it."
We sit down across from each other around Jake's small dining table, plates in front of us. For a moment, it is quiet in a comfortable way, the kind that doesn't feel like silence, just calm.
"I thought you weren't supposed to be off until 12. Penny let you off early?" Jake asks, twirling his fork casually.
"Yeah, Penny let me go before the rush. She accidentally scheduled too many people tonight. . I figured I'd actually make something for once instead of grabbing drive-thru on the way home."
He huffs a little laugh. "Well, remind me to thank her. Beats the protein bars I was about to call dinner."
I grin. "Long day?"
"The usual. Sim training in the morning, then paperwork. I swear I spent more time staring at a computer screen than actually flying these days." He leans back in his chair, rolling his neck with a small crack. "You?"
"Busy, but manageable." I shrug. "Washed a bunch of glasses, told three different guys we don't sell tequila shots before noon."
He snorts. "Menaces."
We fall into easy conversation. Nothing serious. Just little stories from our day, the kind you'd share with a friend. I find myself laughing more than I expected to.
There is a lull as he sets his fork down, almost like he remembers something.
"Actually," he says, wiping his hands on a napkin, "I meant to tell you earlier. I talked to Tricare today."
My head lifts. "Yeah?"
He nods. "Your enrollment went through. Since we're officially married now, you're covered under my plan. You can go to the doctor whenever now."
For a moment, I just blink at him. "Wait. So... I have insurance now?"
"Full coverage," he confirms. "Prenatal care included. You won't have to pay out of pocket."
The breath that leaves me is deeper than I expect. Weeks of quiet stress loosen all at once in my chest. "Jake, that's... that's huge. Thank you."
He shakes his head. "You don't have to thank me. It's how it's supposed to work."
I've been so worried about the baby, I'm glad we can go to the doctor now.
We.
Does Jake want to go to the appointment? Dad's usually do that, right? It's a big thing for me, so it's probably a big thing for him too. I mean, it's his baby. He cares about it. Why wouldn't he want to be there?
I swallow, deciding to ask him. "Would you... want to come with me? To the appointment, I mean. I should set one up soon."
Jake looks up from his plate, eyes warm. "Yeah, definitely." he says without hesitation. "I'd love to. If you're okay with that."
I smile. "Of course, I kinda don't want to go alone."
His tone is serious as he holds my gaze. "Then you won't be. Whatever you allow me to go to with you, I'll go. I was serious when I said I want to be there for you both."
I feel my heart flutter slightly. "I'll call tomorrow. See when they can take me."
"Let me know what they say," he replies. "I'll talk to my CO and get the time off."
"Alright, I will." I take a sip of water, then glance around. "So, what did you eat today? You didn't just run straight home, did you?"
"Ha, no. I grabbed a snack, nothing fancy. Just enough to keep me from fainting on the drive home," he says, leaning back in his chair. "You know, military cuisine... highly sophisticated."
I roll my eyes playfully. "Oh, absolutely. Nothing beats a soggy sandwich from the commissary."
He laughs and it feels easy, natural. "Exactly. I think your cooking just officially ruined every other meal for me this week."
I smile, feeling warmth spread through me. "Good. I'll take credit for that. Next time, maybe I'll add dessert just to make it even worse."
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Please do. I think I could survive another week on pasta and that kind of temptation."
The conversation drifts on like that for a while, friendly and calm. We've come a long way since the beginning. I feel like we're actually starting to become friends.
When we finish dinner, Jake helps me clean up. We clear the table and put the left overs away. He washes while I dry the dishes. We chat a bit more about work and the chaotic situations his friends get involved in. After the last dish is put away, we decide to watch our first movie together.
We grab a couple of blankets and settle onto the couch, leaving a little space between us at first. I pick the movie, something light and funny, and hit play. Jake stretches out a bit, his arm brushing mine, and I don't pull away.
We end up laughing at the same parts, making small comments to each other about the characters. At one point, he nudges me slightly with his shoulder and I nudge back. It's awkward at first, but in a comfortable way, like we're learning how to exist around each other without stepping on toes.
By the time the credits start rolling, he's dozed off. One of my throw pillows rests across his lap, his hands loosely draped over it, and his head tilts slightly against the couch. His hair is now completely dry, strands falling softly across his forehead. His breathing steady.
For a moment, I just watch him. His face is completely relaxed, softer than I've ever seen it, the usual tension gone. There's a quiet peace in his expression, like the weight of the day has melted away.
He looks at home here, vulnerable in a way he rarely lets anyone see. And in the soft glow of the lamp and the fading light from the TV, he seems almost impossibly… real. The curve of his jaw, the slight lift of his lips, the way his lashes brush against his cheeks... even in his sleep, Jake's a handsome man.
I reach over and carefully turn off the TV, not wanting to wake him. I grab blanket and gently drape it over his shoulders so he doesn't wake up cold. He stirs a little but doesn't wake, just lets out a soft sigh.
I take one last look at him before turning off the light and heading to bed.
Tonight was a good night.
----
Jake drives us to the appointment.
He insisted. I offered to take my own car, said I could meet him there after work, but he shut that down immediately with a simple, firm, "I'm taking you."
Now we're sitting in the waiting room of the doctors office, surrounded by pastel walls and soft instrumental music that doesn't match the nerves in my stomach. I fill out paperwork while Jake sits beside me, flicking through a random pamphlet he found.
His leg bounces. Subtle, but enough for me to notice.
Is he nervous too?
He catches me looking and smirks. "What? You think I get jittery in a doctor's office?"
"A little," I tease, trying to distract myself from my own nerves.
He scoffs. "Sweetheart, I pull nine Gs on the regular. I think I can handle a couple pamphlets on prenatal vitamins." His tone is playful, but I can tell he's trying to keep it light for my sake too. His eyes betray his confidence, a glimmer of uncertainty reflecting off of them.
They finally call my name, and we both stand up at the same time. Jake follows me without being asked. When the nurse leads us into the room, he pauses at the doorway like he's waiting for her permission.
"You're dad, right? You can come in," she says with a polite smile.
Jake nods and steps in, standing close but not crowding me. I lie back on the exam table, heart pounding as the doctor comes in and introduces herself. She asks a few questions, types notes into the computer, then wheels over the ultrasound machine.
"Ready to see your little one?" she asks gently.
I nod. My mouth is dry. Jake moves closer, standing at my side. His hand hovers for a moment like he's not sure if he should offer it up for support or not.
I grab it before he can pull it back. He lets me hold onto him. His fingers firmly curl around mine instantly.
The gel is cold on my stomach and I flinch.
"Sorry, it's a bit cold" the doctor says with a small chuckle. "Always is." She presses the wand against my skin, moving it slowly, searching.
The room falls quiet except for the hum of the machine.
Then it happens.
A flicker on the screen. A tiny lime sized blobish shape. The image moves as the doctor rubs the wand around my stomach slowly. It's fast and steady, a beautiful song I could listen to for hours. It's unlike anything I've ever heard before.
"There's your baby," the doctor says softly. "The heartbeat looks strong."
My vision blurs. I don't even realize a few tears have fallen until Jake squeezes my hand.
The sight of our baby fills me with more love than I ever knew I could be capable of having. I feel all my anxiety float away as my mind focuses on the tiny human on the screen. I can't believe how small it is!
Jake lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, almost like disbelief. His eyes are trained on the monitor, wide and completely entranced by our little baby. "Damn," he whispers under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "That's really... our baby."
"Yeah... yeah it is." My voice cracks in the middle, but I don't care. I can't look away from the screen.
The doctor prints a few pictures, wiping the gel from my stomach before stepping away to grab the images.
I sit there, still holding Jake's hand. He hasn't let go. His thumb brushes once, slow and soft across my knuckles like he's not even aware he's doing it.
The doctor steps back over and hands him a small strip of ultrasound photos. Jake's hand gently pulls away from mine as he takes them carefully and his eyes scan over the images.
"Can I get an extra copy?" he asks suddenly, glancing up at the doctor.
She smiles. "Of course."
"One for my wallet," he says quietly, mostly to himself.
The doctor grabs another copy for Jake who immediately sticks it into his wallet while I have a turn looking at the first copy. Before we leave I'm given a few pamphlets, prenatal vitamins and a list of things we should do to prepare for the baby and birth. It's a little overwhelming, but we leave feeling more confident and excited than when we arrived.
The hum of the engine fills most of the silence as we pull out of the parking lot. I watch the world blur past the window while my hand rests over my stomach.
Jake keeps one hand on the wheel, the other drumming lightly against his thigh like he needs to release some of the energy buzzing through him.
After a while, he speaks.
"You good?"
I nod. "Yeah. You?"
He lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh. "Not sure yet."
I glance at him. "In a bad way?"
He shakes his head. "No. Just… feels different now. I don't know how to explain it... more real?" He pauses, eyes fixed on the road. "Kinda hit me in the chest."
I smile softly. "Me too."
He nods slowly.
Another beat passes.
Jake gently without looking, pats the pocket his wallet is in, the ultrasound photo tucked away inside. "Hey… do you think the baby will like planes?"
I turn toward him, smiling. "With a dad like you? It's probably gonna come out doing barrel rolls."
Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could do one with Jake Seresin where him and the reader are co workers (but they liked each other a lot and are idiots) and she flirts with him a lot, like constantly and he mostly just laughs it off but flirt back sometimes, but she suddenly stops one day and is very quiet and he's worried... Read Rest Here
A/N: Gosh I just love Jake. I really hope they make another TG movie with our boy in it <3 Thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader
Word Count: 3.3k+
T/W : Violation (Not Jake), Talk of Weapons, Talk of break in
Mornings at North Island always started the same way.
Your headset was already on, comms running smooth as you relayed flight data to Mav and the rest of the squadron. You had everything under control because that’s what you did. You were the best at what you did. And you knew it. You didn’t spend years at the Academy and across the country to be mediocre at your job. You were good and you knew it.
Jake Seresin knew it too.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” came the familiar, honey-dipped drawl over your shoulder before he even stepped into the control room. You grinned into your headset. He was right on schedule as always.
You didn’t turn around immediately instead letting the anticipation hang for a second longer before glancing over your shoulder. He was leaning against your desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that insufferably handsome smirk that was as much a part of him as his damn callsign.
“Hangman,” you greeted, flashing him an easy smile. “Looking as sharp as ever. It must really be exhausting carrying around that much charm all the time.”
His smirk deepened as he took you in. “It is, actually darlin’. But I manage.”
You made a show of giving him a once-over. That green flight suit zipped halfway, dog tags resting against the fabric of his undershirt and that confidence oozing from every pore. Annoyingly attractive, you noted. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. But damn, the man was hot as hell.
“Good thing I’m here to keep you humble,” you teased while tapping your earpiece as the radio crackled.
Jake leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the faint scent of his aftershave. The scent curled through the air: rich sandalwood, and cedar laced with smoky vetiver and that deep warmth of amber and musk. Dark, refined, and impossible to forget. Just like man who wore it. And who was currently staring a hole in the side of your head.
“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t wanna do that. What would you flirt with if I wasn’t around?” He gave you a devious smirk as his eyes traced your face.
You arched a brow, lips curling. “Oh, I’d manage.”
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like you were something impossible. “Damn shame sweetheart.” This was the rhythm. The effortless push and pull. The game neither of you called by name but both played with unmatched skill.
“Seresin, you done harassing my officer?” Maverick’s voice cut in from across the room with nothing but amusement lacing in his tone.
Jake straightened slightly but didn’t look away from you. “Just making sure my sweetheart starts her day right, Mav.”
You shot Mav an eyeroll before turning back to Jake. “Aw, how sweet of you Jake.” You cooed at him.
Jake hummed, tilting his head. “Sweet’s not usually what they call me, darlin’.”
The way he said it, low and teasing, sent a thrill up your spine. But you didn’t let it show. Instead, you reached for the mission brief on your desk, casually brushing your fingers against his arm as you passed it to him.
“Guess I’m just special then,” you said with an easy grin.
His eyes flickered with something. Something unreadable. Something dangerous. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.
“Guess you are,” he murmured. His voice softer this time.
And just like that, he was gone, heading out to brief with the others, leaving behind the faintest trace of his presence. You exhaled, shaking your head to yourself. Yeah. This was the rhythm. At least, it had been. Until everything changed.
Until last night.
Until you woke up to the sound of your front door creaking open.
Until you reached for the bedside drawer, heart pounding, breath shallow, fingers closing around the cold metal of the weapon you kept there. The weapon you dreaded ever having to use.
Until you saw him. A dark figure standing at the foot of your bed, a knife glinting faintly in the sliver of moonlight filtering through your curtains.
Your body had moved on instinct, years of training kicking in before fear could fully take hold. The moment you pointed your weapon at him, he hesitated just long enough for you to move. You sprang from the bed, voice sharp and unyielding, ordering him to back off. And then just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Like a wraith in the night.
The cops arrived minutes later but it didn’t matter. He was already long gone, leaving behind nothing but an overturned chair, a shattered sense of security, and the lingering imprint of fear in your bones.
You barely slept after that, sitting with your back to the wall, weapon still gripped tightly in your hands until the sun started to rise.
And now you were here, at work, trying to pretend like nothing had changed. But Jake knew you too well. So, when he walked into the control room, expecting your usual teasing grin, expecting the flirtation that had become second nature between you. He immediately noticed the difference. You were at your desk, headset on, posture stiff, eyes trained on the monitors like they held the secrets of the universe. No smirk, no playful roll of your eyes when he approached. No wink. No greeting.
And that was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.
Jake frowned, slowing his stride. He leaned against your desk, arms crossing over his chest in the same lazy way he always did, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Nothing.
He tilted his head. “Morning, sweetheart,” he drawled, watching for a reaction.
Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, just for a second, but then you resumed typing like you hadn’t heard him. His frown deepened. Okay. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe Mav had you swamped with flight schedules or logistics nightmares. Maybe.
But then he really looked at you.
Your usual fire, the effortless confidence that made your job look easy was gone. In its place was something tight, something controlled. He followed the subtle tension in your shoulders. The way your jaw stayed clenched even as you kept working. Something wasoff.
“You sick or somethin’?” Jake asked, lowering his voice, trying to meet your gaze.
You finally looked at him but the second your eyes met his you blinked quickly and dropped them again. “I’m fine,” you said too flatly. Too rehearsed. With no emotion in the usual boisterous voice of yours.
Jake’s stomach twisted. Bullshit. You weren’t fine. He knew fine, and this wasn’t it. But what he didn’t know was why. For the first time since meeting you, Jake felt the shift. The invisible wall you’d put up overnight, cutting him out without warning. And he hatedit. Where there should’ve been fire, there was only silence.
Jake tried to ignore it at first. Maybe you were just having an off day. Maybe you were tired. Maybe whatever had drained the light from your eyes would pass on its own.
But as the day dragged on, he knew that wasn’t the case. You barely spoke, sticking to clipped, professional responses when you had to interact with him or anyone else. You kept your head down, shoulders drawn in. It was so unlike you. It made his skin itch.
Then, when someone brushed past you in the hallway. Just a casual, harmless pass. You flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but Jake saw it. And that was all it took. His blood ran cold. He knew that reaction. Had seen it before. And it sent every instinct he had into overdrive.
The rest of the day, he didn’t leave you alone. Not in a way that would spook you, but he made sure he was always nearby, always watching. You barely acknowledged him and that was the final crack in his patience. By the time your shift ended, he was donewaiting.
You had just stepped outside the hangar when he caught up to you. He moved fast enough that you had no choice but to stop. "Sweetheart," he said. And this time his voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t lazy or smug. It was quiet. Steady. Serious.
You hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “Jake, I—”
“Something’s wrong,” he cut in. His green eyes searching your face. “And I need you to tell me what it is.”
Your breath faltered. You didn’t answer right away but the way your gaze darted away. The way your lips pressed together like you were afraid to speak made his stomach twist. He softened, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Hey. It’s me, alright? Just me. You can tell me.”
You swallowed hard. And then finally your walls started to crack. “I—” You exhaled shakily, like forcing the words out might break you. “Someone broke into my house last night.”
Jake went still.
Your voice was barely above a whisper as you continued. “I woke up and he was just there. He had a knife… I think he would have tried to grab me. But I fought back, I scared him off but…” You sucked in a breath. Shaking your head unbelieving that this had even happened to you. “He ran before the cops got there. They haven’t found him. They won’t find him most likely.”
Jake’s fists clenched. His entire body went rigid. His jaw locking so hard it ached. Jesus Christ. The thought of you alone, terrified, fighting off some bastard in the middle of the night made his vision go red. He wanted to break something. No, he wanted to findthe bastard who did this. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, you mattered.
Carefully he reached for you. His fingers grazing your wrist before he slid his hand fully over yours. His grip was firm, grounding. Warm.
“Jesus, darlin’,” he murmured. His voice tight, lethal with restrained fury but when he looked at you again all he let you see was the concern. The unwavering steadiness. “You’re safe now, okay? I promise you, you’re safe.” And for the first time all day, your body eased just a little. Just enough.
You weren’t sure who moved first. One second, you were standing there, raw and exposed with your confession hanging in the air between you. The next, Jake’s arms were around you, solid and steady, pulling you against his chest. And you let him. The moment his warmth surrounded you, the breath you had been holding all day broke free in a shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his flight suit, gripping tight, grounding yourself in him. Breathing in the woody scent that always seemed to coat him.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just held you. And God, you hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. His voice a low, steady rumble against your ear. “You’re safe. No one’s scaring you again, I swear it.” You knew his words weren’t empty promises, weren’t meaningless reassurances. They were a vow.
Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. “You’re not staying at your place alone tonight.” He said with such conviction.
You blinked up at him. “Jake—”
“Not a chance, sweetheart.” The smirk was there, but softer, missing its usual cocky edge. He tilted his head. “You really think I’m gonna walk away after what you just told me? Not a chance darlin’.” Your resolve wavered. You should tell him you’ll be fine. That you don’t need him hovering. But the idea of being alone in that house, of walking through those doors and feeling that fear claw at you again…
You swallowed hard and nodded. “I have a guest room,” you murmured. “You can take the guest room.”
Jake’s smirk deepened. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’ll sleep on the porch if you want.” You smiled softly. Jake had a way of doing that for you. Charming bastard he was.
Jake didn’t waste a second when he got to your home. The second you stepped inside he was already moving. He checked the locks, testing the windows, making sure every single point of entry was secure. You stood off to the side watching as he knelt by your front door, brows furrowed in concentration as he worked to reinforce the deadbolt.
“You know,” you said while crossing your arms, “I could’ve called a locksmith for that.”
He glanced up, flashing you that signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to prove to you that I’m useful outside the cockpit.” You rolled your eyes but for the first time all day there was the tiniest tug of amusement behind it. And Jake saw it. Reveled in it.
After he was satisfied that your place was Fort Knox-level secure, he finally let you settle. The tension still lingered, though thin, stretched tight under your skin. He noticed it in the way your shoulders stayed rigid. In the way your fingers curled slightly like you were bracing yourself for something.
So, he did the only thing he knew how to do.
He made you laugh.
You weren’t sure when the tension finally started to ease but at some point you found yourself curled up on the couch half-listening as Jake recounted some absurd training exercise where Phoenix had absolutely wrecked him in a dogfight.
“—I swear to God, I had her, I had her, and then at the last second, she pulls this insane move out of nowhere. Next thing I know, she’s behind me, cackling like a damn supervillain and I’m dead in the water.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “I bet she lovedthat.”
“Oh, she hasn’t shut up about it since,” Jake admitted, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll never live it down. Worst part is, Mav saw the whole thing. Didn’t even bother hiding the smug look.”
You let out a small laugh and Jake stilled. It was quiet, barely there, but it was real. His smirk softened, something shifting behind his eyes. For the first time ever, he really looked at you. Not just as the woman who sparred with him, who kept up with his banter, who never let him get the last word. But as you. The woman who had been terrified last night. The woman who had been shakentoday. The woman he never wanted to see rattled like that again.
You felt the shift too because your smile faded slightly. Your gaze flickering over his face like you were searching for something. Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Thanks, Jake.”
His throat bobbed. The muscles in his jaw flexing like he was holding something back. He should’ve said something. Should’ve teased. Should’ve smirked and drawn out the moment. Should’ve eased you back into the comfort of your usual game. But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t the game anymore.
His hand lifted before he could stop himself. His fingers brushing along the side of your face. His thumb grazing your cheek so lightly, so gently, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.
Your breath caught but you didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say a word. And then your eyes flicked down to his mouth just for a second, but long enough. Long enough for him to see it. To feelit.
His pulse kicked hard against his ribs, a slow, building pressure coiling in his chest, in his gut. Jesus. You wanted this. You wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.
Something cracked wide open between you in that moment. Something unspoken but undeniable. Something that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long it was a wonder it hadn’t boiled over sooner.
Jake’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, his nose barely brushing yours. Giving you the chance to back away if you wanted. He could feel the way you inhaled sharply. The way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie like you were holding yourself back.
His thumb traced the edge of your jaw. His voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “Don’t thank me, darlin’.”
And without thinking, without second-guessing, without giving either of you a chance to step back. He kissed you. It was slow, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way your lips felt against his. It was lingering, like he wasn’t sure if this was the first or the last time he’d get to do this. It wasn’t playful. Wasn’t teasing. It was real.
When he pulled back, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, wasn’t tense. It was heavy with something unspoken. With something waiting to be acknowledged. But instead of speaking Jake just gave you one last lingering look before pressing a softer barely-there kiss to your forehead. A silent promise. A quiet reassurance.
“Get some sleep sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The scent of fresh coffee pulled you from sleep. For a moment, you lay there, disoriented, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through your curtains. Your brain slowly caught up. You hadn’t made coffee. And there was only one other person in your house who would.
Jake.
You pushed back the covers and padded toward the kitchen. The wood floor cool against your bare feet. And there he was.
Jake Seresin stood at your stove pouring coffee into two mugs like he’d done it a hundred times before. His flight suit jacket was still draped over a chair, but he’d changed into the sweatpants you’d tossed at him last night. The fabric hanging low on his hips in a way that was far too distracting this early in the morning. His hair was still messy, slightly sleep-ruffled, and for some reason that made your stomach do something ridiculous.
He looked comfortable here. In your space. Like he belonged. And you liked it. Liked the way it looked. Liked the way he looked. God help you.
At the sound of your footsteps he turned, flashing you a grin. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” He held out a mug. “Figured you might need this.”
You crossed your arms but took it anyway, inhaling deeply before your first sip. Perfect. Of course, he makes perfect coffee, too. “Didn’t take you for a domestic type, Seresin,” you muttered, lifting an eyebrow. Trying your best to look annoyed but you were anything but that.
Jake smirked while leaning a hip against the counter. “You saying you expected me to sneak out before sunrise?”
You hummed, taking another sip. “Wouldn’t have been the first time a Navy pilot bailed on me.”
His smirk faltered just slightly. Just enough to make your lips twitch. “Not my style, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head. Then after a beat he nudged your elbow. “You slept okay?”
The teasing had softened and the warmth in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, fingers curling around your mug, but the truth easily came this time.
“Yeah,” you admitted. “I did. I slept more than okay.” Because knowing he was just a room over made it easy to relax. Jake studied you for a second. His green eyes sharp, thoughtful, like he was making sure you meant it.
Satisfied, he clinked his mug against yours, smirk returning full force. “Good. ‘Cause I make a damn good bodyguard. But I make an even better breakfast. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Eggs or pancakes?”
You blinked. “You’re making breakfast too?”
Jake gave you a slow, lazy grin. “Oh, darlin’, you think I’m lettin’ you start your day without a full meal andmy charming company? Hate to break it to you, but you’re really bad at getting rid of me.”
You scoffed while shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”
“Charming,” he corrected, winking.
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to fight, “Pancakes. I like my breakfasts sweet.”
He gave you that devilish grin, “Noted darlin’.”
And just like that. That something between you and Jake Seresin shifted. For good.
Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ryswritingrecord @lostinwonderland314 @xxrougefangxx @greantii @tallrock35 @hyunjinvoid @ahoeforfandomsblog
summary: jake and reader get into an argument about margarita glasses and end up locked in the storage closet.
t/w: some kissin', mentions of being trapped in a closet.
"the glasses are green, hangman!" you shout over your shoulder as you throw open the door to the hard deck's storage closet.
"they are blue." jake counters, following behind you, his body filling the small closet with his giant chest. hands on your hips, you scan the shelves.
reaching over your shoulder, making sure to invade all your space, jake plucks something off the shelf. "i told you penny has blue margarita glasses."
"hangman, for the last time, they're green, and as soon as i find one--" you stop, because as you turn around, jake holds up a blue margarita glass like it's a lombardi trophy. the smirk on his face makes you want to pummel him.
"you were saying?" he taunts in your ear, returning the glass to the shelf behind your shoulder. an animal-like groan rips from your throat as you try to step around him. jake laughs, the sound full of the i-told-you-so he will verbalize any minute.
"move your gigantic body please so i can get out of here," you tell him. he shimmies out of your way, letting you reach for the doorknob.
dread fills your body when the doorknob doesn't turn. "it's not opening."
jake puts his hands on your shoulders, moving you behind him. "let me try it." jake rattles the door with a force to knock it's hinges off the wall.
"come on, this isn't funny."
"yeah, i'm not laughin', sweetheart." he jiggles the handle once more. with a sigh, he turns towards you. "it's locked."
a smirk settles on his face again. "you know, darlin', if you wanted to play seven minutes in heaven, you coulda' just said. no need to create an elaborate plan about margarita glasses."
"you're so insufferable," you say, but his words leave you blushing. okay, you can admit that jake seresin is the hottest guy to frequent the hard deck. you know his reputation, though. penny warned you about the guy as soon as he fed you that wink the day he met you.
"a different girl every week, babe," penny told you. her boyfriend, maverick shook his head in agreement. "you don't wanna get tangled up with him," he said of his lieutenant.
but the more he came around and flirted with you, the more you did want to get tangled up with him.
metaphorically and physically. the guy is practically adonis.
"come on," he drawls, "you know you wanna kiss me." he takes a step towards you, causing you to step back into the shelves. he raises a brow at how he's caged you in. your heart beats out of your chest, because of course you want to kiss him. he braces his hands against the shelves and leans in. "i know that i've wanted to kiss you since the day i met you."
"hangman," you whisper. one of his hands leaves the shelf to slide onto your hip.
his nose brushes against your ear. "just tell me to stop." you don't. well, moreso that you can't. being this close to him has you under a spell.
taking charge, you reach for the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to you. he smiles against your lips before deepening the kiss. his hand knots in your hair, and he uses the other one to hoist you around his waist. your legs lock behind him and you let your arms finally explore him.
your hand runs over every muscle in his chest and stomach, the tight shirt he wears making it so simple. jake moves his kisses from your lips, peppering them up and down the length of your neck. he's making you feel so good, and the moan that just escaped the back of your throat encourages him to keep up his ministrations.
"oh you're perfect," he murmurs against your skin. gripping his face in between your hands, you bring him back to your mouth. jake kisses, and kisses, and kisses you like his very life depends on it.
for a split second, the other girls he's had in this same position flits through your mind, but as jake's tongue begs for entrance, those thoughts are gone.
you're both a heaving, heavy mess when the door to the storage closest opens. jake sets you on the ground, shielding you from whoever's at the door while you straighten your clothes.
