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dizzybee03 · 5 days ago

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I LOVE the fact that Jake is so involved in her writing- it shows the level of love he’s got for her. I also have a sinking feeling a deployment is coming up and that’s what he’s dragging his feet telling her

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 19

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Jake's hiding something and everyone thinks it's a bad idea

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Jake had been acting a little bit weird but I figured it was just the thought of spending Christmas without his family, especially since Pop’s surgery was being delayed. I did my best to be silently supportive, spending all the time I could with him. Jason, my agent, had called and said my latest book had been greenlit and the publishing house was looking to have me do a book tour for the release in a year. Jake was excited for me but not excited about the fact I’d be gone for at least two months. But Jason hadn’t just called to give me the good news, no, he had called to see if I had started writing the sequel yet.

“Cassandra’s getting a love interest?” Jake stage whispered in my ear, I was between his legs on the bed, my back to his chest while I wrote.

“How do you figure?” I leaned back against his chest, relaxing into him. Jake kissed my neck,

“Detective Monroe, he obviously has a thing for Cass,” He pointed at the screen. “He brings her coffee, checks on her after the killer got away, he obviously cares about her.” Huh. He had a point. Detective Monroe was Cassandra’s partner, he had her back and was probably the one person in her life that Cassandra could call a friend.

“And what makes you think he’s more than just a friend?” I prompted him, wondering what he could see that I couldn’t.

“The way he looks at her and knows what she’s thinking, he pays more attention to her than he should.” It was kind of hot hearing Jake get so riled up about my writing. He had been reading it over my shoulder for the past week, offering his observations and comments, and telling me when I needed to close the laptop and go to bed because I had typed “and” three times in a row while dozing off. “Baby, he’s in love with her.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” I giggled, closing the laptop. Jake huffed,

“Don’t you always say that the characters do what they want?” Again, he had a point. “Whether you like it or not, I think Monroe’s got a crush on his partner.”

“We’ll see what happens,” I put the laptop on the nightstand, turning so that I was face first in his chest. “How much time do we have until we have to be at Mav’s?” Mav was hosting a team get together at his and Penny’s house and the daggers had insisted that you were included on the guest list, Fanboy had threatened to give you your own embarrassing callsign if you didn’t show up.

“About an hour, we have a little time, what do you want to do?” He kissed my neck again, massaging my hips with his hands. I hummed, thinking about it. We could do a lot in an hour but we also had to spend time with the whole team for the rest of the evening. I could already feel the exhaustion setting in, I loved the daggers, I did, but that didn’t mean they were exempt from draining my social battery.

“I want…” I reached around blindly for the blanket. Jake chuckled, pulling the blanket over my shoulders, “I want to cuddle until it’s time to get ready and when we do have to get dressed, I want you to tell me it’s okay to wear sleep pants to the party.”

“I think I can do that, Wildflower,” Jake wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his neck. It briefly crossed my mind that I might be a little bit heavy on his chest but that thought quickly faded away as Jake began to hum a song, lulling me to sleep.

“Matching pajamas, really?” Rooster rolled his eyes, bringing me in for a hug.

“I think my girl’s onto something, they’re way comfier than jeans,” Jake announced to the room, pulling you out of Rooster’s arms and into his side, arm draped over your shoulder.

“Dee!” Amelia came around the corner, stealing me away from Jake, her arm looped through mine. “I need advice,” She whispered, “From someone who’s not my mom.”

“Is this a boy thing?” I whispered back and she nodded, pulling me into the hallway, away from everyone. “I’m not sure I’m the best at relationship advice but I’ll do my best.” Amelia rolled her eyes,

“There’s this guy named Charlie in my math class and he’s super cute.”

“Like, really cute?” Amelia’s whole face lit up and it warmed my heart. I could see my nieces growing up to be just like her someday, calling me to tell me about their crushes, making me swear up and down not to tell their dad.

“Winter formal is coming up and there’s a tradition that girls ask the guys out,” She was so nervous it was adorable. “I mean, we’re kind of friends, we text but it’s mostly about homework and I don’t know if it’s weird if I ask him to the dance or not.”

“You said mostly about homework, what else do you talk about?” Her cheeks went pink and she started playing with her hair.

“I mean, we both watch the same show so sometimes we text each other when the new episode airs and talk about what happened.” They were too cute, oh my goodness.

“Then I think it’s a good idea, maybe you can make him a sign or a note with an inside joke or reference to the show?” Amelia perked up,

“That’s perfect! I’m going to go work on that, thanks, Dee!” Amelia gave me a tight hug before running off towards the stairs, giggling the whole way up. I chuckled, making my way to the kitchen to get a drink when I heard Jake and Rooster whispering.

“Have you told her yet?” Rooster asked and I stopped just beyond the doorway, heart thudding in my chest.

“Not yet,” There was a smack, probably Rooster hitting Jake in the chest. “I don’t want to say anything until we know for sure. She’ll cry, hell, I’ll probably cry, and no one wants that.”

“You’ve got to tell her, the more time she has to prepare, the better. Daisy is an overthinker, you’ll need time to talk her off the ledge.” This was the moment in a movie where everyone is yelling at the screen, telling the main character to stick around and hear the rest of the conversation, and for the first time I understood why they never did. I quietly backed away from the doorway and down the hall, heart feeling like it was going to beat right out of my chest.

What did Jake have to tell me? And why did Rooster think he was going to have to talk me off a ledge once I found out?

“There you are,” Penny peaked down the hall, smiling. “Amelia find you okay?”

“Yeah,” I answered softly, clearing my throat, my voice evening out when I responded the second time. “Yeah, I was just about to rejoin the party.”

“Perfect, let’s get you a drink then.”

Daisy was a little tense, her smile not quite reaching her eyes throughout the night. When I pulled her aside she assured me that we’d talk about it later and to enjoy the party but it was hard to do so when she was sitting on Phoenix’s lap, her head on her shoulder, instead of tucked into my side.

Maverick pulled me aside when I went to grab a fresh beer, a santa hat on his head.

“I’m guessing you haven’t talked to Daisy yet?” I groaned, first Bradshaw and now Mav.

“How do you know?”

“Because Penny hasn’t gotten any panicked texts yet and she’s been waiting for them for two days.” I ran a hand over my face, leaning against the counter. Two days. I had been wrestling with the whispers around base and what to tell Daisy. The guys were right, I needed to tell her, but I also didn’t want to burst the happy bubble we had been in since getting back from Texas.

“Is it so wrong of me not to say anything until we’re certain?”

“It’s not a bad idea but when she finds out you’ve been holding onto this for a few days, how do you think that’s going to go?”

“You’ve got a good point, Mav.” He patted my shoulder, passing me to get a new beer,

“Tell her soon, Hangman, that’s an order.”

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dizzybee03 · 5 days ago

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This was so dang hot!!!! Vulnerable Jake does something to me 🥵

had a random thot ab Jake-

he doesn’t let his hookups give him head. Lemme explain-

He gets so mentally fucked out and “weak.” Whining, moaning, begging. The whole nine yards. He doesn’t like not being in control, he doesn’t like feeling weak in front of people.

Then reader comes along and it’s an actual relationship. He starts trusting her more and when she’s ab to blow him his immediate reaction is to stop her. But then he realizes he can be “weak” with her. Turns out she gives the best head he’s ever had and ultimately becomes addicted to it

anyway that was my random thots😛

Oh my 🥵 I think my brain short-circuited when I pictured this.

Smut (oral-m receiving, praise) below the cut ⬇️✂️

You try to keep your hands from shaking as you unbuckle Jake’s belt while kissing the taut skin of his abdomen, just waiting for him to pull you up and flip you over like he always does.

Jake is by far the best lover you’ve ever had; he’s generous, gentle when you need it, and rough when you want it, but you can tell he’s holding back. He talks you through it but besides soft groans and quiet sighs, he doesn’t make much noise, and you’ve been dying to pull them from him.

“This okay?” You ask when he doesn’t haul you up, nuzzling your face against his erection as your mouth waters.

It’s been a few months since you’ve been dating and while Jake is eager to put his head between your thighs, he hasn’t let you return the favor.

He swallows thickly as he looks away, his cheeks flushing pink.

“It’s okay, I don’t have to,” you sit up, “I do really want to but I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”

“I do want you to, it’s just…” he sighs, cupping your face, “I haven’t let anyone give me head in years. I just have a hard time being so…vulnerable? Not in control? I don’t know.”

“I get it,” you nod, leaning into his hand, “But you are in control with me,” you turn to kiss his wrist, “just say the word and I’ll stop, baby.”

His eyes flutter at the use of the pet name and you bite your lip; there’s so much you want to do to him.

“Okay,” he nods after a minute, opening those green eyes to look at you, “you won’t…laugh if I lose myself a little?”

“Of course not,” your brow furrows, “did someone…?” You shake your head, “No Jake, I’d never laugh at you. In fact,” you lean forward to brush your lips over his, “I can’t think of anything sexier than you falling apart for me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Okay. Then you can…only if you want to.”

“Oh I want to,” you smile, tugging his pants and boxer briefs down, “I’ve been dying to get my mouth on you.”

“Yeah?” He leans back on his elbows.

“Yeah,” you smile before licking the precum that’s collecting on the head, “I’ve touched myself to the thought so many times.”

“Fuck sweetheart,” his head lolls back, “that’s so hot.”

“You’re so hot,” you moan at the taste before kitten-licking him, “everything about you is hot to me. I’m so glad you’re letting me do this.”

“I’m so-oh God,” he whines, gripping the sheets as you gently pull the head of his cock into your to suckle.

You smile around him, humming happily as you begin to slowly bob your head.

“Why,” he breathes, trembling with the effort to keep from thrusting into the wet heat of your mouth, “why didn’t I let you do this sooner?”

“It’s okay,” you rasp when you pull off him to breathe, your hand takes over jerking him steadily, “it doesn’t matter, I’m happy to make up for lost time.”

His chuckle turns choked when you dip your head again, sucking him down to the back of your throat before pulling back to do it again.

“Sweethea-I’m not gonna last,” he pants, weaving his hand into your hair to try and pull you off, “baby, I’m gonna cum.”

You moan as you look up at him to wink, letting him know it’s okay to finish in your mouth.

“Really-you’re sure?” He gasps, unable to keep from thrusting up now.

You nod once and that’s all it takes.

“Fuck!” He whines, chest heaving as his hips still. He groans lowly, cock twitching in your mouth as he fills your mouth with his cum.

You barely finish swallowing it before he yanks you up, sighing into the kiss as he tastes his release on your tongue.

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dizzybee03 · 6 days ago

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The profile heavy chapters are some of my favorites! And it’s so true about how first responders deal with the stuff they see by humor (often crass humor that might offend someone in the outside). When you see the worst of humanity it’s easier to make jokes than it is to cry and let it eat you alive. It’s a total coping mechanism

Anatomy of an Arsonist - FBI Agent!Jake Seresin X FBI Profiler!Reader

Chapter 15 - The End of Innocence

Series Summary: After nearly being burned alive in a house fire as a child, you now worked as an FBI Special Agent. You have caught some of the worst people with your profiles, working hard as the BAU Liaison Agent to the Major Crimes Unit at the FBI's New York field office. When a new case crosses your desk, a chord is struck in you and memories long repressed come flooding back. Is this UNSUB the same man who is responsible for your mother's murder? Or, is there a copycat hell-bent on making you relive the fear that haunted you as a child?

Banner made by me!

Chapter Warnings: completely made up FDNY shit (I have no idea if this is actually how it works so just pretend lol), probably the most profile babble yet (and that’s saying something), death, fire/arson, child death (not in detail), talk about the smell of burning flesh, swearing (duh), little bitty bit of the UNSUB’s viewpoint again so it’s gonna be creepy, lmk if I missed something!

Word Count: 6.9k

Masterlist >> Chapter 14 >> Chapter 16

===

After the turmoil of the day, you were ready to go home. The fight with Bradley had taken a lot out of you and you were well and truly done with the day, so when you received a phone call on your often-forgotten office line, your interest was caught.

The call was from a 911 dispatcher, who thought they may have found something of use to the case. They had been on their way to work and had received a text message from the state text alert system, advising anyone who had any information about the FBI’s ongoing case into the fires to call or text the hotline number set up by the Bureau in order to streamline tips. As far as you had known, nothing of interest had come through, so if this tip was legit, it would be the first piece of information obtained from an outside source.

You and Nat made your way down to the dispatch office, flashing your badges at the lead dispatcher who immediately showed you to a conference room before disappearing down the hallway. “What do you think this is all about?” Nat asked you, resting her elbows on the dark wood table.

“Not a clue,” you said with a shrug. “Maybe a dispatcher caught something on a 911 call we missed?”

“Who knows.”

The door swung open and in walked the lead dispatcher and another person half-hidden behind her. They were in the blue uniform shirt you had seen on the majority of the other dispatchers, dark brown hair, black glasses, and a collection of earrings that could rival a jewelry store. “Hi, thank you for coming so quickly, Agents. I think I found something of use to you when going through past calls.”

“Oh?” Natasha said, having stood to greet the dispatcher who walked in. “Agents Trace and Douglas, and you are?”

“Oh, sorry. Max Lewis, I’ve been a 911 dispatcher for the last two years and I think I could be of some use to your case,” they replied with an easygoing smile. “We record and store all incoming 911 calls for anywhere between 90 days and 12 months, depending on the calls made, but I have saved these eight specifically to play for you.”

“Why these 8?”

Max turned the laptop they had brought into the room towards you to show you a brief timeline. “I’m sure the dates are familiar to you, as they match up with the calls made about the house fires that were part of this killer’s signature, but I found other calls that were made before these ones came in.”

“With all due respect, Max, I’m not seeing how this relates to our case,” you said calmly. “Unless of course they are somehow?”

They nodded. “They are. It’s hard to explain, but among the data stored, is location and when you place them on a map like I did on the advice of Laura to make it easier to explain to you, each one of the four earlier calls fall into the same dispatch area as the main fires you responded to.”

“Wait wait wait,” Natasha interrupted, hands waving as she tried to sort through what she had just heard. “Are you saying that each one of the calls made before correspond to the same areas as the crime scenes?”

“That’s the better way of explaining, but yeah,” Max said with a grin. “The calls were all about spontaneous fires that had broken out in abandoned buildings, which happens quite frequently, so no one took notice. The thing is, New York has a lot of first responders, hundreds of firehouses across the five boroughs and to facilitate quick responses, someone had this idea to put each house in a zone. They would respond to calls in that area as they were the closest station, but if they were out responding to a call, another house would get called in.”

“So each firehouse has a certain radius that they operate primarily in,” you restated, trying to absorb everything Max was saying. “And these zones, are the firehouses in the middle of them or are they scattered in different locations?”

“Not really.” Max spun the laptop back around and began typing. “I’ll try and find a map for you, just because it’s hard to wrap your head around if you don’t work with it regularly.” After a beat, they turned the laptop back around and you could see a map of Manhattan covered in translucent blocks of colours. “Each colour represents one zone that’s looked after by one firehouse, sometimes two. The black dots are those houses and you can see that they are kind of everywhere.”

“Okay, I think I’m getting it.” Nat replied, leaning forward to get a better look. “These four calls you found, they fall into the same zones as the crime scenes, so the house responsible went to the first calls?”

“They did. Firehouse 161 was supposed to respond to the Melody James scene at 1078 79th Ave in Brooklyn, but they were out responding to an abandoned building burning 14 blocks away and the calls were timed in such a way that first buildings were almost completely destroyed before they were reported. So when Cameron James, I think that was the husband’s name, called, another station house from a different zone had to respond.”

“And by the time they got there, the house was almost completely gone and any evidence was practically unrecoverable,” you concluded, sitting back in your chair with a heavy realization. “Arsonists get off on resource marshaling, he’s calling 911 on himself to shepard resources away from where he will be and ensuring that when he’s left the crime scene, the only help is coming from further away.”

“That was my thought too,” Max said, their hands falling still on the table. “I’ve been following the case closely online and I know from one of the journalists you work closely with, Rory something or other, the FBI has been struggling to identify how this guy is able to move around like he is.”

“Rory Bennett, yeah, she’s been one of our main communicators to the public,” you replied. “She’s probably the most trustworthy journalist in the city. But sorry, what does she have to do with this?”

“Oh! She did reach out to our office a while back hoping to get a glimpse at the call logs, but Laura told her that unless she had a warrant, she wasn’t getting a thing. I have read most of her pieces about this case and I saw the one she did recently with the facts both the FBI and the NYPD have made available, and I realized that I might be able to help,” Max elaborated. “She directed me to your brief statement made after the James scene and I figured that any help you got from dispatch would have to come from one of us. So I spoke to Laura and when I found these calls, I called her over and she told me to contact the FBI asap.”

Natasha just looked at you with a confused expression on her face. “I appreciate the effort Max, I don’t see its relevance, but your work is a much needed piece of evidence,” you said kindly. “Are we able to hear the recordings?”

“I can do that, but I can tell you from listening to them on repeat that they seem scripted. Each one follows the same set of information in the same order and there isn’t any deviation from it so far. But I’ll grab some headphones for you to listen.” Max went to stand up, but Laura waved them back down, leaving to do it herself.

“So Max, how did you catch this?” You asked, still looking closely at the timeline on the laptop screen. “This is an awful lot of work for a hunch.”

They shrugged. “I actually took the first call, the first structure fire, and the most recent one. When I was writing the information out into the form, the way it was delivered felt really familiar so I took a closer look at the recordings and found the second and third calls. I looked up the actual crime scene calls and saw the time stamps, so I flagged them and brought my boss in after making the timeline and comparing everything.”

“That’s incredibly thorough of you,” you said absentmindedly, still in shock at having uncovered this monumental piece of evidence. “What can you tell me about the call before we listen to it?”

