#jake seresin drabble

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part One) (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: 5.7K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Phoenix had been the one to give you the final push, and right now you’re glad she did. You’d hemmed and hawed over the booking details for weeks, but when the cruise was only three weeks away, she’d insisted you finalize the paperwork and clinch one of the last available rooms.

“Come on,” She’d given you a knowing look, thin brows raised and lips curled into a smirk, “You need this.”

You do need this. Walking onto the cruise ship feels liberating, like you’re free from the shackles of the U.S Military and living a normal life. You’d been pleasantly surprised to have been granted leave by your commanding officer for the entire week, because Spring Break was a term typically foreign to the Navy. But your squadron's leave fell so perfectly in between late March and early April, so you’ll take the time off and enjoy it.

You’re really going to enjoy it. The cruise you needed oh-so-badly isn’t just an average, run-of-the-mill ship, it’s a program specifically targeted towards those wanting easy hookups. 

A sex cruise.

You’d almost been scared away by the no refunds, no rearrangements notice on the cruise’s website, letting you know that you wouldn’t be offered the courtesy of a swap if your random roommate didn’t work out. After all, the point is to get over your reservations, and have a good time. But, you think, it’s only a week, and none of the people you’re seeing around the ship so far look like anyone you’d refuse to have sex with. Do you feel ashamed for signing up for a sex cruise? Slightly. But you can feel slightly ashamed after getting your back blown out by whoever you’re lucky enough to room with. Right now you just need sex, something hot and heavy and rushed, the fervent slapping of skin-on-skin to release the stress pent up inside of you for months now.

Work is tough. You’re no longer the starry-eyed aviator that you’d been at the beginning of your career. You’re older now, you’re starting to exit the honeymoon phase of your job, and to top it off, you haven’t been able to score in months. 

You used to have no problem picking up a date here and there around the Hard Deck, but all of a sudden, it’s like Penny had shut off the tap of men pouring out into your lap. You can’t fathom why the entirety of San Diego suddenly decided hookup culture wasn’t for them, but you haven't been able to get laid in months, so you need this cruise. You’re partially terrified that word might get around to your squadron about your vacation, and that the slight shame you're feeling might multiply into something you'll never be able to face. Heaven forbid they change your callsign to Cruiser, or Hookup, or some other derogatory indicator that you're about to have the week of your life.

Hangman already teases you for not being able to take anyone home anymore, you can’t imagine what he’d do if he found out you got on a sex boat. You’ve always been able to bicker and banter with Hangman, dishing out as much as you take, but if he gets wind of what you’re doing this week, you might lose your never-ending stream of competitive banter once and for all.

You shove Hangman out of your thoughts; this is to get away from all of that. He’s a pest, the way he lays out teasing remarks with that saccharine grin on his face, like he’s the cheshire cat and he’s told you a particularly hard-to-decipher riddle. He’s a cheap rival at best, always poking and prodding about being number one, and how you’ll have to hike up your big girl panties if you want to be on his level, despite your record being neck-and-neck with his own. He’s never given you something you can’t return in full-force, but it takes effort to fire back the way that you do, and you’re eager to let your guard down this week and relieve your pent-up frustration.

You pass through the archway they’ve opened to the dock, big double doors angled inside over short, stubbly carpeting. It looks like what you’d find in an 80’s bowling alley, all clashing colors and wacky patterns. The railings to the stairs just in front of you are gold, and they spiral downwards elegantly over the 3 floors below you. They extend upwards 11 more, which is a scary thing to think about; being 15 decks high in the middle of the ocean. The carrier ships you’re used to aren’t small by any means, but their decks are mainly tucked away beneath the surface and shut in so that, if you ignore the rolling waves that toss you side to side, you can pretend you’re on land. Several mostly open upper decks are new to you, but if you’re lucky, you’ll stay centralized to your cabin, tucked away neatly on deck eight, getting your world rocked.

You’ve packed light, a single suitcase rolling behind you as your purse tucks over the handle. It’s an easy way to travel, and you thank basic training for the way that your muscles easily support your luggage as you drag it up a flight of the spiral stairs.

There’s noise everywhere, lights everywhere, people everywhere; it’s complete chaos. But it’s thrumming with excitement, with the promise of sex, and lust, and getting laid, and you fight to stop a grin from growing on your cheeks as you approach the registration desk.

There’s a man in front of you that’s arguing with the receptionist, something about incorrectly filed paperwork, which you don’t exactly blame the guy for. There had been about 35 forms to fill out, STD Test Results here and Consent Questionnaires there. You understand why they’re necessary on a sex cruise, and you’re glad they’re keeping their passengers safe, but they were a pain to fill out. 

The receptionist sees you file in line behind the man, looking all too grateful for the distraction.

“If you could just step to the side here,” He gestures, waving the man to the left of his place at the counter, “I’ll call someone down to help you with that, sir.”

The man looks displeased to be put on hold, but you take the opportunity when it comes to you, handing over your printed email confirmation that’s got your room number inked in bold black lettering.

“Ah, 838,” The man smiles, “Your roommate’s already gotten his key. Maybe you’ll meet him down there. But if not, you’re welcome to explore the ship. Here’s a map, we have plenty to do if you’re not quite ready to get started.”

The man hands you both a stiff key card, printed with your name and general information, and a map of the ship. It really is huge, and you marvel at how much there is to do besides sex. Maybe if your roommate doesn’t work out, you can hang out in the piano lounge.

The instrument makes you think of Rooster and his attention-grabbing routine at the Hard Deck, whenever he’s in the mood to go home with someone that night. Ladies love a piano player, and if this cruise doesn’t work out, maybe you’ll pick up the instrument yourself. If it were any other voyage, you’d probably be wishing your fellow aviator was on board to serenade the ship, but you’ll count your blessings that he’s not here to see your desperation.

You decide on the elevator rather than the stairs for the sake of your luggage, not wanting the suitcase to get battered hitting each step on the way up. There’s a crowd formed at the doors to the lifts already, humming with conversation and dripping with sex appeal. Two of the three men there are already shirtless and in swim trunks, and you hope you look half as stunning in the bathing suits you’d chosen to bring with you. One of them catches your eye as you sidle into the elevator and the quick wink he sends you lightens your mood. Even if your roommate doesn’t work out, maybe you can branch out and get Elevator Guy's number.

The ride up is cut off by someone on the sixth floor who manages to squeeze into your elevator. Then someone steps out on the seventh, and finally, you make your departure on the eighth. You mourn the loss of Elevator Guy, but you’re excited to meet your roommate, whoever he is. 

There’s not a long walk from the elevator to your room, but it’s a bit of a maze figuring out which hallway to take. You’re the third door down the corridor furthest left, and you slide your key card into the door with excitement brewing in your stomach.

Will he be handsome? Will he be drop-dead gorgeous? Will he have a six pack? Will he have a dad-bod? Will he have a beard? Will he be a brunette? Will he… be invisible?

He’s most likely not invisible, which means he’s just not in the room. The door swings open to a lovely space, portholes showcasing the dock and a single, queen-sized bed against that wall. There’s a suitcase stacked against one side of the bed, but no passenger to accompany it, and the bathroom light is off, too.

There’s a hat resting on one of the pillows, a blue-and-white patterned thing you recognize as rooting for the Dallas Cowboys. It’s the team Jake won’t shut the fuck up about when the game is on, so you’re well accustomed to seeing the color combo. Jake always accentuates his southern drawl when he talks about the Cowboys, just to remind everyone that he’s a certified Texan, as if anyone might have forgotten in the time it’s been since the last game. You hope that whoever your roommate is isn’t just a fan, but a southerner as well, because Jake’s twang would be ridiculously attractive if it wasn’t coming out of his arrogant mouth. But the hat has no owner in sight, so you can’t analyze their accent, and for that you heave a sigh.

He’s not here.

You’re a little let down - does he not want to meet you? - but you suppose that gives you time to go find the buffet, as well as explore the ship. You’d elected to skip lunch on the way to the port and eat on the ship instead, hoping for a debrief with your roommate before you hit it off tonight. But eating alone isn’t the worst thing in the world, and you can muscle through one meal. You take a moment to admire the room, a bright, clean space that you’re going to love messing up. The sheets are crisp and white, but there’s an imprint of your roommate on one side, like he’d stretched out for a while before heading back out. The dip in the bed looks large, and blossoms of excitement bloom in your stomach: he’s beefy.

You deposit your suitcase in the closet, filling out the hangers with your outfits and setting your lingerie on the shelf. You want easy access; you’re probably not going to look very sexy rooting around in your suitcase on all fours for a bra.

You refrain from changing, already in a weather-appropriate sundress that’s a pretty mix of pink and baby blue. You do a quick check in the mirror: no flyaway hairs, dress laying right on your hips, gloss properly lining your lips. You make sure you don’t need to reapply deodorant, perfume, or any other nice-smelling substance, and then you’re off in search of the buffet, eager to see the soft serve machine they’d advertised on their website.

The ship really is crowded, and you appreciate the unique atmosphere that comes from everyone knowing they’re only there for sex. You’re there to fuck and be fucked, and it means you can ogle the man that emerges soaking wet from the pool, slicking his dripping hair out of his face as he prepares to dive again. A woman eating with who you assume is her roommate gives the hem of your sundress a once-over, catching on your thighs beneath the fabric, and glancing back up to your face to level you with a momentary smirk. Confidence flows through your veins as you make your way out towards the wood-lined deck of the ship, looking out over the bright ocean illuminated by sunlight. 

A gust of wind blows the hem of your sundress to the left, but not enough to raise it, so you don’t bother catching it. The sea is beautiful, and you’re thrilled to have a relaxing time on one; you don’t normally get those on giant carrier ships.

There’s no runway here, no reserve of jet fuel, there’s just sun, fun, and lust.

“You wouldn’t happen to be in, uh, room 624, would you?” A voice pipes up from your right, and you turn to see a slightly younger man, clearly sun-drying from a dip in the pool. His hair hangs past his ears but he runs a hand through it backwards, and it means you get a better view of his face, adorned with an impressive scruffy beard, the same brown shade as his hair. However, there’s a ring of slightly lighter hair around his mouth that you hope is from what you think it’s from. His face is more squarish than long, skin a tone darker than the impressive tan Rooster sports after a day at the beach.

“Ah, no.” You laugh lightly, and the overexaggerated slump of his shoulders hints that he was expecting your answer. You take pride in the fact that he’d wanted to ask anyways, and you flash your key card at him, “838.”

“You mind if I remember that?” He leans against the railing of the deck, and once more you appreciate the open, bold atmosphere of the crowd you’re in, “If my roommate doesn’t mind not being exclusive.”

“I don’t mind at all,” You smile, feeling a slight flush come to your cheeks. This is going to do you a world of good. If your roommate has even half of this guy’s good qualities, his charming smile, his toned arms, his slight southern drawl, you’ll be more than happy to share your week with him.

“Daniel,” He sticks a hand out, fingers thick and rough-looking. You wonder what he does for work; something laborious by the look of his hands. 

“Y/N,” You smile back, turning to shake his hand. He takes you by surprise by raising your knuckles to his lips, and you remind yourself once again that this cruise is geared towards romance. Or, at least lust, but you’re flattered he’s throwing in the extra component. 

You try tamping down your obvious grin as you turn back to the ocean, “You haven’t met your roommate?”

“Nope,” He grabs a shirt from a nearby lounge chair, patterned with a faded band logo that you can’t place, what must be a waterproof watch gleaming in the sunlight that hits his wrist. “I was hoping to get lunch with’er. Hey, have you eaten yet?”

“Actually, I haven’t.” You straighten from where you’re leaning against the railings, “I was waiting for my roommate too.”

“Well,” Daniel holds out an arm, toned and muscular, and you hook yours through it, “Fuck ‘em.”

You laugh at his bold choice of words, still having to remind yourself that you’re in a strictly adult environment. You don’t need to worry about your sailor’s mouth, there’s no kids to overhear, nor parents to get upset.

Daniel’s arm is strong where he leads you to the dining area, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t fixating on the feeling of your bicep locked to his side by his own. The buffet is a little classier than you’d expected; instead of all-you-can-eat french fry stations there’s trays of pastas, stews, and meat for the taking, thin silver utensils laid out neatly over each container.

You keep it light with only foods you know won’t upset your stomach with the rocking of the boat. That’s the last thing you need, and you manage to find an open table while Daniel waits in line for pizza. You’ve barely had a chance to spread your napkin over your lap, your sundress putting forth a valiant effort to cover your upper thighs, when Daniel sits across from you and smiles through his beard.

“So, where are you from?” He questions, biting off the end of his pizza slice so that you have a chance to reply. 

“I live here,” You attempt to pick up one half of your sandwich, lettuce and tomato making it slick and difficult, “I’m actually, uh- stationed here. With the navy.”

His eyes bulge for a second, and he swallows while nodding, “Wow. Okay, that’s cool. I’m guessing that’s why your arms are practically bigger than mine?”

You try not to spit out your sandwich laughing along with him, grateful for the flimsy paper napkin you’d snagged to hide a smear of tomato juice along your lip. 

“You should see one of the other guys from my squadron,” You think of Jake- Jake who’d famously torn through a t-shirt (albeit, a flimsy one) by just flexing the muscles in his biceps, “I swear his arms are bigger than my neck.”

I’m sure you guys need ‘em,” Daniel muses, sipping at his drink. He’s listening to you with rapt interest, something men don’t usually do when they find out that your job is something traditionally masculine. He’s not boasting about his own job, he’s not rattling off gym stats: “So you’re a sailor?”

“Aviator,” You correct him, used to the misconception, “I fly.”

“I don’t think I knew the Navy had planes,” Daniel admits, crunching a potato chip between his slightly crooked teeth, “I thought that was just the Air Force.”

“Everyone thinks it’s just the Air Force,” You grin, stacking two pickles on the end of your fork that had somehow escaped your sandwich.

“Sorry,” Daniel looks bashful now, his smile sheepish, “I bet you’re tired of correcting people.”

“No! Don’t worry about it,” You’re absolutely tired of correcting people, but you’re not about to tell that to a man who’s mustache has lighter ends than the scruff of his beard against his jaw, “What about you, what do you do?”

“I just work at a post office, I sort mail.” He divulges, and you’re instantly more fond of him; a civil service worker who wears tight little shorts? You’re not quite sure if Daniel has a downside.