"seven minutes are up," coyote says on a chuckle. you look to jake, wide-eyed and he just shrugs. "worked in high school, i figured it couldn't hurt to try it again."
"gahh, you are so annoying!" you push past him and stalk into the bar.
"i don't think i remember you complaining!" he calls after you. "let me take you on a real date, baby."
you look at him over your shoulder, "you better make it a good one, hangman."
Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Nine) (18+) / SERIES MASTERLIST
Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.
Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post
WC: 13k / navigation / inbox / summer of series
A/N: the longest chapter yet!! i can't believe i ever finished this behemoth. i wrote most of this in a dazed frenzy which i think is exactly how i should have written it because that's exactly how they're feeling in the story. this one's juicyyyy >:))) i can't wait to hear what you think! and the next chapter is the one you've alllll been waiting for ;)
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
You’re really starting to wish you’d packed for functionality and not attractiveness on this cruise. The bikini you’re sporting today had become irrevocably tangled in your beach bag, and now presents you with a challenge: untangle it here, in the grimy public restroom just off the beach, or snorkel in your lingerie.
“Are you alright in there?” Jake shouts through the door, and you envy the way he’d worn his swim trunks as shorts. This bathing suit is nice for catching eyes, but really wouldn’t offer you any support to wear as an outfit.
“My suit’s tangled,” You call back, the ocean air nipping at your chest and perking your nipples as you struggle with the ties. You quickly realize that you’re going to lose this fight, and eye your lacy lingerie where it hangs on the door. You could redress yourself, struggle through a push-up bra and a romper, give up the bathroom, and beg Jake for help. Or…
“Jake?” You shout, undoing the lock and quickly clasping your hands over your bare breasts, “Come in here?”
He does, and most definitely doesn’t expect you to be standing there nearly naked. Your bikini bottoms are on, but nothing else is, and he has violent deja vu to just yesterday when he’d had to either puzzle out your bikini’s straps or flash your tits to the world.
“It’s tangled,” Your eyes jerk towards the suit on the counter, and Jake is quick to shut himself into the bathroom with you, locking the two of you inside. It doesn’t feel predatory at all- it feels safe. He knows you’ve trusted him to see you like this, and he’ll make sure no one else does.
“I’ll get it,” He hums, tearing his eyes away from your frame as you stand there, clutching at your chest, “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d let me see you anywhere close to naked.”
“I needed help,” You admit reluctantly, but you notice the way he keeps his gaze strictly on the bathing suit, miles away from the way he’d have eyed you up mere days ago. There’s something about the expression you find in his eyes that makes you think. You watch him, and you see the way his eyelashes flutter slightly, his attention solely on the mess in his hands and not your naked flesh mere inches away from him. You’ve asked him for help and he’s giving it to you, even if there’s other things he could be doing. Other things that he would be doing, if he were his old self.
You’ve been really, truly struggling to maintain your conviction that nothing has changed within him. Repeating it over and over again has only gotten you a headache. It only makes you seem childish and stubborn. But now, in this light, you understand, and really believe this time, that you’ve been right all along. You’ve just been looking at it wrong. The Jake you know is the Jake he wants you to know, and this one is what he keeps locked away for when it matters most. But this is the real one, and this- you… matter to him. The most.
Maybe this is who he’s always been, and yesterday in the pool wasn’t an outlier, maybe he hadn’t been replaced by an imposter at all. Maybe this is just Jake. This is him- he’s sweet, determined, and caring, but only if he wants you to see him like that. Only if you won’t use it against him, and even if he’d started your feud all those years ago on the tarmac, you’d fired back at him, and he’d closed himself off for fear of being wounded.
You realize all at once that you and Jake are the same. You’re both trying to win, you’re both trying to survive. You’re trying to stay wary about this, trying to keep your armor on but it’s damn near impossible now that Jake is letting you strip his down. He’s letting you peel back the layers of his own defenses, you’ve stripped him of his cocky persona and now you’ve got him behaving even if you’re near-naked.
It’s now that you can really see him as a person, not the machine he pretends to be. He does everything in his power to take his own humanity away, and even if he’d proved himself caring once, long ago, he’d fallen right back into old habits. And you’d let him- you’d known somewhere in the back of your mind that he was capable of being a good man but you’d let him disguise himself again, and you’d let him goad you into taking more stabs at him. He’d drawn you back into your war, and you’d let him fight you because he’d let you fight him back. He does a good job at convincing people that nothing touches him, but standing here with him, seeing the humanity in the way he shifts on his feet, noticing his tongue peeking out from between his lips you remember that he pushes himself to appear so untouchable because he doesn’t trust anyone to see him otherwise.
You understand that, and even if your fear manifests itself in different ways, you can’t deny that you and Jake are one and the same. You’re both flowers, tightly coiled centers surrounded by layers and layers of petals that you’re plucking off one by one. Each dig, each glance, each silence takes one away, he loves me, she loves me not, and you wonder who will peel away each petal first. And once you do, once someone reaches the vulnerable little bundle protected at the center, will you wilt? Or will you bloom again together?
“Jesus, could they make these things any more confusing?” Jake asks, breaking your epiphanic silence by unwittingly untangling the final straps, “How are you supposed to get this on?”
It’s said in his old voice, with his old cynicism, but you see him the way he really is. You see his frustration, you see his vulnerability, you see Jake.
“Wait-” You stop him as you see the top take shape, your fingers still pressed into your chest, “That’s how it goes! Leave it, you got it.”
“This?” Jake’s face scrunches into a grimace, looking at the fabric in his fingers, “This is how it goes?”
“Hold it like you’d put it on a hanger,” You instruct, your own hands occupied, “The straps are supposed to cross each other in the back, so just let them hang over one another like- that.”
The suit falls perfectly into place, and he quickly realizes you’ll have to let go of your breasts to slip it over your head.
“Okay. Uh- where do you want it?”
“If you let go it’ll get tangled again,” You frown, looking at his thick fingers holding up the suit, “Just- close your eyes?”
They flutter shut without any further prompting on your end. Jake’s fingers are still extended, your suit hanging off of them, and you wait a mere two seconds to make sure he doesn’t open his eyes again before releasing your grip. That’s all you need- you know he won’t look.
It’s cold, briefly, but to Jake’s credit, he doesn’t bat an eyelash while you’re changing. It’s a test, even if he doesn’t know it is, but he passes because you knew he’d pass from the second you’d offered it. He feels you pluck the suit out of his hands but he doesn’t budge, and when you’ve got the top situated correctly on your shoulders you heave a sigh of relief. He looks nice like this, not cocky, not brash, just nice, his brown lashes resting delicately over his cheeks and his mouth pinched slightly where he’s biting the inside of his cheek. You run your eyes over his tranquil face, his caramel-tanned skin and his square facial structure that looks sturdy and handsome. You study his nose, his eyebrows, his ears, all under the guise of adjusting your bathing suit. You study him, for clues, for answers, for red flags but you find nothing, only crow’s feet and laugh lines. He looks like a man you could very much fall in love with, and that realization makes you step back, something nervous and afraid simmering in your gut. If you keep thinking of Jake as a person instead of the dick you’ve been arguing with for years, you’re going to fall in love with him.
“Open.” You demand anxiously, and when his lashes part, his irises meet your eyes, not your chest.
“You really need to get some clothes that aren’t just dental floss tied together.” Jake informs you, and your trance shatters, prompting you to lunge forwards to shove at his gut. It’s familiar, but it’s not mean, it’s the push of friends teasing friends, not an attack launched on enemy forces. It’s something that draws upon your constant bantering but doesn’t sting like it, something old made new by the way you duck your chin to your chest to cover your grin. He covers himself between the legs on instinct, but because you’ve shoved Jake and not Hangman, for once you’ve chosen to attack his vulnerable belly instead of what comes beneath it.
“Ah! I mean it,” He almost wheezes, his breath caught short in his chest from your brutality, “This is the second time I’ve had to untangle your outfits for you. Not to mention the way your bathing suit decided to float away yesterday because there’s only one string tying the thing together.”
“I thought I was gonna get fucked on this cruise,” You remind him, “I was supposed to look incredibly sexy.”
“Well, you do.” Jake admits, and that’s what it is- an admission. Not a tease, not a jab, just an observation. One that isn’t accompanied with a grating smirk but a softness in his eyes and a neutral expression. You wet your own lips cautiously, the change in his tone striking your chest like an axe and giving another hefty cleave to the walls surrounding that chasm in your chest, the one you’ve been ignoring since nearly kissing Jake last night. The space full of ‘what-ifs’ and romantic violin music that blinds you to the danger of letting Jake in- The danger of falling in love with him.
Everything, every difference you notice, every comment from Danica presses the wedge further and further into your psyche and you’re certain it’ll split soon if you’re not careful.
Will it be worth it to let Jake tear the two halves apart? Will you have to piece the splintered fragments back together later?
“You have to promise me you won’t go braindead like this in the water.” Jake frowns at your distant expression, your eyes lingering on one of his feet as you chew against the inside of your cheek, “It’s gonna be really hard for me to cover this whole fiasco up if you drown out here, and I’m the one investigated for it.”
Right, fiasco. That’s what this is, it’s one big mess with no way out. It’s almost-kisses, it’s dragging Jake away from a vendor’s booth where he’d been acting as your guard dog, it’s dreaming about a man with Jake’s face who was meant to be someone else, it’s knowing that you’re on the precipice of something you can’t crawl back out of if you fall. You shake off your cryptic thoughts and start towards the door of the bathroom, murmuring a near-silent apology to the person waiting for their turn just outside.
You don’t wait around to see if they send you a look of distaste for having been in there together.
You’d envisioned something a little more opulent for a snorkeling excursion, but what you’re led to is a short expanse of beach with a ‘no diving’ sign planted in the sand. You cast Jake a wary glance as he wades into the water, feet, ankles, and thighs quickly being submerged as he shuffles through the sand so as not to startle any possible sealife lingering in the shallows.
“Water’s nice,” He hums, and once he’s standing where the gentle waves lap across his broad chest he offers you a hand, “Come on in, darlin’, I’ll make sure you don’t step on anything.”
True to his word, your feet sink into sand, and you don’t feel any fins trapped beneath them.
“They probably stay away from the shore,” You muse, almost nervous as you wait to see something darting around in the crystal-clear water beneath you. You hike your snorkel mask onto your nose and Jake very kindly doesn’t mention how silly it must look, grappling with his own as he tries getting it to cover his nose without squishing it.
Logically, you’re sure a killer turtle isn’t going to spring from the depths of the sea and nibble at your achilles heel. But you’re expecting to see animals, and the stillness of the water beyond the gently lapping waves is unnerving. You realize with a start that you’re still clutching the hand Jake had helped you in with, and when you drop it the water rushes against your skin with a chill the rest of your body has already adapted to.
Your phones hang awkwardly against your chest, wrapped in a water-tight bag that the company had lent to you. You hope they work, because you’re intent on getting pictures of some of the sealife without ruining your phone.
“Let’s swim out that way,” Jake suggests, towards a deeper portion of the sea, opposite from the boat you’d sailed in on, “Maybe we’ll find something worth looking at.”
“Lead the way,” You sink lower into the water so that you’re up to your neck, fitting the mouthpiece in front of your teeth.
Tilting yourself forwards and planting your face in the water offers you a view like no other. Even if the waters are free from critters, the sand shimmers beneath the sunlight that filters through the waves, and the water is so delectably blue that it looks dyed that way. It’s all things tropical, and you find yourself staring wide-eyed at nothing but sand and buried shells.
You almost forget Jake is there too, but then one of his abnormally large feet drifts into your field of vision and you shove it away. He falters where he’d been trying to float on his belly, nearly dunking the end of his mouthpiece into the water and rendering it useless.
He’s wise enough not to start an all-out splash war in what’s meant to be a tranquil zone, but you’re sure he’ll chuck you into rowdier waters later.
For now, he drifts to the left, and lets you gain speed on him, your head now aligned with his own.
Your first animal sighting comes in the form of a tiny fish- you hadn’t read through the brochure on the local wildlife, but you’d say it’s about the size of a minnow. It darts beneath you, shadowed by your body until it swims beneath Jake instead. He points at it, like perhaps you’ve missed the only moving thing you’ve seen so far besides him, and turning your face to look at him gets you a glimpse of his grin around the mouthpiece.
You find out quickly that the little fish travel in schools, because another one flits by, then another, and soon the ocean floor is nearly obscured as what you’re certain is the entire population of that fish in the sea blanket the sand.
This, you’ll test out your waterproof phone pouch for. You’re able to pull up your camera with only minor difficulties, the thick-walled plastic pouch keeping your phone dry even if you can touch the screen through it. You snap at least a dozen photos of the tiny fish, even getting a shot of one that grows curious and darts upwards to see what your phone is. You’re sure all you’d managed to capture is his eye, but it makes you laugh and you wonder if it’s an odd sound above water where you’re sure it’s coming from your snorkel’s mouthpiece.
Jake hears it, though you’re sure it’s muffled for him, and he takes your phone where it’s hanging around your neck, angling it towards you as the small fish investigates your hand and fingers. You draw it up towards your face, the glee on your face restrained only by the fit of the mouthpiece in front of your teeth. You let the little fish flit between your fingers and brush the end of his tailfin against your palm once, then watch as he darts away to rejoin his friends.
Your grin must be infectious, because there’s a matching one on Jake’s face as he films you. You’re not sure whether he’s been taking pictures or videos, but you’re careful not to get his face in frame as you take your phone back.
