– In which a trip down to the San Diego Naval base to visit an old friend turns out to be more than a simple reunion, as the reader finds herself in the presence of an infuriating, cocky blonde and an old flame she thought had long fizzled out. –
Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader
Word Count: 3.3k
Contains: Bi!Natasha | Reader is old friends with Natasha “Phoenix” Trace | Reader has a past with Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw” | Reader has a lot of feelings about Jake “Hangman” Seresin
Warnings: lots of angst this time around ya'll, explicit language, references to drinking/alcohol & sexual activity
A/N: Part seven! Omg! Tag-list is at the bottom, go ahead and send me a message or reply to this post if you'd like to be added for future parts of this story. Most importantly, I hope you enjoy! Also hope you forgive me for the angst here lol <3 If you'd like to go back and read part 1, you can do that here. Or, read part 2. Or 3. Or 4. Or 5. Or 6. Also, check out my playlists for the dynamic of each guy & reader, you can do that here: Hangman x Reader & Rooster x Reader
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7:
The room is dark when you wake. You’re not sure what time it is; whether you’ve been asleep for hours or mere minutes. You shift under the covers, or, you try to. You’re locked in place, something heavy draped over your torso. Lifting your head off the pillow, you see Jake splayed out, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle, your back pressed against Jake’s chest, his head inches from your own, his mouth hanging open as he breathes.
Shit.
You shimmy underneath him, trying to wiggle free from his grasp. You could get out of here and back to Natasha before anyone woke. Sighing, you kick your leg out from underneath the covers and over the edge of the bed, hoping it might give you some leverage to escape Jake’s grasp. Straining, you feel Jake’s arm constrict around you. He stirs, humming to himself as he tugs you back into him. Escaping, turns out, is easier said than done.
“Hangman,” you breathe, moving your hand to where his rests on your stomach, pulling at his fingers. “Let go.”
A loud sigh fills the room followed by a yawn. He shifts his weight but keeps his grasp on you. Rolling your eyes, you take another deep breath. You move under the covers and under his arm, turning over onto your other side to get a look at him. His eyes are still closed, feigning sleep, but there’s a smug smile on his lips. It’s only then when you realize how close your face is to his, your nose an inch or less from touching his.
“Jake, come on, let go.”
“Can’t. Too comfy. Too early,” he groans.
“I, uh, have to pee,” you lie.
He chuckles lightly and loosens his grip on you, giving you just enough room to slip out from underneath him and out of the bed. Jake sighs and stretches out, his muscles flexing under the covers, his eyes on you in the morning darkness. Shivering, you tug on the pants you left on the floor the night before, doing up the zipper and button. You collect your t-shirt and bra, sliding out of Jake’s sweatshirt and into both of them. The last thing you needed was to be caught in another pilot’s sweatshirt; wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Laughing to yourself you fold the sweatshirt and lay it across the foot of the bed, catching Jake’s eyes as you do so. He looks as if he might say something, might ask you why you changed or might offer to let you keep it, but he only yawns.
Your eyes connect one last time before you leave the room, stepping out into the hallway.
The clock inside the common room catches your eye as you pass by – 3:47am.
Natasha and the rest of the pilots would be up in a couple of hours for training. You consider heading back to her room but think better of it, knowing she’d need her sleep to get ahead of the hangover she’d definitely have in the morning. Besides, she’s under the impression you’re with Bradley. If only she really knew where you’d been, how the night progressed for you. Shaking your head you cross into the common room – a place you found yourself all too often and the epicenter of virtually all of your problems – and snuggle into the couch. You tug the throw blanket draped over the back of the leather down onto your lap and exhale, throwing your head back over the edge of the couch.
Your eyes fall shut, the empty room disappearing, images of Jake flooding your mind. The subtle rise and fall of his chest as he laid in bed this morning, the feeling of his arm draped around your torso and the way it sent the butterflies in your stomach fluttering. His soft blonde hair messy against the pillow as he turned onto his side, his cocky yet reassuring smile as he handed you his sweatshirt. The way his face softened when he opened up to you, listened to your past. Fuck, Hangman.
The vision of his lush, spring green eyes is the last thing you remember.