“Are you local?”

“I’m in Oceanside. Not too far,” He muses, “I only drove an hour here.”

So, he’s good in bed, he’s good in uniform, and you could easily make weekend visits. You’re starting to lament the fact that you’ll be sleeping with someone else for the week.

“Are you sure you’re not in room 838?” You tease, “Maybe they misprinted your card, or something.”

“Believe me, if I could get it reprinted, I would,” He confesses, setting his fork down to brace his elbows on the table. He leans forwards, his chin propped against his clasped hands, “I know they’re all strict about not changing roommates, but listen, if yours doesn’t work out, I’ll propose an arrangement to mine. And- uh, even if yours does work out,” He stifles a smirk, stuffing a chip into his mouth instead, “-ask him if he wouldn’t mind swapping for a bit.”

You both admire and appreciate his desperation. You’re used to aloof sailors, or men in bars who wish you had less muscle and more tit. Something about the way he’s leading the conversation, not forcing himself on you but begging for a chance, makes your stomach flutter.

“We’ll work something out,” You promise, nudging your foot against his beneath the table, “Coming straight out and asking is working on me, if I’m being honest.”

Daniel laughs, so you elaborate: “So many of the guys I meet try pretending like they don’t care. Or- or maybe they don’t, I guess, but it’s still frustrating. It’s nice that you care.”

“Of course I care,” Daniel blinks incredulously at you, cheeks stuffed as he struggles to swallow before speaking, “You could choke me out with your thighs, babe. I’m not stupid enough to lose that opportunity.”

Your cheeks burn. Evidently you’re still acclimating to the brazen atmosphere of the ship, and you struggle to hide your sheepish smirk as he kicks his foot against yours beneath the table, the same as you’d done to him.

Daniel’s only gaining more popularity in your mind when he takes your plate to the trash, scraping away the remnants of the lettuce and condiments from your sandwich and stacking his own on top of it where they’re about to be washed. He sends you a dazzling smile as he gestures for the doorway, and you’re honestly surprised that he doesn’t say ‘after you’ when he lets you go first.

“Eighth floor?” Daniel verifies when you step through the doors of the elevator, and it’s much less packed than when you’d been there before. You nod, and he presses only 8, not 6 for his own room. You’re almost nervous that he might try to come into your room with you, because you’re not sure whether your roommate is there, and you don’t know how kindly he’ll take to you bringing another man in without meeting him first. But you swallow your nerves as the doors slide shut, leaving you in the elevator with him alone.

You can feel him staring at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. He smiles back, and you lock eyes for a tense moment, then all of a sudden you’re both lunging forwards, frenzied as something in the air tells you to jump each other. Your hands sling around his neck as his lips press to your own, the scruff of his beard grating against your skin. It stings slightly, but it’s delicious as his lips fit between your own, and your back presses to the cold metal wall of the elevator. You suppose you should be a little ashamed, letting your tongue ghost over his bottom lip, making out with a man you've just met in an elevator, but it appears everyone is either boarding or eating, and no one bothers you on your journey up.

To add yet another thing to Daneil’s list of perfect traits: he’s an excellent kisser. He lets you lead, and when he feels your tongue prod at his lips he groans, gladly licking over your top lip. You open your mouth, seized by the moment, and he ventures inside without hesitation, his tongue hot and wet as it laps over your own.

You’d moan if you could, spout some breathy expletive or test out his name on your drool-coated tongue. But you can’t, he’s a presence, an enigma, and you let him occupy your mouth so much that words won’t.

You’d been on the fourth deck when the doors had shut, and it’s not a long trip to the eighth. When the elevator jolts to a stop you reluctantly push Daniel away, not wanting to expose yourself to the hall of deck eight.

“Uh,” You breathe, wiping at a smear of drool on the side of your mouth, “Fuck, that was-”

“Yeah.” He agrees, similarly breathless as he runs a hand through his hair that you’d tousled slightly, “I’d love to do that again sometime.”

“Me too.” You laugh bashfully, “Uh, maybe not in an elevator, though.”

“Like- like in a bed.” He concludes as the doors slide open, revealing a safely empty hallway. “Or- or just a room, or something, like a- a couch, if you don’t want- not a bed.”

“A bed,” You assure him, endeared by his caution, “I’d love to do it again sometime in a bed, Daniel.”

“Alright,” He grins, reaching out to catch the doors before they can close on you as you depart, “838’s right there. I’d walk you, but,” He points at a door only two down from the one directly in front of you, and you wave him off with a grateful grin.

“No worries.” You laugh, “Thanks, Daniel. Uh- I hope I see you again.”

“Me too,” He smiles, and it might be the most charming sight you’ve ever seen, “Goodbye, Y/N.”

The doors slide shut on him, and you feel like the next appropriate step for you is to go into your room, close the door, and slide down the backside of it. You can’t fathom reacting any differently to the mind-blowing, butterfly-inducing kiss you’d just engaged in, especially with the excitement of doing it in an elevator. The desperation you’d felt and received back was exhilarating, and you’d be happy to get off the boat now and savor the feeling. 

Coincidentally, the ship’s horn sounds, and an announcement comes over the loudspeakers, “Passengers, brace yourselves for some slight rocking,” You hold onto the wall, just in case, “Because we are on our way! We’ve just set sail, and for a day and a half, you’ll be at sea. Then we’ll dock on beautiful white sand beaches by Wednesday morning. I hope you enjoy yourselves, and I wish I was one of you, because I do not get a roommate. Unless- Rick, you feel like- no, no, okay! Okay,” The captain laughs, “My co-captain isn’t interested. Well, folks, enjoy yourselves, and please don’t make messes in the pools.”

You’re feeling generous, a bounce in your step from being kissed stupid in the elevator, so you let out a light chuckle at the captain’s humor. Any other time, you might have found it corny, but you’ve just been made out with, and everything seems better than it would have before. You hear muffled cheers from the rest of the ship, and dig into the pocket of your sundress for your key card. You retrieve the smooth plastic, slot it into the door labeled 838, and take a deep breath.

If he’s anything like Daniel, you’ll have a great time. And if he isn’t, you’ll see Daniel again.

With that, you push down the silver handle, hearing the door click with the motion, and you step inside.

The first thing you see is a pair of socked feet sticking off the end of the bed. The bed is perpendicular to the doorway, and the upper half of it is hidden by the bathroom. You clock the pair of toned, tan, mouth-watering legs that rest on the mattress, a sight you already want to sink your teeth into. You’re shocked that you’re bold enough to think that you wish he didn’t have briefs on, especially considering the sizable bulge in their fabric. You take a step closer, and a similarly toned torso comes into view, impossibly muscled and something that belongs in an art museum. There’s a pair of thick, bulky biceps raised above the man’s head, and when he turns his head to look at you-

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

You freeze in your spot. One foot planted in front of the other, your weight distributed between them equally. Your eyes go wide, your stomach twists awkwardly, and you damn near drop your keycard.

“Hangman.”

Your fellow aviator's face is equally as shocked, but it curves into a familiar cocky grin all too soon, “What do we have here? Y/L/N?”

“No fucking way. Jake?”

“Y/N,” He matches your pattern with a hearty chuckle, “Oh, this is too good.”

“You’re in the wrong room.” You decide, “This is 838.”

“That’s what it said on my key card, darlin’.” Jake snatches the card from the sleeve stuck to the back of his phone, flashing it at you where you can see the clear print of the numbers, “Guess we’re fated or somethin’.”

“Shut up.” You snap, knees easily bending as you fall back against the loveseat opposite the bathroom, “Shut the fuck up, Hangman. There’s no way I’m staying here.”

“No room changes,” He grins, and you want to smother the expression off of his face with a pillow, “And no getting off, either. We just set sail.”

You bury your face in your hands. There’s no way you’re surviving this vacation. Not with Hangman- Hangman who acts like a toddler and pulls your hair whenever it’s not in the regulatory bun. Hangman who snatches food out of your hand if you hold it up for too long without eating it because you’re speaking. Hangman who delights in insulting you over the comms in the air, offering you flying lessons ‘’cause that move was pretty rusty, darlin’.’

There is absolutely no way in hell - which feels like your current location - that you’re taking a sex cruise with Jake Seresin, end of story.

“So, sex cruise, eh?” He muses from his spot on the bed, and you shoot him a glare so vicious you’re surprised he doesn’t drop dead.

“Yeah? You’re on it too, Hangman.”

“Easy,” He holds up a placating hand, “Wasn’t an insult. Just didn’t think you were the type.”

“To fuck?”

“To be desperate.” He shrugs, “Y’know, Y/L/N, if you wanted to have sex with me this bad, you could have just asked.”

“Stop it right now.” You insist, “This was not my doing, and so help me god I’m considering ripping that stupid porthole out of the wall and jumping ship. Clearly I’ve done something to upset the universe, so do not fucking expect me to enjoy this, Hangman.”

“You’re very pissy,” He notes, only making his observation more clear as your scowl deepens, “Relax, Y/L/N. I’ll give you a good time.”

“All you’re capable of giving me is a migraine.” You spit, a headache already brewing behind your eyes, “God, and why are you naked? Have some fucking class.”

“Class?” He repeats incredulously, a chuckle shaking his stupid, exposed chest, “This is a sex cruise! I’m near naked ‘cause I thought we’d fuck!’

“I’m not having sex with you.” You vow, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I’ll cycle through this entire ship twice before I even think about letting you at me, Hangman. Do you understand?”

“I understand’ He salutes, and the tease pisses you off, “Y’know, Y/L/N, I think you should let loose. Live a little, don’t be so uptight the whole time.”

“I’m uptight because you’re sprawled out over my bed without clothes on.” You groan, and then your brain comes late to another earth-shattering conclusion, “Oh, fuck, that’s the only bed!”

Hangman laughs, the sound thick and full of that cockiness you despise, “Damn right it is, darlin’. You gonna snuggle up next to me tonight?”

“No!” You gush, readjusting yourself on the loveseat so that you’re curled up on its cushions, “There, see? This is my bed. I’m sleeping here.”

“Oh, relax,” He scoffs, patting the space beside him. He’s turned towards you now, propped up on his elbow and boring into you with his stare “There’s plenty of room here. I’m just messing around.”

“I’m not.” You insist, “I’m not sleeping with you, Jake. Either way.”

“Well, you called me Jake,” He notes, shrugging his broad shoulders and settling back onto his pillows, “I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’re getting nothing.” You hiss, turning onto your back on the loveseat, “Fuck, what did I do to deserve this?”

“A week on a sex boat with me? Must’a bought a homeless man some groceries, saved a starvin’ puppy, caught a runaway baby stroller, that kinda thing.”

“It must have been the time when I scratched that Tesla and didn’t leave a note,” You groan, “Karma’s a bitch.”

Jake’s never been one to take insults or teasing gracefully. He retaliates with his own, his eyes still burning holes against the side of your face, “So, Y/N. Seen the shops yet?”

“No.” You grumble, “Didn’t know they had any.”

“Oh, yeah. Real nice stuff,” Jake drawls, “Y’know, lingerie, vibrators, sex chocolates, all that stuff.”

Your cheeks blaze and you honestly think you’d rather be back on base than here, “Shut up, Hangman.”

“I’m not lying!” And to his credit, you believe him. But lying isn’t the issue, it’s teasing, and you’re not sure you can handle seven days of it non-stop.

“I wonder if Daniel’s seen the shops,” You grumble, maybe just a little smug that you’d already hit it off with someone, assuming Jake hadn’t had the time to make out with anyone in an elevator yet.

Your brag works, and the muscles in his jaw tighten ever-so-slightly, such a small movement that you wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t been studying him.

When he speaks, there’s a familiar tension in his eyes, one you're used to seeing when someone ignites his overinflated sense of competition, “Daniel? That the guy you tongued in the elevator?”

You let out an incredulous cry, as if he’s wrong, “What? What- how did you know that! We didn’t tongue,” You scoff, reminiscing on the heavenly feeling of Daniel’s tongue smoothing over your own.

“Mhm. Sure. That’s why your lips are all swollen and shiny. ‘Cause you two stood six feet apart.”

You feel judged opposite Jake’s narrowed eyes, and you retort, “Okay, fine. We kissed. Is that a bad thing? This is a sex cruise, I’m supposed to get lucky.”

“All I’m sayin’ is you were snappin’ at me to have some class, but I’m not the one who frenched someone in a public facility. Did you even wait for it to be cleared out, or did you just go at it in the crowd?”

“It was empty.” You huff, practically slamming your head back down onto the couch cushions, “Shut up, Hangman.”

“I bet he pushed all the buttons to make it take longer,” Jake snickers, “Or- or did he back you up against ‘em? Smash your back into the panel and light the whole thing up like a Christmas tree?”

“Shut up!” You gush, taking one of the cushions from the couch and jamming it over your head, blocking his irritating voice from your ears.

You’re fucked.

Actually, you’re not fucked, and that’s the problem. You’d rather be just about anywhere else right now, but if you had your pick, you’d be in a different room, with a different roommate. One who wants to spread your legs and feast on what’s between them, one that wants to jam your throat with his cock until you’re begging for air. But you’re here instead, bunched up on a stiff loveseat, an itchy pillow over your face, and enemy number one lounging on the bed you have to share with him tonight.

You’d rather be fucked.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[tongue-like-a-razor]

AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5K- YOU DESERVE ALL OF THEM AND SO SO MUCH MORE (I’m absolutely obsessed with your account it makes me so happy)

If you’re still taking requests could I have a bbf!Jake one where they’re at a bar again and this time someone really creepy is hitting on baby Bradshaw and even though she’s trying to get away from him, he won’t leave her alone. Cue super Jake to the rescue (and he’s pissed)

I hope this is okay and if not, don’t worry about it :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY <333

OOOH I LOVE ME SOME PROTECTIVE JAKE! And thank you sm for your kind words, lovely <3

I'm gonna say this drabble is an extension of Part 4 of BBF but really can probably be read on its own. Here we go!

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - N-O Spells No

Jake Seresin x Reader

“C’mon, sweetheart, let me buy you a drink,” says the man with the slicked-back hair and smarmy leer for a third time, taking a seat at your table on the patio.

His friends at a neighboring table guffaw, apparently finding their friend’s persistent approach hilarious. You find it extremely disrespectful. “No, thanks,” you respond, again.