The more you drift away from the dock, the more sea life you encounter. It’s admittedly funny to watch Jake nearly scream when a turtle drifts beneath you out of nowhere, but you manage to get a shot of it that isn’t blurry from your shoulders shaking.
You also manage to get a shot of the bird that Jake flips you beneath the water as a direct response to your laughter, and you decide to keep it even if it’s of him. His face isn’t really in it, and it’s funny, and it’s something you can save as your own personal memento of the trip even if you don’t show it off to anyone. You let your phone drift back down towards your chest on the lanyard, the camera still open for easy access.
This makes it all-too-easy to snap a picture of an angelfish that glides through the water, and you point ecstatically at it while Jake slows himself before he startles the poor creature. You watch as it flits through the water, inspecting the terrain this way and that, failing to realize or care that there’s two gargantuan people floating above it. It drapes itself in your shadows, and you must take at least a million photos of it before it eventually darts away.
You brace a foot on the sand after it's out of sight, finally coming up for air that isn’t through a plastic tube.
You spit the mouthpiece out and breathe like you’ve been deprived of it, but your grin gives away that you’re merely excited.
“That was so cool!” You gush, and Jake smears his wet hair up and off of his forehead, similarly out of breath.
“That was a pretty one.” He agrees, his voice slightly nasally from the way the snorkel mask fits him, “‘Really thought that turtle was gonna kill us, or something.”
“Turtles aren’t murderous,” You scoff, bracing your hands on your hips in the shallow water, barely fifty feet from the shore, “I got a few good pictures of him, but I think you were in some of them.”
“I should be taking some too,” He glances down at his own phone hanging from his neck, “But you beat me to the good ones every time.”
“I can send you mine,” You offer, “It’s not like I don’t have your number.”
“You act like you don’t. You barely ever use it,” Jake grumbles, “Unless you forgot something in my car.”
“I don’t always have much to say to you.” You blurt without thinking, and the way it tangibly brings down the mood surprises you- it’s a stark difference, something that makes Jake’s shoulders deflate slightly as he stands dripping water from his fingertips.
“-that isn’t- y’know, mean.” You finish, though it doesn’t heal the wounds you’ve reopened. The ones that are just starting to heal, the ones that had barely clotted and now bleed again.
It does, though, make Jake’s lips twist thoughtfully, one corner lifting as he bites the other, “Right. Well, now you have turtle pictures.” He shifts his feet in the sand, glancing sharply towards his ankle when a bold fish brushes against it, “Back in?”
“Back in,” You agree, easing onto your belly in the water so as not to startle any timid critters.
You spot fish of all sizes, shapes, and colors, some pretty and some that you don’t take photos of. You’d only booked an hour of snorkeling but you’re fairly certain you’re over that limit now, and you’re half expecting to be wrenched out of the water by your mouthpieces. You are grabbed by the hand, but after you startle you realize it’s only Jake. You turn away from the seashells you’re peering at, beautiful dusty pinks and peaches half-obscured by the sand, and glance at where he’s pointing.
It’s a stingray.
Jake drags you closer by your hand, keeping away from the business end of the animal while admiring its fluid movements. Every twitch of its body is graceful, and you try to emulate it as you stay perfectly still, your hand interlocked with Jake’s.
The stingray isn’t in a hurry to leave. It’s drifting along the seafloor, but so slowly that you and Jake manage to follow it without creating ripples that chase it off. You manage to gain the lead over Jake, and you carefully reach for your phone to take photos of the ray before it decides it has better things to do.
You don’t realize you’ve done it, but you’re using your free hand to hold your phone, and your opposite stays snugly nestled against Jake’s own. He notices, though, and that’s what he takes a photo of. He hasn’t felt the need to capture the sea life swimming around you, not when you’ll send him your own photos. He’ll let you be the trip’s photographer, but this- this he has to have. The way your hair drifts through the water, each strand separated and swaying with the gently lapping waves. You’d had it in a ponytail earlier but you’d wrenched it out the second the water had weighed it down, and now the rubber band rests on your wrist. The way your interest and curiosity shines through the clunky snorkel mask, your eyes wide and inquisitive, your teeth pinching against the mouthpiece in a grin. The way you’re floating there, suspended in time, clutching his hand- that’s the photo he deems worthy of capturing.
You don’t notice that he’s snapped a picture of you, which Jake thinks is best, for now. You’re coming around- he knows you are, he knows it simply in the way you’re still holding his hand, your fingers curled around the back of his own. Three days ago you’d have drowned rather than take his hand, and now you’re floating together, fingers interlocked.
But still, it might be better for now if you don’t know you’re the only thing Jake’s cared enough to photograph on this entire trip.
You make the mistake of resurfacing after the ray swims into deeper waters, and you’re waved back to shore by the employees who had fitted you with your masks. Perhaps you’d have been able to evade suspicion for longer, and gotten a few more free minutes of snorkeling, but you give in, and you and Jake traipse slowly through the sludgy sand back to dry land.
Your belongings had stayed safe and dry in lockers you’d rented from the facility, but you realize as you’re tucked away in the bathroom again that you hadn’t accounted for what you’d do with your hair. The ponytail was supposed to be your failsafe, but your hairbrush is back on the ship, and now that it’s been flowing freely through the water you know it’ll be impossible to wrangle your hair into something that looks nice without a brush. It’s grown longer in recent months because you’ve been too lazy to cut it, and admittedly it does make the regulation bun easier now that you’ve got more to work with. But more length means more hassle now that it’s wet and stringy, perpetually wetting the back of your neck and seeping through your shirt.
You’d swapped out your bathing suit for your lingerie, letting the wet fabric sit in the bottom of your beach bag. You resolve to just let your hair air-dry, but you attempt to detangle it with your fingers so that it doesn’t mat. It’s what Jake catches you doing when he finds you outside the men’s bathroom waiting for him, and he winces in time with you as you hit a particularly tight knot in one of the strands.
“You need a hairbrush?” He asks, and you know he doesn’t have one, so you shake your head.
“I’ve got it.” You grumble, “I forgot to pack one.”
You manage to separate the knot, but it has a twin on the opposite side of your head. You’ve no sooner freed one strand than caught another, and you groan as your arms begin to ache from holding them to your head for so long.
“Easy, Hercules,” Jake grabs your hands, tugging them out of your hair, “You tryin’ to rip it out?”
“Jake, I know how to brush my own hair.” You stare exasperatedly at him from beneath your lashes, pulling your hands from his grip, “Just- grab my hairtie from my bag?”
You let him wrestle one of the straps down your arm, and he fishes around inside for the ponytail. Once he’s grabbed it you try to take it from him, but he rears backwards, holding it over his head.
“No, I want to do it.”
“Jake,” You huff, but he won’t even let you finish.
“No. You’re being too rough with it.” He insists, pointing to a bench beside a cluster of palm trees, “Sit down there, and let me braid your hair.”
“Braid? You know how to braid?” You ask, and he nods firmly.
“Remember, I got about a thousand tiny little nieces,” Jake explains, “The longest hair you’ve ever seen. In the summers it gets real hard to handle, so they always wanted me to braid it for ‘em before they went swimming or riding horses.”
“That’s- cute.” You have to admit, and you realize you’ve been disarmed, drifting over towards the bench that Jake directed you towards, “Fine. Just- be quick, please? I don’t want to waste our time here.”
Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love.
“I’ll be fast.” He promises, and his fingers get to work right away on your tangled tresses.
His hands are exceptionally gentle. And skilled, too, as he undoes knots in your hair with precise tugs that don’t rip any strands out of your scalp. You’re surprised, really, that you’d let him have free reign of your head because you’d never trust him not to break out a pair of scissors and butcher your hairdo. But that’s because three days ago he was your enemy, and now you’re realizing he’s just as vulnerable as you are. That was old Jake, and new Jake separates your hair into three sections and gets to plaiting before you even realize he’s managed to undo the tangles.
“M'kay,” He pinches the bottom of the braid, tucking a strand tighter behind your ear, “Give me back the ponytail.”
You offer your wrist without thinking, and your other hand hastily reaches to meet it mid-air, but Jake’s gets there first. You feel his rough-tipped fingers scrape delicately at your skin, pinpricks of contact that make your free hand freeze where it hovers uselessly. It’s like each spot he touches fashions a pressure point, and all five combine to short-circuit your brain.
It’s why you’re silent as Jake slips the rubber band off of your wrist, circles it four times around the end of your braid, and then places- not drops, places it against your back.
With care. With intention. With thought.
“There,” He hums, and you’re discovering now that there’s a third type of silence you find yourself caught in with Jake. First had been tense- the prayer that his grating voice wouldn’t be heard, the hope that you could flee before he figured out his next jab. Then there was comfortable, when you’d finally calmed down enough to remember that you’d make it out alive. But now you’re not so sure about that for entirely different reasons- you’d nearly kissed- on purpose ! - and Danica seems to be haunting your every waking moment with how frequently you think about her convictions.
Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love.
You’re not sure what to call this kind. Awkward, maybe, but the tense ones had been awkward, too. These are softer, not comfortable, but something… hopeful. Tentatively so, like keeping an ear out for the mailman but waiting until he’s gone to venture outside. You’re nervous, intensely so. Your stomach pulses with energy like it’s being lit up, and your limbs feel like they’re submerged in thick, sticky molasses when you try to speak or move forwards from the silence. But you’re excited, too, maybe just a little bit, even if you’re never going to tell Jake.
You’re excited- maybe, because you’d thought changing meant you and Jake up until now. You thought change meant Jake was going to transform into a gentleman, and you were going to have to become his prize. But what’s changing is your bad habits, the way you both shield yourselves from being known. Now it clicks: you’re not becoming new people, you’re finally letting the people you really are see the light of day. That makes you more confident, in both yourself and Jake, because you hadn’t wanted to change to love him, and you hadn’t wanted him to change to love you. But that’s not what has to happen- you’re not losing the parts of yourselves that you like, you’re losing the ones that keep those hidden away, the walls you throw up to hide the glittering city behind them. It’s your behavior that’s changing, not your essence, and maybe if you’re having trouble drifting with this tide, Jake will take your hand and pull you along with him to look at wayward stingrays.
“Braided your hair so good I put you to sleep,” Jake teases, but it’s not a malicious tone he uses. You’re far too accustomed to that one, you’d know it from a mile away. No, this one’s sweeter, almost endeared- and that’s nudging you further and further towards that leap of faith you’ve finally come to terms with but aren’t quite ready to take yet, so you stand and nearly tip forwards in your hurry.
“Let’s go-” You urge, heading down the street without looking back at him, “Let’s- we can find a snack or I can finally get a hat or we can get-”
“Massages.” Jake interrupts, his voice stopped dead a few feet back, “We can get massages.”
You turn on your heel, finding yourself faced off with him in front of an open massage parlor. Your stances read like a wild west shootout, and you wonder what’s engraved on the pistols Jake’s come holstered with.
Wit and deviancy, of course, as he turns towards the signage outside, the grin that blooms on his face something akin to the enemy of whoville.
Mud Spa 20 Minutes - $25
Massage 1 Hour - $75
Massage + Mud Spa - $90
Couple’s Massage + Mud Spa - $150
He strides in before you can stop him, and you’ve barely stepped through the doors before he’s slapping his card onto the reception desk, “One couple’s massage and mud spa, please. How long do we get?”
“Twenty minutes in the spa,” The woman at the counter is already swiping his card, giving you no time to protest, “And couples get an extra thirty minutes of massage treatments.”
Jake reholsters his smoking guns with a devilish grin towards you.
You’d been so focused on Jake and his antics that you’d missed the employees behind you, standing on either side of the entryway and moving to action the second your payment is processed. They each grab bathrobes and come up behind you, one heading towards Jake and the other slinging the robe around your shoulders.
“Go change,” They point you both towards a room with nothing but the number three on it, and you wonder if there are two other actual couples in here that you’ll have to put up with. You’ll have a hard enough time wrangling Jake in here, and you’re not even together. You can’t imagine staying civil with someone you really wanted to go wild with.
“Speedy service,” Jake notes as the door clicks shut behind you, leaving you stranded in a large space, decorated as opulently as possible while leaving the open floor space occupied only by two massage chairs.
There’s dried flowers on the walls, numerous babbling fountains lining the walls and brown wooden accents that make the space feel relaxing like a deep breath. It’s calming to be there, as is the floral scent that floats through the air, taking up so much of your airways that there’s little room for pure oxygen.
Calming, of course, until you remember you’re meant to be stripping.
To Jake’s credit, he hadn’t looked earlier. But you’d asked him not to, and now he’s shimmying out of his wet swim trunks, the soaked fabric clinging to his skin. You don’t get to finish your thought because he perks up, ears nearly straightening like a dog’s, as he cranes his neck to look at you despite being bent in half.
“Sorry, I forgot about our agreement earlier.”
At first, you think he’s going to turn around, and let you have your peace. But perhaps New Jake isn’t fully formed yet, because he blinks at you, faux-innocent, “Do you want to see my penis?”
There’s a million things you want to say to him. And you’re formulating all of them, your hands fumbling with the straps of your romper, trying to separate them from your bra. But evidently your brain is taking too long, because your mouth decides it’s got this one, and your own traitorous voice comes from your own traitorous lips, “Do you want to see my tits?”
Out of the million things you wanted to say to him, that wasn’t even one of them. That wasn’t anywhere near one of them, and hearing it come from your mouth makes your spine straighten like a rigid lightning bolt had pricked at each disc. But you think about taking it back, about griping at him for being so pushy and you realize that perhaps you’re starting to… enjoy this. Maybe you’re offering now because he’d listened earlier when you’d told him to shut his eyes. You’re not giving in, you’re not letting him have you, you’re not tarnishing your reputation but since you’ve both been fighting to kill for your entire lives, maybe you’re going to torment him the same way he keeps trying to torment you. And maybe it’s not torment at all, maybe this is the way Jake is, and this is how you meet him in the middle. You’re giving him a chance, being open to changing your own behavior if he’s going to break his back trying to fit himself against your edge.