Radio static disrupts your image of him, the vision of Jake dissipating before you as you reach out for him, your mind waking, your body coming back to life. The noise continues, echoing through the little common room, voices coming in between the static popping.
Sitting up, fighting off sleep, you glance around the room, your eyes landing on a small, industrial looking radio sitting on a side table in the corner underneath the large bay windows overlooking the tarmac. The radio pops and cracks one last time before the voices on the other end come through loud and clear.
“Rooster, jesus, what the fuck were you thinking?” A man’s voice you don’t recognize comes through first, but your heart sinks at the mention of Bradley. Your eyes flicker to the clock – 8:52am. Flight training.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Natasha’s exasperated voice echoes through the room next. You can tell she’s exhausted. They all are. It’s clear that tensions are high.
“You told me not to think, Mav!” Bradley shouts, his voice crackling as it comes through the speaker.
“Same old Rooster,” Hangman cuts in, scoffing. “Can’t commit. Not to the mission, not on the ground.”
You suck in a breath, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and traipsing over to the radio. Looking out the window, you turn your face to the sky, wondering if you might see them, but the sky is empty. Something pulls at your chest and you wonder, for a moment, if the tug is from Bradley or Jake.
“Do you have something to say, Hangman?” Bradley’s voice cuts in again and you turn back to the radio. You can imagine the look on Bradley’s face now as he speaks, that defiant scowl present on his brow.
“Keep making your mistakes, Rooster. They only benefit me in the end.” You can hear the smugness in Jake’s voice, practically see his one-sided, prideful smile.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Lieutenant, enough,” the unfamiliar voice warns.
There’s a beat of silence.
“Fail this training and I get your spot on the mission. Keep fucking up on land, too, and you’ll just push your girl right into me instead.”
Your stomach drops as Jake speaks. The way he’s using last night, everything you told him about your past with Bradley, to mess with his head doesn’t sit well with you. You don’t like being leveraged. Not as you were just beginning to think Hangman could be more than his callsign. Not when you were just starting to like him. Or, rather, admit to yourself that you like him. It’s a punch to the gut, but a confirmation more than anything else – Hangman was just as cocky and self-serving as everyone made him out to be. Callsigns ring true.
“You son of a bitch,” Bradley sneers.
“Lieutenant, I said enough.”
“He’s not cut out for this mission. You know it. You know I’m right.”
“You’re all dismissed.”
The radio clicks off in the next second, dead air filling the room. You sink down to the floor by the window, tugging the blanket closer to your body, exhaling loudly. This is exactly what you didn’t want. You wanted to be here for Natasha, see her again, have a little bit of fun. You didn’t expect any of this, to become a distraction again, Bradley already loathed you for that. Sure, Bradley fucked up, you’re upset with him, but his silence over the radio is deafening. If you know him, you know he’s beating himself up right now, going into self-defense mode, throwing himself deeper into work as a way to escape, desperate to prove himself. And Jake. Fucking Jake. It was stupid, to have wedged yourself between the two of them, even if it was all accidental. Even if somewhere, in that accident, you’d developed feelings you couldn’t name but wanted to follow. Not anymore, though.
You had to leave. It wouldn’t do any good to stay, it’s not your place. It was a mistake to stay as long as you did, to pretend like everything was normal in the midst of some of the most intense training of these pilots' lives. It was selfish, really, to assume you could be at the center of all of this. You’d collect your things and bow out before things got worse, you’d let Bradley and Jake make amends and refocus on their shared mission. They’d train, complete whatever this mission required, and make it back alive, that’s what really mattered.
You’d have left earlier if it weren’t for Natasha. You couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to her, not after you’d just rekindled your friendship and certainly not after she’d put up with everything you’d done during your few short days here. It didn’t take long to pack your things: after all, you hadn’t come with much to begin with.
“Hey, there you are! How was last night?” Natasha sings as she rounds the corner into her room. Surprisingly, she’s smiling and you wonder if it’s genuine or an act she’s putting on not knowing you’d heard how tense this morning’s training really was. Perhaps she’s truly excited to hear about your night. Too bad that was a disappointment, too. Her smile quickly fades as she stops at the foot of her bed, a few steps from you, taking in the scene before her. Your duffle bag is stuffed to the brim, the zipper done up sitting on the bed beside you. Her eyes flicker between you and the bag, her brow furrowed. “You going somewhere?” she asks.