The man’s grin broadens as though your rejection spurs him on. He slides his chair in closer and leans in to whisper something in your ear. But, before he has a chance to speak, you decide that you’ve had enough and rise from your seat. You’d rather forfeit your table than put up with any more of this bullshit.

You start for the door to go into the bar, but the man leaps up to follow you. He catches up with you just as you’re about to enter and takes you by the arm, spinning you around to face him. “You don’t know what you’re missing, honey,” he mutters and his voice makes your skin crawl.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Jake as he’s about to place his drink order at the counter. The disturbance near the front door has made him glance in your direction and his expression darkens when he sees you. He immediately steps away from the bar, forgetting all about the drinks he just paid for, and marches determinedly toward the door.

Before you could tell the creep to watch out, Jake is outside, curling his arm around your waist to relocate you so that he could turn back and grab a hold of the man’s shirt, ramming him into the wall, back first. “Who the fuck are you?” he growls at the – now cowering – man.

“I’m a friend, I’m a friend!” the man exclaims in alarm, his hands shooting up to show that he’s not looking for a fight.

You give the man a disgusted scowl when he looks over at you pleadingly, hoping that you’ll corroborate his statement. Jake glances over his shoulder at you too. “This true?” he asks. “You know him?”

You’re silent for a moment, wondering what Jake would do if you told him the truth. You really don’t want him getting banned from the Hard Deck for starting a fight on your behalf.

But Jake takes your lack of a response as a no and pulls on the man’s collar just to slam him back into the wall again. The man, to your great satisfaction, looks like he’s about to cry. “She didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend!” the man cries.

Jake grimaces aggressively. “Did she tell you to fuck off?” he asks dangerously.

The man gulps anxiously. “If she’d just told me she was with somebody” –

“What the fuck does that matter?” Jake shoves the man into the wall for a third time and the latter whimpers pathetically. “No is a full fucking sentence.”

“Okay, Jake, that’s enough,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I think he got the idea.”

Jake glances down at you with a heavy sigh and then back at the snivelling man. Then, he lowers his head and mutters in a low, intimidating voice, “You come near her again, I’m not gonna be this nice.”

The man nods vehemently and, the moment Jake lets go of him, he slips away, ditching his friends – who, admittedly, hadn’t even come to his aid – as they scramble to collect their things before following him out.

Jake turns to look at you worriedly. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step toward you.

You nod. “Yeah, thanks for coming to my rescue,” you reply. “Although, I totally could’ve taken him.”

Jake draws his lips together to keep from smiling; he’s not ready to find the humor in the situation quite yet. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he remarks.

You shrug and meet his gaze. “I’m glad you were here.”

Jake nods and then takes your shoulder and pulls you into an embrace. “Me too,” he says.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to enjoy the hug because there isn’t often an excuse to lean in while Jake Seresin just holds you. In fact, you can’t think if a single time in recent history when this type of scenario has taken place. Suddenly, you’re not too mad about the creep that almost ruined your day.

“Where’s my brother?” you ask once the two of you separate.

Jake sighs with a grin and shakes his head. “He took off.”

“What? With that chick he just met?”

Jake nods sheepishly, as though he’s somehow to blame for Bradley’s promiscuity. You grin at him. “Perfect,” you say. “Now, we have plenty of time to talk about the thing.”

Jake cringes and lets out a defeated groan.

5k Celly

[cherryobx]

Hi! Congrats on the celebration!!!!!

Turn the radio up! - give me a song you love, and a character and I’ll write a blurb or a full-sized fic based on that With Jake Seresin and Black and White by Niall Horan, please? Thank you so much!

a/n: thank you so much nonnie! i absolutely love this song!

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

summary: Jake is unable to keep his tears at bay when you sees you walk down the aisle

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a dress, jake is an emotional mess

Jake always knew he was going to cry at his wedding. It wasn't even a question. It was a fact.

But he never expected to start crying just at the sight of you. Maybe during the vows, yes, but not before that.

The second he saw you walking down the aisle in your absolutely stunning dress his eyes welled up. You looked as beautiful as the day he met you. You were glowing with happiness. The tears to hit him like a freight train. He wasn't expecting it.

Without saying a word Bradley handed him a handkerchief.

Jake swore he was ascending to heaven at that exact moment. He thought he was going to die because the last couple of years were replaying in his mind, his life literally flashing in front of his eyes. All the big and little moments. When you first met, first date, your first kiss, when you moved in together. All of it.

He knew he was going to marry you the moment he met you because there was no one out there who could measure up to you. You were it for him.

He's completely wrecked by the time you reach him, tears streaming down his face.

"Hi, baby." You smile at him and place your hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb.

"Hi."

He struggles to get through the vows, making you also tear up.

You're so in love it seems unreal. You had the kind of relationship people dreamed of. You loved each other conditionally. You were made for each other and he can't help but worship the ground you walk on.

You promise to love each other until death pries you from each others hands.

He can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

[seresinhangmanjake]

For the Drabble!

How would Jake react if eve starting only asking for you and would cry if Jake picked her up?

Dad!Jake Seresin x female reader

words: 1250 (this kind of took on a life of its own and expanded way past the ask, but this is where my head went)

Oh Baby series

So I picture this under a very specific circumstance, that being like, Eve is three now and has a decent understanding of stuff. 

She's in preschool and knows all about her parents' jobs and brags to her friends about how her daddy is the coolest because he's a pilot and she's going to be a pilot one day too. Basically believing her dad is the bravest guy and has the most important job in the whole wide world, until Jake and Mama sit her down one day and explain to her that Daddy is going to be gone for a bit, and he'll be missing some important event or something to Eve. Like maybe she believes in half-birthdays and convinced her parents to have a little three-person celebration for being three and a half. But now Jake won't be able to be there and so Eve is devastated and sobs all night, but that sobbing turns into anger because she just can't believe Daddy would leave her and Mama for so long (even though he has no choice).

Jake has a couple days before he has to go and Eve has pretty much been giving him the silent treatment, thinking he certainly wouldn't leave her while she's upset. So she's grumpy and stubborn all the time, especially when Jake tries to pick her up from school or tuck her in at night, and no way will she let him hold her without throwing a fit and asking for Mama instead. 

Then it's like the night before he has to go. Jake's miserable because he thinks his daughter hates him though you tell him that's not true. And he's uncharacteristically terrified that something might happen to him, that he won't ever see Eve with a smile on her face the way he is so used to seeing his baby girl. 

You tell him to go try to talk to Eve one more time, so he goes upstairs to her playroom where she's playing with her toy planes, and he crouches down beside her and says "Baby girl, I'm so sorry." He tries to touch her shoulder but she scoots away and turns her back to him and Jake just sighs, drops his head, and whispers "I love you, baby girl. Always." Then kisses the top of the blond curls, the same honey shade has his own, and leaves to join you again. 

Immediately by the look on his face, you know your little girl did not cut her father any slack. And you're so heartbroken for the both of them (and yourself honestly, because Jake leaving destroys you each time). So you walk him to the door and he kisses you for what feels like forever. And you don't want to let him go but you know you don't have a choice, so you unwrap yourself from around him and let him grab his bag before he starts over to his truck. 

But then you hear little, rapid footsteps, and you turn to see Eve carefully holding the railing of the staircase, moving down as quickly as she can while still keeping in mind Jake's stair safety rules. Then, like a little speed demon, she sprints past you out the door, screams "Daddy!" in such a desperate wail, and runs right into his legs, clinging to him like a koala to a tree. 

Then you start sobbing because she's already sobbing and Jake's got tears on his cheeks as he drops his bag and lifts his daughter into his arms, holding her as tightly as she is him. And he's kissing her cheek and whispering in her ear, likely promises that he'll come back, because there's no way he won't do everything he can to return to his family. 

When he looks at you, you completely lose it, because your husband is leaving, and you and Eve are really going to have to be each other's support to get through the coming months. So you walk over to them and kiss him and hug him so Eve is squished between you. 

But then he has to go. He doesn't have a choice. And trying to remove Eve from him is as hard as prying a drilled in nail from a sturdy wall with only your fingernails. 

When he's gone, Eve pulls on your hand so you can watch his truck drive away. She won't leave until she can no longer see it—not that you would dare leave either—and when you do finally get her inside, you give her the special ice cream you bought in preparation for your hearts hurting. You feed her a big bowl, and you watch her, knowing this is her first true heartbreak; the first of more to come. 

At bedtime, you tuck her in beside you, because you don't want to be alone either. She manages to sleep, fully emotionally exhausted, but you just stare at her little face in the dim glow of the moonlight, and you run your knuckle over her cheek like you've done since she was born, and you promise your girl that you'll make it through this; after all, you'd both done it before, she was just too young to remember. 

Every day. Every single day, Eve mentions her Daddy. Asks about him or tells a story about him or promises that when he gets back she's going to take him to Disneyland "because he should get a surprise present when he comes home." You agree. 

When you get your first video chat with him, Eve is bouncing on your lap, waiting for his face to pop up. She tells him every little thing that's happened at school. Her best friend got a new doll and she wants the same one but only if it can also come with a pilot outfit. The butterflies they'd been taking care of in class were finally released. She tried to name them all after the Daggers but the teacher said the whole class had to agree on the names, which she thought was "stupid." You scold her for her language, but you're chuckling a bit too. Then she says her teacher is having a baby, and "when are you and Mama gonna have another baby?" She wants a brother. 

When you tell her to go play—really so you can get a few minutes alone with your husband—he asks about that baby boy too, and you promise when he comes home, you'll work on it (after the surprise trip to Disney, of course. Or maybe during). 

You tell him you love him so damn much. He tells you the same. 

You meet him when he comes back, and when Eve spots him, she rushes off, weaving through other families to get to him. You catch up and you're crying because they're stuck together like glue, and that's all you ever wanted for them. He sets his baby girl down for a moment to kiss you in a way that manages to scratch the surface of all the pent-up need you have for each other. Then he picks his baby girl back up, and you go home. 

You watch movies and eat ice cream and when it's bedtime, Jake tucks Eve in after about a half hour of her talking his ear off. He loves it though, because he loves her and he missed her sweet voice so much. 

Then he joins you and you work on releasing all of that pent-up need and desire. And you're just about to fall asleep in each other's arms when you whisper "by the way, Eve is taking us to Disneyland."

---

A/N: this was my manic brain spilling thoughts

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

[luveline]

would loveeee to see your version of jake!! maybe just something fluffy and domestic, sorry im leaving you to fill in the blanks so much bby ;; <3

thank you for your request lovely ♡ fem!reader

Jake does this thing whenever he sees you like he's trying not to smile —or eat you alive. 

Face desperate to stay impassive but eyes giving him away, his lips and the space just above his left brow twitch at the same time, and the pool cue he holds is swiftly given to a nearby friend. 

"Now what do we have here?" he asks, sizing you up shamelessly. 

You hide your own smile and turn from him. Predictably, Jake follows you from the pool table and toward the bar, where you open your purse for a rumpled ten, the warm summer air ruffling your layered skirt and the air con above battling to keep your cheeks cool. 

He covers your hand. "What's with you?" 

"What's with me?" you ask lightly. 

"Don't tell me you've been this pretty all your life and you still try buying your own drinks?" 

"I'm a big girl," you say, flagging down Penny for your usual. 

Jake, still predictable, declares it on him. Despite his insistence and his easy compliments, he doesn't look at you as Penny pours your drinks, eyes meandering lazily around the Hard Deck and its patrons like he hadn't just followed you up here. 

"I can pay for my own drink," you say. 

He still doesn't look at you, but his smile turns smarmy, almost, his tone wry, "Ah, but should you have to?" 

"Jake–" 

"A first name basis?" He nods at Penny in thanks as she finishes up. A prop for his derision, he picks up his drink and smirks at you from over the rim. "We're getting somewhere."

You place your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in the cup of your hand, relaxing each feature. You're as unashamed as he was to look at him, though for a different reason, cataloguing the little differences since you last saw him. His tanned cheeks apple the longer you look, and for the first time since this morning, he smiles at you genuinely. 

"Shit," he mutters through it, putting his drink down. "You know I can't handle it when you're looking at me like that, angel." 

"Almost like that's why I do it," you say softly. Your smile melds from contented to something with a little more excitement as Jake puts his hand on your waist a deliberate, slow placement, each finger in a specific set. Thumb pressing into soft tummy, pinky finger teasing the waistband of your skirt. "S'why I wore the skirt, too." 

He catches your lips for a sudden kiss. You laugh into his mouth, grabbing a handful of rigid, corded forearm muscle to stop him from getting too close. (You'd love for him to get closer, but you hope to be able to show your face here for the rest of your life.) 

"I win," you say, the tip of your nose bumping his as you break the kiss. 

"You win," he says. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, you know that?"

"So you could subject us to your weird foreplay just after dinner?" Fanboy asks, rocking up to the bar with Rooster beside him. 

"It's not foreplay," you say, mortified but quickly mollified when Rooster waves a hand. 

"He's kidding. Doesn't mean he isn't half right. Why do you guys do that?"

"What, pretend not to know each other?" you ask. 

Jake's arm moves from its risqué grasping of your waist to cover your back. He's not hulking but he's not a small man, you feel his presence behind you like a steadying, remarkably handsome constant. You've no trouble leaning against him with all your weight, your hair pressed to his shoulder. 

"You boys wouldn't understand," Jake says, arm curving around you like a seat belt locking into place. He gives your tummy a squeeze. You place your sandal clad heel on his boot as though that might scare him into behaving, and he likes you enough to pretend it does. 

"It's just fun." You reach for Jake's drink and take a sip, your own ignored and weeping condensation. "Keeps life interesting."

"'Cos I'm such a bore," Jake drawls, nosing behind the shell of your ear. 

You smile and huff a laugh through your nose as he shakes you from one side to another playfully. You're being downright disgusting in public, in broad daylight, but you're so in love you don't mind. It's not as if you're necking, anyways. Jake's just soft-handed when he wants to be, and with you, that's all the time. 

"You're the worst," you say. Your tone is honeyed enough that it's obvious from the first syllable that what you're saying isn't true. 

"I'll drink to that!" Rooster cheers, flagging Penny for another beer.

Jake ignores him. "I really do like the skirt, doll." 

"Thank you. I'm thinking I might get it in white." 