If he’s going to play your game, you’ll play his.
His brows raise, intrigued, “Not two hours ago I closed my eyes so you could take ‘em out.”
“And that was kind of you.” You hum, slipping the straps of your romper off of your shoulders, “And I like kind, Jake. Kind is why Daniel got to kiss me.”
His eyes flash with something dangerous, a glint you assume you’d see in a bull staring down a red cape. He finishes stuffing his swim trunks down his thighs, standing up straight and unabashedly showing off his cock that you’re still too proud to openly stare at, “Yeah? That’s how he won you over?”
“Yeah.” You nod, teasing him with merely the tips of each bra cup as you shimmy out of your romper, “Well- that and the beard. You notice it’s lighter around the mouth?”
Jake rolls his eyes, cocking his weight onto one hip. You don’t dare look, but you know it makes his cock swing slightly where it’s hanging between his legs.
“Yeah, I saw that.” Jake notes, “I eat too, y’know.”
Daniel, at this point, feels like a distant memory. But he’s fresh enough in Jake’s mind to do some damage, and you can tell his name riled Jake up like a coiled spring.
You wind it tighter, finally shucking your romper off of your torso and letting it fall in a heap at your feet.
Apparently, Jake thinks you’re as stunning in your lingerie as you’d thought just this morning. His eyes flicker downwards, but before they can go too far they glance up at your face, his jaw tightening.
“You really want this?” He asks, something sobering in his tone despite the hormones you’d both ridden up to this moment.
“No touching,” You scoff, “Just- you can look. This time, you can look. Because you were nice enough not to last time. Because you’re nice, Jake.”
That’s all you want, really. All you want is to know you’ll be safe with Jake. You know that on a basic level, you wouldn’t be injured or belittled around him. For all he belittles you himself, if anyone else tried, he’d end it quicker than it could begin. And there was the night you were blackout drunk- you knew you’d be safe then. He wouldn’t have taken advantage of you, and he never will. You’ve known for a while that somewhere, on some deep, basic level, Jake is a good man. But now that he’s acting the part, you can make sure he stays that way.
As soon as you let him, his eyes drop. He rakes them down your body, and you watch them pick up every detail on your lacy underthings. They flicker like flames, licking up the curves and contours of your near-naked frame until he remembers he doesn’t have anything on himself.
“Get after it,” He grunts, his voice an octave huskier than the last time he’d spoken, “Take your own look.”
It’s- big.
It’s really, truly big, which you won’t tell him, because it might flip whatever switch had been disabled somewhere along your voyage and bring back egomaniac Jake. He’s tan all over, but there’s a slightly paler portion where a different pair of shorts have cut his bare skin from the golden-brown patches. You note that the tan lines look a lot like briefs, and you wonder if Jake lays out in the sun in his tighty-whities. Before you can laugh at the image your eyes catch back on his cock, hanging thick and heavy between his legs. He’s got hair above it, a trimmed patch that isn’t unruly but isn’t clean either. It’s somewhere in between, something musky you can bury your nose in- you won’t be doing that, but hypothetically, though, you could. This is just looking, this is just gratuitous staring, but seeing the length, the thickness and the tapered, rounded head and imagining what it might do to you- it brings heat to your core that you squirm at, shifting your weight to just one leg.
“You gonna take ‘em off, darlin’?” He asks, nodding at your lingerie. You see where his eyes are pointed, straight between your legs where the pad of your underwear gets swallowed by the pillowy flesh of your thighs.
“No,” You smirk, “Not for you.”
“What- why the hell am I naked?” He asks, reaching for the robe. You try to ignore the way his cock swings, thick and hefty.
“You just stripped,” You shrug, fastening your robe around your lingerie, “I didn’t ask to see your penis, if you recall.”
“I was promised tits,” He counters, eyes rolling skywards, “Does your word mean nothing?”
Actually, he’s right. You had offered, even if the words that had come from your mouth were from some other part of you you’d never set free before. So you sigh, unfastening the robe’s tie just as soon as you’ve cinched it, “Fine, I’ll take it off.”
“Really?” Jake asks, too enthusiastic, his head snapping in your direction, but he calms himself, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
“I know.” You nod, reaching behind your back for the clip of your bra, “That’s why I’m going to.”
The pressure around your chest relaxes, and the fabric falls to your feet. You have to dip your arms forwards, but the movement doesn’t cheapen the experience for Jake, not with the way his eyes dart towards your now-bare chest, widening and dancing with the flames you’d seen earlier.
It’s a maddening experience, teasing someone.
Especially teasing someone like Jake, someone who makes himself seem untouchable, someone who’s teased you for your entire career. Here, now, as your lacy bra hits the floor, he’s completely at your mercy.
He stares blatantly at the swell of your breasts, and doesn’t seem to mind at all that they’re not pushed together anymore. They sit lower on your torso now without the bra holding them together and boosting them up but he seems just as entranced as when he’d seen them pinched together beneath your chin. He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he clears saliva that had pooled beneath his tongue. You watch him watch you, and he inhales deeply through his nose, his jaw squared and shifting.
He lets out a low whistle, taking a half-step forwards that makes you tense where you stand. He notices, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture, “I know, I know. No touching. Are you gonna take the bottoms off too, darlin’?”
“I only said tits,” You remind him, a note of devilish glee in your voice, “Turn around, Hangman.”
He does, and you allow yourself one moment of ogling his ass before you drop your panties and fit yourself into your robe. He’s- firm, the skin a shade lighter than his back and thighs, and you wonder if he’s always been this nice to look at from behind, or if you’ve just never noticed through his uniform.
When you’re robed, you call him to turn again, and he takes his sweet time putting his robe on, leaving his dick on display for as long as possible. Maybe you look, and maybe he notices. Maybe.
You make good time, because as soon as he’s cinching his robe shut the attendants walk back in. They knock, but don’t wait long before barging inside the room, and you’re grateful you’d managed to tuck your clothes into a neat pile instead of leaving them strewn about the floor.
“We’ll be showing you to our mud spa first,” The attendant nearest you explains, “It’ll loosen and relax your muscles for the massage later. We’ll go down the hall, come with me.”
You follow single-file after the woman, glancing around at the neatly-decorated massage parlor. It’s elegant and cozy all at once, and the warmly-lit room they lead you into hosts a large tub of mud that you presume you’ll be stripping before entering.
The attendants confirm your hypothesis, “Please derobe, and you’ll soak in the mud for about twenty minutes. After you’re out, you’ll shower over there,” She points to a row of shower stalls, “And we’ll head back over for your massages.”
“Thank you,” You hum gratefully, and Jake echoes your sentiment, eyeing the mud bath with wary intrigue.
“First mud bath?” You ask, untying the robe easier this time, more confidently. It catches Jake’s eye, and he reaches for his own tie.
“First spa-grade one. I used to get covered in mud all the time as a kid, but I bet it didn’t have the same healing properties.”
You laugh at the image of little Jake coming inside from a long day of play, covered in mud with bugs in his pockets and hair. It’s such a distracting thought that you don’t realize you’ve now exposed your bare lower half to Jake, but when you cast a semi-panicked glance his way, his eyes are drawn towards the floor.
He knows, and he’s not looking.
The next breath of air that you take seems to fill your lungs deeper, fuller.
Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love.
The mud is warm, almost hot when you dip your toes in, but lowering yourself carefully into the bath does nothing but heat you to your core. It doesn’t burn, and Jake watches carefully, respectfully as you sink into the thick, earthy substance.
“Is there a step?” He asks, and you point him towards it, watching as he submerges himself across from you. You settle on the shelf that runs the perimeter of the spa, the back of your neck hitting the edge and prompting your head to tilt backwards against the floor.
“I think there’s mud in my asscrack.”
Your lips part in a toothy grin before you can stop them, but your eyes stay firmly shut, bliss curling peacefully in your belly like a cat tucking in for a nap. You breathe a sigh, long and deep as Jake settles in opposite you.
“Is it supposed to go on my face?”
Your eyes drift open, and you peer at Jake, close to irritated, “Remember the hot tub yesterday? Quiet zone.”
“Right,” He scoffs, his foot brushing against yours beneath the mud’s surface, leg following as he crosses his feet beside your lap. You wonder if you’d be able to stretch your legs across the entire length of the hot tub yourself, or if Jake’s legs are just impossibly long.
You let him melt, you let his muscles loosen and slump into the wall of the tub for almost a full minute before you sneak up before him and smear a muddy hand over his cheek.
“It can go on your face,” You grin, as his eyes snap open and he jolts forwards in his spot. His incredulous laugh is breathy and the huff hits your face, and it’s only then when you realize you’ve spread your legs to fit his between them, and you’re standing naked before Jake, inches away from his face.
“Alright, missy.” He gripes, a splotch of mud sticking to his cheek, “Where should I put yours, huh? Up your nose? In your ear?”
“Don’t!” You plead, but it’s too late, and he’s already latched his hands around your wrists like cuffs. He bends you to his will, ignoring your shrieked laughter and tucking you sideways into his lap with thick layers of sticky mud between your bare skin and his. He keeps you pointedly away from his groin, but you can feel both his torso and his thighs touching your hips as he lets you float bridal style in his arms.
It pushes your chest out of the water, and you’re nervous for a moment before you remember there’s a sludgy layer of mud covering any sensitive material. Besides- you suppose it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, something you wouldn’t have been able to say before merely an hour ago.
“You’re a menace.” He decides, his eyes on your own, mud caked up to his neck, nearly painting his chin, “I finally shut up and let you have some peace and quiet, and this is what you do to me?”
“That’s why I did it,” You nod, your head nearly submerged in the mud with the way he’s holding you sideways against him, his muddy hands against your bare skin, “You did what I asked, so I let you have it.”
“I don’t understand you,” He chuckles, but the sincere, slightly dim look in his eyes speaks volumes to you.
“I understand you, I think.” You admit, your voice lowering as he keeps you suspended just above the mud’s surface. You’re turned sideways to face him, and your sobering tone reminds him that he’s still got you held captive in his grip. He rights you, his movements slow and his eyes piercing as he stares at your own. You’re set on your feet, now standing between his spread legs, staring down at him with your muddy chest exposed. The substance begins air-drying on your skin almost instantly, covering you even if Jake’s attention is still trained on your face.
“What do you mean by that?” He asks, and the question makes your heart skip a beat. When it resumes it’s pumping wildly, fast and furious and flighty.
“I mean,” You start, blinking rapidly to shield your eyes from his own, though you don’t cast them elsewhere, “I- I mean that,” You think, long and hard about the past three days, about the way Jake had drifted to your side while Daniel had stormed ahead, the way he’d carried you home on the first night and hadn’t left you alone to prowl for a quick fuck around the ship afterwards, the way he’s begun looking at you like you mean something more to him than just a number of training exercises to best.
And you know the way you’re looking at him is shifting, too. You’re seeing him as a person, you’re seeing his humanity, you’re seeing the man he is beneath his cocky, untouchable armor. You’re both laid bare now, not just physically, and there’s only one layer of mud left to scrape away until you see each other in your rawest forms.
Your lips try forming words, whichever ones would wash clean your souls and send the last, viscous layer of protection flowing down the drain.
But it’s too much, the dry mud chafes against your skin as you heave in a breath, and it rattles in your chest as you shut your mouth.
“I don’t know.” You conclude, attempting to back away with hasty, rushed steps that will put you as far away from Jake as possible. But he doesn’t let you, and his hands close again around your wrists, muscling them to your sides and holding you in place.
“Jake-”
“No, don’t- don’t do that. Don’t say things like that and try to walk away.” He pleads, “We’re stuck in this hot tub for fifteen more minutes, say what you wanna say.”
“I don’t wanna say anything,” You breathe, nearly crumpling under his gaze as you try squirming out of his grip, “Please? I shouldn’t have started the thought, I- I can’t finish it. Not yet.”
“When?” He asks, his eyes tired. You wonder how he can look like that when he’s only been trying for three days, when he’s spent every day up until this cruise needling his way under your skin. You wonder how he can act like this is taxing to him, like you’re exhausting him by being cautious. Before you can grow angry about it he strokes his muddy thumbs over your wrists, his grip tight but not bruising.
“I don’t know.” You admit, and he sighs through his nose as his shoulders slump.
“Fine. Alright.” He makes a good effort of keeping his voice void of any ire, but you wonder if he’s already grown tired of this back-and-forth.
You’re trapped in a whirlwind. You’re spinning this way and that, convinced one moment that he’s a playboy and the next that he’s your boy. You wonder if you’ll ever find steady ground, if your world will ever stop shifting, or if you’ll give in and he’ll continue to bounce back and forth between new and old Jake. That’s been your fear from the start, and when he releases your wrists you back up until your calves hit the shelf of the tub and you fall to your ass on the seat.
“Sorry.” He mumbles over the gentle humming of the spa’s motors, churning the mud constantly so it doesn’t harden, “You said no touching.”
It’s not inflammatory, it’s not meant to poke or to prod, and you let him lead you down a safer path.
“I smeared mud on your face first,” You shrug, your eyes roving over the bubbling muck beneath you instead of across his mud-streaked face, “No harm done.”
“Good.” He hums, perhaps more meaningfully than he’d meant to. But the outer side of his foot finds your own beneath the surface of the mud, and he leans his head back against the side of the tub before closing his eyes, letting his skin rest against yours.