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna head home a couple days early.”
“What? Why?” She shakes her head and closes the space between you, sitting down next to you. Her eyes widened. “Did something bad happen last night with Rooster?”
“No,” you sigh. “Well, yeah, but that’s not why I can’t stay. I just think it’s a bad idea for me to be here right now. You guys are so busy with training and I’m just a distraction, it’s not fair for me t-”
“Who said you’re a distraction?” Natasha interrupts. “I love having you here! I’m sure the guys do too.”
You hold a hand up and shake your head. Time to come clean. “Tash, I heard Jake and Bradley on the radio this morning in the common room.”
Natasha exhales a breath, humming in partial understanding. She nods, knowing you knew tensions were high. She no longer has to pretend. You continue.
“Last night Bradley kissed someone else. I don’t know why, but I did, too.” You glance at her and decide to confess. “It was Hangman. Again. It didn’t get too far, thanks to you.” She looks at you, confused, her eyes dropping to the floor as if trying to remember. A second later, her face lights up.
“Oh my god you were in that stall…with Hangman…”
You nod. “We didn’t do anything, I realized it was a mistake and stopped it after that. But then he offered to drive me back and I wound up in his room and we talked and I told him everything – about me and Bradley.”
“Shit,” she groans. “That explains why they were so at each other’s throats this morning.”
“The worst part,” you choke, suddenly trying to hold back tears you didn’t expect, “is that I like him.” Natasha’s brow softens. She scoots closer to you and drapes an arm over your shoulder. Instinctively, you rest your head in the crook of her neck, grateful for her friendship. “But when I heard him say those things, just to mess with Bradley, I-”
“Hey,” Natasha coos, “it’s okay.”
Sniffling, you lift your head from her shoulder and force a smile. “Is Bradley okay?”
Her lips press into a hard line, her eyes darting away from your gaze. Your stomach drops.
“He’s okay, he’s just – you know – in his head. It’s a lot going on: you, the mission. But you’re the only one who can get to him, you know that.”
You groan, “Tash this is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I knew seeing Bradley would be too much.”
“I know, but you can’t just leave now, what good would running do?”
“He’ll forget about me, just like he did before. He’ll be able to focus.”
She shakes her head. “Even if that did work, which we both know it won’t, what about Hangman?”
“What about him?” you scoff.
“He’s an asshole, trust me, I know. But I think you’ll regret not seeing him through. I think you’ll regret a lot of things if you just leave now.”
Natasha’s right. It’s spineless to leave, benefitting no one. You don’t know what you want, but what you do know is that you owe it to yourself (and to Bradley and even Jake) to try and find out.
“I hate when you’re right,” you say, your voice low. Natasha just smiles.
A shadow stretches across the hallway, pulling both of your attention as a figure rounds the corner knocking rhythmically on the doorframe. Jake comes into view, his head high, smiling.
“Thought I might find you here,” he says nonchalantly. He rests into his hip against the doorframe and crosses his arms. His eyes move between you and Natasha, not sure how much she knew or how much he should reveal. Your stomach drops but your heartbeat quickens its pace at the sight of him.
“Well I’ve been told on multiple occasions that I shouldn’t be in the common room, so…” your voice trails off. Jake chuckles, amused by what he assumes is your small effort at a joke, completely unaware that you’re upset with him. How could he know? Last he saw, you were in his bed, your eyes lingering on one another as you dressed yourself: a lover’s stare.
“Oh shoot,” Natasha interrupts, rising from the bed. She drops your hand and you groan, knowing she was about to leave you alone with Jake. Talk about a Hangman. “I’m supposed to meet with Bob about that thing, I’ll see you guys later.” She leaves the room in a hurry and then there were two: you and Jake.