“Umm… I can tell you that it’s a man calling, he gave a different name every time, but each call came from the same phone. Pretty sure it’s a burner because when someone is calling, we can request the location data from the service provider associated with the number, but I wasn’t able to do that,” they replied easily. “I made some notes about each call too, I can have that sent over to your office if you need them.”

You nodded. “Please do, Max. I’ll take a look at them after I give the recordings a good listen first so I can form my own opinions, but I would appreciate your insights as someone who is able to get a good feel for who someone is only by their voice. I’ve always felt that dispatchers are another kind of profiler and any information you’ve gleaned from the calls will be incredibly helpful.”

===

Max had been right. Each call followed the same pattern of information: that there was a fire at a specific address, the caller was a neighbor who saw the building go up, they didn’t know how or when it started, then provided a name and a request for a specific firehouse because the fire was creeping closer to a residential building.

Like clockwork, each one of the four calls that you were calling the “U” calls, standing in for the UNSUB’s role in phoning 911, never strayed from the same order of information. The voice on the line was even, very matter-of-fact, without any of the panic that could be heard in the “CS” calls, the crime scene calls, made by neighbours or loved ones of the victims.

Max’s notes were easy to follow; short points on voice, background noise that sounded like the calls were made from inside a car, and a few other theories on why the caller would know to request a specific firehouse.

More details were being added to your profile. This UNSUB was behaving like a typical arsonist in that resource marshaling likely gave him a greater sense of control over the scene because not only was he wielding fire as his weapon of choice, but he was also directing the location of help and how quickly it got to the real crime scenes. You knew that most of these guys had a deep knowledge of how the police and fire departments responded to calls, whether it was because they owned a police scanner or because they had previously tried to enlist as either a volunteer firefighter or attempted to make it into the academy.

You figured that it was likely the former with some major help from the internet. From your own Google searches, it wasn’t hard to find a napalm recipe, with one link breaking it down as an experiment conducted alongside making potato clocks and colouring flowers with food dye in their water. The ingredients were easily sourced, and you figured that the UNSUB was employed due to the price of gasoline and how much was roughly used at each scene in both the napalm and what was splashed around in trails from one room to another.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to the second whiteboard you had hauled into the conference room and began writing. Your UNSUB was a white man, roughly five foot ten inches, approximately middle-aged according to Lacey Hamilton. He was likely employed at what we deemed a “dead-end job” that didn’t challenge him or he had an inflated sense of himself that made doing his job difficult due to him having to connect with people. He would show some extreme dissatisfaction while working, and either be shy and withdrawn or a leader in the workplace, his ego unable to let him pass unnoticed for too long. While arson was a young man’s crime, the level of sophistication pointed to older, and he had been doing this for over 20 years, if your mother’s case was indeed the first. He didn’t torture his victims, knocking them out and killing them in a nearly exact manner, trying to replicate the first crime scene to the best of his abilities.

He went after women, uncaring of age, race, or sexuality, but always taking the eldest woman in the home as his victim. Maybe that was it when it came to his victimology, the oldest women, typically 25 or older. You couldn’t be sure. Each crime scene went the same, enter through the back door, knock over something heavy onto a carpeted area to create a soft thump, just loud enough to be heard but not so loud so as to wake the whole house. He revisited his scenes, leaving notes behind at the vigils and memorials for his victims, taunting and mocking their suffering.

He was driven by the media attention, his naming being the catalyst to his unsuccessful attack on the Hamilton house, and he likely followed the news surrounding the crimes closely. You couldn’t be sure if he was a trophy collector, no evidence had been uncovered that pointed to the behaviour, but for an offender this organized, you could rule it out. He had likely chosen fire due to a past fire-setting behaviour in childhood or because it gave him back a semblance of control in his own life. This urge wasn’t a new one, he’d likely stuffed it down for a long time, only letting it see the light of day whenever the stress of his ordinary life took over, unbalancing his carefully crafted mask of control and supposed mastery. The need for control came into play with the resource marshaling you had uncovered thanks to Max and their work analyzing the 911 calls, and also showed themselves in his behavior when calling 911 himself instead of waiting for it to be discovered by someone else.

You figured he was probably married and if he was, the stressor that set him off to begin killing again came from either an impending divorce initiated by the wife or a possible affair between his wife and another man. The serial killer piece of his profile came into play here, he would react strongly to criticism and would not be able to take accountability for his own actions or mistakes. This UNSUB would blame his behavior on someone else’s actions, explaining it away as a reaction.

He would see the FBI as an enemy and his own behavior as justifiable, his image would be carefully crafted and he would suppress or channel his violent tendencies into collections of rough pornography or a very dominant sado-masochistic sex life with his partner. He’d mask the disdain for human life in the degrading content he watched or emulated, while also using the same dehumanizing thought process on his victims, seeing them not as people, but as things.

The way he presented himself was how he hid, likely comparing himself to Dennis Rader and other so-called “master serial killers.” He would believe himself far more capable than them, his own ego the driving force behind everything he did, said, or demanded.

The marker squeaked against the whiteboard as you finished writing, a long list of red letters staring back at you as you retreated from inside the UNSUB’s mind. Stepping back, you could now pinpoint key behavior traits that influenced him and how and why he killed. Arsonist and control freak didn’t usually fit together that well, but this UNSUB was not only a serial arsonist, he was a serial killer and those profiles didn’t often interact the way this one was.

A soft knock interrupted your musings, a quiet “Come in” leaving your lips as you set the marker down and perched yourself on the table staring at your amended timeline and the profile you had just created.

“Hey Sweets.” You turned around with a smile. Jake was standing in the open door with a takeout bag in hand as he grinned at you.

“Hey yourself.”

He came in, the door closing behind him with a soft ‘snick’. The bag of food was set next to you as he took in your work. “You’ve been busy.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, watching him closely. He’d forgone his usual suit today, opting for a soft light brown sweater and black pants that fit him perfectly. Rolled up sleeves exposed strong forearms and the silver watch with the black leather band that usually adorned his wrist, and you felt a stir in the pit of your stomach as you admired how soft he seemed. “It’s been a day.”

“I heard.” There was nothing but kindness in his voice and when you met his eyes, the lightness and affection that shone back at you nearly stole what breath was left in your lungs. “You okay?”

Nodding, you leaned back on the table, stretching out like a cat under the yellow light filling the conference room. “Yeah, words were said, but we handled it like adults.”

“He had no right saying that shit to you,” Jake spat, looking disgusted at your partner’s actions. “Nat filled me in and he was so far out of line.”

“It’s okay, Jake. We sorted it out, he apologized for being a dumbass and I apologized for saying some not nice shit back to him. He knows he was an idiot and he’s working on it,” you reasoned, laying a gentle hand on his arm.

He blew out a breath, letting his face soften as he watched you run your hand up and down his exposed forearm. “I just… Tasha said you threatened to leave Major Crimes and I guess I got ahead of myself.”

“I’m not leaving. Not without telling you first.”

“Good.” His voice was a quiet rumble, barely audible in the space around you, focused on every brush of your thumb against his skin. “I’d need time to convince you to stay.”

You huffed a laugh, smiling gently. “As if you would have to try hard to convince me.”

The wink he shot you was absolutely criminal. Your heart lurched and you carefully peeled your hand from his arm as you reached for the paper bag behind you. “What’s in here?”

“Indian. I was feeling a coconut curry and remembered how much you loved that chicken korma when we went for Tasha’s birthday, so I grabbed something for us because I figured you’d be working late.”

“Jake, you don’t have to keep feeding me,” you chastised lightly, opening the bag and inhaling the aroma of spices that began to fill the room.

“Sweets, you don’t seem to let me take care of you in any other way than feeding you,” he argued playfully. “So a man’s gotta take his chances where he finds them.”

You tried to give him a stern look, but the smile that was shining bright in your eyes betrayed you. “No more, okay?”

“I make no promises,” he replied, snaking an arm around you and hauling you off the table as you screeched and slapped at him to put you down. He did after a moment then began to organize the plastic containers by the food inside, humming mindlessly to himself. “But you’re okay? I was worried about you last night.”

You nodded, opening the container in front of you and sighing contentedly as the smell wafted around you. “I am, and I really should be buying you food as a thank you, you know?”

“How about this? You eat, and I’m sufficiently thanked,” he bargained, shoveling a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Jake…”

“No Sweets. I want to do this for you, let me do this for you and your beautiful brain, okay?”

Well who were you to argue with that? Cheeks and ears flared with warmth as you started to heat, ignoring how Jake set free butterflies in your stomach every time so much as looked at you lately.

It was a peaceful moment, the two of you eating in near silence, much like last night, but it felt different. Your heart was still heavy, but it no longer felt like the weight of your past was solely on your shoulders, it was still there but you had shared the burden with your team, each one taking a small piece of it to give you a break.

Jake’s knee knocked into yours, the boyish grin on his face nearly making you choke on the mouthful of naan you had just taken. “Whaa?” You said, swallowing your food quickly in order to get the syllable out.

“Nothing.”

“Ass.”

The grin he gave you should have been illegal, but you nearly swallowed your tongue when he said “I know you like mine.”

You stood up, empty container in hand as you shook your head in disbelief. “You’re a fucking menace today, I swear.”

“Only for you, Sweets. Only for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned back around after tossing the container in the trash by the door, only to find Jake standing right behind you, his own container forgotten in hand. “Jake?”

“Hmm?” The low-lidded gaze made your heart skip a beat, heat flaring yet again in your lower belly, curling and moving like a serpent of flame. “What’s that, Sweets?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked, trying to step past him, but failing when he caught you around the waist again. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, throwing his container out before letting you go and walking backwards back to the table, leaving you sputtering and struggling to breathe. Blowing out a shaky breath, you wandered back over to your seat, opting to sit on the tabletop yet again and began to go over the profile point by point. You could hear Jake fumbling around behind you, but unlike any other instance where you would have snapped any other person to knock it off, Jake just filled the empty space with his own sound.

He let his presence be known, let himself remain as the calming pillar of comfort you have begun to see him as, while you let your subconscious drift into the profiler mindset you needed right now.

After a beat, you felt warmth settle next to you, a soft sweater brushing your arm. “So, what do we know?”

===

The next day passed in a blur. You, Jake, Bradley, and Nat were crisscrossing New York visiting crime scenes yet again, but not your main scenes where murder had occurred. No, you were visiting arson sites, scoping out the scenes and coordinating with Amaya and Mickey back at 26 Fed as they tapped into security cameras close by.

You were in Brooklyn, visiting the first arson scene, crouched in front of the burned structure next to Bob as he plucked something from the charred porch railing. Neither of you knew what it was, but Bob assured you that he would figure it out.

Jake was further down the block, his finger pressed against his earpiece as he listened to someone, probably Mickey directing him according to the camera footage. “Sweets! Bob!” He shouted, voice echoing through the quiet street. “I’ve got something!”

You and Bob exchanged a look, but hurried over to see what he could have possibly found well over 100 yards from the burn site. Jake was practically folded in on himself as he crouched on the corner, looking down at the road. “Whatcha find?” You asked him as you sidled up to him. “A cool rock?”

“No, Mickey was going over the footage and found that the car leaving the scene on the night of the fire scraped the fuck out of its bumper while making a getaway. He saw a flare of sparks go up and sent me down to the end of the street to see if I could find a mark it left, and I did!” Jake explained, the childlike glee written in his every expression as he studied the edge of the curb before him. “Yeah Mick, it’s black paint or at the very least a black bumper.”

He stood, letting Bob take his place to collect a sample of the scraped paint. “Uh huh, yeah. I’ll look. Sweets, can you confirm that the pull out over there is an alley? Mickey thinks he found where the car hid but he’s not completely sure.”

You nodded, hurrying across the street, before ducking down the pull out. It was an alleyway but it didn’t connect to the next street. Popping back out, you gave Jake a thumbs up and you watched him speak to Mickey from across the street. Turning around, you spotted the dumpster at the back of the alley, sitting half open against the back wall.

Pulling out your phone, you shot Jake a text asking him to check with Mickey if a garbage truck had emptied the dumpster since the crime. His response was immediate, just a yellow thumbs up, but it still made you smile.

Bob joined you shortly, with news that the dumpster had in fact been emptied since the crime had been committed. “Fuck, I was hoping that we’d be able to get something,” you swore, shaking your head.

“Well, we have more than expected,” Bob reassured you quietly, his nose scrunching as he tried to get his glasses further up his face. “And the fact that we made this connection at all is pretty big.”

“That’s… true, I guess,” you muttered, pacing a little. “I just hate feeling so far behind this guy, it’s like he’s so ahead of us that he’s just walking while we’re sprinting to catch up.”

He nodded, the glasses he worked so hard to push up his face sliding down his nose again. Bob just sighed, his mouth downturned as he went cross-eyed to stare at the metal frames.

“Need a hand?”

“Please.”

With a gentle touch, you nudged the frames up his nose again with the back of your finger. “There.”

“Thanks, I really need to get these adjusted again,” he mumbled as he began to head back across the street to where Jake was waiting.

“Anything?” He asked when you approached, hands holding onto the straps of your bulletproof vest.

You shook your head. “No, it’s a dead end alley back there. I thought that the dumpster might contain something of importance, but since it’s been emptied after this was a crime scene, anything that was once in there likely is sitting in a landfill now.”

“That sucks.”

“Mhmm. It does, but whatever he didn’t toss, he probably took with him,” you reasoned, looking past him at two little kids playing at the opposite end of the street. Who you assumed was their mom stood a few paces off, a fond smile seen from this distance as she watched them chase each other around on their bikes.

It gave you some pause to see life continuing at what had been the scene of a crime. In your experience, life, whatever remained, stagnated and withered where it grew. A plant couldn’t grow without roots and violent crime ripped whole forests of souls free from the earth and left the strewn about.

“Well, Mickey has what he needs,” Jake said, catching you smiling sadly at the children playing and immediately jumping in to divert your attention. “I think Bob collected all that he could, are we ready to check the next one?”

Shaking your head, you tore your eyes from the end of the street. “I think that Simmons and Davis were sent to the third scene and then Singh and Marshall went to four.”

“So are we done?”

“I think so. Done here at the very least,” you replied easily. Stifling a yawn, you groaned as you pulled your arms behind your back into a stretch. “God it’s early.”

Bob just squinted at you, his face covered in total confusion. “It’s like nine.” He checked his watch, “Make that nine thirty.”

“Bob, I swear if you say it’s practically midafternoon, I will punch you in your pipetting arm,” you threatened, the grumpy expression on your face making the threat just that much less serious. “I haven’t slept well in like two weeks, so nine thirty is too fucking early.”

Jake slung a broad arm over your shoulders and hauled you to his side. “C’mon Sweets, we’ll feed our grouchy brainiac and then go back to the office so you can begin dazzling the team with your profile to help us catch this bastard,” he teased, pinching your shoulder and laughing as you swatted at him.

“You’ve been saying that since we started this case, Jake.”

“And has your beautiful brain led us astray yet? Nope,” he countered cheerfully, bumping your hip with his as you walked back to the SUV. “You are going to pin him to the wall with this profile, you will make him too fucking paranoid to try again.”

“Easy tiger. I still have to present the profile to Mav and Simpson first before it goes public, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

“Who’s getting ahead?” Jake replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. “I’m stating pure fact here, given that I already know that half the unit probably could name at least a piece of the profile by now and understand why it’s a big deal. You made us into mini-yous and it’s fucking great!”

You just laughed at that. Jake’s enthusiasm was infectious and you found yourself trying to reel yourself back in as you wanted to remain as grounded as possible. “The last thing I need is another team of cerebrals, some of whom probably wouldn’t chase down a purse-snatcher without trying to ascertain his entire backstory first. I had enough of those back at Quantico and up in White Collar.”

The rest of the way to 26 Fed carried on in much the same way; the three of you laughing and joking in a way that would horrify some victims activists. What they didn’t understand however, was the need for the investigators to have space for their own release of emotion. Cases like this were hard on everything. Torturing those who stood apart in order to ensure that no innocents fell to this same criminal again. They would tear their minds apart in favour of preserving the sleep and sanity of the general population.

People slept better when they knew things were being handled and it was the FBI’s job to do some of that handling. Whether or not you agreed with their bureaucratic nonsense wasn’t the point, you would do what you could to leave this city a little better than you found it and that was enough for you.

===

When you walked into the JOC, you were immediately confronted by both Maverick and Simpson waiting for you. “Agent Douglas.��

“Sirs, can I help you with something?” You were immediately on edge, being chewed out twice in four days was not ideal in the slightest and the anticipation of it happening again had your nerves cracking and writhing like downed power lines under your skin.

“Your profile,” Simpson said, his voice the same stern flatness that it always seemed to be full of. “Is it complete?”

You nodded. “I believe so. He’s stuck to the same patterns for the last four attacks and unless he changes everything up if and when he attacks again, the odds of him following the existing pattern is pretty good.”

The ASAC hummed, his eyes going distant as he considered your words. “I am setting up a press conference tomorrow afternoon to discuss the results so far, I want you to condense it and be prepared to present that profile to the media, the NYPD, other emergency service workers, and the public.”

“Of course, I can have the profile written out and on your desk by the end of today.”

“No need, Agent Douglas. You do a much better job presenting a profile when you aren’t forced to put it into words beforehand,” he replied with a smile. “But I would emphasize his choice of victims if possible.”

“I can do that,” you said easily. “I won’t let you down.”

“You haven’t yet.”

Stunned into silence, you watched him walk back into the JOC, barking at someone to move their shit, and were left standing in the hallway, mouth agape. “Hey kid.”

“Mav.”