"Oh, yeah. I'd like to see that on you. Almost as much as I'd like taking it right fucking off of—" You step on his toes until he stops.

[bradshawed]

Sick Days & Cancelled Dates

summary — poor bobby passing the nasty bug onto you, meaning you lay in bed on a hot summer’s day. don’t worry, you won’t be alone, not for long…

warnings — jacob thomas seresin’s eyes, fluff, disgusting niceness, cooking, mentions of food, no use of y/n, slight tension, more nice stuff, it’s just a cute little one shot really

word count — 1k words

so i completely gave up on adding pictures to this one because i just wanted to get it published but i hope you get the gist. sorry that it took so bloody long to publish, i’ve been insanely busy but hopefully i can get some stuff out every once in a while. hope you all like it and feel free to lmk if you guys want sick jake or dagger squad too xx

the love olympics masterlist.

Waking up with a sore throat you’d instantly felt the telltale signs of a cold as you closed your eyes, laying back in bed with a dramatic groan. Who even gets a cold in summer?

Flashbacks flip through your mind as you roll onto your side burying yourself under the bedsheets, replaying the moment you delivered Bob, a very sick Bob, some homemade soup a couple of days ago. It had only been for a second and yet he’d somehow managed to pass the cold onto you. You still loved him but times like these you hated that Bob got ill so easily.

Falling back asleep, you decided was the best course of action, or it would’ve been if you hadn’t heard a pair of very familiar footsteps running up the staircase to your bedroom waking you up, not even half an hour later. It was definitely a terrible idea to give him a key.

Hiding in your duvet burrito, you grabbed a pillow and flung it in the general direction of the noise in your room, smiling when you heard a dramatic ‘ow’ when you made contact. It was definitely worth the sacrifice of your pillow and the extra comfort. Especially when he fell to the floor as if he’d been acting out a death scene in a play in high school, typical Jake. It did however, make you wonder if he could’ve been a theatre kid..maybe in another life. You smiled as you drifted off to sleep again with the thoughts of actor Jake in your mind.

Seresin, assessing the situation (poking at your body until you yelled at him to tell him to leave you alone because you were sick), decided to go back downstairs to make you something to eat. He had been greatly worried since you were late for the day out you’d planned together and hadn’t answered your phone so he called Bradley who told him to kindly leave him alone on his day off and reminded him to use the key you’d given Jake for emergencies. So that’s exactly what he did…

A couple of hours later, you shuffled downstairs, refusing to give up your burrito of warmth just yet, to meet a snoring Jake on your couch, Mamma Mia playing in the background. The delicious smell wafting from the kitchen made your stomach rumble but you felt bad eating without him so you jumped on top of his sleeping body on the couch, effectively waking him up.

In hindsight, you should’ve anticipated his reflexes grabbing hold of your body which had unraveled from the duvet, holding you closer to him than either of you expected.

“Morning,” you sent a soft reply back, far too flustered from the position you were both in as well as his morning voice. Jake’s hand reached up to move a couple of wild strands of hair away from your forehead as he checked your temperature with the back of his hand with a gentle hum on his voice, “still a little warm but better than before”. You nodded in reply, a little entranced by the flecks of gold in the green of his eyes.

Jake noticed. He always notices. Or more accurately, he always notices you. His grip on your body tightened ever so slightly as he let himself get lost in the moment before gently moving your body off his. He shook his head lightly, reminding himself that he was only here to outdo you on the dates and win (you over), nothing more, nothing less.

You took a minute to breathe, gaining your composure before following him into the kitchen where he began heating and plating up the food he’d prepared.

“So Chef Seresin, what have you prepared for me today?”

“Well Chef, today we’ve got a classic Seresin household Sick Day Soup, I can’t tell you the ingredients because it’s a secret recipe, if I tell you it won’t work. Oh and a cheese toastie made from that sourdough loaf from the market that you like.”

Your eyes widened at that because you definitely didn’t have a single slice of bread in your apartment until that moment so that must have meant that- you punched Jake in the arm, the ‘ow’ was justified for him being too nice and driving an hour to go to your favourite market. God the urge to kiss him or punch him again was getting harder by each passing second.

Jake, sensing some sort of inner turmoil within you chose to move himself to a slightly safer area by grabbing the dishes and moving them to the coffee table, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as he moved past you.

After you’d both eaten yourselves into a delicious food coma, and Jake had washed the dishes, much to your chagrin, you felt a wave of fatigue rush over you just as he’d appeared with a bunch of painkillers and cold medicine and a glass of water.

“Thank you for today, I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to-” you stopped yourself having seen the look in his eyes, “but thank you. I saw the picnic basket in the kitchen and I’m sorry for ruining your plans. We can still go out if you want, I feel so much better, plus I just took the medicine.”

He sighed sadly at that, you weren’t ruining anything, and Jake made sure to take the time to tell you that before carrying you up to your bedroom. He definitely didn’t have to do that but you honestly did not mind one bit.

Waking up a couple of hours later, you discovered a bouquet of flowers arranged in a vase in your kitchen, as well as a note in his flowy handwriting mentioning that dinner was in the oven waiting to be heated up. The huge smile on your face wasn’t going to disappear any time soon.

Good thing you got to return he favour the next day with Jake soon catching the bug along with the other aviators in quick succession after that.

tags — @waklman @sematarygirls @djs8891 @kmc1989 @dempy message/comment to be added to the tag list xx

[collecting-stories]

okay so i've never requested a platonic fic before, but if you're interested, i'd love to see a best friend!jake seresin x platonic!reader! i dunno anything fluff or just silliness with the guy :)

like when i think about being friends with him, i acknowledge 100% that he is a CertifiedPrettyBoy™ but he's just not my type 😭

but yeah, platonic!jake seresin x fem!reader please :)) i could see sarcasm thrown at him from reader and him spinning it into one of his flirting bits

I was super excited about this request because I'm ace and I love platonic/best friend fics so much.

-

"What do we need for fondue?" Jake asked, leaning against the basket of your shopping cart, flexing his arms when a woman walked passed, looking over at him and smiling. You rolled your eyes, you should have known that going shopping for game day would've been easier by yourself. Although you hated driving and Jake was always happy to drive. And brave the absolute headache that was Trader Joes on a Saturday. 

"Broccoli, some kind of bread, apples, sausage..." You read over the list that you had unfolded on top of a bag of bagels. You looked up from the list to see him looking behind him, still following the same woman, "Seresin, I swear to god-"

"I'm paying attention darling," he joked, turning back and smiling at you. 

"You are not paying attention," you replied, "but I will pretend that you are. What do you wanna get?" 

"Hmm," he hummed meaningfully before standing up straight, "broccoli, apples, sausage." 

"You just want me to have to go back over to the bread cause you know I hate that lady," you muttered.

"I think you come here too often if you have a literal vendetta against a woman stocking shelves," he replied, "but also, I saw the guy with the kids headed to the veggies and I don't want you to commit murder over a bag of tiny trees."

"A true american hero Hangman," you laughed, turning the cart in the opposite direction.

The first time you met Jake Seresin he'd been out with some friends at the bar you worked at and he'd laid on the charm, pleasantly surprised but unbothered that you weren't interested. From there, something of a strange friendship developed and eventually evolved into him moving in with you when he officially moved to the area and didn't wanna live on base. The whole thing worked out better than you ever imagined that it would, mostly because he was the first roommate you didn't actively hate. You even did things you weren't entirely excited to do, like host Super Bowl parties for his friends. 

"Look at this!" Jake interrupted your stare down with the bread shelves, trying to decide between the ciabatta and the french loaves. When you turned he was holding a chocolate cake shaped like a heart, "for Valentines."

"I have a date," you reminded him.

"On Valentines?" He asked, looking down at the cake and then back at you.

"Yeah remember, I told you? I literally put it on the calendar." 

"Then we can have it the day before." He insisted, putting it in the cart.

"On Galentine's day?"

"More like Pal-entines day."

"Ehh," you cringed and laughed when he rolled his eyes at you. "Did you get everything?"

"Yeah, and that girl's number too," he smiled, waving his phone at you.

"Naturally," you replied, "hey maybe you can share the cake with her."

Jake shook his head, "first date on Valentines? Yikes," he said and then, "you aren't going on a first date on Valentines are you?"

"No...it's like our third date." You replied, "I've literally detailed both previous dates."

"Yeah and you still haven't told me, your nearest and dearest friend, who it is you're going out with," Jake pointed out. He was right, obviously. You hadn't mentioned who you had been dating. You were usually too transparent with each other and you wanted to tell him it was just that...it was someone he knew and if things didn't go well or fizzled out or anything, you didn't want Jake to feel like he needed to get involved. You loved him and he was your best friend but sometimes he went into older brother mode and you didn't need him thinking he needed to fix something or move something along that didn't need to be fixed or moved along. 

"I will...but not right now, when we're supposed to be grocery shopping," you replied. 

Jake stuck his tongue out at you and grabbed the grocery list from the cart, scanning over the items you hadn't crossed out yet, "does this guy like football?"

"Why would that matter?" You asked, grabbing the ciabatta bread finally and putting it in your cart, "I don't like football."

"Don't like football?" He practically laughed out loud as he said it, "darling you were literally screaming at the TV during play-offs." 

"Um," you dragged out the 'm' as you shot him a skeptical look, feigning disbelief at his claim, "I don't remember that."

"I definitely remember that. Coyote as my witness, I have never seen someone that excited about football outside my dad," he replied. "Hey, it's not Coyote is it?"

"What's not Coyote?" 

"This guy you're dating."

"It is not Coyote," you replied, "I promise you will be the first to know if I feel like it's definitely going somewhere...and it won't be Coyote."

"Just checking." 

You rolled your eyes, taking back the grocery list from him, "grocery shopping Hangman, grocery shopping." 

[fragileruns]

guys please send in more requests for rooster, hangman && peter parker plsplspls. it doesn’t have to be for the speak now tv event, i just want to write for them SO BAD!!!! au’s or regular requests are fine <33

[ddejavvu]

m.list - jake 'hangman' seresin

thoughts: #let's talk about hangman !!

fics:

spring fling (series)

hungman

pizza box puzzle pieces

sun-kissed

blurbs:

rooster x reader x hangman | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

surprising jake for christmas

outlaw!hangman

living on a ranch with hangman

being feral for hangman

jake + clingy!reader

personal trainer!jake

vampire!hangman

hangman + casual dominance

hangman's dirty talk

waxing jake's chest

jake's skincare routine is longer than your own

jealous!hangman

hangman is shy around you | 2

hangman likes proving you're his

hangman + rivals to lovers

dbf!hangman | 2 | 3

drunk!hangman

jake x pregnant!reader

jake x bradshaw!reader

showering with jake

the dagger squad as mechanics

cuddling with the top gun pilots

jake with a secret wife

whipped!hangman

jake x shy!reader

booktok with husband!hangman

jake buying you flowers

bathing with jake

hangman x florist!reader

hangman's gf has a bonfire with the dagger squad

hangman comforts you after a botched haircut

top gun x criminal minds crossover

ceo!hangman

hangman corrals his drunk girlfriend

you wear jake's cowboy hat

hangman + dumbification

hangman doesn't recognize you with your new hair

hooking up with hangman

jake lets you into the bar's bathroom

jake taking you in the locker room

you're hangman's girl

decorating jake's car

asking jake to leave while you change

hangman alphabet: N O P

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Congrats on 5K!!! You deserve it!!!!!!

Would you ever write about BBF jake and Baby B meeting? When did they meet? How did they meet? What was it like? Did they like the other right away? If you are planning in addressing this in the main story, or just don’t want to write it, please feel free to ignore this :)

Thank you babe! Yay a BBF request!! I always imagined them meeting when Bradley and Jake were in high school and Baby B was maybe 3 or so years behind. I think that, even though he likely wasn't physically attracted to her at first, Jake immediately found her to be interesting. Basically, she very quickly became someone he admired and respected. So, without further ado, here you go. Hope you enjoy!

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - How They Met

Jake Seresin x Reader

You’re sitting with your brand new, middle school boyfriend on your brand new, middle school bed spread that’s recently replaced your Little Mermaid quilt. You’ve got NSYNC posters all over your walls and you’re very proud of the overall aesthetic you’ve created in your room. Your personal space, which, like always, is rudely infiltrated by your annoying brother the moment he gets home from school.

A sudden crash – Bradley bodychecking your door – makes you and your boyfriend jump apart in a panic even though all you were doing was holding hands. The next moment, Bradley waltzes into your room without even a knock.

“Door stays open, remember?” he reminds you with a shake of his head, giving your brand new boyfriend a dirty look.

“Get out!” you yell, throwing a stuffed dinosaur at his head.

Bradley ducks and the dinosaur lands in the hands of the dreamiest guy you’ve ever seen. Obviously, this is a new friend of Bradley’s, because you would’ve remembered seeing that face before. He enters your bedroom after Bradley, looking around with a smirk. The guy is gorgeous, of course; he’s in high school, unlike your brand new middle school boyfriend.

You glare at the two of them. “Newsflash: this isn’t a public park. You can’t just barge in here with your friends.”

“I wouldn’t have to barge in here if you kept your door open like you’re supposed to,” Bradley says, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Ever heard of privacy?” you bite back grumpily, heading straight for your brother and shoving him back the way he came. “We’re busy.”

“Doing what?!” Bradley exclaims with a laugh as you push him and his friend out the door.

You give your brother a withering look. “Doing it, obviously. Not to mention all the drugs.”

Bradley’s cute friend snorts trying to hold back a laugh while Bradley stares at you in outrage. “Door open,” he warns, backing away and then heading to his own room down the hall.

His friend lingers at your door for another moment, watching you with amusement. He glances over your shoulder at your brand new boyfriend before looking back down at you. “Meth?” he asks casually.

You blink at him in surprise. Is Bradley’s smoking hot high school friend joking? With you? “Well, yeah,” you respond with a completely straight face. Humor is, thankfully, one of your strong suits.

“Jake, you coming?” Bradley calls. “I found the tabs, man.” He’s waving around his acoustic guitar in the doorway to his room.

Jake nods at Bradley and then glances back at you. “Take it easy, Baby Bradshaw,” he says.

“Actually, it’s - ” but Jake walks away before you get to tell him your name.

5k Celly

[tw1sters]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ husband? never heard of him.