He pushes himself off the door and crosses the small room, eager to close the space between you. Crashing down onto the bed, he props himself up on his elbow and looks at you, still smiling. You remain in your spot, arms crossed, your thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your bicep as you process your thoughts, your mind flicking from anger to disappointment to lust and back around with rapid speed. He looks gorgeous – his tan skin somehow glowing under the fluorescent lights of the bedroom – not run down or tired, as if the competition and the training for this mission was fueling him rather than draining him.
“What do you want, Jake?” you ask, breaking the silence. His eyes lift from where they’d settled on your chest, flashing up to meet yours. His smile drops a half-inch as he notices the indifference in your voice accompanied by the harsh line between your brows. It’s not the reaction nor the tone he expected from you after last night. Regardless, he carries on, clearing his throat, flashing his bright smile once again. Your heart flutters at the sight, but you quell the feeling, placing a hand over your chest, hoping the pressure might be enough to hold it down. It’s not.
It is in that moment, as he opens his mouth to speak, that your phone chimes, lighting up in the little pocket on the outside of your duffle bag. You know it’s just an email alert so you ignore it, your attention still focused on Jake. He, however, takes notice of the large bag sitting on the other side of you for the first time, a look of puzzlement crossing his face as his head tilts dramatically to the right.
“Are you leaving?” He sounds hurt, his voice low, his eyes shifting between you and the bag.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
You just nod. “I think I’m a distraction.” Exhaling a breath, you shift in your seat, knotting your fingers together. “And you guys have bigger things to be focused on right now, you leave in a matter of days.”
Jake smirks, any ounce of what you thought may be sadness suddenly absorbed and turned into another plate of his hard exterior. It might be easier to ask him to take it off, to remind him that you’d both already shed that last night, if you weren’t fighting your feelings towards him.
“I happen to love a little distraction,” he boasts.
“Right,” you scoff. Your skin prickles at his words and you’re talking before you have a chance to think about what to say. “Because they don’t really mean anything to you! You just see them as points on some scoreboard – something that’ll benefit you in the end.”
Jake sits up, his eyes wide, surprised to be faced with his own words from earlier. Words he didn’t know you heard.
“What are you talking about?” he half shouts. “I-”
“Save it, Jake. I heard you talking to Bradley on the radio: you’ll get ‘the mission and the girl,’ right?” The words spill out of your mouth, a dam that hadn’t just cracked under the pressure, but fully fractured, water rushing out into the open, flooding the streets. You can’t stop it, so you don’t try. “You know, I confided in you last night because I trusted you, believed you might actually be a good guy! Then to hear you throw all of that into Bradley’s face in front of everyone…for what? For the glory of getting this mission? To leverage me? For the satisfaction of beating Bradley?”
“Hey, I didn’t know you were listening,” he reasons.
You push yourself up off the bed, your skin hot, heat rising from the pit of your stomach up into your chest and neck, licking at your cheeks. “It doesn’t matter that I was listening, Jake.” The words somehow manage to come out calmly, your voice in no way reflecting the anger bubbling under your skin. Sighing, you continue. “What matters is that I confided in you because I thought you – thought that maybe we could be…”
He rises from the bed, too, as if trying to close the space between you, but you take a step back. Hurt flashes across his face and he sucks in a breath, his eyes dropping to the floor. A few moments ago he looked ever the golden boy, but now he appears tired, the lines around his mouth prevalent as he tries to stop himself from frowning.
“Don’t you want to know why I was looking for you?” he questions, looking back at you. His eyes are soft, his brows loosely knit together, his pink lips hanging open just slightly as he breathes. For a second you want to say yes, give him the benefit of the doubt like your heart so desperately begs, tugging at you, urging you to say something, anything.
“It doesn’t matter, Jake. Like you said, you’re good for a night.” You take another step away from him and he sighs, watching you grab your jacket from the hook on the back of the door. You slip into it and reach for the handle, yanking the door open. “And it was…one good night.”
A/N: I genuinely cannot believe we made it to part 7 (and by we, I mean me bc I've never been this motivated to write or finish a story before) -- I hope you all are liking it, I'm so sorry for all the angst here but we needed some conflict baybeee!! This was a bit of a challenge to write & this chapter went through MANY iterations of itself, but here we are :) As always I'd super appreciate any thoughts if ya wanna leave them here or chat in my asks <333333