“You holding up okay?” You couldn’t figure out the tone of his voice, it wasn’t his normal tone, but it still felt empathetic to your situation. It was weird.

“As best as I can. I’m just trying for one day at a time right now,” you replied softly. You hated how your voice dropped like you were talking about something secret, the whole fucking building likely knew by now, so why did you still feel the need to hide?

“Tom asked me to check in on you. He heard what happened from Simpson, who apparently contacted him after we had our chat.”

“He knew, didn’t he?” You weren’t accusing anyone of anything, but the connection between your name and your mother’s unsolved homicide wasn’t one that could be easily hidden, so if anyone would have known before you had even set foot in the Academy, Tom was the most likely.

Mav nodded, his expression grim. “He did. Never said anything to me about it, other than to keep an eye on you after he left the other week. He’s worried about you.”

“He doesn’t need to. Everyone knowing doesn’t change the fact that she was killed 22 years ago by the kid-version of this UNSUB. I appreciate the concern, but like I said, the people who care are helping me and those that are using me as a source for gossip aren’t close enough to me to talk about anything else.”

“I understand, but as your boss, if something happens, if you are contacted directly, or anything else, I need to know in order to do my job and protect my people.” His arms were folded across his chest, the weariness catching up with him with how much sorrow seemed to be caught in the lines of his face. “Promise me that, kid. Okay? I know I said this earlier, but you are still one of my agents and I do what I can to protect them from people who wish them harm.”

“Thanks Mav,” you said tearfully. His words, while firm, were proof that he was making good on his word. He had fought for you to stay on this case and would continue to do so until he physically could no longer do so. You didn’t know if it was a promise he had made to his husband or if this was something he had told himself to do for Tom.

Looking at you standing tall, even with the weight of the world crushing your shoulders, Pete was surprised by the strength you exuded. Tom had basically deemed you one of the kids, a young agent who had a backbone of steel and a nose for justice, just like them and these kids were their family. If anything happened to you, Pete knew that both himself and Tom would fall neck deep into this case to pull you from the demons of your past.

You had become family over the years, and if they could be a safe place, a better set of father figures than your own dad, then so be it. But you were their kid, one of their brightest with an intelligence that shone your light higher, faster, and more intense than so many others they had met over the years. Whether you knew it or not, they would haul you out of this situation if it became too much with the help of your friends and well… whatever the Seresin kid was to you.

You had never been alone and never would be as long as they were there.

“It’s not a problem, kid. Now I want to compare the findings from all four scenes with you and the other teams before you head out, okay?”

“Sounds great.”

===

You really should have known better than to say if this UNSUB would attack again.

Because he had and you were surrounded by what felt like a graveyard as you stared out at the nine bodies laying out on tarps that had been placed on the sidewalk. Covered in white sheets, they gave the illusion of maggots, life starting and growing from the end of another, and you knew that he would never stop.

He had been given a name by the media, the public drove up the views on the stories involving his moniker, the one you refused to use. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of perpetuating his own ego, couldn’t bear to do so and still look the families of the victims in the eye after doing so.

“What has he done?” You thought to yourself as you crouched next to the smallest sheet-covered body. “Six children all died because of him.”

“Sweets?”

“Hmm?”

Jake’s hand on your shoulder jolted you free from the gathering clouds of despair that had appeared on the horizon of your mind. “Breathe for me, okay?”

So you did. You inhaled the smoke that clung to every part of this crime scene, took in the smell of char and burning, you could smell the chemical extinguishers the firefighters had used. But the one smell that you would never outlast, death.

It was unmistakable while crouching where you were. Burning hair and flesh, the metallic tang of blood and the scorched meat smell of muscle being burned down to bone. No one could have survived this, and no one had.

“Nine people…” you muttered, staring out at the sea of reporters all clamoring for a better shot of the scene. “Nine lives gone in a fucking ego trip.”

The somberness at this crime scene was unlike any of the others. In one fire, this UNSUB had claimed more lives than at all of his other crime scenes combined and no one could stomach the thought of telling the media that the lives of three single mothers and their six children had been lost, had been stolen from them.

Gilgo Beach had been the last killer people had known in New York. Rex Heuermann had been charged and arrested back in 2011, but now this egomaniacal psychopath had claimed more victims than the once dubbed “Craigslist Ripper” and the “Long Island Serial Killer.”

But no one since the “Son of Sam” killings by David Berkowitz had created so much fear in the everyday person. Now that seven children had been claimed by the fires, people didn’t know where to turn. Your UNSUB never discriminated, age played no factor in his killings, socioeconomic class mattered little to him, all he cared about was the fame and ego boost he got from a crime scene like this.

===

Once again, you were so right. You had stood next to this man in the crowd at Kirsten Dale’s crime scene.

He wanted you. You were your mother’s exact copy, the piece de resistance in his murder spree, proof of his mastery and control over the public’s fear. The FBI paraded you from scene to scene, tearing his notes from their resting places, hoarding them for yourself as you tried bitterly to escape the web he had caught you in.

If only you were more than a fly to his spider.

Watching you crouched next to one of the children, he waited for your statement. You couldn’t deny him now, couldn’t deny his power, his control. You wouldn’t. Every other FBI agent had used his rightful name, the name that struck fear in the hearts of so many ordinary people: The Blazing Bodies’ Killer. So why would you be any different?

Unless. Unless you wanted him angry and unbalanced. Unless you were denying him the ultimate pleasure to prove that he had done nothing to rattle you. Your mother, of that he was certain, was the model for everything he did, the perfect victim that had sparked his desire for more than just fire with her death. Without her, he wouldn’t exist in his full form and without her, you wouldn’t be here hunting him like a dog.

Your mother, Abigail Douglas, was the start of it all. And you, FBI Special Agent Douglas would be the end of it all, whether it was your bullet in his chest or his knife in your back. You were just another bitch that needed culling. Anyone else didn’t matter. Anyone he took with him would just serve to prove that he was better than all of the people before him. Killing begets killing and sometimes an accident makes a murder far better than anticipated.

So as he stood there, hand deep in his coat pocket clutching the box of Red Bird matches, he wondered just how much more destruction he needed to bring before he brought you to your knees.

After all, justice had nothing on him. It had never worked before.

===

A/N: Well, well, well. I know a sneaky few of you will be very happy knowing that you were right about how the timing was so off and why help was delayed! Very very happy to let you in on that little piece now! Fingers crossed that there is a chapter next week, I have like a month left of school for this semester and shit is getting nuts, I’ll let you know if there’s an update or not! Love you all, my firebugs!

Taglist: @horseshoegirl @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @dakotakazansky

@theviexenviper @auroralightsthesky @blue-aconite @rosiahills22 @seitmai

@kmc1989 @dcyllom @aviatorobsessed @dingochef @shinycupcakebaker

@dizzybee03 @djs8891 @avengersfan25 @reaper-t @serrendiipty

@lexixstewart @justdamnpeachy @waltermis @multiverseprincess @mrsevans90

@emma8895eb @redbarn1995 @cevansbaby-dove @deadboltsblog @keyrani

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dizzybee03 · 6 days ago

Text

Each chapter keeps getting better and better

The girl behind the bar : the date Part 3 - the apartment (2/2)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: SMUT, p in v (protected of course), playful banter as always

words: 4,8k

Summary: Over in your bedroom, things continue to be steamy between you and Jake...

a/n: We're picking up right where we left off and, if I might say so myself, this is pretty hot. I'm actually quite proud of myself. Enjoy!

Link to my masterlist

“This is my bedroom and over there is the bathroom, if you want to…wash your hands, or something”, you told him as you stopped in front of your bed and suddenly felt a little self-conscious about the fact that his fingers had just been inside of you.

When he didn’t say something, you turned around and noticed how close he was standing. He looked at you like you imagined an animal looking at its prey. Without breaking the eye contact, he lifted his fingers that were just inside of you up to his mouth and sucked on them. “You taste good, baby. Wanna try?”, he asked in a low tone. You looked up at him with big, doughy eyes and lightly nodded your head. The next moment, you felt his fingertips at your bottom lip. You opened your mouth and he slowly pushed his fingers inside.

Your tongued played around them as you closed your lips and sucked them deeper into your mouth. A tingling sensation in your lower stomach spread out all over your body. His eyes on you got darker as he watched you. He took a step closer and you could feel his hard cock against your lower abdomen. At this feeling, you sucked his fingers a little harder.

He pulled his hand from your mouth and put it on your neck to pull you in for a passionate kiss. His body pushed yours back until you fell on your mattress together. You automatically opened your legs and he settled in between them.

As you made out, one of his hands wandered to your breast, kneading it and pinching your nipple which made your hips rock up. His hand wandered further down, between your bodies, and his fingertips grazed your clit that was still sensitive from before. You arched your back and gasped.

He wrapped his hand around his hard cock and let it run through your folds, teasing your entrance. It felt good. It felt too good.

“Condom”, you called out, pulling yourself back into the reality of the moment. Jake stopped in his motions like he had to pull himself out of a trance as well. “Yeah, sure. Sorry”, he said and rolled off you. You got up on your elbows to breathe for a moment. Everything with Jake felt so intense that it almost made you forget your number one rule: to always use a condom the first time you sleep with someone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?”, he asked. “Night stand, top drawer”, you told him and let yourself fall back into your pillows. “No, wait”, you shot up but it was too late.

“What do we have here?”, he said and you could hear the chuckle in his voice. He held up your Satisfyer and G-spot vibrator as he turned back around to you. “Put that back. Please”, you said and tried to grab one of your toys but he was quicker and held it out of your reach.

“Who knew you had quite the collection?”, he teased. “Having two toys is not nearly a collection”, you told him and raised an eyebrow at him. “Can you please put them back?”, you pleaded and felt your cheeks burning up.

“Should we use them?”, he suddenly asked and stunned you with his question. “What? No!”, you quickly said and were finally able to collect them back. You leaned over him and put the toys back in your night stand. You grabbed the packet of condoms and put it on top of the night stand.

“Are you embarrassed that I found them?”, he asked and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Let’s say I’m not thrilled”, you replied as you leaned back and sat on your legs next to him. “Why?”, he asked. “I don’t know”, you honestly answered. You really didn’t know why you felt embarrassed about it but you did.

“Okay, but I need you to know that I don’t find them embarrassing. It’s actually kinda hot to imagine you using them. Really hot”, he said and let his fingers travel up your thigh. “Really?”, you asked with a shy voice and followed his fingers with your eyes.

“Really”, he nodded, leaned over and kissed you. You straddled his hips and put your arms around his neck, pressing your boobs against his chest. You knew by now how much he liked that and you liked it too. Your hips rocked forward and ground over his cock that was still hard. Impressive.

You broke the kiss only to lean over and grab the box of condoms. You ripped it open and grabbed one before you threw the box back on the night stand. You unwrapped the condom and rolled it onto his cock, stroking it a few times in the process.

Jake wrapped his arms around you and rolled you onto your back, settling between your legs. He hooked his arm under your right knee and pushed it upwards, putting it on his hip. He reached between your bodies like he did before, grabbed his cock and aligned it with your entrance.

“Ready?”, he asked. You nodded your head. “Yes”, you whispered. He leaned down and gave you a gentle kiss, left you wanting more when he pulled back.

Jake slowly pushed himself inside you. Your hands flew up to his shoulders as you gasped at the sensation of being filled by him, arching your back. “Oh, yes”, you breathed out when he was fully inside you. A deep growl escaped his lips.

He wanted to give you a few moments to adjust to him before he would start to move, but you got a little impatient and started to roll your hips at him. “Always so impatient”, he whispered at your ear and pulled his hips back only to push in again, a little faster this time.

“Mhm, yeah”, you moaned and ran your hands down his sides, gasping for air when he pushed in again. His hips started to move faster and harder against you.

“Fuck, you feel so good”, Jake moaned and pushed your legs further apart with his thighs, going a little deeper this time. “Oh, baby”, you whined and scratched his back at the sensation.

Hearing you call him a nickname for the first time was such a turn on for him that he immediately picked up the pace. His hips snapped harder against yours, his cock going even a bit deeper.

“Oh god, yes! Jake, fuck me”, you called out, your hands gripping the sheets around you.

You were both breathing heavily, the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room. You pulled him down for a sloppy kiss as you wrapped your legs around his hips, pushing him closer to you which also caused him to slow down a bit. He placed his lower arms on each side of your head.

This way his pubic bone was pressing directly on your clit as he kept on moving his hips. Your moans got louder with the increased sensation. One of your hands moved into his hair while the other one moved down onto his back, scratching his skin with your fingernails.

“Oh god, I’m gonna come. Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come”, you moaned and your breath quickened even more. You were almost getting light-headed, but his deep growls and guttural moans kept you in the moment. It was such a sexy sight to see, him all sweaty on top of you, falling apart because he was about to come.

Your inner walls tightened around him with your nearing orgasm, making it really hard for him not to come himself immediately but to hold out until you had reached your peak. He pushed himself up into a kneeling position and picked up the pace again. This also caused your wonderfully large breasts to bounce with his thrusts. “You’re so fucking hot, Y/N”, he pressed out. He felt like he was about to explode.

Jake placed his hand on your lower stomach and worked your clit with his thumb. “Ahh!”, you cried out at the rush of electric shocks this movement sent through your body. Your hands grabbed the sheets again with a tight grip. You moaned loudly with every one of his thrusts, pushing yourself against him. You clenched tightly around him as your orgasm washed over you, your next breath got stuck in your throat. You arched your back so hard it was almost painful. “Ahhh, oh god…oh god…ugh”, you pressed out breathlessly as you came.

Your grip around his cock was too much for him, especially combined with the sight before him as you came undone. Jake managed two more hard thrusts before he stilled in his motions and emptied himself into the condom. A deep, guttural moan came from the back of his throat as he held himself up on his hands, his hips jerking against your body before he collapsed on top of you.

He moved his upper body to the side to not lay on you with his full body weight but he wanted to stay inside of you as long as possible.

You were both breathing heavily and bathed in the afterglow of your joined orgasm. His face was placed directly next to yours. When you looked over, he leaned forward a little and pressed a kiss to your nose.

His arm was draped across your chest and the fingers of your right hand were gently running up and down the skin of his arm. You were taking a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heart, but you feared it might not just be from the amazing sex you’ve just had.

You leaned forward and kissed him. Your tongue ran along his bottom lip and then dove into his mouth. You put your hand over his and moved it onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand. Your body pressed into his and you put a leg over his hip, turning the two of you to the side.

“I know I’m still inside of you but I need a minute…or two”, Jake commented as he pulled back from the kiss. You smiled and pressed another kiss to his mouth.

“I know, I’m just…The harder I come, the hornier I am right after”, you explained and pressed another kiss to his lips. “Good to know”, he said and his hand ran up your spine, resting on the nape of your neck. “It’ll pass. Just give me a moment”, you said and kissed him again. It became quite passionate and you could feel his cock twitching inside you but it was still going soft.

You gave him one last kiss, lingered with your lips on his and then pulled back, letting yourself fall onto your back. Jake took care of the condom and disposed it in the trash can in your bathroom.

“You can take a shower if you want to”, you told him as you laid spread out on your bed. “Only if you come with me”, his head popped out of the door and a dirty grin spread across his face. “Sounds lovely. But I have to take care of this mess and this mess”, you said and with your finger you circled your lower region and your face. You were sure your make-up was all over the place by now.

Jake pouted at you for a moment before he got into the shower. You waited for him to finish before you left the bed.

Leaning on the doorframe, you watched him dry himself off with a towel. “Enjoying the show?”, he asked and shot you a look. You could see him flexing his muscles and chuckled. You walked over to him and gave him a deep and long kiss. “Still a no for the joined shower? I don’t mind showering again”, he told you. “Still a no”, you nodded your head.

“Just get back to bed, I won’t take long”, you told him and walked a step over to your bathroom mirror before it hit you. “That’s if you want to stay the night. I don’t know if…”, you stumbled over your words and looked at him through the mirror. He came over to you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be happy to stay if you have me”, he mentioned. “Then I’ll see you in a bit”, you concluded.

He playfully slapped your butt. “Don’t take too long”, he said and winked at you through the mirror until he finally left the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

As soon as you heard the click of the door, you took a deep breath. Oh my god, you just had sex with Jake Hangman Seresin. And it was fucking incredible!

If someone had told you that back when you met him, you would have called them crazy and had them thrown out of the bar. The two of you had come a long way and the road sure had some bumps along the way.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for real since you first stepped in and saw how ruined your make-up actually was. Your skin was covered in sweat and your hair looked like a big bird’s nest.

“Good god”, you exclaimed and quicky removed your make-up. Then you combed your hair and put it up in a quick bun for your shower.

Afterwards, you changed into an oversized dark blue shirt with the word NAVY on it that was hanging on your hamper. You undid the bun and walked back out to your bedroom.

Jake had made himself comfortable in bed and had his boxer briefs back on. You noticed that your underwear was now hanging over the chair in the corner of your room instead of still being scattered around your apartment. Nice touch.

You walked over to your dresser and grabbed a fresh pair of panties, putting them on.

“Hey, I remember that”, Jake said when you turned around and got into bed. “The night at the bar”, he added. “That’s right”, you just said. You slept in it from time to time because it reminded you of him and your time together in that stormy night at the bar.

“Is there a chance you have that other shirt on you? I’m allowed to wear that now”, you joked as you pulled up the covers, reminding him of the I fucked a guy in the navy shirt you had found in the lost-and-found-box, while you settled in his arms, cuddling up to him. “Sadly no, but I’ll make sure I get you one”, he said and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in a little more.

“As lovely as that is, I think I’m getting quite hot”, you said after just a minute in his arms and pulled your head back for some fresh air.