It’s silent for the rest of your time in the spa. Jake keeps his eyes closed, but every time you do you see his face, inches away from yours, and muted music from the lounge you’d been outside of the night before begins playing in your mind. The memory taunts you, and opening your eyes only grants you a real view of Jake’s face. It’s set in a serene mask, but you can tell he’s tense beneath it. Now that you’ve taken one facade off of Jake you seem to be an expert at them, and you can see a protruding lump in his jaw that means his teeth are clenched. You feel guilty for ruining his relaxation, and you grab your phone from the pocket of your robe to distract yourself.
You ignore Natasha’s earlier messages, prying questions you can’t answer without giving something away. Instead, you swipe your finger over the screen, selecting all of your snorkeling photos and sending the batch to her. It’s something to do with your hands, and you stare at the cover photo while the message processes.
Your restless fingers barely have to wait a minute after sending the photos to receive a response from her. Your thumbs twitch against the screen, ready to type, but her message reads ‘I’m not looking at the damn fish, whose thigh is that?’
You realize all too late that you’ve sent her photos with Jake in them. Not his face, not his swim trunks that she’d recognize from your many team beach days, but his foot, his arm, his leg, his back, his fingers reaching for yours. Your stomach threatens to liquify and drip into your feet but you steel yourself, typing back, ‘That’s my roommate.’
‘He looks like he goes to the gym.’
You don’t have the guts to tell her he’s gone to the gym with her before.
‘He’s pretty muscular, yeah.’
‘And you HAVEN’T had sex yet?’
‘Remember? Complicated.’
‘Girl, if you don’t hit it…’
That’s the last message you dare to read. You’re sure she’s got a thousand colorful threats for you, but you shut your phone off when you hear the door to the spa open again.
“How was the mud bath?” The attendant asks, and Jake’s eyes open, avoiding your figure.
“It’s great.” He nods at the woman, “Are we being evicted?”
“Shower off in the corner,” She chuckles warmly, “Then meet me outside!”
You and Jake traipse towards the showers leaving muddy footprints in your wake. It’s silent as you each approach a different faucet, but when Jake’s turns on and you can’t get your muddy fingers to grip the handle of yours, he steps out of the warm stream of water he’s stationed himself beneath.
“Here. Take mine,” He offers, “I’ll get this one.”
“Thank you,” You hum quietly, letting him nudge you out of the way. You shuffle over to the already-running showerhead, taking a clean washcloth and soaking it in water and the soap they’ve set out for you. You get to scrubbing, chancing a glance at where Jake’s showering beside you and getting another view of his ass. This time it makes you blush- it’s a stolen thing, something he hadn’t offered you, and you turn to face the opposite wall while thinking about the way stripping for him had made you feel.
Powerful, for sure. Like for once, you were in control, you were leading, you were holding the reins. And he’d stayed respectful, never once trying to touch you.
At least, until you’d incited a wrestling match in the spa and been held captive against his chest. And then you’d opened your mouth, and promptly closed it before you could let yourself say too much, and Jake had reacted like ‘too much’ was all he’d ever wanted you to say. Even though he’s only started acting that way for a couple of days. Even though this is all the most unprecedented, complicated situation you’ve ever been in, and it makes you want to tear your hair out and scream, letting it echo along the tiles.
“Are you mad at me?” Jake’s voice comes from over your shoulder, and you turn like it might help you hear the words better, even if they’ve already evaporated with the steam rising from the tiles.
“What?”
“You heard me. Are you mad at me?” Jake asks again, throwing a glance over his shoulder where he’s still turned away from you. When he notices that you’re facing him he pivots, standing unabashedly naked before you the way you do before him.
“I’m not mad.” You promise, “I’m- confused. And afraid, a little. No- a lot.”
“Why are you afraid of me?” He asks, his eyes vulnerable and sweet. Like he’s hurt by it, like he really doesn’t know.
“I’m not afraid of you,” You sigh, running a hand over your belly to wash away the mud still sticking to it, “It’s- not like that. I’m afraid of… everything changing. Because I can’t control how it’s going to end, and I don’t like that.”
“How do you think it’s gonna end? Who says it has to end at all?” Jake’s eyes narrow towards you, and you rear backwards slightly, a scoff escaping your mouth.
“Don’t talk like you’re gonna marry me.” Your voice hardens slightly, sharpened to a steel edge, “This is a sex cruise, and you’re trying to get into my pants.”
“I’ve already done that,” Jake reaches for the towels set beside the showers, rolling one up and whipping it towards your thighs, “You gave me a whole strip tease just a few minutes ago.”
“But no touching,” You remind him, falling back into old habits as your voice takes on a teasing lilt, “You’re not there yet, Hangman.”
“Yet,” He takes your bait, his grin sharpening wolfishly. It feels good to banter, even if you’re both trying to be someone kinder, someone less jagged and sharp, “Does that mean I’ve really got a chance? It’ll happen later?”
“If you’re lucky,” You huff, “And I mean- really lucky.”
“I like those odds,” He follows you in shutting off his shower, and you walk side-by-side with him towards the robes you’d left abandoned by the spa. It’s strange, parading around a spa with Hangman, completely naked, but he seems to know just what to say, just what to do to keep you from getting lost in your head, even if it means taking a few steps backwards and teasing you again.
But now you’ve discovered you can tease him, too, and you pull your robe on slowly, cinching it around your waist and covering up the last bit of bare skin his eyes had been glued to earlier.
He doesn’t say anything about it, but his footsteps behind you are heavy when the attendant leads you back towards the massage tables, and he takes his cues from you, reaching around your waist to untie your robe for you before you can do it yourself.
You turn your head to the side, nearly running into his own that’s slotted over your shoulder. He meets your gaze head-on, and you feel tension growing like thick vines over you and him as you stand together, nearly flush. He drags the robe off of your shoulders, but walks away with it instead of ogling what’s beneath. You rush for the massage table, letting the attendant fit your bare body into its contours with a knowing smile.
“Lots of couples have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other,” She murmurs conspiratorially into your ear, “If you don’t mind me saying this, you’re a lucky woman, and he’s a lucky man.”
Jake’s grin as he settles down on the massage table, face turned towards your own, tells you that he’s betting on that luck.
You have a million things to think about while your eyes slip shut on the massage chair, but the second your attendant digs her hands into your stiff back they all float away into static. Your brain goes numb, and you let out a startled gasp at the shooting pain that travels up your spine. It’s quickly replaced by bliss as your muscles loosen where they’d been tensed, but it’s going to take her a minute to warm you up.
“Just relax,” She hums, and Jake’s masseuse gets to work on his back, spreading lotion over his palms before digging into the aviator’s own stiff back, “We’ll have you turn over later, but for now, just close your eyes and let all of your tension go.”
Tension. You wonder if she’d seen what was really going on, that your ‘tension’ isn’t born of a couple forbidden to touch each other for a few measly minutes, but of two springs coiled so tight they’ll snap if they’re not released soon. You let out a shaky moan as the masseuse wrestles out a particularly large knot in your lower back, and Jake clears his throat from across the room.
You refuse to be embarrassed about enjoying yourself. You’ve been so tense lately- sure, because of work, but just the past three days alone have put you closer to a heart attack than you’ve ever been before, you’re sure of it. All of your worries, all of your struggles, all of the times you’ve wanted to pitch yourself overboard melt away in the wake of this woman’s hands kneading through your back, and when she dips down to your thighs and pinches at the seldom-stretched muscles there, you let out an even louder grunt.
“That’s a pressure point,” You can hear the smile in her words, “It feels good, doesn’t it?’
“It feels amazing.” You mumble, your face squished against the massage chair, “Can I pay for a second hour-and-a-half?”
“It might melt you beyond repair,” She laughs, throwing a glance at Jake who’s similarly blissed out, “I want you two to be able to walk back to your ship tonight.”
“She won’t be walkin’ right tomorrow morning,” Jake grunts, a sleazy drawl in his voice that reminds you you’ve both elected to take a step safely back from each other, for fear of repeating the mud bath incident, because it’s easy, and you’re just not brave enough to change things yet, “Just do whatever she wants and I’ll drag her back to the ship by her braid.”
“Dick.” You accuse, flipping him the bird though you’re not sure if his eyes are open to see it or not. He responds only with his own elaborate, drawn-out moan, and you resign yourself to an hour of hearing him grunt and groan, not that you’ll be quiet yourself.
You don’t fall asleep, but you drift somewhere close to it. Perhaps another plane of existence, where you feel the woman’s hands digging into your flesh and you hear Jake’s guttural moans but you don’t have to think about them. It’s such a wonderful thing, not having to think, and you silently thank the employee nearly elbow-deep into your back muscles for her service.
When your blessed hour and thirty minutes is up- far too soon, you sigh one last time into the massage chair, and look at the masseuse like she’s heaven-sent.
“I love you,” You hum at her, eyes ten times more adoring than they’ve ever looked at Jake, and she grins at you as she passes you your robe.
“Everyone says that to me,” She laughs, her voice clear and melodic, “But no one ever comes back for a second session.”
“I’m getting at least two more,” You promise, “And I’m bringing you some wine off of the ship.”
“I’ll be expecting you tomorrow,” She grins, and Jake’s masseuse smirks in your direction, though he makes it clear it’s at your dialogue and not your bare body by keeping his eyes strictly on your face. You admire their respect, meekly covering your figure with the robe without putting it on.
“Go ahead and leave the robes on the floor,” Jake’s masseuse gestures lazily towards your discarded clothing, “If your payment’s already been processed, you’re free to go. If not, just stop by the desk on your way out. Enjoy the rest of your vacation,” He tilts his head towards you and Jake, a knowing glint in his eyes, “And enjoy not being able to walk tomorrow.”
“This is all your fault.” You glare at Jake when the door shuts behind the man, and once again Jake is standing proudly naked before you. You’ve got your robe in your lap, and Jake’s kind enough to hand you your underwear when he reaches for his swim trunks.
“They know we’re on a sex cruise,” He scoffs, “And they thought we were a couple anyways! I bet everybody in here thinks we’ve been banging for three days straight.”
“It probably didn’t help that you kept trying to moan louder than me,” You slide your panties on carefully, hoisting them up around your hips while holding the robe in front of your bare lap. Once you’re clothed on bottom you gesture towards your bra, but when Jake takes it in his hands he doesn’t offer it to you.
“You want this?” He asks, and the challenge in his voice makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.
“Jake…” You warn, “Give it.”
“Take it.” He sets his jaw squarely in a smirk, reaching his hand over his head and letting it dangle from his fingers, “You were teasin’ me like crazy earlier, doin’ that little strip tease. Now it’s my turn. If you want it, come and take it from me, darlin’.”
You wish you could say it’s not fair. But he’d given you your panties, let you cover the one part of yourself you hadn’t yet been bold enough to share with him, and you suppose you had shucked your bra off only to stir something between his legs. Once again you’re powerless against him, but this time it doesn’t feel so horrible.
You stand from the massage table, topless and covered only by your panties. He watches, his eyes hungry as you approach carefully, then you spring to your tiptoes and test the reach of your arm against his.
He darts backwards, keeping the garment out of your reach.
“Weak,” He criticizes your attempt, “You’ve gotta try harder than that.”
“You’re horrid,” You laugh, a sound you wouldn’t have expected to come out of your mouth in this moment, your bra being held hostage by Hangman, but it is, and it’s a freeing sound as you dash after him.
Your chest bounces as you dart around the room, chasing the strap of your pretty, lacy bra as he dangles it just out of your reach. You jump against his side and nearly manage to grab hold of it, but he swaps hands and it’s out of range again. You lunge for it without jumping around again, your feet clumsily stepping on his own and stunning him just enough to where he stays still, your fingers finally closing around the strap.
“Got it.” You breathe, panting slightly as you stand on Jake’s toes, your bare chest against his.
It’s cold with almost no clothing on, and your nipples have stiffened in the chilly air. They brush against his toned chest, sending pinpricks of stimulation through your body straight down to your core. It’s a thrilling position, your tits slammed against his pecs, his eyes alight with something dangerous as he stares down at you. You’re both still holding onto your bra, his predatory gaze never dropping from your face even if you know it wants to.
His free hand clasps onto your side. Not your hip, not low enough to touch your panties, but beneath where your breasts hang freely. It makes you gasp, a sharp inhale into lungs that suddenly seem too small. You freeze instead of fleeing, your weight still digging into his feet where you stand on them.
His head inches a fraction towards yours, and yours towards his. It’s lustful, it’s not like when you’d breathed each other’s air last night, it’s not sweet or sincere or gentlemanly. It’s his bare hand against your bare side, it’s your bare chest against his, it’s his lips parting, aiming to press against your own.
It’s frenzied, even if it’s slow, one of you a lit match and the other a pool of gasoline. You’ll burst the second your lips come into contact, you know it, and muffled voices behind the door act like a gust of wind that extinguishes the flame and blows the gasoline towards the gutter.
You barely get to fasten your bra before the door opens again, another pair of employees coming to clean up after you, you presume. Jake shields your near-naked form with his broad body, letting you struggle with your romper behind his impressive build.
“We’re not quite done yet,” His voice is kind, but stern, “Give us one more minute?”
“I’m sorry!” The closest employee yelps, and you feel bad for him- you won’t cause any problems, you won’t get him fired, “Let me- let us leave, We're so sorry. We didn’t know there was anyone in here!”
“That’s okay!” You call after them, your voice rough from the haze you’d fallen into during your massage, but the panicked employees are gone before they can hear you. The door shuts again behind him, but you’re already dressed, and the moment is well and truly over.