When Jake stumbles into your office attempting to flirt with you, all you can do is humor the fact that your husband seems to have forgotten you.

▸ PAIRING: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Wife!Reader ▸ WARNINGS: Pure fluff, slight amnesia, injured Jake, sexual jokes ▸ WORD COUNT: 1.6K ▸ A/N: wrote a quick small idea because i love a good secret relationship and a flirty hangman

The crash outside piques your curiosity. You abandon the latest report you’re working on and get up to swing open your door right on time for a certain blonde aviator to spill into the infirmary. Jake barging into your office is not news; he barges in probably more than he really should, particularly when you’re with patients.

“Boundaries” becomes the most used word in your relationship. 

Only thing is, this time, he’s looking at you with big, surprised eyes. The tinges of blue around his emerald eyes are even more prominent when they’re blown up. “Who allowed you to look this good, Doc,” he says with a swagger in his step, eyes droopy now as he leans against the doorframe. 

Before you can question him, Rooster walks through the door, a pitying look at Jake. “He’s on the good stuff. Maybe too much of it.” You quirk an eyebrow. “Sedatives.”

Your eyes dart briefly to Jake who is still eyeing you with interest but now he has taken over your chair, propping his chin up on his palm with his elbow on your desk. That smug smile, albeit a little sleepier, is still plastered across his face. 

“He crashed earlier–” The smile wipes off your face quickly and Rooster instantly adds, “Nothing big, managed to get out, but he landed wrong cause he ejected too close to the ground. We had to take him to the hospital. Most of it’s around his ribs, but he’s okay.” 

Drifting over to Jake, you cup his face and tilt him to look up at you. While he’s busy giving you dark, flirty glances, you are checking him for any signs of permanent damage. He has a few scratches on his face, you notice now the new band-aid he’s sporting on his cheek. 

You’re on your knees then and you’re slowly unbuttoning his uniform. If he’s really injured here, he should probably be wearing something more breathable. You remember he packed an extra short-sleeved shirt this morning. 

“Whoa, at least take me out to dinner first,” Jake teases, which earns a roll of your eyes. 

“Told his dumb ass he should be going straight home but he insisted on making a pit stop here. Something about getting a second look. He might’ve also said something along the lines of visiting the pretty doctor.” Your eyes snap up to Rooster, who holds his hands up in defense. “His words, not mine.”

Humored, you look at him playfully, accusingly. “So you don’t think I’m pretty?”

“That’s not what I said!” Rooster immediately replies, face flushing crimson. “Anyways, before I dig a deeper hole for myself, I’m going to leave him in your very capable hands. Whenever he’s done, one of the guys can drop him off at home.”

“I’m going to wrap up soon so I've got him, don’t worry.”

“You got his address?”

You fight to keep a straight face. “Yeah, it’s on his records.”

“Awesome, thanks, Doc. See you tomorrow.” With that, Rooster makes his exit, the door slamming shut behind him.

You wait a moment and thank the heavens that Jake has the false reputation of being an incorrigible flirt. That will hopefully throw off any suspicion of your relationship. 

When you know you’re in the clear, you inspect Jake a little more closely. There are bandages wrapped around his abdomen and you wonder how severe the accident was if they had to give him sedatives. Then again, it’s entirely possible that Jake was being a little bitch and they gave it to him just to shut his mouth.

Aside from the minor injuries, he seems to be in pretty good shape. Physically at least.

Mentally – you look up at him and he’s still smiling stupidly at you – he’s perhaps not quite there yet.

“Jake, honey, I’m going to need to move you to the bed.”

“So soon?” His eyes blow up comically before the expression falls away to a confident grin. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

A disgruntled sigh slips past your lips. Even when he’s drugged up, he still manages to be insufferable. You position his arm around your shoulders and slowly help him to his feet. Jake leans his weight on you, but more so because he really likes being this close to you. The man is heavy to say the least. All six feet of him. You lead him carefully towards the infirmary bed with him nuzzling into your hair the entire time. 

He hums thoughtfully and grins against the side of your head. His hot breath tickles your neck right as you plop him on top of the comforter. He avidly refuses to lie down, instead scooching his way in until he’s sat with his back against the wall. 

Jake turns to you, grinning smugly with teeth in full view.

“Damn, darlin’, you smell so good. Do you have a boyfriend?”

You’re just sitting down on the edge of the bed when you hear it and freeze. “Come again?”

“Sweetheart, we haven’t even come once,” Jake retorts, seeming all too pleased with his joke. The ‘we’ is cute, very considerate of him to include both of you in the conversation. However, you’re too distracted by his question. 

“You’re asking me if I have a boyfriend.” You repeat, incredulous. 

Jake nods aggressively, likely jumbling his head even worse. 

A smile tilts the corner of your lips. You raise your left hand, showing him the back of it. “I’m married actually.”

“Married?” He gasps, completely aghast. He looks crestfallen and then stares at the ring in annoyance. “I mean, of course, you’d be married. You’re so smart, and so pretty. You also embarrassed Rooster? God, you’re fuckin’ perfect. Who’s the lucky person? Do I know them? Are they on base?”

“You do know him, very well in fact. He is on base.”

A growl rises from his throat. “He better watch his back, I’ll get him if he even thinks about slipping once.”

“Really? How would you do that?”

“I could fight him.”

You chuckle. “Right, you’ll fight him. That might be a little hard.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s pretty tough. He’s tall. Very strong. Very handsome too.”

Jake scowls. “Alright, so he’s Mr. Perfect because you’re also perfect. Well, if I ever catch him not being perfect, I’m going to swoop in for the kill. Neither of you will ever see me coming.”

A grin stretches across his face at your laugh. “Good to know, Seresin. I’ll make sure to warn him.”

“Hm, so you’re really married,” Jake repeats again in a deep, disappointed sigh. He takes your left hand in both of his, looking down at the spectacular rock on your hand. He lets out a low whistle before he grimaces, realizing who he’s complimenting. 

Actually, not even realizing who he’s complimenting. 

“He did good, your husband.” Jake turns your hand, letting the diamond catch the sunlight. The facets sparkle, speckling the room with blinding polka dots. “Gorgeous ring for a gorgeous girl.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks. “Thank you.” You pause before dropping another bomb on him. “I should also probably tell you that you’re also married.”

Jake jerks back, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly he turns to look at you. “I am? To who? I think I’d know if I was married.”

“A very lucky woman.” 

“Well, shit.” Jake grunts. “Well, if I married her, then I’m sure she’s as perfect as you.”

“Probably more alike than you think,” you mutter under your breath. 

Jake is smiling at you softly and you see his eyes begin to close. His eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open. It’s as if he is striving to commit your face to memory. “I think I’m kinda sleepy, Doc.”

“Well, you best get your rest then.” 

“When I wake up, if you happen to be single, you let me know right away. Or even before I wake up, that might just do the trick.”

“You got it, Hangman.”

–

“I had the strangest dream,” Jake tells you on your drive home. 

He’s in the passenger seat, his head still spinning a little from the heavy slumber. He had woken up when everyone else was long gone and found you flipping through your novel, waiting for him. He didn’t seem to remember what happened just an hour prior, so you let it play out, told him he just slept the entire time. 

“Hm, what about?”

“I was flirting with this woman,” he says, sounding even more confused than you should be. “I promise, sweetheart, I’d never hit on anyone else. I haven’t hit on anyone else, not since that time I flirted with you when you first joined.” 

You hide your smile, focusing instead on the road. “Yeah, was she pretty?”

Clearly, a part of him does think so because he hesitates before responding. “Would you be upset if I said she was? I can’t even remember her face. I just remember thinking she was so fuckin’ stunning.” 

“Should I be concerned about this fictional woman?” 

“Definitely not,” Jake scoffs, crossing his arms over your chest. “Dream woman could never compare to you. The real deal.” 

You let out a little mm-hmm as you pull out something from your pocket. His dog tag dangles from your hand, glimmering right next to the wedding band he keeps around his neck. “Rooster gave it to me before he left. Said you dropped it in your landing.”

He gratefully accepts the necklace and clasps it around his neck. “Thank you, did he ask about the–you know.” 

“You mean your wedding ring? The one you’ve been wearing since you married me a year ago? The one you keep secret from your squadmates because no one knows you’re married and you let them believe you’re still a cocky, unbearable flirt?” 

Jake laughs. “That’s the one.”

“Yes.”

“And what did you say?”

You smirk, “Told him it was a purity ring.”

“Darlin’,” he groans, “I have a reputation to maintain.”

divider credit: @cursed-carmine

[hardballoonlove]

🥰🥵🤣

I've been thinking about honeymoon sex with Jake. How he refers to you as Mrs. Seresin every chance he gets and praises you for being such a good wife when you come on his cock

abby why must you do this to me? why must you make me thirst ever so much more for this stupid man? i love you 🌻 Jake x wife!reader; 18+ only; suggestive language and the lead up to filthy smut; not edited I am tired

You’d seen the muscles in Jake’s jaw tick when the hotel concierge had finished checking you into your suite with a warm smile and a please enjoy your stay and let us know if there’s anyway we can be of assistance, Mr. and Mrs. Seresin.

It’s almost amusing, the way Jake’s darkening green eyes watch as the elevator buttons light up one by one, his foot impatiently tapping as you both wait to be delivered to the suite on the tenth floor of the Hawaiian resort Jake had spared no cost in securing for your honeymoon.

“Tired?” Your question is innocent, your hand coming to rest gently on Jake’s bicep where it emerges from his fitted t-shirt. He quirks and eyebrow at you in response and you offer the sweetest smile you can muster. “You just seem eager to get to the room,” you continue, withdrawing your touch as the elevator doors begin to slide open on your floor. “I know you can never sleep on planes, so…”

Your teasing is cut off by Jake firmly planting a palm on your ass, a teasing smack as he steers you out of the elevator, your luggage already waiting by the door of your room.

“You think you’re mighty cute, huh Mrs. Seresin?”

Ah, so that’s what’s got him so hot and bothered. The idea of Jake being turned on by the fact that you’re his wife now makes your thighs tremble in anticipation. Nothing’s changed, not really. You still love each other the same as before you both signed that slip of paper and then fucked in the bathroom of the bridal suite while Jake tried not to tear your wedding dress. Still, you know Jake and you know his family and, despite how different he is from most of them, you know that as an eldest son from a pretty conservative Texan family, there’s something about the word wife that makes Jake feral.

“You tell me, baby,” you reply coyly, “You married me. You must think I’m adorable.”

Jake growls, fumbling to throw open the door while keeping a hand on you, his grip already rough through the denim on your shorts. “Super fuckin’ adorable,” he concedes, his accent coming out in a stronger than usual lilt, “Especially when you’re falling apart on my cock.”

You suck in a little gasp as you help Jake kick the luggage into the entryway of the suite and another, louder gasp that morphs into a giggle as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder, the door slamming shut behind the two of you.

“Tell me what you want,” Jake whispers as he releases you onto the bed, looking down at you with wide and pleading eyes. You swallow thickly, suddenly lost in his gaze.

“I want,” you manage to rasp out, “I want my husband to fuck me until I forget everything but my name.”

Jake leans over you, places a jarringly chaste kiss on your lips. “And what’s your name, baby?”

“Mrs. Seresin.”

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Six) (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: 8.3k / navigation / inbox / summer of series

A/N: another very late installment! I am really, truly sorry that it has taken me this long to update this series. it's very near and dear to my heart but unfortunately I was just having a very hard time with my life and there wasn't much motivation for me to write anything. but i'm back and better than ever, and you can check out my 'summer of series' to see more upcoming content! thank you to those who waited, and welcome to any new readers <3 this is our longest chapter yet :o

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Plowing through pizza has never been easier than it is now, because you’re so intent on stuffing your mouth full to impede your ability to answer prying questions that your lunch is gone in a matter of minutes. You consider swiping from Jake’s plate considering he’s taken at least ten percent of your lunch every day for as long as you’ve known him, but reciprocating any of this ‘love’ that Danica deludes may not work in your favor. 

You’re left to sit awkwardly back in your chair, no food to eat while the rest of your companions finish theirs at a reasonable pace. 

It’s noticeable, because everyone else is still making their way through pizza that’s thinner and stiffer than it should be, but not altogether bad. Jake and Daniel both side-eye you, but Daniel shifts forwards as he notices pizza sauce smeared over your cheek.

“Y/N, you’ve got-”

“I got it.” Jake cuts in, reaching out and nearly smacking you in the jaw in an effort to get his thumb over the stain. You jerk away, startled, but Jake already has red sauce on the pad of his thumb that he’s offering to you like you’re going to suck it off.

“Want it?” He grins, and your lips remain firmly sealed as you shake your head no.

“Fine, picky.” Jake shrugs, raising his hand to his mouth and taking his thumb between his lips himself. You watch as he sucks the pizza sauce off of his finger for longer than he needs to, eyes fixed so intently on yours that you’re almost certain he would rather be licking it directly off of your cheek.

You’re glad he hadn’t- you’d have smacked him with how wound up you are. You feel like a prey animal, cornered and shaking with nerves that could morph into aggression at a moment’s notice.

You turn back to your empty plate, ignoring the way that Jake tips a half-eaten piece of pizza your way.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about cooties.” Jake raises a brow, “We accidentally used the same towel once after the beach.”

“And I showered twice when I got home to clean myself.” You recall the incident with grave resignation, remembering the look on Phoenix’s face when she’d spotted the sherbet stain on the corner of the towel you were wearing, one that Jake had put there earlier, just after his own shower. You’re not surprised he’s still bringing it up- just one more thing to needle you with, but you wish he wouldn’t.

“More for me.” He acquiesces, voice almost awkward before he takes another bite, and you look at Danica to see if she’s noticed only to find that she’s staring hard at Jake already.

Interesting.

You don’t know how to fill awkward silences with Jake, because there almost never are any. You’re too used to his loud, brash voice that once he gives in and rolls over, a sight you’ve rarely ever seen before, you feel unequipped to talk. You don’t talk to Jake- or you barely ever do, you mostly quip. And tease, and jab, and rib, and mock. Everything’s a dogfight with him, and the first to run out of bullets crashes and burns.

Jake’s not the type to crash and burn.

“I’m done.” Daniel leans back in his chair, a hand slung lazily over his stomach, “I think cruises are bad for me. I always overeat.”