“No one told you to put on a shirt”, he said, leaving his eyes closed like he was about to fall asleep and his arms tightly wrapped around you. “I don’t think the shirt is the problem. You’re basically a human furnace”, you told him and attempted to move out of his arms. You weren’t used to sleeping with someone in your bed, let alone so close to someone.

“The shirt is our only problem, ‘cause I’m not letting go”, he said and pulled you in again. “Jesus, Jake”, you huffed out as his hot body pressed against yours. You didn’t actually mind it but it was fun to have your typical banter going.

“You brought up the love languages and now you have to deal with it”, he commented. “But I didn't tell you to choose physical touch and make it your whole personality”, you countered and playfully pushed him away from you but you both knew you weren't really trying.

You tried to get out of his arms again and his grip on you got stronger. “Y/N, I’m warning you”, he said, his eyes still closed. “What the hell are you warning me about, huh?”, you asked a bit surprised by his choice of words.

Before you knew it you were pinned underneath him, his legs settling between yours, hips pressed together and his hands on your wrists, gently pushing your arms above your head. You gasped in surprise and looked at him with big eyes.

“I’m afraid that if you don’t settle down in my arms and take that shirt off willingly, I might have to take it off myself”, he spoke in a low voice, a growl in the back of his throat. Seeing you pinned underneath him had his pupils dilating.

“Yeah?”, you challenged him, the surprised look on your face quickly being replaced by a smug grin. “I’d like to see you try, Lieutenant”, you whispered and lifted your chin as you spoke, challenging him.

He looked at you for one more second and then his mouth was on yours. He forcefully kissed you, his hips pressing into yours.

You moaned at the excitement he awakened in you with his actions. Who knew you liked to be a little manhandled, under the right circumstances?

Jake held your wrists together with just one hand but you weren’t really protesting him anyway. With his free hand, he pulled up the hem of your shirt over your boobs, exposing them to him. With the way the shirt was pinned beneath you, the stretched fabric pressed your boobs together nicely.

“Fuck, they look so good”, he said and the next moment he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth and played with it with his tongue. You gasped at the feeling.

He let go of your hands but you kept them up there as he moved a little further down and settled between your legs. He grabbed both your breasts with his hands and kneaded them, even sticking his face in there. You loved how he worshipped your boobs. You had sensitive nipples and every pinch, every twirl and lick sent an electric shock right between your legs.

Your hands were in his hair again, making it stand up in every direction possible but you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby”, you moaned and arched your back. You pulled the shirt off your body and tossed it to the side.

“I’m obsessed with your boobs”, Jake mentioned and kept squeezing your tits. “And I’m obsessed with you being obsessed with my boobs”, you told him and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Oh fuck, I need you baby. I need you inside me”, you whined and pulled him up to your face to kiss him passionately. Your hands reached down to pull at his boxer briefs, getting them off his body again while his hands grabbed your underwear and pulled them down as well.

Together, you rolled over so you were straddling him. You grabbed the box of condoms off the night stand and pulled one from it.

Just like before, you unwrapped it and put it on his hard cock between you. But this time, he didn’t roll you over. This time, he wanted you to ride him, take control.

You lifted your hips so he could align himself with your center and then you slowly sank back down, taking him inside inch by inch until he was fully inside you. The foreplay with your boobs had you completely soaked. You moaned out loud at the feeling, just like Jake.

Your hips started rolling forward, lifting them off him ever so slightly before you pushed back down. Your arms were hooked around his neck, your hands wandering into his hair. His hands roamed your back before they ended up on your ass. He kneaded the flesh with a tight grip and pushed your hips against him with your movements.

It wasn’t long until you were riding him hard and fast, both of you gasping for air between your sloppy kisses. You felt that knot in your stomach, indicating that your next orgasm, the third one of the night, was approaching you rather quickly. You didn’t want this to end just yet. You wanted to bathe in your horny, passionate bliss for as long as possible.

You slowed down and pushed Jake into the cushions with your hands on his chest. You leaned down with him and kissed over his jaw, down his neck and along his collarbone. You reached behind you and collected his hands from your ass and pushed them over his head.

You knew you weren’t nearly strong enough to actually hold them there if he didn’t want to but he played along.

You leaned back up and started to ride him slowly, letting your hips rock back and forth at an almost excruciating pace.

"I'm just gonna enjoy the view for a moment", he commented and interlocked his fingers behind his head.

You let your head fall back, closing your eyes and enjoying the intimacy and the feeling of being filled by him. Your hands came up to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples. Your hands moved up further into your hair, collecting it and holding it in a ponytail for a moment because it had gotten quite hot in your little bedroom, before letting it cascade down your back again.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful", Jake commented. You opened your eyes again and looked at his face. A smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you leaned forward, putting your hands on his chest before you started to slowly circle your hips. "Oh fuck", Jake breathed out and his hands shot to your hips. He didn't stop you, just letting his hands wander with your hips. You started to push down into his pelvis a bit harder, tightening your walls.

“Oh god, babe”, he growled as his grip on your hips got tighter. You felt how he fought with himself not to take over. You put your hands on either side of his head and bent down until your chest was pressed firmly against his.

“Fuck me, Hangman”, you whispered at his ear. You didn’t need to tell him twice.

He wrapped his arms around your back like a vice before he started to basically jackhammer into you. You screamed out at the sudden change of pace and the new angle that hit just right.

“Ah, fuck! Fuck! FUCK!”, you blurted out as your orgasm came rushing over you but Jake kept going and managed to drag out your orgasm while he was chasing his own. As his mouth was right at our ear, you could hear him growl and mutter utter filth under his breath as he came.

The sound of something shutting woke you up the next morning. From the way the light shone into your room, you could tell that it was still quite early. You had trouble fully opening your eyes and wanted to get back to sleep. Your hand wandered over to Jake’s side as you wanted to cuddle up to him and put your head on his chest. He had finally convinced you last night to try to be a cuddle-sleeper and you had to admit you liked it. You just weren’t allowed to wear shirts while doing it.

Your hand grabbed at thin air and hit the mattress instead. And the mattress was cold. Your eyes shot open, now being fully awake.

That motherfucker didn’t just sneak out and leave without saying…

“Morning”, you head from your door and looked over your shoulder. Jake was standing there, fully dressed in his clothes from last night, a cup of coffee in his hands. You turned around and wrapped the sheet around your naked body.

“Morning”, you mumbled and sat up. Jake came over and sat down on the edge of your bed. He leaned over and gave you an incredible kiss. You could only hope that your morning breath wasn’t too bad.

“Why are you dressed?”, you asked. All you could think about was to get him back into bed and out of his clothes. “Some of us have to work in the morning”, he reminded you and a smile played around his lips. “Oh, yeah”, you said and slowly remembered that it was a Wednesday morning today.

Since you started working at a bar and having shifts until one or two AM, you’ve gotten used to sleeping until 9 or 10 AM every day.

Jake handed you the cup of coffee and you took a big sip. “What time is it?”, you asked. “6 AM”, he answered. “In the morning?”, you blurted out. Jake chuckled at your facial expression. “I’m sorry if I woke you up, but I have to be at work at 6:30 AM”, he told you and brushed a strand of your hair out of your face. You enjoyed his touch, even if it only lasted a second.

“I thought you had left without saying goodbye”, you admitted and looked at him a little embarrassed. He cocked his head at you. “I would never do that to you. Why would you think that?”, he asked. You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. You seemed like the type”, you replied and felt bad about your comment.

“Well, I can’t say I’ve never done that before but those days are behind me”, he clarified and pushed another strand of your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger on your cheek. You leaned into his touch and enjoyed his warmth.

“And what was that noise?”, you asked to change the subject and took another sip of your coffee. “I couldn’t find your cups. They’re supposed to be somewhat close to the coffee maker, you know”, he said. “My kitchen is perfectly arranged, thank you”, you commented and nodded to underline your point. “Alright”, he nodded with a chuckle and leaned forward to kiss your forehead before he got up from your bed.

“You really have to go?”, you asked and ran your hand over the mattress. “The bed feels so empty without you already”, you pouted and let sheet slip off your body. “You’re killing me”, he told you but you could see his eyes wandering down your naked body. You put the cup of coffee on your night stand and got on your knees in your bed, coming face to face with Jake.

You put your hands on his collar and pulled him a little closer. “Is there any way I could convince you to stay?”, you asked him with your best flirty tone. “There are a lot of ways and I’m really tempted, believe me. But I have an important meeting this morning”, he told you and he sounded like he was really struggling. You noticed that he made sure not to touch you because he knew it was over as soon as he felt your hot skin underneath his fingertips.

“How important?”, you asked and let your hands run down his clothed chest. “Uhm, like national, uhm, security important”, he said and his voice sounded strained. That actually sounded important. You guessed you had to make do with torturing him a little bit.

“Okay, I understand. I’ll guess I have to keep myself company this morning”, you told him as you let go of him and laid back down on your bed. You let your hand wander down your stomach and between your legs.

“Y/N”, he warned you as he took two steps back but his eyes followed your hand. You dragged it out for one more second before you pulled the sheet over your body. “Okay, shows over. Go, be important”, you said in a defeated tone and motioned towards your door. Jake smiled at you but looked a bit relieved.

He came towards the bed to finally kiss you goodbye but you stopped him with your hands held up. “I’m warning you. If you come over here, I WILL wrap myself around you and not let go. But I will behave for America’s safety. So, go”, you told him again.

Jake shook his head at you with a chuckle and walked towards the door. “Will you come by the bar tonight?”, you asked him and he stopped in his tracks. “Of course, sweetheart”, he said as he turned around. You pulled a face at the nickname. “Still no to sweetheart?”, he asked. “Still no to sweetheart”, you confirmed. “See you tonight”, he said. “I’ll be the girl behind the bar”, you told him with a flirty smile before he finally left your apartment.

a/n: Even though it might seem like it, this is not quite the end. If you guys remember, Jake still has a bet debt to pay. Check back here next week for Jake's shift at the bar!

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dizzybee03 · 8 days ago

Text

Oh this was cool….at first I wasn’t sure where it was going but I love the idea of this! Like a truth serum almost but with sex and dirty thoughts!

🕸mm’s kinktober 2024🕷

Sex Pollen // Thigh Riding

Jake Seresin x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only! MDNI!

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

“Hey!” The voice from behind has you rolling your eyes, “Are you alright?!”

Out of the entire squad, you just had to get shot down with the Hangman. The infuriatingly hot, arrogant asshole who loves to press your buttons.

Every button you have except the one between your thighs that you want him to press, and rub and lick…

“Yeah,” you shout over your shoulder as you roll your parachute, wincing at the blooming pain in your shoulders, knowing tomorrow the pain is going to be much, much worse. “I’m fi-oomph!”

The force of him wrapping his arms around your waist knocks you forward a few steps.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he breathes into your neck, causing a shiver to dance down your spine as he nuzzles his stubble against your skin, “I turned back as soon as I heard you were in trouble; I didn’t even wait for permission. I took two of the three down that were on your tail but the third got you. I was so scared that I didn’t see the one trailing me.”

“You were…” you trail off in disbelief, wanting nothing more than to lean back into his warmth. “You took on enemy fire? For me?”

“Despite what my callsign implies, I’d never leave anyone behind,” he replies, swallowing thickly, “especially you.”

It feels as if your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

There’s no way he feels the same way about you…is there?

His arms feel too good around you; he’s so big and his body is so warm. Too warm…he’s almost hot.

“What do you-,” Your brow creases as pull out of his hold to turn to him. He’s covered in a bright purple powdery substance. “What’s all over your flight suit?”

“What?” He looks down before gesturing behind him to the field of purple, “Oh, I landed in that field. Never seen flowers like that before.”

“It’s everywhere,” you step forward, brushing it off his chest with your still-gloved hands, pretending not to notice that his heart’s beating as fast as yours.

When your fingers graze his bare skin where his zipper has opened up, his breath catches.

“Are you feeling okay?” You ask, noticing the sheen coating his skin and color working up his neck, “you’re all flushed.”

“I’m-it’s really hot,” is all he says, swallowing thickly with lust-blown pupils as he starts tugging at his collar, “you’re really hot-I mean, well, you are, but are you warm too?”

“I’m fine,” you shake your head, and pinch the fabric in your fingers, “Why don’t you pull this down to your waist while we wait for SAR?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “sure, good idea.”

He lifts his hand to the zipper but it’s shaking so badly he can’t seem to grip the pull.

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a small smile, “just the adrenaline crash. Here, let me.”

“O-okay,” he drops his hands and lets you pull the zipper down past his heaving chest.

But it gets stuck right above his navel.

“C’mon,” you murmur, wiggling it around until it resumes its track, “there ya go-oh.”

Jake’s head falls back with a low groan as your fingers accidentally brush his cock that’s hard and straining against the fabric of his suit.

“Sorry,” he shudders before stumbling back, trying to get his arms out of the sleeves so he can tie them around his waist, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I like, really like you and I’m really attracted to you; I’ve jerked off so many times thinking about you,” he looks up at you with a horrified expression; obviously mortified at what's coming out of his mouth but he can’t stop himself from continuing, “but it’s like I can’t control myself right now. I-I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.”

“Yeah,” your eyes drop to his groin, and your mouth waters at the size of him, “you are really hard.”

“Fuck,” his eyes squeeze shut with a grimace, “don’t look at me, it’s just making it worse. It feels like I took 10 Viagras.”

His words turn on a light bulb in your head.

“Oh shit,” you blurt, nodding your chin toward the field he ran through, “It’s the flowers; I can’t think of what they’re called but they’re a crossbreed of two aphrodisiacs.”

“What does that even mean?” He groans, leaning back against a tree as he cards his hands through his hair.

“You’re covered in sex pollen,” you reply, pulling off your gloves as you slowly step toward him, “I know what will help.”

“Yeah?” He breathes, straightening up as he watches you move closer to him hungrily, “What’s that?”

“Getting off until it’s out of your system,” you reply before gripping his dog tags and pulling him in for a kiss.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

The desperate sound he makes when your lips touch his makes your toes curl in your boots.

“Wait,” he sounds pained as he pulls back; his expression looks it too, “You don’t-I don’t want-“

“I want to,” you interrupt, leaning back in to nip his lower lip and reveling in his shudder, “I’ve wanted this since we met, Jake. I like you too.”

“Thank God,” he breathes, pulling you in for another heated kiss.

But he pulls while you push and the next thing you know, you’re on your back in the tall grass with his weight on top of you.

“Sorry,” his laugh turns choked when he tries to lift himself off but instead ruts into your thigh in the process. His head drops to your chest while he tries to compose himself.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, pulling off your gloves before running your hands over his trembling back as he fails to keep his hips still, “Take what you need.”

“Fuck,” he groans, shaking his head against your breasts, yet his hips don’t stop. “I want-I need to-.”

“Don’t worry about me right now,” you assure him, “God Jake, just look at you.”

Instead of his usual cool and composed demeanor, he’s a needy, flushed mess; writhing on top of you like a horny teenager.

He’s never looked hotter as he flushes under your gaze.

“I’m close,” he pants desperately. He pushes your zipper down with his chin before nuzzling your sport bra-clad breasts.

“Good, that’s-,” you run your fingers over his lips and gasp when he opens his mouth expectantly. “Good boy, Jake,” you murmur, pumping your fingers slowly in and out of his mouth.

That’s all it takes. He unashamedly whines around your fingers as his hips still, cock twitching against your thigh as he cums.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

The combination of the sun beating down and Jake’s body heat as he recovers on top of yours is suddenly too much…and yet not enough.

An intense, almost feverish arousal starts in your fingertips before coursing through your veins and settling between your thighs.

There’s a fine dusting of purple across your fingers when you weave your hand through his hair.

Shit.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

A/N: I’ve never written anything fantasy (I don’t know if that’s the right word) before, so forgive me if it’s not my finest work. I still hope you like it.

Tagging:

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hookslove1592

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@buckysteveloki-me

@k-k0129

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@jessicab1991

@djs8891

@lonelysoul50

@mrsevans90

@landpiranha-blog

@bellaireland1981

@angelbabyyy99

@writtingrose

@shanimallina87

@mizzzpink

@dempy

@linkpk88

@hardballoonlove

@lynnevanss

@entertainmentgirl80

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

@midnightmagpiemama

@emma8895eb

@seitmai

@fandomology101

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@amiets2

@alwayshave-faith

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dizzybee03 · 8 days ago

Text

I cannot wait for part 3!!!! This was so good

The Full Seresin Service - Part 2 of 3

Series Summary: You and Jake have been dancing around each other for a while. The Dagger Squad set it up so that the dancing stops, but a case of miscommunication could ruin it all.

Summary: The rules are set, the deal is made, and the Full Seresin Service begins. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Right?

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: Fluff, flirting, teasing, smut, miscommunication.

W/C: 5.2k

Characters: Unnamed female reader (you/she/her), Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado.

Pairing: Hangman x Female Reader. Phoenix x Coyote.

Notes: Reader has a call sign.

Beta(s): @deanwinchesterswitch - thanks for saving the smut section 😄 // all mistakes are mine. Special shoutout to @writercole

Graphics: made by me on Canva.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

I do not give consent for this or any other of my works to be reposted/reworked or translated on to any other account or platform.

You take your bottle of wine and a glass to the room. Your credit card will not thank you, but you don't care right now. You need to drown your sordid thoughts of Jake dropping that fluffy white towel and showing you what’s beneath it.

While juggling the bottle, a glass, your phone, and book, you manage to slip the keycard in and elbow the door handle down, using your butt to open the door and shuffle into the room.

“Oh crap,” Jake grumbles.

He grabs his T-shirt from the end of the bed, but it's too late. You’ve seen it all, and it doesn’t help that he cups himself, the fabric of the shirt perfectly shapes his cock. He has to be doing it on purpose.