“You ready?” Jake asks, and you nod, your bag on your shoulder and your phone in your pocket. Neither of you speaks about the explosion you’d narrowly avoided, the way your blood had simmered beneath your skin at being so close to each other. The way your perked nipples had raked over his chest, the way his head had ducked towards yours, the way you’d wanted to fuck him-
The daylight outside of the spa nearly blinds you. You curse yet again that you don’t have a hat, but the sun is making its way towards the horizon again, and it promises a more orange hue than a bright white one as you make your way quietly back down towards the beach, towards your ship, towards your bed where you can roll over and go to sleep without inciting another incident with Jake.
He walks beside you without comment, and another one of those silences grows between you. The ones that are almost hopeful, the ones that make you think maybe you could throw your doubts to the wind and take your leap of faith, even if it petrifies you.
Jake’s hand tugs briefly on your elbow, and you slow your steps towards the shore.
“Look.” He motions to a booth beside you, and you notice a string of airborne gondolas stretching over your heads, loading just to your left, “Do you want an aerial view of the village?”
It looks sturdy, not like a tourist trap, though you’re sure that’s how they make all of their money. You nod, traipsing across the sandy stone beneath your feet, and grab cash for the both of your rides before Jake can even touch his wallet.
“Enjoy,” The operator nudges you both hastily towards an open gondola that descends mere seconds after you step up, and Jake helps hoist you into the tram before it can take off again without you.
You’re rocked a bit by the abrupt boarding, and you fall against your seat with wide eyes. You suppose you understand why they can’t stop the system for every passenger boarding, or it’d never run smoothly, but you’re lucky to have made it inside without falling back to the earth.
“Damn,” Jake notes, and you nod your agreement. You turn your head towards the window of the gondola, peering out over the ocean as you slowly and steadily rise above it.
The view is breathtaking.
Your eyes rove over the sea, sunlight glinting across its waters and shining with the reflections of palm trees. The water is so crystal clear that you wonder if you’ll spot any of the sea creatures you’d seen while snorkeling earlier, but you’re momentarily distracted by the overhead view of your ship as you begin circling the village you’re docked at.
The only sound is the whirring of the sky trams’ motors, and it’s nothing but a quiet hum, leaving the inside of your gondola a vacuum for sound. Jake shuffles in his seat, and it sounds louder than it should because of the silence you’re suffocating in.
“Pretty view,” He notes, and your eyes drift to where he’s watching you with a soft gaze.
“It’s gorgeous.” You back off from where you’d been unwittingly pressing yourself up against the side of the gondola, your feet stretched out and tangled with Jake’s on the floor of the small tram, “Jake?”
“Hm?”
“Are you still having a good time?”
Your voice is nervous, self-conscious, and it makes Jake’s brows furrow. Not entirely, but you can see the concern written on his face as he leans towards you in the gondola.
“I am. When you’re not running away from me, that is.”
You remember the mud bath, and your cheeks flare.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” You hum regretfully, “I’m sorry. I’m- not trying to make this complicated.”
“It’s already complicated.” Jake laments, biting the inside of his cheek.
“It is,” You nod slowly, your hands clasped together, “But- I’m glad you’re not… miserable. I don’t want you to be.”
“Are you?” He asks, tilting his chin towards you, his voice just as worried as yours is.
“No. I’m not miserable,” Your gaze falls towards the floor, “Not- not because of you. I’m making myself miserable, I think. I’m thinking too much.”
“You know what Mav says.” Jake smiles, and even the soft curve of his lips is enough to send your stomach twisting, even if its not his usual shit-eating grin, “Don’t think, just do.”
No. Don’t. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love.
“If I did that,” Your voice is raw, wry, “I’d spiral out of control.”
There’s a beat of that thick silence in the air before Jake speaks again, “I asked earlier if you were mad at me.”
“I said no,” You remind him, glancing up guiltily at him through your lashes, “I’m sorry if I’m acting like I am.”
“Do you hate me?” He asks, and the way he says it makes you wonder how long he’s wanted to ask you that for.
You hesitate before answering, but not because you have to think about it.
“No.” You state, meeting his eyes so he knows you mean it, “I don’t hate you, Jake.”
“Do you love me?”
That’s the harder question to answer.
Sitting there, in the tiny, windowed gondola, bathed in the orange hue of the setting sun, you ask yourself: do you love Jake?
You’d have reluctantly agreed before now, that yes, even if he’s a dick, he’s your friend in some capacity, so yes, you suppose you love him.
But you know that’s not how he means it, not as a friend, not as a teammate, not as a drinking buddy, but as something far more. And the worst part is that you can’t say no with the same conviction as you had earlier, even if you desperately want to.
It’s no use telling yourself not to fall in love with Jake Seresin over and over and over again, because you have a horrible, sinking feeling that you already have.
“I don’t know.” You manage to scrounge up, and it’s the most damning thing you’ve said all week. Your eyes drop from his, and you try to forget the expression you’d seen in them, scarily akin to hope. Your answer weighs heavy on the gondola, and it dips downwards for your slow descent back to the beach. You shift your eyes back towards the sunset for the remainder of your trip, watching it disappear behind the palm trees that line the shore as you finally touch down.
“Get ready.” Jake reminds you, and he takes your hand in his only to tug you out of the tram before it rises again. You stumble a few steps away from it, and keep your head ducked towards the ground as you mumble a thank you towards the operator. You start a slow, silent trek towards the shoreline, feeling frighteningly devoid of any control you thought you’d gained over the situation earlier. You’re spinning out again, lost in your own head, and you feel your knees threatening to buckle beneath your weight as you cross the cobblestone streets.
A brush of Jake’s pinky finger against your own stops your spiral, and your eyes dart to where your hands bump gently together as you walk side-by-side towards the beach.
Another step, another brush, another step, another brush, until Jake’s hand drifts through the air towards yours, his palm finally catching your own and his fingers curling to seal the deal.
You take a deep breath, close your own fingers into the embrace, and lift your head so that you can see the sunset as you walk hand-in-hand with Jake.
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
tw: explicit smut, dirty talk, cursing, recording (consensual), accidental send, voyeurism, jealousy, threesome (m!f!m, one time only), edging/overstimulation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (creampie), possessiveness, praise kink, light teasing degradation, Hangman being Hangman.
This is a direct sequel to “Only For Us” — recommend reading that first.
⸻
Bob had tucked you in with your garters still biting soft against your thighs, whispering promises against your skin as he reached for his phone on the nightstand. He stopped the recording, kissed your knuckles, and told you, “Only for us,” before hitting send and setting it aside.
“Send it to me?” you’d murmured, drowsy and blissed out.
He nodded, fumbling with tired fingers. “Sent.”
You closed your eyes against his chest, humming, “I haven’t gotten it yet.”
Bob chuckled softly, kissing your hair. “It’s a long video, sweetheart. Still sending. Let’s go to sleep.”
The last thing you heard was the steady beat of his heart.
—
Across town, Jake Seresin’s phone buzzed in the cupholder of his truck. He’d just pulled out of the Hard Deck parking lot, radio low, whistling along, when the notification popped up. Video from Floyd.
Jake frowned, glancing down at the glowing screen. Bob Floyd wasn’t exactly the type to send him videos. Maybe something from a training sim? Maybe one of those dumb TikToks Phoenix liked to show him?
He thumbed the screen. The preview froze his blood for half a second. Lace. A flash of skin. The arch of your back.
Jake almost drove off the road.
He yanked the truck over, heart hammering, and opened the video fully.
It took exactly three seconds of watching to realize what it was. Bob. You. That lace. Your voice breaking on Bob’s name as he pushed into you.
“Holy fuck,” Jake whispered to the empty cab.
For once, Jake Seresin had no cocky one-liner. He just stared, wide-eyed, as the camera shook and Bob’s low drawl filled the speakers, ruined with want. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the sight of you writhing in pale lace, stockings stretched tight, Bob’s big hands gripping your thighs like you were something he’d been starving for.
Jake groaned low in his throat, one hand fumbling at his belt. He shouldn’t. He absolutely shouldn’t.
He did anyway.
By the time the video hit the halfway mark—Bob whispering, “Look at me when you fall apart”—Jake was rutting into his own fist, breath fogging up the truck windows. He came with a bitten-off curse when you cried out Bob’s name, spilling into his palm, head thumping back against the headrest.
He laughed, breathless and stunned. “Well, fuck me sideways. Bobby Floyd, you dirty little bastard.”
For a moment, he debated deleting it, pretending he never saw. But the smug grin slid across his face before the thought even finished.
If Floyd wanted to invite him into this little party? Who was Jake Seresin to say no?
—
The next evening at the Hard Deck, Bob sat beside you in his usual quiet corner, nursing a beer. His arm brushed yours, steady and warm, while you leaned against him, relaxed and glowing.
Jake spotted you immediately. He smirked, grabbed a fresh bottle, and swaggered over.
“Well, well,” he drawled, tipping his hat at you before leaning an elbow on the table. “Didn’t figure you for the adventurous type, Bobby.”
Bob blinked up at him. “What?”
Jake grinned wider, green eyes sharp with mischief. “That lace number? Gotta say, darlin’, that was my favorite part.”
You stiffened. Bob choked on his beer, coughing so hard you had to thump his back.
Your stomach dropped. “What did you just say?”
Jake leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to be private but still smug. “The video, sweetheart. Y’all could’ve just said you wanted company.”
Bob froze. The blood drained from his face.
“Oh my God,” you whispered, horror dawning.
Jake winked. “Relax. I ain’t showin’ it to anyone. Just thought I’d, y’know… RSVP.”
Bob nearly toppled his chair standing up. “Outside. Now.”
Jake laughed, following like a cat chasing a mouse.
The night air outside the Hard Deck smelled like salt and gasoline. Bob pushed through the door so fast the brass handle smacked the wood, then spun on his heel, jaw tight, eyes flinty in the neon spill.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hissed.
Jake strolled after him, unbothered, thumbs hooking into his belt loops. “Ya sent me a whole-ass feature film, Floyd. Thought I’d be polite and respond.”
“That wasn’t for you,” Bob ground out, voice low with a thread of panic. “It was an accident.”
You slipped out behind them and eased the door shut. “Both of you, breathe.”
Jake’s gaze flicked over you, softer for a heartbeat, then back to Bob. “Look, nobody saw it but me. I didn’t forward it, I didn’t screen record. I’m not a monster.” His mouth slanted. “But I ain’t blind either.”
Bob’s hands fisted and unfisted. “Delete it.”
Jake’s brows popped. “Already did.” Beat. “After I—uh—did what I was gonna do anyway.” That grin, obnoxiously bright. “It was… inspirational.”
“Jesus Christ,” Bob muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.
You stepped between them, palms up. “Jake. Did you really think he sent that on purpose?”
Jake tipped his head, weighing you. “Truth? First thirty seconds I figured it was a fat-finger. Then I watched all five minutes. Then I watched ten more. By the time it ended, I thought… either he wants me to see it, or I died and went to Heaven and they let me keep my phone.” His eyes slid to Bob. “Which is it?”
“It was for her,” Bob snapped, a protective flare in his voice you felt in your bones. “Only her.”
Jake’s smirk softened into something almost respectful. He looked back at you. “Then I apologize for the… wording inside. But if it was an invite?” He let the question hang, lazy and lethal. “I’d say yes. You looked—” He cut himself off, catching himself just in time. “You looked happy.”
Something tense in Bob loosened, then tightened again, jealousy and shame warring behind his eyes. You touched his forearm. “Bobby. Look at me.”
He did, immediately, like he always did when you asked.
“We go home,” you said. “We talk. No decisions out here with the jukebox blaring and Jake being… Jake.”
Jake saluted with his bottle. “Guilty as charged.”
You pointed the same finger at him. “You say one word about this to anyone—one whisper, one joke—and I will tell Phoenix exactly how many times you watched it.”
Jake winced. “That’s classified.”
“Then keep it that way.”
He grinned despite himself. “Scout’s honor, darlin’.” He sobered as he looked between you and Bob. “For what it’s worth… if it was an accident, you got nothing but my silence. If it wasn’t… I’ll be where you say, when you say. And I’ll follow your rules to the letter.”
Bob swallowed. “We don’t have rules.”
“Then write ‘em,” Jake said simply. He took a step back, green eyes glittering. “I’ll be around.”
He sauntered off like the devil leaving a church he’d accidentally set on fire.
You and Bob stood with the ocean wind tugging at your clothes. For a long moment, the only sound was the crash of waves and the thud of the bar’s bass through the wall. Bob finally spoke, voice small with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”
You stepped into him, hands sliding up his chest. “For what? For being so in love with me you wanted to keep last night forever? For a tech mishap while you were half-asleep? Stop.”
He stared at you like you’d thrown him a lifeline. “I can’t stand the thought of anybody seeing you like that.”
You arched a brow. “Anybody?”
Color rose on his throat. He knew exactly what you were asking.
“Say what you’re thinking,” you coaxed, thumb brushing his bottom lip. “All of it. Not just the good-boy answer.”
His eyes flicked away, then back, pupils deepening with something hungrier than shame. “Part of me wants to drag him by the collar into the ocean and let the tide take him.” He exhaled, shaky. “And part of me—” He flinched. “Part of me can’t stop thinking about how you looked with my hand at your throat and that red light blinking. How much he wanted you. And how much I want to show him that you’re mine.”
Your breath hitched. Truth was an aphrodisiac with him; honesty always made you warmer. “We could say no,” you murmured. “We can walk inside, get fries, go home, and pretend this never happened.”
He cupped the side of your neck, gentle, possessive. “If you want to say no, it’s no. I don’t care if I think about it for a year.”
You smiled against his palm. “I want you. Always. This… scares me a little. But it also—” You licked your lips, admitting it. “It also turns me on.”
His breath left him in a rush. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You swallowed, nerves fizzing into heat. “If—and only if—we set rules. If we control it. If he follows us. One time. And then it’s done.”