“We could walk,” Danica suggests, “There’s some shops a few decks above us.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about the shops,” You scoff, feeling Jake’s shit-eating grin despite refusing to look at him, “I’m not interested, thank you.”

You expect pushback from Jake, but what you don’t expect is Danica, who seems to be making it her sacred mission to force you out of your comfort zone.

“Oh, come on. Please? You can shop with me.” She promises, reaching out a hand adorned with a delicate golden bracelet, “We can leave the boys behind.”

You’re still wary about her insistence into butting into your rivalry with Jake, but you wonder if perhaps she doesn’t want to be alone with Daniel the same way you don’t want to be alone with Jake. Maybe there’s pressure there that she can’t handle, or maybe there’s not and she doesn’t want to face the implications. 

You’d think signing up for a sex cruise would really take the emotional turmoil out of having sex.

“They’ll kill each other,” you take her hand, letting her squeeze yours tight, “And we can’t get new roommates so that’d really take the fun out of the whole sex cruise thing.”

“We can start at the candy shop,” She grins, tugging you to your feet, “I owe my niece some gummy bears.”

Danica reaches for her purse, a sweet baby blue over-the-shoulder bag that Daniel gently pushes her hand away from.

“I’ve got it.” He offers, smiling up at the both of you, “You two just have fun browsing and I can hold whatever you get.”

There’s an unmistakable grin on Danica’s face that she turns around to hide, something akin to a giddy schoolgirl at Daniel’s chivalry. It’s sweet, admittedly, but what’s less sweet is the way that Jake makes a grab for your own bag, already hooked over your shoulder.

“Gimme that.”

“What- no!” You scoff, stumbling backwards to avoid his grip, “That’s my bag!”

“I’m trying to carry it for you.” Jake insists, as stubborn as a mule, “Let go!”

“You’re mugging me!” You shriek, dragging Danica along with you when you finally wriggle out of his grip and making a mad dash for other side of the deck, “Danica, if we can make it to the stairs we can push him overboard!”

She giggles as you two run across the deck, probably something you shouldn’t be doing considering you’re poolside and adults, but something you do giddily anyways. Daniel and Jake jog to keep up, and neither wants to be around each other, but both want to be first to reach you. This means they keep pace, and when you pass a netted-in basketball court, your head turns to watch the players.

They’re nice to ogle. There’s men and women, but your eyes are drawn towards a particularly muscled man, tall and thick around the arms and thighs. He has your attention until he fully misses a shot, feet away from the basket, and you and Danica cringe in unison.

“He had me until that throw.” Danica admits, trying not to laugh so as not to attract any attention and hurt the man’s feelings, “Can you boys do better than that?”

It’s such clear bait that you assume both men will scoff at her, tease her for wanting to see their sweaty muscles and continue towards the interior door. Instead, Danica’s purse is handed rather unceremoniously back to her and Jake strips of his shirt. He doesn’t need to, but he does. Of course.

“I can run laps around him.” Jake vows, beelining for the entrance to the court while Daniel takes his flip-flops off for better leverage.

“Just sit and watch.” Daniel grins, pointing towards benches opposite the court, “Get some sun, and we’ll show you how it’s really done.”

“Men are dumb,” You sigh, watching the two you’re stuck with integrate themselves into the game already going, “They couldn’t tell that was on purpose?”

“Jake wants to show off for you. And Daniel, too.”

“They wants to show off for you, too.” You level her with a look that’s half exasperated, half self-conscious, “I’m not- I’m not trying to steal him away from you. Daniel, that is. You can have Jake- no returns.”

Danica grins, her smile glowing, “I’m not angry that Daniel likes you. I like you too. I just think you’re stupid.”

“Thank you.” You nod, hoping the conversation ends there. You turn towards the court, trying to track Daniel’s movement among the crowd, but latching onto Jake instead. He towers over most of the men on the court, and with his military muscles, most of them have no chance.

“I’m- sorry. For pushing. I just think,” Her voice takes on a wistful note, “I think you two could really be soulmates if you tried.”

“Soulmates don’t try,” You laugh, “That’s the whole point. They’re intrinsically made for each other. Perfect from the get-go.”

“You are made perfect for each other. You’re just acting stupid.” She clarifies, “You’re both stubborn, but that means you’ll match wits with him. He wouldn’t want someone who just gives in every time.”

“That’s certainly what he’s wanted in the past,” You scoff, “Woman after woman after woman who doesn’t bother to save herself from the most obviously sleazy pilot in the bar.”

“That’s why he never sees them again,” She nods, “Because they only satisfied him short-term. Men mature slower than women, did you know that? They’re still figuring things out, bless them. I think he’s starting to realize that hookups aren’t sustainable, and that he wants something long-term. And that’s not to say you can’t resent his dating history,” Danica gives you a meaningful glance, “I can understand why you would be slow to trust him. But he’s trying. He backed off at lunch, right?”

“Right before he tried to steal my purse.” You grumble, despite knowing she’s right. But still, attributing his uncharacteristic lack of an argument to love- that’s a notion you don’t want to even begin digesting.

“Men are dumb.” She reminds you, “I think he’s trying to show you that he’s changed, and that his ideals have too. You just need to let him. Give him a chance.”

“I’ve given him plenty of chances before,” You sigh, world-weary as you watch Daniel snake the ball from Jake, “How many is too many?”

“You might not know until you get hurt.” Danica levels with you, placing her hand atop yours once more, “But you won’t know how many it takes to work, either. Just- be casual.”

“Casual.” You raise a brow at her, “With Jake? He’s incapable of being casual about anything. Even when he tries you can see the muscles in his neck about to pop.”

“Yeah, I saw him almost jump Daniel in the pool.” She admits, watching as Jake slam-dunks the ball despite three pairs of hands clawing at him, attempting to slow or stop him, “Has he ever started a fistfight before?”

“He’s not- mean. Not like that, not- he’s classy, I guess.” It’s a word you wouldn’t normally attribute to Jake, but he doesn’t go around starting fights like a teenage boy, “He swears up and down he’s a southern gentleman.”

“A gentleman!” Danica laughs, “A gentleman who was staring at your ass in that bathing suit, earlier.”

“I figured. Whatever,” You shrug, “I chose it because it makes my ass look nice. It’s not Jake’s fault we ran into each other, I guess.”

“That’s why I’m sure you’re soulmates,” Danica confesses, “The same cabin, on the same sex cruise? And you hate each other? I see some sweet, sweet angry sex in your future.”

You laugh, despite yourself. You let yourself get carried away in girly giggles, and seeing the warmth in her expression makes a twinge of guilt flare up in your chest about the way you’d snapped at her earlier.

“Hey, I’m- sorry. I’m really sorry for freaking out on you earlier, Danica.” You murmur, eyes downcast as your smile fades, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, if I did.”

“It’s okay.” Despite the way your face had dropped, hers only grows more tender, “I understand. Like I said, I shouldn’t have pushed. But I hope you know I’m not trying to make your life harder. I suppose I don’t have any business butting in, I just see two people that are afraid to be vulnerable around each other despite maybe having the capacity to love each other for eternity.”

You glare at her from beneath your lashes, and she throws up her hands in mock-surrender, “I said maybe!”

“Eternity is a long time.” You muse, focusing again on the basketball scrimmage happening before you. The nets blur your vision, but it’s clear that the men are working up a sweat. Jake makes another basket, and you notice desperation in the way that Daniel lunges for it after it falls.

It’s not his fault- navy men just do it better.

“That’s why destiny gave you a free trial.” Danica grins, “This week, you don’t have to wear your heart on your sleeve. He won’t, either. Just- be casual, like I said. Be receptive, I’m not asking you to fall all over him, just- watch him. Notice him. Look at what he does and think about why he does it. Yes, he did try to liberate your purse from your shoulder earlier like he was getting at your wallet. But he did it because Daniel did it for me much more gracefully a few seconds before. He’s trying simple things: sharing food, holding bags-” She grins conspiratorially at you, “Five bucks says he’ll try to hold the door for you when we go inside later. He’s testing the waters, okay? He’s trying to change, but like I said before, he’s afraid of being vulnerable around you just the same as you are around him, even if he doesn’t seem like it.”

“How do you know all of this?” You ask her, eyes narrowed as you study her from across the bench, “Are you some sort of all-seeing eye?”

“I asked him,” She blinks, simple as that, “And I’m not going to share everything he said, because I think it’ll come better from him, but I can at least tell you with one-hundred percent certainty that he’s trying. Just- be gentle with him, okay? Let him try.”

“He can try,” Your voice is weak as you watch Jake sink a third shot, “But I can’t guarantee I’ll care.”

“That’s okay. You’re afraid of him hurting you, he’s afraid he’s already hurt you too much. If you don’t want to be with him, that’s fair. Just give him one more chance.”

“One more.” You sigh, “But not for him. For you.”

“I’m glad I met you, Y/N,” Danica smiles, standing from the bench and offering you a hand, “Now, let’s get them out of there before they start punching each other.”

Jake and Daniel are, in fact, facing off. Daniel shoves roughly at Jake’s chest but he stands shorter than his opponent, so it looks almost comical when Jake doesn’t move an inch. His strong thighs keep him steady, and his eyes blaze with a challenge.

“Jake!” You call, but both heads turn your way, “Guys- let’s go shopping.”

“Fine.” Daniel grunts, elbowing past Jake towards the entrance to the court. You’re sure Jake has thoroughly gotten on his nerves- you know the feeling, but something about the way his tensed muscles make him look like a coiled spring makes you gravitate towards Jake instead.

“What did you do to him? He looks like he might punch someone in the face.”

“Yeah, me.” Jake redresses himself, fixing the asymmetrical waistband of his shorts and putting his shirt back into place, “He’s just mad he’s too short to dunk.”

“Poor Danica.” You hum as Daniel stalks three steps ahead of her, “I’m gonna walk with her.”

Jake doesn’t provide any arguments when you rush to catch up with your newfound friend.

“Men are scary when they’re angry.” You nudge your side against hers, speaking in a hushed whisper “Did he say anything to you?”

“No, but he’s sure not offering to hold my purse anymore,” Danica grins, “Men are so dramatic.”

“It’s part of our charm, ladies.” Jake pushes between you, gentler than Daniel would have done in his angered state, “And it seems Danny-boy has neglected his manly duties, so I’ll take this,” Jake plucks Danica’s purse carefully off of her shoulder, “And can I please hold your bag too, princess?”

“Thank you for not tackling me this time,” You glare at Jake, letting him sling your tote over the same shoulder Danica’s bag hangs from, “See? When you’re nice to women they like you.”

“Some of ‘em like me mean.” Jake shrugs, “But you lure more flies with honey, I guess..”

Jake watches Daniel push his way through the doors, and makes a grand gesture out of catching them before they can close and holding them open for the pair of you.

You owe Danica five bucks.

“After you, ladies.” Jake says, loud enough for Daniel to hear. It only tightens the muscles in his shoulders, and it makes you slow your pace, putting even more distance between you and him. 

Jake doesn’t realize until he’s already slamming into you from behind, and he steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, “Woah! Sorry. I thought you’d be beelining for the sex shop. What’s the holdup?”

Danica shoots him a lethal glare over her shoulder, and tugs you closer to her side.

“We are beelining for the sex shop,” She announces, and Daniel seems to remember he has company as he slows down, chest heaving with adrenaline, or rage, or indignance, or whatever Jake has injected into his veins, “We are going to have a lingerie fashion show and there are no boys allowed.”

“No, come on! I can squeeze in the dressing room with you guys! I’ll fit!” Jake protests, but you level him with a stern glare.

“If you come into the dressing room, you’re putting on a thong.” You warn him, but nothing can rattle Jake Seresin.

“No part of me would fit in a thong,” Jake declares, herding you all towards the elevators, “Front, back, wherever- I’ve got too much goin’ on down there.”

“A bra, then.” You counter, walking backwards into the empty elevator and letting your back hit the wall, “You’ve got a bigger chest than I do.”

“If that’s what tickles your fancy,” Jake shrugs, your bag and Danica’s pressed against the wall of the elevator as he plants himself opposite you, faced away from the doors, “Everybody’s got their thing. If yours is me in a bra, so be it.”

Danica giggles. Daniel presses the button for the floor that you need.

“I’d send it to the rest of the daggers.” You threaten, hearing the doors slide shut behind Jake, “Rooster would show Mav. Phoenix would obliterate you.”

“Don’t spread it around, it’s for your eyes only.” Jake scoffs as the elevator begins its ascent, “Keep it in your spank bank, Y/N.”

Instead of lifting five floors, the elevator only moves one. The doors open again, and Daniel groans almost inaudibly at the sight he’s met with. You peer around Jake’s side to see- a lot of people. There’s a lot of people trying to board the elevator, and you pair off, parting like the red sea to fit them in.

Danica slides over to Daniel’s side, who squishes himself into the corner closest to the buttons, offering to press them for the new passengers. Jake steps closer to you, caging you into your own corner.

He raises his brows, clearly suggestive, but you know he’s teasing. That’s the thing about Jake- his constant teasing irritates you, but you know it’s just that. Teasing. He’s kidding, which is why you roll your eyes when he presses himself flush against your body.

“O-kay. Do we really need to be this close?” You ask, but chancing a glance around his shoulder reveals that, yes, you do. You’re sure he’s shimmied closer on purpose, but the woman backed up against him hasn’t given him much of a choice either.

“Does this remind you of anything?” Jake murmurs under his breath, as the elevator doors scrape closed and you begin another ascent, hopefully four floors this time, “A certain tryst with a certain bearded man yesterday?”

“He wasn’t stepping on my toes,” You glance downwards, “And I wanted to kiss him.”

“Ouch.” Jake huffs, but he shuffles his feet backwards off of yours, “What are you really gonna look at in the sex shop?”

Be vulnerable. Danica’s voice echoes in your head, as dramatically as she’d been hoping, He’s trying, be open, be casual, let him.

“Maybe just a vibrator or something.” You mumble, taking care to keep your voice between the two of you even if it’s an adults-only environment, and meeting his eye with honesty you don’t often showcase around Jake, “I can’t say I really need anything but it’d be nice to browse, I guess.”

He nods, slow and attentive, taken aback because he’s just as new to listening as you are to conversing.