“Sorry,” you say, but don't bother turning around now that he’s partly covered up.

“What are you doing back here?” It’s more of an accusation than a question. “I saw you in the bar.”

“I didn’t feel like reading after all,” you say, walking further into the room and placing the bottle on the nightstand. “What are you doing back here?”

“I lost concentration too,” he says, “came back to change, was gonna work up a sweat in the gym.”

“You brought gym gear?”

“Like you didn’t.”

Urgh. You hate that he knows that you did. You never planned to do a full workout. After all, you're on vacation, but you’d have done some light cardio at least.

You backtrack, annoyed at yourself that you're predictable or that he knows you're better than you like. “And I didn’t say I lost concentration. I’m not that easily swayed.”

He snorts a chuckle, “Could’ve fooled me.” His cocky smirk spreads wide. “You can’t keep your eyes on my face.”

Of course, your eyes betray you, drifting down to his crotch and back up again. “Well, that’s because I’m not blind, and I saw everything and can still see it ‘cause you're holding it like a…a…dick.” You realize your mistake and quickly try to correct it. “I don’t mean a dick like a cock. I mean, you’re a dick!”

Jake laughs, an actual stomach laugh, and you do not take to being laughed at lightly. You grab a pillow from the bed and launch it at him. Naturally, Jake, being Jake, catches it with one hand and replaces the tee with the pillow.

“Better?” he asks smugly. “Now you can’t see it.”

“Whatever,” you sneer.

“That’s not a yes.”

“Jake,” you scold. “You promised you wouldn’t annoy me. And you’ve already annoyed me by letting Javy and Natasha set this whole thing up, so just stop, please.”

“Wait? Set what up?”

“Don’t play dumb ‘cause I know you’re not.”

“Pretend I am.”

“The whole fuckin’ dagger squad set it up so we’d team up and win to send us here to…” Your arms flail around, searching for the word, but it doesn’t help, and you drop them, defeated. “I don’t even know what.”

Geez. You hate how flustered he makes you. When you are face to face and not in a cockpit, you always have to be careful about what you say. You're always conscious of how he can misconstrue something or turn it into innuendo.

“Cosmo, I swear I didn’t know anything about that.” he pleads for you to believe him. “Coyote gave me the ice cream clue, but honestly, at the time, I thought he was playing me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say softly. “We’re here now, so can we just do what we said we’d do and stay out of each other’s way.”

“I will, I promise,” he states. “But I really need you to know I had no hand in setting this up. Us teaming up or winning, or you walking in here and seeing me naked ‘cause that’s disgusting, creep-level shit, and I swear it’s purely coincidence. Coyote texted me about you, and I needed an outlet, so I was going to work out, I swear.”

“Fuck,” you huff, “Coyote and Phoenix strike again. She texted me, and I needed to stop thinking about it, so I came back here to drink away my…”

“Feelings.”

“Thoughts.” You correct with an incredulous look. “I don’t have feelings for or about you, Hangman.”

“That’s bullshit,” he states. “You avoid being alone with me ‘cause you don’t trust yourself.”

Shit. He really does know you better than you thought. But you're saved by the bell, or rather the knock on the door. You walk to answer it and hear Jake moving around. You hope he’s dressing to go to the gym.

You take the ice bucket from the concierge and thank him before closing the door. So as not to get another peek at Jake, you keep your head down as you make your way back to the wine on the nightstand. You pour a glass and put the bottle in the ice. If Jake weren’t there, you’d probably swig from the bottle. You need to be done with the conversation and Jake.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he says sincerely. “If you answer me one thing.”

You gulp half a glass of wine and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “What?”

“Why are you resisting this?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, turning to face him. He’s pulled on a pair of boxer briefs but nothing else. It makes it slightly easier to talk to him. “I’m not a true member of the Dagger squad. You all have this deep bond I’ll never be a part of. I had to earn my place, and sometimes, I’m still an outsider.”

“That’s not true,” Jake argues. “You’re one of us. None of us ever think otherwise.”

“Maybe,” you shrug with a half smile. “But you have a reputation, Hangman. You’re not exactly the stable relationship kind of guy. A couple of weeks with someone is the most you can manage. I know if I gave in to you, you’d get a ‘atta boy’ and proud slaps on the back, but me, I’d lose the respect of our friends.”

“You mean the friends who set this up?” he asks.

He has a point, and he knows it too. You're silent for too long, and he slowly makes his way around the bed to stand in front of you. “You want this as much as I do. We make a good team. Scrap that. We’re the best team in the air. I wanna know if that translates to the ground, too. There’s something between us that each of us is trying to ignore and clearly failing miserably.”

You laugh lightly because he’s right. “There’s nothing but lust between us, Jake,” you counter. “We want what we can’t have, the low-hanging forbidden fruit.”

“Ouch,” he laughs.

“Don’t pretend you're not an easy lay,” you jest.

The dig of his promiscuity doesn’t deter him. He steps closer, his eyes soft and his tone sincere. “Give me a chance,” he suggests. “A weekend pass. We’ll keep it between you and me. We’ll eat the forbidden fruit, and it’ll be our secret.” he winks. “No one has to know.”

He’s right. Again. No one would need to know, and they’d have no way of finding out. Sure, Hangman could be a douche and tell them, but what proof would he have?

He’s already wearing you down, so there’s no need for the extra, “I promise I’ll make it the best weekend of your life. No-holds-barred. Full Jake Seresin service,” but it’s nice to know he’s committed.

“You know I’m seeing someone. Klay, remember him?”

“Please, that fizzled out a week ago for you,” he jeers. “You’ve seen him a total of three times in the last five weeks. Two of those were drinks at the Hard Deck, and I gave you a ride home. If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ve got a text saved in your notes telling him you don’t want to see him again. You're just waiting for the right time.”

You really need to put some distance between your personal and professional life.

“I have two conditions,” you say.

He nods, smile already morphing to an air of smugness. “Anything.”

“Whatever does or does not happen, we remain professional. It doesn’t affect our work.”

“Done.”

“No one knows anything,” you say sternly. “They can guess and speculate, but nothing is ever confirmed.”

“Done.” he holds his hand out for you to shake, but you have other ideas. Stepping into his personal space, you deliver a gentle kiss to his lips.

His reaction is immediate. It’s a flurry of caressing, groping, and clothing being removed. A hand cradles the back of your head, and the other finds purchase on your hip. The press of his flesh against yours is electric, and you shiver as his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip.

Jake moans as you open up to him, deepening the kiss. His hand slips to your ass cheek as he slowly shuffles you both toward the bed, pink lips now suckling on your neck. You laugh as you both tumble onto the mattress when he misjudges the distance. He’s quick to follow as you shuffle toward the headboard, his mouth latching onto a breast, and his tongue swirls over the taut nipple.

“F- fuck,” you whimper as you arch into him.

Sharp teeth gently graze the nub, and he mumbles, “You have beautiful tits,” as he shifts to suck the neglected nipple into the damp heat of his mouth. Jake’s hands rest on your hips as he knees closer between your legs. A hand replaces his mouth, kneading your breast as he sits up. “I’ve wanted you like this for a long time.”

“Well, now that you’ve got me, what’s your plan?” you snark, eyes mere slits as you stare up at his pretty face. The smirk you typically want to smack from his smug features is now inexplicably sexy as he pops a brow.

“Well, I was thinking maybe a little begging…”

The hard pinch to your pebbled bud contrasts with the soft brush of fingers up your thigh, and your walls clench as goosebumps race across your flesh.

“Maybe a little screaming.” Jake leans forward and presses a hand into the pillow next to your head as the other splays over your stomach, thumb lightly brushing your clit.

You tilt your hips, seeking friction, and he chuckles, shifting his hand up and away from where you need him. Refusing to give him what he wants so easily, you bite your lip to keep the plea locked away.

“Now, now, none of that. I want to hear you.” Jake nips at your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. At the same time, he slips two fingers into your already slick heat, causing you to jerk and moan loudly. “There we go.”

Not wanting to give him the upper hand – you silently chuckle at the unintentional pun – you reach down and encircle his dick with a gentle squeeze.

The steady pump of his fingers falters as he growls, “Shit!” But he grasps your wrist to halt any movement on your part. “Nope. Not yet.”

“Jake,” you whine, dragging out his name. “That’s not fair.”

“I haven’t heard any begging yet.” The pressure of his grip increases, and he pulls his fingers from inside you, slowly licking each one clean as he stares you down.

You hate to admit how easily he got you worked up, but your body betrays you. You’re right on the precipice, and you want him to send you over the edge in the best way. Loosening your hold on his throbbing dick, you whimper, “Please…”

“What was that?” He releases your wrist, capturing your hand and entwining your fingers as he pushes them into the pillow above your head. “Do you need something?”

The smug smile is back, and you have reverted to wanting to slap it off his face, but instead, you give in and plead, “Please… please… I want you to make me come,” while plotting your revenge.

“That’s better.”

He squeezes your hand and swiftly pushes his fingers back inside you as his thumb circles your clit.

Jake is as adept with his hands in the bedroom as he is in the cockpit of a fighter jet. Within moments, you’re screaming his name, your free hand gripping the back of his neck, your inner muscles contracting tightly around the fingers pressed against that sweet spot.

“Damn,” Jake groans, “that’s so hot. But we’re just getting started.”

Jake struts into the bathroom and presses himself to your back, resting his chin on your shoulder. He smiles at your reflection in the mirror while you set your toiletries out on the countertop. He lived up to his reputation, and after a few rounds of him making you come with his tongue, fingers, and cock you decide to shower to give you both some time to recover.

“You're getting all clean just for me to make you dirty again,” Jake smirks, kissing your shoulder and scrapping it away with his teeth.

“You can get me as dirty as you like,” you say, “but I need to shower.”

“Seems like a waste, but okay.” he shrugs and holds up the room service menu. “Do you want more wine or water?”

“Both,” you chuckle, “we’re gonna need to hydrate.”

“Copy that,” he says before smacking your ass and walking back into the room to put the order in.

You overindulge in the shower because the water pressure is impressive, and the waterfall showerhead is calming. You also need a minute, or ten, to get yourself in check. The sex is phenomenal, but Jake has surprised you. Shockingly, he’s respectful, attentive, and not as selfish as you expected. He constantly checked in to make sure you were okay, and that you liked what he was doing, and though he rarely needed it, he asked for direction.

You recognize this is dangerous ground to be walking on, but it’s only a weekend, two nights of surrendering to your desires, and then it’s over. You can do this.

There’s little point in dressing again. Jake is sure to have you naked and moaning again soon enough, so once you’ve showered, you opt for a t-shirt and clean underwear - you need to be somewhat presentable when room service arrives.

You're pulling the garment over your head as you leave the bathroom, but you freeze as soon as your head is free.

Jake is standing beside the prepared table, wearing nothing but a smile and a white towel slung over his arm. The dimmed lights and the candles dotted around the room create dancing shadows on the walls. The table is set for two - silver serving trays with large round lids hiding the delicious-smelling delights beneath them, and a bottle of wine is cooling in the ice bucket. A single rose in a slim vase adorns the center of the table, with a small gift-wrapped box set in front of it.

“Jake,” you gasp, unable to hide the shock.

His smile is full of charm and pride at the reaction. “I told you,” he says, walking closer, “full Seresin service.”

“I’m getting more naked butler vibes,” you jest, accepting his offered hand and letting him lead you to the table.

He laughs, pulling out your chair, “Same thing.” Quickly, he rushes around to his side, picking up the gift and handing it to you as he sits down. “I swear I picked this up before the whole setup and sex thing. It‘s meant as a thank you for letting me join you.”

Intrigue has you ripping off the fancy bow and paper with perhaps too much enthusiasm. It’s a bottle of your favorite perfume, thoughtful, expensive, and unexpected.

“You said it was your favorite back at the store,” Jake explains.

“Thank you.”

It’s a lovely gesture, and though you don’t want to think about it, you can’t help but wonder how many women have been charmed by the Full Seresin Service. He clearly knows what you want, the romance of it all, but come Monday morning, this will all be a distant memory.

The following day is a blur of sex. Jake doesn’t hold back, and you each teach the other a thing or two. He takes a shower around four and has some kind of epiphany while seemingly enjoying the fancy shower because he exits with a wide grin and a burst of enthusiasm.

“Do what you need to get ready for a fancy event,” he says.

“What?” you question, watching him pull on sweats. “I didn’t pack anything to wear to a fancy event, Jake.”

“Trust me,” he says, sitting on the chair and slipping his sneakers on. “Take a shower, do your make-up, leave the rest to me.”

“Where’re you going?”

He grabs his wallet and phone, swipes the room key from the top of the dresser, and gives you a swift kiss. “Trust me,” he says again, leaning back to look at you. “I won’t be long, you’ve got an hour.”

He’s true to his word, and less than an hour later, he returns carrying three shopping bags and a proud smile.

You’ve applied light make-up and styled your hair, “You look good.” Jake compliments. “Here,” he hands you the largest bag and one of the smaller ones. “Take them in the bathroom, but don’t come out until I tell you.”

He’s far too excited, but you don’t protest his instructions, intrigued by what the big surprise is.

In the bathroom, you pull the garment out of the bag - a long, bronze, cowl-neck chiffon dress. It’s beautiful and undoubtedly expensive because he’s already removed the tags. There are strappy heels to match in the other bag.

You slip the dress on over your head, careful not to touch your hair, and it instantly makes you feel sexy. The fabric is soft, and the color looks good on you.

“Ready when you are,” Jake calls.

After putting the shoes on, you take a few extra moments to check your reflection, twisting left and right. It’s not the kind of dress you can wear underwear with, and you shuffle your panties off. Now, the gesture of the dress makes a little more sense. You assume there’s something in it for Jake, too.

Jake gasps as soon as you step out. “Wow.” his mouth remains in the O shape while you twirl for him. “Damn, you look… wow.”

You look him up and down - black suit pants, formal shoes, his shirt and jacket are the same bronze color as your dress. He looks edible, but before the drool can escape your mouth, he’s in your space.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close to him. He nips your ear. “Maybe we forget the rest of the plan, and I’ll just fuck you in this dress instead.”

“I mean, that is the deal,” you laugh, scrapping your nails down the nape of his neck, “but I’m intrigued about the rest of the plan.”

“Come on,” he grins, taking your hand and leading you out of the room.

The room is filled with joy. Everyone is smiling and happy, people chatting and dancing, eating the canapes being served by the wait staff. Jake feels giddy. He has no other word for it and brushes it off as the atmosphere in the room, but he knows better. It’s you, or rather the two of you.

It feels right. Like the last puzzle piece falling into place after months of trying to figure out the complex picture.

Jake senses you’re nervous, eyes darting around the room, sipping your drink too often. “Relax,” he says, placing a reassuring hand on the small of your back.

“How can I?” you ask, “we’re gate crashing a wedding.”

“Act like you belong,” he advises, “We look like we belong. Stop worrying.” He catches a server as they pass, grabs two fresh glasses of champagne from the tray, and hands you one. “To the bride and groom.”

“Whoever they are,” you toast.

Jake keeps his hand on the small of your back as you each watch the celebration for a while. It’s not only to assure you he’s there but also to make sure anyone looking, and he’s seen a few men looking, knows that you're with him.

“So, Jake,” you start, wistful and light as you turn your back to the room and focus on him. “Is this your end goal? Marriage? Kids? The whole nine yards?”

“Definitely,” he nods, “someday.”

You can’t hide your expression, even though you try by taking a delicate sip of your drink.

He cocks his brow. “Why does that shock you?”

“It doesn’t, not really. You're a family guy. I’ve seen that on family days and heard you call your sister, but” you grimace around in an apologetic tone, “you don’t exactly pick the settling-down types.”

“Ha,” he laughs. “Okay, that’s fair.” He sobers a little, mind reeling at the list of exes he knows you're aware of to have made that conclusion.

“You tend to go for the jealous, insecure, toxic type,” you explain. “And that’s not to say you’re not as toxic sometimes, but there’s a pattern.”

He scoffs in offense. “Wait a second, when have I been the toxic one?”

“Laura.” You say without hesitation. “You let her believe you and me were screwing because you wanted to break up with her.”

“No, no, no,” Jake corrects, “you got that all wrong. I did break up with her and she assumed it was because of you. That’s not my fault.”

“Did you explicitly tell her we weren’t sleeping together?”

He shrugs, laughing around the rim of his glass. “No, ‘cause I was too busy trying to sleep with you.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “And Nicole?”

“Okay, yeah, she was just a crazy person.”

“I know!” you remember. “She threw a bottle at me in the Hard Deck. If it weren't for Nat’s cat-like reflexes, I’d have a scar right now.”

“That was some kung-fu master shit she pulled. I think that’s what made Coyote fall for her.”

“Don’t change the subject, Lieutenant,” you say. “What about Kate? I had to pretend to be your pregnant wife to get her to leave you alone.”

“Point made, toxic, jealous, and insecure.” he agrees. “I guess I’m not ready to settle down yet, so I keep making bad decisions.”

“Well, what’s one more?” you wink.

His heart skips, and he feels a little sick. You’re not a bad decision. In fact, you're probably the only good decision, women-wise, he’s made since he was a teenager.

You're the take-back-home type of girl. The kind of woman he’d proudly introduce to his family. Though the predecessors who had the privilege didn’t work out, he feels if it were to end the same with you, you’d forever be the ex that his family continued to invite to family functions, and his mom would sigh and tell him he’d lost a good one every time she saw you.

“You are not jealous, insecure, or toxic, Cosmo,” Jake says.

“Exactly,” you laugh. “So clearly not your type.”

He doesn’t correct you, even though you are absolutely wrong. “What about you?” Jake asks. “You want the whole nine yards?”