Bob nodded, something feral and tender sparking behind his eyes. “Say the rules.”
“No kissing between me and Jake,” you started, and then paused, because you saw the way Bob’s mouth twitched. “Okay, maybe—if I initiate.” He relaxed. “You lead. He doesn’t finish inside me. He leaves the second we say it’s over. No cameras.” You let that one hang like a verdict and saw his grateful relief. “And if either of us says stop, it stops.”
“Done,” Bob said instantly. His thumb stroked your pulse. “Can I add one?”
“Add ten.”
His jaw flexed. “He touches you only when I tell him to. You keep your eyes on me. And when I tell him to back off so I can take you apart, he damn well listens.”
Heat pooled low in your belly. “Deal.”
He leaned in, forehead to yours. “You’re sure.”
“I’m sure I want you. The rest is a very specific science experiment.”
He huffed a laugh. “Then let’s write the lab protocol.”
You texted Jake one line: Tonight. Our place. You follow our rules or you leave. One time only.
His reply came back in two seconds: Yes, ma’am.
—
You didn’t change the sheets from last night on purpose.
The bedroom smelled like vanilla and sweat and sex. Pale lace was already on your body—because when you reached for a robe, Bob only breathed, “Please,” and that was that. The stockings hugged your thighs, the garters snug; your hair was a little messy on purpose. Bob stood at the foot of the bed in a black t-shirt and soft joggers, barefoot, the clean lines of him a study in control. He wasn’t trembling now. He was coiled.
A knock. Three raps, easy as a laugh.
Bob looked at you. You nodded. He opened the door.
Jake stepped in with his swagger muted to something almost respectful. Freshly showered, white t-shirt, jeans. He closed the door behind him and held his hands up like he was entering a cockpit. “Your rules. I’m a guest.”
Bob’s stare didn’t soften. “Shoes off.”
Jake kicked them off without a word. His eyes found you and stuttered. “Darlin’.”
“Don’t,” Bob said, calm as a blade.
Jake’s throat moved. “Right.”
You sat on the edge of the bed, knees together like a pin-up, and felt both of them look at you. Heat prickled over your skin. “Jake?”
He dragged his gaze up to your face. “Yeah?”
“Be honest,” you said. “Did you watch it more than once?”
His mouth curved, helpless. “More than once.”
The admission should’ve made you flush with embarrassment. Instead, it poured gasoline on the spark.
You looked at Bob. “Start us.”
He came to you, palms bracketing your knees, voice low enough that it felt like a private frequency. “Color?”
“Green,” you breathed.
His mouth softened. He kissed you—slow, staking a claim and offering a prayer. You opened to him, hands sliding up his chest, losing your breath in that steady, reverent way he had of kissing like it was the most indecent thing you could do. When he tugged gently at the garter strap and felt the snap, he groaned into your mouth.
“Eyes on me,” he reminded, and you nodded, dazed.
Bob looked over your shoulder at Jake without looking away from you. “You do not speak unless you’re spoken to. You don’t touch unless I tell you. If she asks for something, you look at me before you give it to her.”
Jake nodded once. “Aye aye.”
“Come closer,” Bob said.
Jake obeyed until he was an arm’s length away, hands loose at his sides, pupils blown as he took you in. He didn’t look cocky now. He looked hungry.
Bob eased you back onto the mattress with his palm under your shoulder blades, then slid your legs apart with the same obscene tenderness as last night. He kissed the inside of your knee, then turned his head—finally—toward Jake. “You wanted in?” His voice was soft, dangerous. “Watch what in looks like.” He crawled onto the bed and lowered his mouth to you like he’d been born there.
Your hips jerked. The first long pull of his tongue, the way he moaned like your taste punched through his discipline, the heat of him—your head tipped back, a sound catching in your throat. You forced your eyes open—on him—and caught the way Jake’s chest rose hard, the way his hand twitched like he had to stop himself from touching.
“Fuck,” Jake whispered—then clamped his mouth shut.
Bob smiled against you. “You hear that?” he murmured, breath teasing your slick. “He’s learning.”
“Bobby,” you gasped.
“That’s right.” He slid two fingers in, devastatingly slow. “Say my name.”
You rode it, gave it, eyes watering, that tight circle of pressure building exactly where you needed it. He read it, as always, like a map he’d memorized. “Now,” he told you, and you broke open, crying out, thighs shaking, the sound raw enough to make Jake stagger a step.
Bob caught your aftershocks with kisses and a hand on your belly to ground you. When you sagged, floating, he lifted his head and finally looked at Jake full-on. “Come here.”
Jake came like a tide.
“Hands,” Bob said.
Jake held them out. Bob took Jake’s right wrist and placed it delicately on your thigh, above the garter, like he was setting an instrument, not a man. “Here,” he said. “You hold her open when I tell you.” His fingers dragged across your slick, then tapped Jake’s jaw. “And you keep that mouth shut unless she asks you to use it.”
Jake swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
You exhaled a startled laugh. “Sir?”
Jake’s mouth crooked. “I call the man with the controls ‘sir.’ Seems polite.”
Bob’s ears pinked. He pretended not to hear. “You okay?” he asked you.
“Green,” you whispered, dizzy.
Bob stripped his shirt. Your lungs forgot how to work for a second. He pushed his joggers down, climbed back over you, and lined himself up, gaze locked to yours. “Still mine?”
“Always,” you said, and he pushed into you slow enough to ruin you, bottoming out with a bitten sound that made Jake’s eyes slam shut.
“Fuck,” Jake muttered, almost reverent. He opened his eyes when Bob moved, slow at first, then deeper, setting a rhythm that made the headboard kiss the wall in a steady heartbeat.
“Hold,” Bob ordered without looking, and Jake’s hand flexed on your thigh to keep you open. The contrast—Jake’s calloused palm warm and careful, Bob filling you to the brink—pulled a sob from your chest.
“Please,” you said to Bob, nails skimming his shoulders. “Harder.”
He obeyed, the bed knocking, the slick sound obscene. “Look at me,” he said again, and you did, drowning in blue. He bent his head to your ear, voice for you alone. “Tell him what you want, angel.”
You heard the power exchange like a thunderclap. You turned your head just enough to see Jake in your periphery—lips parted, pupils blown, jaw tense with restraint. “Your mouth,” you whispered, breath hitching. “On my breasts.”
Jake’s chest punched out a breath. He looked to Bob.
Bob’s eyes were on you, proud and possessive. He nodded once.
Jake leaned in like a pilgrim, stopping short inches away, waiting until you took his hair and guided him. The first hot pull of his mouth around your nipple made you arch, a shameless sound tearing free. Bob groaned at the sight and drove deeper, pace fraying.
“Gentle,” Bob warned.
Jake hummed assent against your skin, the vibration making you whimper. His hand never left your thigh. He didn’t try to sneak touches, didn’t chase what you didn’t give. He served.
“Good,” Bob praised—both of you, maybe, the word soaking into your bones. “Fuck, look at you.”
You started to tremble, a second wave building fast. Bob felt it, changed angle, found that perfect spot and ground there, relentless. “Give it to me,” he panted. “Let him hear how you come for me.”
You broke. You shattered gracelessly, beautifully, a long, wrecked cry that made Jake’s fingers dig helplessly into your thigh and made Bob snarl, triumphant and tender all at once.
You floated back down to find Bob shaking, teeth gritted, holding the line by sheer will. He pulled out with a curse and dragged you onto your side, spooning you, arm banding tight around your waist. He looked up at Jake, voice wrecked. “Condom. Top drawer.”
Jake moved like he was on a bomb squad, grabbed one, ripped it with his teeth, then paused, eyes flicking to Bob again.
Bob rolled you to your back and knelt between your knees, hand spread on your belly. He looked like a saint with a knife. “She wants your mouth,” he said. “Ask her.”
Jake swallowed. “May I?”
You nodded, needy, the ache electric. “Please.”
He slid down, braced your thighs, and finally—finally—tasted you. He groaned like it hurt him, licked like a man who’d studied your tape and took notes. Good, but not Bob; skilled, but not home. The difference stung and soothed at once. When he sucked where you were sensitive, your head snapped back.
“Eyes,” Bob reminded, voice gentle steel, and you found him, found that anchor. He was stroking himself slow, watching your face like it was the only thing in the room.
“Add a finger,” Bob told Jake. “Slow.” He listened. “Good. Curl. There.” You gasped so sharply Jake swore softly, the sound muffled against you.
“Bobby,” you begged, no shame left. “I need you.”
He was already there, condom rolled on in one smooth motion, nudging Jake back with a touch to his shoulder. Jake retreated obediently, mouth shiny, eyes blown.
“Up,” Bob said, and you reached for him. He slid into you with a low, grateful sound, forehead pressing to yours. The pace he set was different now—claiming, inexorable, like he was writing something in your bones.
Jake knelt at your side, chest heaving, hand wrapped around himself, no longer cocky—devoted. “Goddamn,” he whispered, watching Bob fuck you like prayer. “That’s… that’s somethin’ holy.”
“Shut up,” Bob gritted, not unkind, driving deeper.
“Yessir.” Jake swallowed. “Can I—” He swallowed again. “Her hand?”
Bob’s gaze flicked, possessiveness and grace wrestling. He nodded once. “Ask her.”
Jake took your fingers gently and guided you to his cock. He was hot and heavy and twitching in your palm, breath punched out of him when you squeezed. “Jesus,” he groaned, eyes fluttering. “You—ah—feel—” He broke off on a curse when Bob snapped his hips hard, like a warning shot. “Right. Quiet.”
Everything climbed. The room blurred at the edges, sweat beading, muscles trembling. Bob’s hand slid to your throat—not squeezing, just there, anchoring—and your body answered, clenching around him so hard his eyes rolled. “Again,” he rasped. “Do that again for me.”
You did, because you’d do anything he asked in that voice. It sent you tipping, then tumbling, a third orgasm tearing through you in waves you couldn’t ride, just survive. Bob snarled—low, primal—and plunged once, twice, a broken third time before he stuffed his mouth against your neck to muffle the sound he made coming, long and shaking, every line in his body drawn tight.
You felt him shudder, felt the possessive mine in the way he wrapped himself around you even as you both gasped for air. Jake groaned, thrusting helplessly into your fist, and you turned your head, wrecked and generous. “Come,” you whispered. “Get it over with.”
He did with a ragged, grateful curse, spilling hot into his hand, eyes squeezing shut like it cost him something.
Silence swelled, gentle and huge. The fan turned. The world came back.
Jake stumbled off the bed, chest heaving, and bee-lined for the bathroom. You and Bob lay tangled, heartbeat to heartbeat, the air filled with the soft, stunned sounds of your breathing. He peeled the condom off and knotted it, tossed it toward the trash without looking away from you.
“Color?” he murmured.
“Green,” you breathed, smiling, eyes wet for no good reason. “Green, Bobby.”
He pressed his forehead to yours, relief breaking over his face. He kissed you, slow, worshipful, like a benediction and a closing prayer.
Jake came back scrubbed and sheepish, holding his shirt like a flag of truce. He hovered at the edge of the room, unsure where to look for once in his life.
“Thank you,” he said, voice quiet. “For trusting me. I—” He gestured, helpless. “I’ll be decent. I’ll be gone.”
You nodded. “One time only,” you reminded softly.
He tipped two fingers at his brow. “One time only.” He met Bob’s eyes, all the swagger burned off, something like respect left behind. “You’re a hell of a man, Floyd.”
Bob’s mouth twitched. “You’re a hell of a headache, Seresin.”
Jake laughed, shaky. “Fair.” He slid his shoes on at the door, then paused and looked back at you. The grin tried to surface and didn’t quite make it. “For what it’s worth… that video? If it was an accident, it was the best thing that happened to me all week.” He flinched. “Month.” He cleared his throat. “Year.” He opened the door before either of you could answer and slipped out.
The apartment went very quiet.
Bob sagged onto his side and dragged you into his chest, palms wide and sure like he needed to feel every inch of you to be okay. The tremor in his hands surprised you.
“Hey,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Hey, I’m right here.”
“I know.” He swallowed, eyes closing, lashes wet. “I know.” He pulled back enough to look at you, raw and open. “Never again.”
“Never,” you agreed, relief and satisfaction purring through your bones. “Lab protocol concluded.”
A breathless laugh punched out of him. “Findings?”
“You’re mine,” you said, and then, because you could, “and you’re obscene when you’re jealous.”
His eyes heated even as the blush climbed his throat. “Don’t push your luck.”
You smiled and kissed him until he melted, until the last of the adrenaline bled out, until all that remained was warmth and the soft ache of being thoroughly loved.
Later, in the shower, he washed you with the same care he’d cleaned you with last night—quiet, thorough, reverent. He put you in one of his shirts and crawled into bed after, tucking you beneath his chin, his breath steadying against your hair.
The phone on the nightstand stayed dark.
“Only for us,” he murmured into the hush.
“Only for us,” you echoed, and felt the truth of it settle.
Sleep took you both like a tide.
In the morning, your phone buzzed with a single text from Jake: Deleted. No copies. I keep my word.
Below it, a second: If you ever need a cameraman—
And immediately after, a third: KIDDING. Don’t kill me.
You snorted into your pillow and turned the screen to Bob. He groaned and pulled the blanket over both your heads.
“Breakfast?” you asked, voice muffled.
“French toast,” he said into your shoulder. “And then I’m keeping you in this apartment all day just to prove a point to nobody.”
“To nobody,” you agreed, smiling, and let him.
Outside, the ocean kept breathing. Inside, the house smelled like vanilla and butter again—the batter finally becoming cake, the timer finally dinging—while your boy moved around your kitchen with a tenderness that felt like victory.
One time only. Done. And still, always, only for you and him.