When you finally, painstakingly make your way up four floors of passengers trying to squeeze on and off every second, Jake lets you and Danica exit the elevator first. It had been uncomfortable, but convenient when Daniel was storming ahead of you- he and Jake had been kept apart, but now the two nearly bump shoulders again as they trail behind you.

Their array of shops is, admittedly, impressive at first glance, considering you’re in the middle of the ocean. You take pictures of the glittering lights to have as keepsakes, but far away from any cell service, you can’t show them off to your friends just yet.

“Gummy bears,” Danica reminds you, before you can wander off into whatever store catches your fancy, “You can get duty-free booze later, for now let me make sure my niece won’t kill me for coming back empty-handed.”

She pulls you towards the candy shop, and any doubts you’d had about a fanciful confectionary on board an all-adults ship disappear when you step inside.

There’s sex candy. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, because even an ice sculpture you’d spotted from across the deck earlier was shaped into a male torso with well-defined abs. There’s gummy candies in the shape of genitals, there’s chocolates meant to throw you into a hormone-fueled sex craze, there’s flavored condoms, there’s candy lingerie. 

There’s a very small section of actual candy, but it’s where you and Danica have to look for her niece’s gummy bears.

“These are fine,” She eyes the package warily, “There’s nothing adult I’m missing about these, is there?”

“No penises.” You promise, looking over the matte-plastic bag to ensure that even the patterning isn’t crude, “But I think it’s just about the only thing in there without them.”

“Y/N! Look at these!” Jake calls, proving your point when he holds up phallic lollipops, “Dick suckers!”

You suppose if there were ever a time and a place to shout that across a store, it’s here and now. But that doesn’t mean you don’t still cringe, and you duck behind Danica to examine a package on a low shelf, near the corner of the store.

It’s those sex chocolates you’ve seen advertised online, in greatly-exaggerated tiktok videos or tweets. All of the posts you’ve seen about them have been sponsored by the company, so you doubt its efficacy.

Still, you pick a package up and tuck it into a basket that’s stacked in the corner of the room.

“Good idea,” Danica grins, throwing her gummy bears into the cart, “We should see how much Jake’s willing to pay for.”

“If he buys them he’ll want to share,” You make some convoluted sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh, “And I’m not sucking the same dick as him.”

Your basket slowly but surely starts to fill, until one of the packages falls when you turn to look at something Daniel’s pointing out to you.

“Oh-!” You turn to grab it, but there’s already someone there, and Jake shoots you a heavy glance from where he’s kneeling on the floor beside you. It’s a sight- you’re not sure he’s ever looked up at you instead of down, and something in your stomach tightens as he stands back up.

“It broke,” He nods to the chocolate Danica had added into your basket, a piece molded so that it can be tucked between your legs and cover your sex. It’s meant to make someone eat through it before they can eat you, but it’s snapped in half now, completely useless.

“We’ll pay for it,” Danica keeps it in her own grip, grabbing another one and reaching for a new basket, “But I do want one that’s still intact.”

“Don’t bother with one of those for us.” Jake tells you, heaving the basket out of your arms and into his own, “Wouldn’t hold me back for very long at all.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t, Pussy Eater Extraordinaire,” You scoff, “Men always think they’re better at it than they are.”

“I’ve had nothing but glowing reviews,” Jake boasts, but his eye twitches slightly as he reconsiders his statement, “But- I’d trust your input more than theirs.”

“Why’s that?” You bite, “I’m a harsher critic?”

“Exactly.” Jake nods, “I’ll even take pointers if you’ve got any.”

“I’m pointing that way.” You raise your finger towards the cash register, “If you buy the candy lingerie I might be more inclined to let you see me in it.”

He blanches, “You’re serious?”

“See me, Seresin,” You point again to the register, “No touching, no eating.”

“I’ll take it.” He nearly trips over his feet, and Danica erupts with laughter as he pulls out his wallet.

“He really did it!” She gushes, “See? He wouldn’t be buying cherry-flavored condoms if he didn’t want you to use them on him.”

“I have no doubts that he wants to have sex with me.” You remind her, “It’s what comes after that I’m afraid of.”

“After one condom there’s another.” She points to the big number 10 on the side of the box, “In between rounds you can ask him what you guys are.”

She can tell you’re about to groan, because before you can she grabs both of your hands, looking imploringly at you, “Y/N, this is a sex cruise! Let loose. Even if he does tell the whole navy about you- which he won’t, you can tell the whole navy it happened on a sex cruise. That’s a completely valid reason to let him fuck your brains out! You came here to fuck, so fuck.”

“We’ll see,” You grumble, “Cherry’s not my favorite flavor.”

Jake’s total at the register is comically high, but you don’t feel bad because you two get the same paycheck, and as a specialized squadron you’re not exactly down on your luck. He makes no complaints, and pointedly keeps the bag in his own hand instead of letting Daniel fulfill his earlier promise.

“If I let him hold it he might throw it down on the ground during one of his temper tantrums,” Jake murmurs conspiratorially to you, and you appreciate that he has the good sense to keep his voice low, pitched only for your ears as you meander towards the next store, “The chocolate underpants don’t deserve to snap a second time.”

“He’s not gonna throw a temper tantrum,” You groan, “You have a way of getting on people’s nerves, you know that?”

“Okay? And I’ll admit I riled him up, but that’s no excuse to act like a kid. Stomping around, taking it out on you and Danica.”

You raise a brow at him, unimpressed, “Eerily similar to the way you used to act on the tarmac whenever one of us beat you in an exercise?”

Jake’s mouth tightens, “Used to. I grew up a little. When’s the last time I threw a fit?”

You want to reference one of his bursts of antagonistic energy from the past 48 hours, but you have to admit, he’s much more controlled than he would have been a few years ago. You promised Danica you’d give him a chance, so you’ll give him credit where credit is due.

You settle for a reluctant, “You’re getting better.”

It’s another awkward dance, his jutted-out chin pulling back and loosening from the way it had been clenched tight in irritation. It’s your wayward eyes, not meeting his own but not looking at the floor either, just- roaming behind him.

It just so happens that behind him is a very intricately designed vibrator.

You hadn’t paid much attention to your surroundings, but Danica and Daniel had given you and your apparent bickering a wide berth as they’d headed into the next store in the row. It’s the sex shop, you realize now, and you and Jake are facing off in the entrance.

It’s an awkward thing, debating character growth between a display of vibrators and a display of fleshlights. You suppose there’s one for each of you if this doesn’t work out.

“After you.” Jake offers, prodding your limp form into the shop when your legs struggle to work, “We can shop for tonight.”

“I’ll be using that tonight,” You point at a ball gag, “I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

“That won’t shut me up. Y’know, When Harry Met Sally is my sister’s favorite movie? I could take a page out of Meg Ryan’s book and start moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”

“She did that in a diner,” You correct him, “And she did it with grace. You could never be Meg Ryan.”

“I couldn’t be Billy Crystal either.” Jake laments, “Turtlenecks don’t look good on me.”

Before you can fall back into the familiar pattern of quipping back and forth with Jake, an old rut in the road that’s familiar even if it digs its own trench deeper, he catches sight of something behind you and his face twists.

“What’s that supposed to do?”

It’s not technically a rose toy. It’s something similar, adjacent maybe, still made for suction and vaginal pleasure. 

“It stimulates suction. Y’know, on the clit?” You explain, and Jake’s face blanches on top of his aghast expression.

“It sucks on you? That sounds dangerous. ‘Sounds like someone’s gonna get their clit ripped off.”

“I’ll test it out and let you know,” You grin, plucking it off of the shelf and adding it into the handheld basket that Danica’s started, “Maybe I’ll do it when you’re sleeping tonight.”

“I’ll hear you anyways. I’m a light sleeper.” Jake reveals, and your stomach drops. Did he hear-? 

No.

He’d have made it known if he’d heard your.. predicament.

It’s Hangman, after all. If he had something on you, he’d use it.

You shake yourself out of your funk and watch as Danica and Daniel contemplate getting a strap-on. You respect him for being open to trying it, if he hasn’t already. Jake’s face hasn’t pinkened from its earlier shade of sheet-white, so you make the very mature decision to not teasingly suggest that you use one on him. 

Instead you turn towards the lingerie, eyeing a red set with stereotypical lace lining the edges.

“That’d look nice on you.” Jake follows where you lead, and though his comment is suggestive, it’s almost respectful, “I think you should get it.”

“It’s too expensive,” You wrinkle your nose, “Not for something paper-thin that you’re probably meant to rip off anyways.”

“I’ll be careful,” Jake vows, and now the cracks in his facade start to show, “I promise I’ll handle you like a gentleman, darlin’.”

You turn on your heel and glide over to Danica.

“He’s trying to disrobe me,” You inform her with a sigh, “When am I allowed to conclude that he’s not changing?”

“Just-” You miss the way that she glares daggers at him from across the store, “He’s trying to change. He won’t be a completely different man, remember- you have to adapt too. It’s a compromise.”

Unfortunately, she has a point. If Jake is changing- and that’s a big if, you’ll need to meet him somewhere in the middle. But this whole Jake-changing-for-you thing is still highly suspect, and though Danica’s insistence is beginning to wear through your hide, you’re not fully convinced.

“Fine.” You sigh, “But I’m still getting the rose toy in case he doesn’t work out.”

“I love my rose toy.” She admits with a grin, “But there’s nothing like getting woken up between your legs. It’s different when someone surprises you with it instead of you shoving the toy down there yourself.”

“I’d love to be woken up by oral.” Your teeth sink into your pillowy bottom lip, and Jake’s footsteps stop behind you where he’s caught up to your group. You miss the look he shares with Danica over your head.

You browse the sex shop for a fair amount of time, but there’s not as much fun to be had as there was in the candy shop. They had variety and exciting things you’d never seen before, and here- well, they have a lot of dildos, that’s for sure. There’s a bland feeling that comes over you as you pace shelves and shelves of the same sex toys, and you wind up with only the suction-based rose toy ripoff at the counter.

“Scoot-” Jake comes up behind you, gently pushing you aside instead of elbowing you out of the way as he extends his own card towards the reader, “I’ve got this one too.”

“No- you don’t have to buy me a sex toy, Jake!” You argue, but the reader is already beeping, having accepted his payment, “I was mostly teasing about the candies. I’m not using you as a sugar daddy- you don’t have to keep picking up my tabs.”

“I’m picking up this one,” Jake carefully tucks the bag into the larger one from the confectionary, “I want you to think of me every time you use it.”

Something terrible, horrible, and unwanted in your brain supplies that you’d already have done that. That the experience of being stuck with him on a boat, of waking up grinding against his thigh, of being at each other’s throats for days on end would have cemented itself into the fucktoy whether you wanted to or not. But that’s an intrusive thought you have no desire to express, and instead you fall silent, taking Danica’s advice of meeting in the middle.

This silence, and the troubling thoughts that induced it, follow you through the next few shops in the row, showcasing duty-free liquor, off-brand ‘designer’ purses, and perfume that all smells the same. Danica holds up samples and swatches, shows you jewelry and handbags, but there’s not much she can do to shake you out of your spiral.

Do you want to fuck Hangman?

No, you certainly don’t want to fuck Hangman. 

But Jake? 

This Jake, the one who’d splashed around with you in the pool and sensed your uneasiness towards Daniel’s outburst, offering his own soothing presence as a distraction. This Jake, the one who’d muscled down decades of manly Texan pride to call for a truce- something you never thought his competitive spirit would be capable of. This Jake, the one who tilts his chin towards the section of books he knows you prefer in their sparse bookstore- this one you could certainly attempt to get used to.

It’s a hard thing to swallow, when something threatens to upend the life you’ve precariously crafted for yourself. When something challenges your notions of true and false, when someone changes. Can people change? Can he change, can Jake really fix his behavior to the point where you’d want to not only fuck him, but date him? Dating Hangman is laughable. Dating Jake is- something you’ve never considered before.

It’s troubling, and your brow remains creased for the remainder of your shopping trip. There’s an underwhelming amount of stores, and you wander further out, down towards the casino at the end of the deck.

“I didn’t bring cash,” Jake’s hand flies to his wallet, “And I don’t trust a casino on a fuckboat with my credit card.”

“We should go back,” Danica agrees, turning to grab Daniel’s hand. He’s calmed now, perhaps embarrassed for his temper earlier, and turns soft eyes towards her as she asks, “Should we go get couples massages?”

Jake waits on you for an answer- that’s new. You tuck the information aside for processing later, and you shake your head wearily, “I need some fresh air. You guys can go without me.”

“Couple’s massage with an empty bed’s pretty sad.” Jake hums, the drawling lilt of his southern accent sweet like honey, “You two enjoy yourselves. I’ll take our stuff back to our room.”

There’s a chorus of agreements, and you bid Danica goodbye with a soft squeeze to her hand, and a sheepish smile from beneath your lashes.

“Trust him!” She urges in a whisper, disguising it as a hug, “We can meet up again later.”

“Tonight for drinks?” You ask, glancing at your phone and seeing that it’s hours into the afternoon, “I think I’d like a casual dinner after last night.”

“We can do casual.” Jake agrees, and you don’t miss the way he says we.

“Drinks,” She nods, and Daniel tries to meet your eyes where you’re trying to avoid his. 

Everything’s so complicated now. You wish Danica hadn’t managed to get into your head- you wish Jake was still the cocky pilot he was yesterday, or three years ago, or since the dawn of time. You wish you didn’t notice his strange behavior, you wish he’d go back to being irritating so you could be irritated with him. You wish you weren’t thinking more about Jake than you are about Daniel, your perfect man, and when you finally do meet his soulful eyes you can’t offer him anything more than a weak smile.

“See you later.” You hum, and there’s nothing to go in for- a hug seems sad, and a kiss seems showy. You fall back a few steps instead, bumping into Jake who’d been stationed behind you.

“Let’s go,” He hums, “Elevator’s at the other end.”

You walk in silence, and discomfort roils in your chest the longer Jake says nothing. Nothing, nothing at all, no poking, no prodding, no comments about the candy penises in the bag he’s carrying for you. Just- dead silence, and you’re still not used to Jake taking social cues from you. He’s loud, and he worms his way into every situation, so why is he failing to do so now, when you crave normalcy the most?

You’d almost forgotten that you were swimming before this, but your bikini resurfaces in your mind when someone in the elevator pays attention to it. His eyes glance downwards towards your chest, and the way that they narrow in focus makes your skin crawl. His gaze isn’t warm like Daniel’s or like-.