“I guess, with the right guy.” You finish your drink and put the empty glass on the table. “Okay, if we’re doing this,” you say, “let's do it right. Mr Seresin, may I have this dance?”

He accepts your offered hand and leads you to the dance floor. A few people give you odd looks, trying to place who you are, but it’s easily ignored.

Jake’s raging boner after one and a half slow songs and perhaps too much winding and grinding for a public place is not so easily ignored. “Let’s get out of here,” you whisper, and he gladly takes you back to the room.

The sex after the wedding was mind-blowing. Jake doesn’t know how, but every time, it gets better. He feels the butterflies in his stomach every time you touch him, casual touches, a brush of his hand, a lazy sleep-hazed kiss.

It’s Sunday afternoon, the last night, and Jake knows without a doubt that he’s not ready to let this go. It’s not just about the sex, which is fucking - excuse the pun - amazing, but it’s the intimacy of it all too.

You're different. In the confines of the hotel room, you're freer, shameless, and adventurous, revealing secrets that only make him want you more. The pillow talk is deep and meaningful and, at other times, fun and light. Both make him want to talk to you as much as fuck you.

He lies on the bed, watching you pack your suitcase. The items you won’t need in the morning. “Urgh,” you groan, “I hate packing.”

“Me too.”

“I wish I was that last-minute kinda person,” you say, folding a clean t-shirt and placing it neatly in the suitcase. You haven’t had much use for the clothes you packed.

Jake cocks his brow at you in the mirror, “You are wasting precious fuckin’ time.”

“I know,” you say with an apologetic grimace. “The weekend pass expires at midnight. But I can’t not do this.”

He laughs lightly, shuffling off the bed, and saunters over, slipping his arms around your waist while you organize your things. “Worth the price of admission?”

“Absolutely.” You smirk at his reflection in the mirror. “Ten out of ten. Would highly recommend.”

“Repeat customer?” he asks, sucking in a breath and holding it while he waits for your answer. He can laugh it off as a joke if the reply is negative, but he hopes it’s positive.

“I’ll leave the money on the dresser,” you squirm out of his embrace, turning to kiss his lips quickly. “Gigolo Jake.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he admits, delivering a harder kiss to your cheek. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

The shower is running, but he’s not under the spray. Instead, he’s naked, sitting on the cold closed toilet lid, texting Coyote.

He’s breaking the rules. He knows he is, but he needs to talk it through with someone because what he’s feeling is new and confusing.

<Hangman: I need you to promise me this stays between us. Not even Phoenix can know.

>Coyote: What’d you do now bro?

<Hangman: Promise me.

>Coyote: Promise.

<Hangman: I slept with her.

>Coyote: So?

<Hangman: Repeatedly.

>Coyote: I’m confused. Was it bad or something?

<Hangman: No. It was…

He struggles to find the word, and his cock twitches while his memory replays the last twenty-four hours.

<Hangman: Phenomenal. I wanna do it again and again and again.

>Coyote: 🤣🤣🤣. Sorry to tell you but that’s what happens when you like someone Jake. You go back for more.

<Hangman: Not me.

>Coyote: Except now you feelin’ some type of way and you’re freaking out.

<Hangman: YES! What the hell man?! It was supposed to be a one-and-done!

>Coyote: Man, I'm the wrong person to ask. I never meant for Nat and me to be a thing but now I can’t imagine not being with her.

<Hangman: Not helping.

>Coyote: Sorry bro. It is what it is now. Embrace it.

<Hangman: Embrace it how?

>Coyote: You could start by telling her you actually like her. Do some of that Seresin Speciality romance stuff.

<Hangman: She has a tattoo low on her hip, a fighter jet in the night sky. I swear there’s a H in the stars. I can’t stop looking at it. It’s like it’s meant to be.

>Coyote: Wow, you sound like you’re way below the hard deck.

He’s not wrong. Jake’s flying below a level that isn’t safe, and he can either pull the ejection handle or do some pilot shit and finish the mission.

>Coyote: Phoenix says she’s all for grand gestures and actions speaking louder than words.

<Hangman: 🙄way to keep a promise.

>Coyote: She can read too dude. Sorry.

<Hangman: I forgot you have your text size big enough to read from the moon.

>Phoenix: 🤣 He does! Now quit stalling. Go tell Cosmo you like her.

<Hangman: I might have an idea or two for a grand gesture. Thanks for the tip.

>Coyote: Hey I’m not straining my eyes and having to wear glasses and not being able to fly.

It probably would have been easier to start a group chat.

Jake decides not to reply. He’s wasting water. Setting his phone on the countertop, he steps into the shower.

He’s not ready to say goodbye to the weekend and go back to reality, and grand gestures should happen somewhere nice and memorable. He needs to set things in motion.

“Cosmo,” he calls out.

“Yeah,” you yell back.

He doesn’t want to scream it at you, so he asks, “Come here, will ya?” while he lathers his hair with shampoo.

He sticks his head out of the shower as you enter the bathroom. You chuckle, smiling as you swipe soap suds off his brow before they trickle into his eye. It’s a sweet and delicate touch, but it sends his heart racing.

He clears his throat. “You’re not scheduled to work till Friday, right?” he asks, though it’s unnecessary because he’s always aware of your schedule.

“Yeah,” you sigh. The reminder brings a touch of reality to the room.

He feels a wave of nerves but ignores them, hearing Coyote’s voice in his head, ‘Embrace it.’ “How about we stay a couple more nights? I’ll upgrade you to the Premium Seresin Package.”

You chuckle and look a little sheepish when you reply. “Um….yeah, okay. But the same rules apply.”

“Yeah, obviously. I wouldn’t want…”

His phone chiming interrupts, and simultaneously, you both look at the message preview.

>Coyote: Go chase that flying jet and make her see stars…

“Really?!” you scoff. “Couldn’t even make it back to base before you go shooting your mouth off! What happened to ‘no one has to know’?”

“Cosmo, wait,” he calls as you leave, slamming the door. As quickly as he can, he rinses the shampoo from his hair. “Shit!” There is no towel hanging up, and he has no choice but to exit naked and dripping wet.

You shove your feet into your sneakers, carry-on slung over your shoulder, suitcase zipped and ready to go. “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit!”

“It wasn’t bullshit,” Jake says, grabbing your wrist to try and get you to slow down.

“Don’t touch me.” You snatch your arm away. “I can’t believe I trusted you, Hangman. I should’ve known you’d hang me out to dry, too!” You sneer, and the disgust in your expression breaks him a little.

He ignores the jab of hurt that stabs through him, trying again. “Cosmo, I swear it’s not what you think.”

You grab your suitcase handle and march toward the door, but Jake is closer, and he steps in your path.

He pleads, “Please let me explain.”

“Move.”

He doesn’t, and instead of asking again, you shove into his shoulder and drag your suitcase behind you. The wheels hit his toes. “Fuck!” he yells, hopping around on one leg, clutching his injured foot before falling onto the bed. “Don’t leave, please, Cosmo.”

But it’s too late. You're out the door and gone.

Part 3 - I Didn't Know Then What I Know Now - Friday 1st November 2024

Tags + Info

@alexxavicry / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess

/ @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren /

@writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @dempy / @atarmychick007 / @genius2025

@kmc1989 / @alipap3 / @emorychase

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dizzybee03 · 9 days ago

Text

This is gonna be soooo good!

INTRODUCTION: Just For Tonight One Night Only // series

A commitmentphobe and a serial dater meet in a bar. Then decide to have a one night stand. A relationship just for tonight.

All the paths they lead / To the single solemn place / Then we'll stay for a weekend / And leave without a trace - JUST FOR TONIGHT ONE NIGHT ONLY

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Maggie Brentley (female!OC)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors and blank dni), alcohol, yearning, later chapters will have explicit language, smut, anxious attachment style, and angst

A Note From Mo: Hello, I am nervous about posting my first OC fic! This fic has turned so deeply personal while still being so unbelievably fun and goofy, so I can't believe it's finally ready to share with the world. Enjoy!

ONO MASTERLIST

Nothing is permanent.

But how Maggie Brentley wished some things were. Perfume on the skin. The sunset over the ocean. Her dog’s puppy coat. Not anything too substantial, but the little moments that make life special. A smile to be enjoyed at any time without the sorrow when it leaves.

Her whole life she had looked for something constant. A childhood shipped between military bases, the most consistent part of her upbringing had been the inevitable moving sign on their front lawn. The faces of friends had changed, neighbors had been replaced, and languages had swapped. Maggie just wanted something that was hers. Something that was forever.

And maybe holding onto a dream is how reality happens, sitting at this weathered Navy bar no better than the ones her dad and his colleagues hung out in, wearing her tightest jeans and too much mascara. Living this close to North Island almost felt comforting, all these men in uniform and the smell of engine fuel mixing with the sea air. It was a scent she’d happily enjoy for a lifetime.

Maggie chewed on her bottom lip as she surveyed the crowd. Close-cropped hair, biceps for days, not a scruff in sight. Exactly what she had come for. It wasn’t really a matter of if one of the uniformed men took her home, but which one. But for the love of all that is holy, could one of them please commit to happily ever after?

Her nails tap on the screen of her phone, the godforsaken app open to their messages all week. Some aviator hot shot who promised he could rock her world and show her the sky. His profile said he was looking for a long-term relationship and that was enough for her. When the bar is in the sand, find a guy who flies a plane. Worst case scenario he would buy her a well whiskey and soda and never talk again.

There’s a hand on the back of her barstool and suddenly a thick chest pushes into her line of sight as a man puts his tanned forearms on the bar. “Oh, Penny, my dear!”

He could do. No ring, strong arms, the slick smile of a man who gets what he wants. Maggie’s hands fidget to straighten her top, make herself more open and alluring. The man casually looks to his left, unknowingly taking in the way she sips her sweating drink through its tiny straw and batted her lashes. But his sea glass eyes instantly drop away, uninterested.

The man grabs his beers and heads back to the pool table, his group of khaki uniforms whooping and hollering loud enough to be heard through the bar. Maggie holds back the sigh she desperately wants to let out - a sound of defeat - and focuses again on waiting for her hot shot to text her back. Silence since last night, but her mother had always said she admired Maggie’s optimism.

Any second now.

But when her first whiskey soda turned into two and a small clump of mascara collected under her eye, it was clear that hot shot had found another way to spend his evening. The evil part of her brain hoped it was in the infirmary with a full body cast. Or shipped out to a November in Oymyakon.

The ice in her glass melts a bit more - a sad excuse for a drink at this point - and Maggie knows she’s was avoiding the bartender’s questioning glance. Did she want to stay for a third? Between Hot Shot and the man with the sea glass eyes, any hopes of a self-confidence comeback were slim. Might as well pack it in and go home where at least her couch and dog would love her.

But despite the change Maggie disliked, everything happens for a reason. And that was how when she raised her hand to pay her tab, she accidentally smacked a cup of peanuts right out of some poor, unsuspecting man’s hand right onto the sandy, beer-covered floor.

“I am so sorry!” Her face floods with color as she leaps from her barstool. The man stands dumbstruck. Peanuts in his hand, gone the next. Without a second thought she’s crouching in jeans meant for standing, brushing nuts into the cup and hiding her embarrassment.

Most of the peanuts are swept up when Maggie sees khaki slacks kneel beside her, a large hand outstretched at the mess. “It’s okay, please don’t pick those up. I don’t even like peanuts that much.”

And when she looks up to apologize again - her cheeks hot and blooming with color - the freshest ocean blue washes over her. She didn’t know they made eyes that beautiful. Clear and honest, with a sliver of sapphire at the edges. The crafted frames resting on his nose only highlight their organic beauty.

Words are lost on her lips, the last handful of peanuts falling back to the ground. Of all the Navy men in the world, she just had to hit the one with the prettiest eyes.

Before she’s even fully standing up Maggie’s waving down the bartender. Her elbow comes way too close to his face, another accident narrowly avoided. “Let me buy you another cup, that was full.” This whole situation is a disaster. He shakes his head, promising it’s fine. “Really, I insist.”

Her parents had always said she was too stubborn, too focused on having things how she thought they should be than accepting the world for how it was. Maggie would roll her eyes and say she just believed in fairness. If you destroy a guy’s cup of peanuts, you buy him another. Who cares if he doesn’t want one?

With a hesitant smile, the stranger takes the barstool next to hers. He falls into it, all limbs. She uses the support to hop up into the seat. Her original plans for the night might be dashed, but renewed optimism fills her senses at her new company. His face is warm and genuine. He looks like he steps out of the way for lady bugs. When it came to bed companions, he was looking promising.

“I’m Maggie,” she croaks, her hand shooting into the space between mechanically. Raised by a Navy General, she had a firm handshake before the third grade. Warm, calloused fingers slip around hers, palm zinging at the first touch.

“Bob. Nice to meet you.”

Nothing is permanent.

It was a mantra Bob Floyd lived by every day. Every time he got up into that jet, it could be the last time.

The temporary nature of it all was why he didn’t do relationships. The deployments, the constant moves. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been home for two holidays in a row. It was not only his own heart, but the hearts of others he was protecting when he said goodbye after a night between the sheets.

Attachments were messy. He was the best of the best, and any self-respecting WSO kept a tidy backseat.

Plenty of squadrons had seen him deploy this method of dating - a girl never seen twice - and joked more than once that his call sign should be “One Night Only”. But he took their jesting in stride and continued to bade his goodbyes in the wee hours of the morning. When nothing was serious, no one got hurt.

So when he made his way back to the pool table and his cup of peanuts was assaulted, there was no harm in a little flirting. She had a too big smile and eyes that begged for conversation. But it was the mischievous grin when she slammed her card down to pay that kept him in his barstool, that familiar itch of want crawling up his spine.

Fresh peanuts in front of him and a full drink in front of her, Bob doesn’t realize he’s completely ditched his group until he hits the bottom of his cup. They’ve talked about different Naval bases they’ve lived on, whether pepperoni or sausage is better on pizza, and for the past few minutes she’s been guessing where his accent is from. She got it right on the first guess, but he’s enjoying watching her forehead crinkle as she goes through all the twangy states in her head.

His mother had always told him he was too set in his ways, that sometimes a little hiccup or break in the routine actually benefitted in the long run. Bob had always rolled his eyes, there was a reason they were called routines. You could have a good time with just about anyone, his years of deployments were proof. Whatever this flirty bar conversation was, he enjoyed the moment for the temporary joy it brought, especially with Maggie’s outraged expression when he revealed where he grew up.

“That was my first guess!” Her hand shoots out and smacks the shoulder of his khaki uniform. The skin is hot where she touched him, a shot of warmth shoots down his arm fueled by flirty tension and whatever peppy retro track is blaring from the jukebox. Just as quickly, she tucks her palm back at her side with an almost guilty grin.

He can’t remember the last time he felt at ease in a crowded room.

Since initially sitting, Bob’s shoulders loosened and he’s practically on top of her with how far he’s leaned over during their conversation. Bright hazel eyes twinkle in the warm light, that mischievous sparkle beckoning him in.

“You want to get out of here?”

While Bob remained composed and lightly put his palm to the small of her back as he led them out, adrenaline rushed his system. The excitement of a new adventure ahead, of the unknown. The same energy as every time his front seater starts the engine.

He heads toward a particularly thick throng of people in front of the entrance and his hand drops to let her go first. Maggie tugs his hand back, linking them together again - a zing of electricity! - and his fingers stray too close to the rounded seam of her impossibly tight jeans. The blood rushing to his lower extremities pleads to find out what those jeans look like on the floor.

It’s an unseasonably warm night, the lightest breeze brushing the surrounding palms and loose sand. The absence of music and bodies and lights out here in the parking lot has Bob nervous. His eyes meet hers and a moment passes between the two amorous strangers. As if waiting for the other to come to their senses.

It’s only one night. I’ll never see you again.

Bob motions to his truck, a small hopeful smile playing on his lips. “I’ll follow you?”

That obnoxiously wide grin splits open and lights up the dark lot. For the next twenty minutes his focus is solely on the taillights in front of him as North Island fills his rearview, her little sedan forking left onto Harbor Drive. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, the combination of road sounds and the staticky radio not enough to drown out his thumping heart.

Blood rushes in his ears when they finally reach Maggie’s stucco-and-terracotta apartment a few blocks from the beach, the red paint on her door peeling. His hand makes its way to her hip - a comforting gesture - as she unlocks the door and lets it slowly creak open. His sapphire eyes meet her hazel in the dim lamplight.

Nothing is permanent, so let’s make the most of tonight.

Now that you've met our players, who's ready for more? Our commitmentphobe and serial dater are almost here with their first chapter (which I promise is longer, there's a reason I made this a prologue)!

Since this is my first OC fic, I'm skipping a taglist and letting this find who wants it. But of course need to tag my babes who have been so supportive with this fic and the journey: @sorchathered @bobfloydsbabe @baezen @roosterforme

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dizzybee03 · 10 days ago

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This was heartbreaking but also I felt the hope and love that was still there!

Landslide

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

WC: 1.4K

Summary: Change happens to everyone, but what happens when you forget to change with each other

A/N: READ WITH THE SONG TRUST, MADE MYSELF SAD

TW: angst :(

The morning light crept through the half-open blinds, casting slats of soft gold across the room, wrapping around Bradley Bradshaw as he lay awake. The California dawn was warm against his skin, yet a chill seemed to linger in the air. He shifted, turning toward the other side of the bed, where Y/N lay, her back to him, her body curled gently, close yet somehow unreachable. It hadn’t always been this way. There was a time when they’d been inseparable, woven together so tightly that he couldn’t imagine life without her.

But now, with her just inches away, it felt as if a whole world separated them.

It had been months, maybe longer, since they’d last felt truly close. Somewhere along the way, they’d stopped reaching for each other, stopped filling the silence with laughter and soft words. The distance between them was a slow, creeping thing, an invisible fracture that had widened with each day. Bradley didn’t know when he’d first noticed it, but it weighed on him constantly, growing heavier every time he looked at her and realized she wasn’t looking back.

He lay there, eyes on her still form, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her close, just to feel her warmth, to know she was still his. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the fear that she’d pull away, or worse, the fear that she wouldn’t—that she’d just lie there, letting him hold her but feeling nothing. He’d always thought their love would be enough to withstand anything, but now he felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure if he’d fall or if they’d somehow manage to fly.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. For a split second, her gaze met his, and Bradley felt a flicker of hope—maybe she’d say something, maybe this time, they’d talk about the hollow space that had settled between them. But she just looked away, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as if to keep him out.

Slowly, he sat up, raking a hand through his hair, feeling the silence stretch out in the early morning. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words just wouldn’t come. He stood and crossed the room, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor as he made his way to the kitchen. The ritual was familiar: starting the coffee, reaching for her favorite mug, all the small, silent gestures he’d performed every morning since they’d first moved in together. Each movement reminded him of what they used to be—how they used to laugh over cups of coffee and make plans for the future.

Now, the air felt heavy as she joined him in the kitchen. She took the mug from his hand without a word, her fingers grazing his for the briefest moment. He could feel the weight of that touch, the softness of her skin, yet it felt as though she were miles away.

"Are you heading out today?" she asked, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. She took a sip of her coffee, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder, as if she couldn’t bear to look directly at him.

"Yeah," he replied, a slight edge in his voice that he hadn’t meant to add. "Another early flight tomorrow. I’ll be gone a few days."

She nodded, her expression neutral, her eyes locked on the swirling liquid in her mug. For a moment, he thought he saw something flicker across her face—pain, maybe, or regret—but it vanished as quickly as it had come. Bradley felt a pang in his chest, a dull ache that wouldn’t go away. He’d never imagined that their mornings would feel like this: two strangers standing side by side, each of them too afraid to say the words that would make everything real.

"Take care of yourself," she said, her voice strained, as if she was trying to hold back a wave of something unspoken. Her smile was barely there, just a twitch of her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Bradley’s heart ached at the sight. He used to know how to make her laugh with just a look, used to be the one who could chase away any worry or sadness. But now, he felt like he’d lost her—and the hardest part was knowing that he might never get her back.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, he joined her at the window, their shoulders close enough to touch. The world outside was just beginning to stir, bathed in the soft glow of morning, the trees rustling in a gentle breeze that whispered of change. They stood there, side by side, both of them lost in their own thoughts, unable to break the fragile silence.

"I’ve been thinking about us," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Bradley’s pulse quickened, his breath catching in his throat. He’d been waiting to hear her say something, anything, that would give him a glimpse of what she was feeling.

He swallowed, his voice low, rough. "Yeah… me too. Feels like we’re… I don’t know. Drifting."

She nodded, her gaze still locked on the trees outside. "I think… I think we’ve both changed, Bradley. Maybe we didn’t notice it because it happened so slowly, but… we’re not the same people we used to be."

Her words cut through him, sharp and honest. He knew she was right. They’d both been fighting battles, each in their own way—him with the Navy, the constant deployments, the adrenaline and danger, and her with the life she’d built outside of him, her own dreams and desires. Somewhere along the way, they’d stopped fighting for each other.

He took a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around his coffee mug. "I don’t want to lose you," he said, the words tumbling out, raw and desperate. It was the most vulnerable thing he’d said in months, and he didn’t even know if it would matter. "I don’t know who I am without you, Y/N. We’ve built this life together… and now, I’m scared that if I try to find myself again, I’ll lose you in the process."

She looked at him then, really looked at him, her eyes softening. In that moment, he saw the girl he’d fallen in love with, the girl who’d promised to be there no matter what. Her expression was filled with a tenderness that he hadn’t seen in a long time. "I’m scared too, Bradley," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But maybe… maybe we need to let go a little. Give ourselves room to breathe. Because I think that’s the only way we’re going to find our way back to each other."

The truth of her words settled over him like a weight. They had both been holding on so tightly, trying to preserve something that no longer fit. The love they’d shared was still there, but it was smothered, trapped under layers of expectation and unspoken fears.

Did Bradley love too hard? Did love take it down? They were both getting older and growing but when in time did they forget to grow with each other?

They stood there in silence, the realization hanging between them. The seasons had changed, days turning into months, and still, they’d both been hoping that some miracle would bring them back to what they once were. They’d been clinging to memories, refusing to accept that maybe, just maybe, they needed to change too.

Finally, Bradley reached out, his hand finding hers. His fingers laced with hers, and for a moment, he felt that familiar warmth, the comfort of knowing she was still there. "We’ll figure it out," he said, his voice steady with a quiet determination. "Even if it takes time, even if it’s hard… I want to climb this mountain with you. I want to find us again."

She looked down at their joined hands, a small smile breaking through the sadness in her eyes. "I know" she whispered, her fingers tightening around his, as if this was the last time holding onto him.

The sun was higher now, casting warm light over everything, illuminating the world in a way that felt almost hopeful. She knew that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be nights of silence, days of doubt, but there was a shared understanding between them.

They would let go of the past, of the people they used to be, and make room for the possibility of something new. As they stood there, watching the sun rise, the choice to keep climbing without each other was deafening, silent hopes that reflections of each other would appear in the snow covered hills. Bringing a landslide that would meet them together again.

They would face the unknown, step by step, trusting that somehow, somewhere, they would find each other again. Maybe in another life.

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dizzybee03 · 10 days ago

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Loved this- love the idea of Bob being a closeted sex fiend

🕸mm’s kinktober 2024🕷

Lack of Lingerie

(Bob Floyd x Female Reader)

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only! MDNI!

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

“What have you got on under here?” Bob’s fingers find your thighs through the high slit of your dress as soon as Cyclone walks away.

Bob had looked like he wanted to devour you when you walked into the venue earlier. His hand on your bare lower back had felt like a brand as he took you around, introducing you to the big wigs.

“You’ll find out,” you murmur, bringing the champagne flute to your mouth, lips quirking at the rapt attention he pays to your painted lips, “later.”

His eyes darken at your response and he’s hot on your heels as you turn to find your table. “A thong maybe? I don’t see any lines. Maybe that green one you wore on Christmas?”

“Could be,” you shrug as he pulls out your chair. “Thank you,” you press a kiss to his cheek that turns pink at Jake’s wolf whistle before taking a seat.

“Or,” he continues lowly as he sits beside you, “that white mesh set? The one from our first weekend away in Big Sur? God, the way it hugged your ass…”

“Maybe,” you lie before thanking the server that’s pouring your water.

The nonchalance is an act; you want nothing more than to reveal your lack of undergarments to him…yet you want to see how far he’ll let you push him.

“Something from our honeymoon?” He leans close to whisper, kissing the sweet spot in your ear while the food is being served. “That little scrap of navy silk?”

“You ripped those with your teeth,” you remind him, thankful for the low lighting that covers your nipples standing at attention, “remember?”

“Oh yeah,” he smirks.

Neither of you would ever forget that.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

“One of those nude ones,” he says as the wait staff brings out dessert, “The ones you say aren’t sexy but everything on you looks sexy. What are they called?”

“No-show,” you reply, “and you’ll have to find out when we get home.”

You try not to smile as he sits back with a sigh.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

“The red lace thong,” he says, clapping politely after the final speech, continuing when you don’t reply, “You remember that one, right? Or what happened the last time you wore it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answer with faux confusion, knowing you’re playing with fire as he leads you through the crowd.

“Really?” He murmurs, turning you down a dark hallway before backing you into a hidden alcove. Goosebumps follow his fingers trailing up your thigh. “Do I need to remind you?”

You whimper at the memory of him turning your skin the same shade of red; and the way you flinched every time you sat the days following.

“No,” you whisper, “I remember now.”

“Mmm,” he hums, brushing his lips over yours as his fingers trail higher, “You’ll be getting more than a reminder if you don’t tell me what you’ve got on under here.”

“Why don’t you feel for yourself,” you answer, reaching for his hand to bring it up to your hip, shivering when his fingertips brush over your skin instead of the band of your underwear.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re not wearing any,” he brings his hand around to your bare ass and tsking as he squeezes a handful. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” you reply, nipping his lower lip.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

A/N: ISorry this one is a little shorter. Anyway, I just ♥️ Bob.

Tagging:

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@jessicab1991

@lonelysoul50

@landpiranha-blog

@fandomology101

@writtingrose

@rascallyrascalreads

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dizzybee03 · 10 days ago

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Bravo,that was fucking marvelous!

Sugar and Lace | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley had a hot wife. He went wild for you in your work clothes and his worn out shirts. You didn't need any bells and whistles to look sexy, and you never would. But now that he knew what you looked like in a little lace, he needed to have that version of you, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, drinking

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist

Bradley looked at Jake over his beer, and Jake looked right back at him. The Hard Deck was virtually empty this early on a Saturday in the middle of the blazing summer heatwave, leaving the two of them very much alone together with their drinks.

"So..." Bradley said, tracing a line through the condensation on his half empty bottle. It wasn't that he disliked Jake. Not really. But he didn't know how many times he could be coerced into hanging out with him for the sake of you having a 'girls day'. It wasn't like he could complain about work to the person who annoyed the shit out of him at work yesterday.

"So..." Jake replied, picking up his drink and chugging it before signaling to Penny for two more. When he turned back, he had a smug little smile on his face that let Bradley know he was about to get annoyed again. "I'm assuming by the way your wife looks and how fucking pussy whipped you are that she has good taste in lingerie?"

Bradley sputtered, almost knocking his bottle off the high top. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hangman. What the hell kind of question is that?" He could feel heat rising in his cheeks at the memory of you prancing around the bedroom last weekend in a lacy tie dye bra and matching boy shorts. Everything you wore was sexy.

"That's obviously what they are out shopping for," Jake drawled, handing the empties to Penny as she dropped off fresh beers. Bradley waved two fingers in a half-hearted salute and then glared at Jake as he added, "Jessica specifically asked your wife to go with her. She told me she's picking out some things for the honeymoon, and you and I both know what that means. They are trying on lingerie." His smirk was back. "Together."

Bradley swallowed hard, digging his fist into his thigh. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Stop picturing my wife in lingerie."

All he got was a jovial laugh in response. "Tell me right now to my face that you're not picturing both of them wearing something tight, cropped and lacy, and I'll stop."

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the mental image of you and Jessica in a cute little fitting room, laughing together. "God damn it, Hangman!"

--------------------------------

You and Jessica were crammed into a fitting room together, trying not to laugh at the enormous stacks of cute things to try on. Your pile was on the left side of the decorative bench, and hers was on the right. You knew that Jessica Reed happened to collect lingerie in every color imaginable, but she was on a quest to find some unique things to take on her honeymoon. And you were on a quest to wow your husband with something more than a bra and boy shorts for once.

Not that he complained. Not that he ever complained. Bradley went absolutely feral for you in your damn work clothes and loafers. He about lost his mind when you wore his ratty, old tie dye tee shirt to bed. He often sounded like he was going to need CPR when you put on his bathrobe and nothing else. It was hard to contain your smile when you just knew that something in this fitting room was going to blow his mind to the point that he would be rendered speechless.

"Try something on," Jessica suggested gently, and you took a step closer to your pile. "Then you'll get a better idea of what you like."

There was red, green, black, white and pink fabric. There were nightgowns, thongs, bralettes and stockings. When you reached your hand out, you hesitated, confidence wavering. This seemed a lot more challenging than solving a linear algebra matrix.

Jessica whispered, "You'll look beautiful in anything, Advanced Calculus. I can promise you that." When you kind of shrugged in response, she said, "Do you want me to wait in line for my own fitting room so you can have more privacy?"

The two of you already agreed to help each other make selections, and the last thing you wanted was to keep opening the door so everyone else could see you wearing this stuff. "No. It's not that. I just... don't really own anything like this. I mean, I have a few things, but some of this is elaborate." You glanced at her over your shoulder and winced. "And this was supposed to be a shopping trip for you! For your honeymoon! Not for me."

She shushed you and then reached into your pile and pulled out a fairly innocuous looking nightie in a soft champagne color. "Start with this. Then you'll see how hot you look, and it'll be a gateway drug to you starting your own collection that will rival mine."

"I've seen your closet," you muttered, taking the hanger from her and holding the garment up in front of your body. It was pretty. The color even complimented your hair. It was a far cry from what you usually wore to bed, but you'd give it a shot.

When you started to undress, Jessica turned around and played with her phone, which you did appreciate. All of your bumps and lumps would be on display soon enough anyway, but at least you'd have a minute to straighten yourself out. The fabric was cool and slick against your skin, and you shivered as it settled high on your thighs. When you looked in the mirror and turned, you were pleasantly surprised with the result.

"It's not bad," you said, and she looked up and gasped, green eyes wide.

"It's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go that far," you muttered, smoothing your hands along your sides.

"Well, I would. And I'm sure Bradley would, too. Do you want me to take a picture on your phone?" she asked, and you nodded while she posed you with one hand on your hip. "Like I said, perfect," she muttered as she took the photo and then set your phone down again. "Try on something else."

"Okay," you whispered, reaching blindly into your pile and pulling out a black lace corset top.

Jessica jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "I love that one. I picked one up to try it on, too."

"I don't know about this," you said, holding it up in front of the nightie. "Not sure how Beer Boy is going to like it."

"You won't know until you try it on."

With those words of wisdom, you changed from the nightie to the corset, and your immediate thought was how cute this would look under your sweaters and tweed when you were at work. And it would feel amazing. It was snug and sexy, and somehow you felt like you could kick even more ass at work if you were wearing this thing.

"What the hell?" you whispered, and Jessica turned to look at you, clapping her hands once again. "I feel like I have super powers."

"Because you do! Look at you! Please let me take another picture of you to send to Bradley."

This time you posed yourself and turned so your tattoos were visible through the lace cutout on the side. Then you stood there and admired yourself before saying, "I'm definitely buying this. Catch me wearing it to work under my cardigans in the fall."

Jessica started digging into her own pile now as you changed from the corset into a bodysuit, but when she met your eyes in the mirror, she looked like she was going to freak out.

"What?" you asked. "The bodysuit looks that bad?"

She shook her head, and pressed her lips together before almost shouting, "When were you going to tell me you have a math tattoo?"

"Oh," you replied, not sure you'd ever heard her voice reach that octave before. "Euler's Identity? I've had it since I was nineteen."

"I love how you embrace your inner nerd," she said as if she was in awe of you, and you started laughing which made her laugh. "Now send those pictures to your husband and let that man worship you."

--------------------------------

Bradley had just buried his face in his hands while Jake laughed when his phone went off. You hadn't even bothered to inform him that your little 'girls day outing' was a quest to make sure Jake enjoyed his honeymoon with Jessica. Honestly, Bradley kind of hoped the other man was correct in his assessment that you'd be shopping for something for yourself, too. Not that you needed it. Holy shit, you still looked like the girl he fell in love with over a decade ago whenever you wore his old Grateful Dead shirt or his robe around the house.

But now he wanted something special, too. Why should Jake get to have all the fun when it came to having his partner all wrapped up in a pretty package that was specifically meant to be removed?

"Sugar," he grunted when he saw that you'd texted him. Jake was rambling about something across the table, but Bradley couldn't hear him. He could no longer hear anything. He couldn't process thoughts or form words. All he could do was stare at the two photos you'd sent to him. "Oh, fuck."

In the first one, you were wearing a shimmery light gold colored thing that looked soft. Like maybe almost as soft as your skin. His heart hammered up into his ears as he examined every inch of it on your curves. Your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, and he could practically feel them between his lips. When he swiped to look at the second one, he abruptly stood from his stool with his phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes bugging out.

"Let me guess... your wife sent you photos?" Jake asked, clearly amused.

Instead of verbally responding, Bradley made sure his phone was tipped away from Jake as he zoomed in for a closer look. Holy hell. Your tits were being pushed up in the sexiest black lace he had ever seen. It was sinful, and now he was imagining you wearing it under one of your tweed blazers while giving a lecture. He swallowed hard, realizing he could see the tiniest bit of your tattoos through the little cutout on the side, and he actually whimpered.

"Yeah... she definitely sent you photos," Jake murmured as his own phone chimed. "Oh, Jess just sent me five."

"How did you get five?" Bradley complained, swiping back and forth, desperately looking for more. "I only got two!"

It was then that he noticed you texted him after you sent the pictures.

What do you think, Beer Boy?

Bradley laughed a bit maniacally. What did he think about the lingerie? Ha! He could barely think at all! He paced back and forth a bit, sweating as he wrote back.

You look fucking hot as hell, Sugar. If you don't bring that black top home, I think you'll break my heart.

Bradley cringed, because now Jake was the one who was whimpering. "They're sharing a fitting room," he whispered, and Bradley's eyes went wide with the realization that Jessica must have taken the photos for you. Then his eyes narrowed as he reached for Jake's phone.

"You better not be able to see Sugar in any of the pictures!"

-------------------------------

You and Jessica were wearing matching fluffy robes and sorting through everything you'd already tried on.

"You have to get that thing," you told her, pointing to the garters and stockings. "It fits you like a glove."

She nodded and added it to her 'yes' pile. "And you have to get the thong and bustier," she replied.

"I'm already buying four things," you reminded her. The bustier was nice, and your breasts looked good in it, but you didn't love the color very much. Besides, there was one last thing you hadn't tried on for fear of looking or feeling ridiculous, but there was a part of your brain that just knew your husband would love it.