He’s eerie, long, sharp facial features making him look like the human equivalent to a dagger. His sharpened point needles at you, and you’re already shuffling back on your feet in the elevator when Jake throws an arm over your shoulder, effectively covering your breasts.

Glancing up at him reveals that he’s locked into a staring match with the man who’d been looking down your top, and Hangman always wins staring matches. His skin grows warm against your chest, and you marvel at the way his single arm manages to shield every sensual detail of your torso.

When the man finally looks away, defeated, Jake uses the arm to pull you back into his embrace, and this time, you don’t fight him on the proximity. You feel a rush of affection for him, uncommon but not unheard of, and you remember that deep down, he’s a good guy. He’s got faults, he’s got faults that you’re not sure he could ever mend, but at his core he’s got a heart worth loving. 

You don’t have time to thank him, because there’s still people in the elevator when the man disembarks, and Jake gets out only one floor after him.

“You’re going to the top deck?” He asks, having seen you press the topmost button on the panel, and you nod.

“I’ll let you get your fresh air.” He walks backwards out of the elevator, “I’ll stash this in our room and come meet you. Mini golf?”

“I’m down,” You nod without thinking just to agree with him, your throat dry as your skin chills in the absence of Jake’s body heat, “Jake-?”

He stops, brows raised. There’s people around you, waiting for their floors, and you sheepishly give up any hair-brained scheme you’d have planned for having an awkward heart-to-heart with the man who’d just protected you with his body.

“My bag.” You gesture to his arm, your tote still slung over it, “Can I have my bag?”

He grins, wide and pearly white, fumbling with the bags in his arms while keeping his foot in the door to stop the elevator from closing. You take it and he steps away, the doors instantly sliding shut on him. You watch as they close in front of his face, and retreating back into your corner of the elevator seems lonely now that there’s no one accompanying you.

No one says anything- why should they? They don’t know you. But the last thing you need is more silence, and the second the doors slide open on the top deck you’re rushing out onto the slippery flooring, beelining for the railing overlooking the water.

It’s the top deck, so it’s shorter and thinner than the rest below it. But it doesn’t matter- you’re afforded a truly stunning view of the ocean as you drink in lungfuls of sea air.

It’s never this pretty on a carrier ship. Maybe that’s because it’s work, or maybe that’s because of where you work, or maybe that’s because you’re always below deck anyways. This kind of a sunset is something you usually can’t find unless you’re soaring into it through the skies, and here you’re able to relax without being in control of an aircraft.

The clouds act as a Rorschach test. The longer you stare at them the more your mind runs wild, and you seem to find all of your problems in the sky despite having landed to get away from them.

Now you’ve got new ones- one day ago your biggest concern was getting laid. Now- well, you suppose your biggest concern is still getting laid. But now you wonder if you could ever muscle down your nerves enough to fuck Jake, or if you’re going to lay yourself bare for Daniel while thinking about your fellow pilot like you had in your dream last night.

This was meant to be an escape. A thoughtless, lust-driven week-long party that would cure you of your sex block and get you back into the groove.

How’d it all go so sideways?

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you, but you do feel Jake’s hand on your shoulder. His fingers, more like it, because two are perched on your shoulder and three are holding a yellow golf club and a pink ball. He’s got a green and blue pair in his other hand, and you try making your face look like you hadn’t just been searching for answers in the clouds.

“‘You ready for golf?” He asks, his voice far more chipper than yours, “They said they won’t charge us if we shoot one into the ocean.”

“Let’s try not to anyways,” You take the club from him, but swap him the pink ball for the green, “There’s people on the first hole. You wanna go backwards?”

“I’m a pro at mini golf anyways,” Jake scoffs, “Don’t need those practice courses.”

Pro Golfer Jake Seresin loses his ball right away.

It’s important to note that you hadn’t gotten a hole-in-one either, but Jake’s shot is especially horrendous. It veers so off-course that it ends up rolling off of the green altogether, and before either of you can reach it it drops from the deck onto the one below. It doesn’t go as far as the ocean, but it does happen to land right in some unfortunate woman’s drink, and she’s not happy about the bright pink disturbance to her mai tai.

“Sorry!” Jake calls, and you know any apology from him is sincere, or he wouldn’t say it, but she takes less-than-swimmingly to his seemingly casual tone, and she launches the ball with much better aim than he had.

Jake nearly tumbles over the railing as he crumples, groaning in pain at the way the ball had solidly whacked him between the legs. You’re torn between laughing, congratulating the woman, and helping Jake back away from the edge of the deck, so you do some convoluted mixture of all three.

You shoot the woman a dry smile as you tug him away from the railing, and he takes a minute just to breathe as you support his weight. He grimaces, but tries to turn it into one of his signature smirks, though it’s clearly forced as he remains doubled over.

“Hell of an arm on that chick.” He comments, voice heaving with either a laugh or a sob, but probably the latter, “Jesus, darlin’, y’think you could kiss it better for me?”

“I’ll make it worse,” You vow, brandishing the golf club in your fist for extra emphasis, “Sit down before you puke, Hangman.”

He listens, dropping to rest his back against the railing and tilt his head back towards the sky.

It just so happens that you’re skyward to him, and his head rolls so that he can gaze up at your face.

“This is not how I envisioned golfing to go.” He admits, his club laying defeated in the fake grass beside him. “For the record, I was going to tell you that your form was off, and then I was going to come up from behind you and grab your hands and guide you through a swing, all while hoping I could control the big guy downstairs.”

You snort at his admission, but for some reason it doesn’t make you indignant like it might have a day ago. You’re not sure what exactly has changed, just that it’s still changing, and that it would be far easier if it never had.

“How romantic.” You drop a hand onto his head, jostling it side-to-side now that he can’t stop you, “And I suppose this is us staring at the sunset together?”

“Sort of,” Jake shakes his head free of your palm, short-cut hair now wildly out of place.

“It is- funny. How we fly every day but can still stare at the sky.” You note, trying to lose yourself in the watercolor hues of the sky again, “Clouds aren’t any less captivating now than they were when I was 10.”

“It’s different here. We’re relaxing.” Jake hums, “Even if I’m gonna need to ice this later. We’re not doing a timed drill that involves tactical missiles.”

You suppose Jake’s not standing anytime soon so you hit the deck yourself, landing defeatedly beside him and letting your club rest in front of you, “I didn’t come here to relax. Or- I guess I kind of did? In between rounds.”

Jake laughs, and stretches his leg out to rest beside yours, “I came here to fuck. Obviously. But this is nice too.”

You feel a sudden rush of guilt. You’re secure in the fact that you don’t owe Jake anything, even if you’d been assigned as his roommate on this sex cruise. Of course, you hadn’t known he’d be your roommate, or you’d never have signed up, but neither had he. He’d been expecting some woman of his dreams, someone hot, curvy, and ready to open her legs for him, and he’d gotten you. You’re both, in your own ways, disappointments to each other.

“I’m sorry. By the way. That you got stuck with me.” You interrupt the silence after a moment, and only afterwards do you realize that it was a comfortable silence, not one of those tense, awkward things that shatter when broken. 

“Stuck with you?” Jake questions, but before he can spit out some half-baked, cheesy line about never being stuck with you, darlin’, you finish your speech.

“You came here to fuck.” You parrot his words, “And I’m not letting you, and I don’t have to let you, but you wanted to. So I’m sorry we’re each other’s roommates. I came here to fuck, too. And it sucks that we know each other, and that things are so complicated, and that we can’t just fuck like rabbits for a week. I’m sorry.”

Jake stays silent for a while, something that rarely happens with him. But it’s sincere, and when he finally speaks, it’s with a sigh and a nudge of his foot against yours.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to let me,” He agrees, “But- I’m enjoying myself even if we’re not fucking like rabbits.”

“You are?” You give him a sideways glance, “Even though we just drained your credit card and you’re unlikely to be able to reproduce?”

“Free vasectomy,” He grins, “And shopping was fun. And swimming was fun, and drinking was fun, and dinner was fun, and- being with you is fun sometimes.”

“You just had to throw the ‘sometimes’ in there, didn’t you Hangman?” This time, when you refer to him with his callsign, it’s not venomous. Instead, it’s almost fond, and you share a quiet laugh in unison as people mill around you, drinking and kissing and playing mini golf.

“I’m glad you’re having fun.” You sober up, “I’m- I think I’m having fun too.”

“I hope so. ‘Gotta get somethin’ out of this cruise, even if it’s not sex.”

“Jake?” You ask, keeping your head forward and ignoring the sense of deja vu that comes over you.

“Hm?”

“Thanks.” You hum, “For- for understanding that I’m not going to- and, for stopping that guy from looking at me earlier, and for buying me stuff at the shops, and- just. Thank you.”

His response is the thunk of his forehead against your shoulder, and he turns his head to watch the sunset with you through the railing at the opposite end of the deck.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[thedonswife13]

Oh Jakey 🤣 such a lovable grump

Jealous Jake and the Biting Problem

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin is your friend with benefits, but he doesn’t appreciate finding the evidence of your other sleepover buddy on your body.

Warnings: talk of and almost oral (f receiving), cursing, um…that might be it. That said, it’s still 18+

Note: I wrote this in about a half hour so don’t judge. I’m sure there are mistakes.

Words: 989

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[tongue-like-a-razor]

Yay!!!!!!! 5K!!!!!! This is such a cute way to celebrate!

May I please request something for BBF? Like a beach day with Jake and both Bradshaws (or maybe the whole dagger squad, idk it’s up to you!) and Jake can’t keep his eyes off of Baby Bradshaw? It could be before or after they admitted their feelings!! Your choice!! Congratulations on hitting 5k!

Ahh this is a super cute request! And thank you so much, lovely :D Here we go, beach day with the Bradshaws: this scene takes place before they get together (and before Jake realizes he has feelings for Baby B).

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - Beach Day

Jake Seresin x Reader

Jake is out of the water in five seconds flat when he sees some random guy approach you back on the beach.

“Dude!” Bradley calls after him. “The ball, man!”

But Jake has no idea where the ball’s gone because he doesn’t even turn around to look for it. He doesn’t know why it bothers him that this guy is showing interest in you, but it probably has something to do with how little you’re wearing. All he knows is, you’re off limits to anybody who approaches you while your ass cheeks are barely contained by your tiny-by-comparison bikini bottoms.

“What’s going on?” Jake says sternly, stopping at the edge of your beach towel after jogging over.

You’re lying down on your stomach and Jake tries his best to keep his attention squarely on your face when you look up at him rather than your aforementioned butt.

“We’re just chatting, man,” the guy – who’s obviously a fucking moron – replies as though Jake had been addressing him.

Jake shoots him a threatening glare. “She’s reading,” Jake remarks, gesturing to the book in your hands which you’re actively setting aside.

“I’ve got a bookmark,” you say, sliding your book away and sitting up on your towel.

Jake grimaces at you. How could you possibly be enjoying this guy’s advances when he’s such a nuisance? “Still rude to interrupt,” Jake reasons.

You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms over your chest. Jake promptly looks away because your tits are, as a result, squished together and Jake has no interest whatsoever in ogling his best friend’s baby sister’s tits. “Rude to interrupt, you say?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

Jake glances back at you in surprise. He hasn’t considered that he’s the one doing the interrupting.

“You’re dripping on my towel,” you note when he doesn’t respond.

Jake makes a face. “It’s meant to get wet.” Before you can argue that fact, he changes the subject, “Are you wearing sunscreen?”

You look down to examine your chest. “Why, am I burning?”

Jake winces inwardly as he attempts, once again, to refrain from staring at your cleavage. He crouches down to grab some sunscreen out of the beach bag and hands it over to you. “You’re burning,” he confirms. Burning, scorching, extremely fucking hot. It’s all the same.

“Sorry,” says the guy who’s still just awkwardly standing there. “Didn’t realize you had a boyfriend.”

Jake looks between you and your new friend as he starts to walk away. “No, he’s not –” you start, but the guy just shrugs and takes off down the beach. “Fuck,” you mutter, spreading a thick layer of sunscreen over your stomach.

Jake, who feels unexpectedly pleased at being referred to as your boyfriend, scratches his brow in thought as he watches the man shrink in the distance. Then, he shakes his head distastefully. “You can do better,” he finally declares.

5k Celly

[kryptonitejelly]

Flyboy!Jake coded.

i love love love flyboy asks (but i admit i don’t get to them all…. that’s in me) entirely flyboy!jake coded.

also look at those arms 😵‍💫 i can’t even with him in this photo. that casual lean, hand behind his head. his legs..

reading this in the flyboy!era, but post part 6.

-

“Geez Jake, manspread more why don’t you,” Emma says as she walks back to the area where your group, a small sub-group of the Seresin brood, has positioned themselves. She punctuates her barb at her brother by raising a foot to kick his shin lightly.

“Ouch,” he says in response without even a slight change in expression or movement.

“Uncle Jake, your legs,” the little voice that trails behind Emma protests, as Kyle follows after his mother, picking his way past the obstacle that is Jake’s unmoving legs to scramble his aay onto the sofa, arms and legs first, rolling his body up to wedge himself in between his Uncle Jake and father.

“You did just fine buddy,” Jake teases in response, winking down at his nephew as Liam, Emma’s husband and Kyle’s father ruffles his son’s hair.

“You could have moved your legs,” you muse, voice tinged with amusement as you take a step forward, having been trailing behind Kyle.

“I could have,” is what Jake responds, moving his hand from behind his head so that he is reaching out to you. You slip your hand into his, letting him tug you down gently into his lap. Once you’ve perched down onto his lip, and thigh, your legs knocking against his other knee, Jake lets his arm slip around your waist while raising the glass he is holding in his other hand to let you take a sip out of the straw of your drink he had been holding for you. “But then I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

“Have you become my own personal armchair,” you joke, “complete with a cupholder?”

“I’ll have you only sit on me for the rest of your life if I could,” Jake’s response is cheesy, sappy and with a tinge of innuendo and it makes the group around you, save for the children, groan in a mixture of disgust and horror.

“You’re the worst,” is what Emma helpfully supplies for the group as she balls up a paper napkin to toss it at her brother’s head.

“Your worst,” is what Jake says as he ignores Emma and tilts his head up towards you asking for a kiss, which you oblige. It promptly earns him another round of groans.