"Missed one!" Jessica said, pulling on the bright pink fabric like she could read your mind. Always the best cheerleader, she held it up in front of your body and nodded. "It's bold, but I think you can pull it off."

You took it from her, but looked at yourself skeptically in the mirror. "I don't know... it's going to look bad. Like I'm trying too hard. I don't know why I even picked it up."

But you did know. Bradley was attracted to you in that dumb tie dye shirt like you were some sort of exotic bird whenever you put it on. All of the bright colors swirled into something that just lured him right to you. Part of it was nostalgia, sure, but you felt like there was something more as well.

"Actually, I do know why I picked it up," you told Jessica, holding the chemise closer to yourself. "Bradley really likes it when I wear his old shirt that I kind of held hostage for ten years. It's vibrant and bright, and I think this is the sort of thing he might enjoy?" You pursed your lips and sighed. "But, maybe I'm wrong, because he also just seems to like me how I am. No frills, you know? He's always been that way."

Jessica smiled. "Yes, I understand. And I hope you realize that you just described a man who is desperately in love with you, not just how you look. Sounds like the kind of man you should spoil a little bit." She tugged gently on the chemise and added, "This is a far cry from a tee shirt, but you won't know how you feel about it until you try it on."

"You're right."

Once you were out of the robe, you pulled the stretchy lace over your body, and gaped at the deep neckline as Jessica tied the satin ribbons around the back of your neck. You hadn't noticed before, but there were some yellow and orange threads woven in, making delicate swirls in the fabric. Almost like a different kind of tie dye. It actually looked stunning on you, and as you turned from side to side, you already knew you had to have it.

"I'm obsessed," Jessica said, bouncing excitedly as she clapped her hands together. "Should I take one last round of photos for you to send to Bradley?"

-------------------------------

Bradley was lightheaded. He sweat through his shirt, and he had his forehead cradled in his hand as he opened three photos of you wearing something so bright and pink and sexy, he wanted to lick it off of you. Everything was covered up, but barely. In the one shot, he could almost see your ass. In another, he could definitely see your pert nipples. In the other one, he could make out part of your titty tattoos.

It was a good thing Jake was staring at his own phone in amazement, because Bradley was pretty sure he was drooling and incapable of formulating a sentence. He had already written back to you, begging you to buy the pink thing. Telling you he needed it. Letting you know he wanted to peel is slowly off of your body in bed later. In fact, the last thing he sent was 'Buy everything in that whole fucking store, money is no object'. And he meant every word.

Bradley had been crazy about you for so long, and most of the appeal came from how smart you are and the fact that you weren't fussy. You let him dote on you in your work outfits. You wore his clothing around the house. You didn't need all the bells and whistles to be sexy, and you never would.

But now that he knew exactly what you looked like in black satin and colorful lace, he needed to have that version of you, too. He needed it.

"Since when does your wife have tattoos?"

Those words snapped Bradley out of his lust filled stupor, and his brown eyes bore into Jake's green ones. How did he know about your titty tattoos? When his gaze drifted back to his phone, he turned the screen toward Bradley with a grin. Apparently you had taken a photo of Jessica, in which your reflection was visible in the fitting room mirror. You were wearing a bra, and you were as covered up as you would be for a beach day, but Bradley loathed the idea of Jake having any sort of access to those tattoos.

"Hey!" Jake complained as Bradley snatched the phone and deleted the photo. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I wanted that picture of Jessica! You could have just cropped it."

"Hey, boys!"

Bradley turned in time to toss Jake's phone aside as Jessica headed through the nearly empty bar with you following behind her. There were two enormous shopping bags in your hands, and you had a smile on your face as you asked, "Ready to go home, Beer Boy?"

"Hell yes," he murmured, closing the distance to your lips and kissing you hard. "Did you buy that pink thing? And the black one?"

His hands wound around your waist possessively, and he got even more excited as you tucked the bags behind your back and whispered, "There's only one way to find out."

Bradley started guiding you to the door. "Yeah. We're going home. Right now." He ran his nose along your cheek and gave you one more sweet kiss before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks for the beers, Bagman. Oh, and Jessica, I need you to crop your photos better next time you take my wife shopping."

---------------------------

I love Beer Boy for making Sugar feel so good about herself every day. She's a badass, and he knows it. I wrote this as a little wedding treat for @je-suis-prest-rachel Congratulations, Rachel! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

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@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

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@theamuz

@khaylin27

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dizzybee03 · 11 days ago

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Oh gosh the handcuff part had me dying 😆

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 18

Summary:

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: The Daggers agree it’s time for Phoenix and Coyote to get their shit together

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

a/n: sorry it's late!!!!

“We need to do something about all of that,” Rooster waved his hand towards Javy and Tasha, who were pointedly not touching even though there was barely an inch of space between them. I nodded, sipping the drink Jake had gotten me before he had gone to play darts with Payback.

“On a scale of one to sitcom, how creative are we going to get trying to get them together?”

“Sitcom, definitely. Should we lock them in a closet?”

“Or maybe we can handcuff them together?” I suggested, thinking over just how to get the two pilots to finally take that last step together. “This is why I don’t write romance, do you think Fanboy would have ideas?” Rooster nodded, motioning for Fanboy to join us and he was infinitely more helpful. Pretty soon, we were taking notes on a napkin and trying to make sure Tasha and Javy didn’t get suspicious.

“What are you three doing?” Jake asked, kissing my temple as he came up beside me.

“Keep it down, dude,” Rooster shushed him, looking around to make sure our cover wasn’t blown. “We’ve almost got it.”

“Got what?” Payback rolled his eyes, Jake leaned closer, taking in all of the scribbled notes scattered between five or six napkins.

“Operation Phoe-oyote?”

“Actually, it’s Operation Sitcom now,” Fanboy points to the circled name, “It’s less obvious.”

“We’re debating whether or not Phoenix remembers how to pick handcuffs,” Rooster narrowed his eyes pointing at Daisy, “Because apparently someone taught her how.” I groaned, running a hand over my face.

“I mean I remember how but I also practice, I don’t know if she would remember. Maybe we can just hide all her bobby pins and paper clips?”

“Wait, you know how to pick handcuffs?” Jake asked, surprised. I giggled, cheeks burning. “And you practice?”

“It’s for my books, I had to learn how it worked,” I explained but Jake’s eyebrows didn’t descend,

“That explains once, Wildflower. Not practicing,”

“Well, sometimes I have them handcuffed in weird positions and I need to know if they can get themselves out, so I handcuff myself like that and then try it for myself.”

“So you spend a lot of time in handcuffs?” Rooster asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Kinky.”

“Shut up,” I threw one of the napkins at him. “I think we should nix the handcuffs.”

“Handcuffs?” Tasha’s voice scared me, we had all been too distracted to notice her and Javy approaching the table. The three of us co-conspirators quickly grabbed all of the napkins, shoving them into our pockets. Tasha raised her brow at us but didn’t mention it. “Do you think I can still pick them faster than you?”

“Probably,” I laughed, getting up from the table, “Anyways, I think I’m done for the night. Jake?”

“Right behind you, my little locksmith.” I rolled my eyes, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bar.

Jake took me back to his apartment, carrying me inside despite my protests. I knew he had no problem lifting me but I still wasn’t the biggest fan of it, even though I had to admit it was hot knowing just how strong he was.

“You know, I do have two feet that work, right?” I teased him as he fumbled with the keys, refusing to put me down while he unlocked the door.

“But if I’m not carrying you, I can’t do this,” Jake’s head dipped down, nuzzling my breasts and I shook with laughter.

“You’re ridiculous!”

“You love me,” Jake laughed, carrying me the rest of the way to his bedroom. It looked a lot better than the first time I had stayed over, Jake had let me have my way with it, adding decorations and a new comforter, making it feel homier and less spartan.

“Yeah, I kinda do.” Jake set me on my feet and kissed me. I sighed against his lips, relaxing into him with my hands on his chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath his plain tee shirt.

“Are you ready for bed or do you have some more scheming to do?” Jake asked, gently pressing kisses all over my face. I giggled, letting him carry on until he stopped, waiting for an answer.

“I can scheme while we cuddle if you turn on the fan.” He chuckled, giving me one more kiss before going to turn on the fan while I stripped down, pulling on one of his tee shirts to sleep in.

“Love seeing you in my clothes,” Jake mumbled, face buried in my hair as we cuddled in bed. “What would you think if I left some at your place so you can wear them all the time?” I kissed his chest, thinking it over, my heart beating like crazy. It was just a little thing, having his clothes in my dresser, it wasn’t a big deal. I mean, he already had a toothbrush in my bathroom but that was a necessity, unlike his shirts. “Baby?”

“Yeah, okay,” I whispered softly, kissing his chest again. “I’ll make space for them tomorrow.”

“Do they really think we can’t see them?” Javy asked, foot brushing against mine under the table. The squad had planned a dinner out at a fancy restaurant in town but when I had gotten there and given Rooster’s name, the waitress had led me to a table for two and I knew what was happening.

“They really think they’re slick,” I tried to hide my smile, sipping a glass of wine. It was obvious what they were doing, trying to force Javy and I into taking a new step in our friendship, relationship, whatever it was.

We had slept together once on deployment a long time ago and had been circling each other for years, somewhere between friends and strangers, until the uranium mission had brought us together for good. I mean, he was a genuine good guy, caring, handsome, and had a sense of humor that had me tearing up at times. What if talking about it, acknowledging whatever this was between us, ruined what we already had?

“Are we going to talk about it?” Javy asked, reaching across the table, tracing my knuckles with his finger. I took another sip of wine, “We don’t have to if you’re not ready.” Javy’s puppy dog eyes made my heart melt, “I’ll wait.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?” I shifted my hand so that he could hold it properly. It was the first time we had actually held hands and it felt so good. “Oh my god,” I groaned, eyes shutting in embarrassment. “Rooster is taking our damn picture.”

“Let him,” Javy chuckled and when I opened my eyes, he was leaning across the table, “But let’s give him something better to take a picture of.” I rolled my eyes but closed the distance between us, kissing him for the first time in forever. There were a few cheers of excitement but I could barely hear them, tasting the whiskey on Javy’s soft lips.

“Maybe we can skip dessert and go to my place?”

“How about we get dessert to go that way we have something to eat between rounds?” Javy kissed me again,

“You were worth waiting every second, Natasha Trace.”

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dizzybee03 · 11 days ago

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This was so well written- i honestly felt like I was in the room with them and hollywoods anguishes my own, they have been through so much

Day Twenty Two [Do Not Look Away]

Summary: After the events of Bruises, Bradley comes face to face with his new reality. You’re experiencing a physical manifestation of PTSD and Jake’s still in a coma.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Mentions of death. Mentions of Sexual assault/rape. Mentions of torture/violence. Bad medical portrayals. PTSD induced psychosis

Word Count: 2.7k

Whumptober Prompt Day Twenty-Two: Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Bruises Masterlist

In a recent experiment, scientists observed that single human cells in a petri dish will seek each other out…and adhere to each other to form new connections. When cells team up, they become stronger. They thrive and evolve and eventually become something that their single selves ever could have been alone.

“I don’t want to pry,” Bradley’s voice broke through the deafening silence that lingered between the two of you as you sat at Jake’s beside. The only other sounds that filtered through were the humming of life-saving machines and the incessant beeping of medical equipment. “I can’t even begin to relate to what you’ve both been through,” Bradley continued as you looked over to where he was standing. Right at the foot of Jake’s hospital bed.

You spent more time at Jake’s side than you did in your own hospital room. It often got you in trouble. There was even one particular time when you were still in a wheelchair, where you’d decided to take yourself down the hall to see him. It didn’t go over very well with the orderlies. Your team of doctors and nurses alike were furious with you. But they understood the burning desire to be with the one you loved. They understood and could recognise the early stages of post-traumatic stress disorder. They could see the signs of codependency.

They could see that you were more at ease by Jake Seresin’s side than you were by yourself. Once your primary doctor had signed off on it, you were essentially treated at Jake’s bedside permanently. Screw hospital policies and politics.

Rooster’s hands gripped the railing at the end of the bed with such a force you thought his grip alone might crumple the metal. But it never wavered. The metal held strong under the pressure Bradley was putting it under. Much like Jake who never gave up on you.

“But–” Bradley paused one final time before the question left his mouth forever. Once he asked he couldn’t take back such a charged question. “Was there ever a moment where you wished–” He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was asking.

“Every day,” You interrupted as you sat perched in the world’s most unsupportive, uncomfortable hospital chair known to man. “I prayed for death more than I prayed to be rescued, Rooster.” You knew Bradley was prepared to hear you say that, he wouldn’t have bothered to ask if he didn’t already believe to some extent that you would have prayed for the sweet release of death. “But Jake kept me going even when I wanted to die.”

“I–” Even though Bradley knew that answer was coming, it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Bradley sighed as he shook his head in disbelief. “It should have been me.”

“I wouldn’t wish any of this on my worst enemy, Bradshaw,” You replied as you shivered in the cool of Jake’s bleak hospital room. Rooster saw and quickly made his way over to where spare blankets and pillows were thrown haphazardly. They sat crumpled in a pile on a forgotten chair never used by the neverending list of visitors that cycled through.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You tried to tell Bradley as he collected a spare blanket. “Rooster–”

“You know, I remember not long before the mission rolled around,” Rooster explained as he placed the blanket over you. Covering your legs enough to maintain some warmth. “Jake got obliterated one night at the Hard Deck, so much so that Penny actually got a few of us to just drag him out to the front deck by his ankles.”

You couldn’t help but to chuckle. You were mourning the loss of the version of Jake Seresin you hardly got to know before the mission. But you would have liked to bear witness to some more of his antics. However, you had tried your best to stay clear when you didn’t need to be in his direct vicinity.

“Sounds like something he’d do.” You smiled softly all the while you looked over your shoulder to where Jake lay still heavily sedated and comatosed. “I miss him so much.”

“I drove him home that night,” Bradley continued on as he made sure you were warmer than you had been moments before. “He was rambling about some woman, you know, in between when he had his head out the window of the Bronco pealing the paint off with his bile.”

Again you couldn’t help but to laugh, this time with more intention. Bradley could see it in your eyes though, you wished Jake was awake to laugh at his own stupidity with you.

“He told me about this woman, how he couldn’t stand her,” Rooster explained as a frown plastered itself across your face. “He couldn’t stand anything about her really, from her smile to the way she laughed without fear of ridicule to the way she just knew how to call him on bullshit before anyone else could,”

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked with a tone laced with something you didn’t recognise. Rooster knew exactly what it was though. It was jealousy. It was the all-consuming green goblin called jealousy. Who was this other woman Jake was talking about in his drunken rambling and why was she on his mind?

“He even hated the way she ate her food, with purpose and intention.” Bradley laughed to himself as he looked down at where Jake was lying unresponsive in his hospital bed. “Mother fucker had hate confused with love though.”

“What do you mean?”

“He loves everything about you Hollywood,” Bradley sighed as he tried to keep the tears in his eyes from welling too much. It wasn’t his time to cry. No. For you, he had to be strong. “I can remember giving him so much shit for it, he was droning on about how he hated the way you always beat him at his own game.” You could feel the heat in your cheeks rising as Rooster crouched down before you. His hands were gentle atop your blanket-covered knees. “Han–Jake, loved you before he even knew he loved you.”

“What if he doesn’t wake up, Roo?” tears rolled down your face through a pained smile. It was nice to know Jake truly did love you before he saw hell’s most horrible torture performed against you. But it made the fact he wasn’t awake so much harder to handle. “What if he–”

“He will,” Bradley replied as he reached up to wipe the stray tears streaming down your cheeks. “He wouldn’t leave you behind, not after everything you’ve been through, alright?” Rooster wanted confirmation from you. He wanted you to nod. He wanted to see that you were listening to what he was actually saying. “He loves you too much to leave you now, he wouldn’t do that to you, not after fighting every day to keep you two alive.”

“I wanna be able to tell him that I love him too,” You sobbed in your chair all the while Bradley did his best to comfort you. He looked up at your own monitor. The one that told all the doctors and nurses what your heart was doing. What your stats were. You were still hooked up to IV fluids. “I just wanna hear his voice again.”

Bradley let the silence linger for a moment as he stood. He couldn’t deny how tired you looked. How weak your movement pattern was. He saw the exhaustion written in between the lines on your face. You needed to rest. You needed to sleep. But getting you to agree to head back to bed even just for an hour would be a battle Rooster wasn’t sure he’d win.

But you were the woman Jake Seresin loved. A title Bradley would never have but would envy from a viewpoint just shy of the front row. He would forever force himself to watch the man he loved love another human with all the fire and grace he had to offer. Bradley swore that he’d never look away from the gift he’d been given. The gift of witnessing his best friend fall in love. Get married. Have children perhaps. He wanted to be right there in the thick of it.

So he needed to be your person, even just for a little while. For Jake. For Hangman. For the sandy blonde with the emerald eyes across the bar. For the aviator who knew how to get on his last nerve. For the man who’d risked his life to save his. For the best friend, he never realised he’d lost and subsequently found again.

“I want you to know I suggest this with so much respect,” Bradley sighed. He tensed a little as if he was bracing for impact. “But I reckon Jake would want me to tell you to get some rest.”

You listened to what Bradley was saying. His words were something comforting amidst all the pain and suffering you’d endured. He was, if anything, a good friend. You knew that Jake would never truly regret his decision to put his life on the line to save his wingman. But it would be a decision that haunted him every night. Every morning. Every second that passed him by where he had to live in a world where he’d seen you experience the worst of what humanity had to offer.

And you understood why he was telling you to get some rest. But you couldn’t sleep when your mind would get stuck on a loop. Replaying all the hurt. The pain. The suffering. All in HD while your body tried to recover.

The mind is dark, wonderful and weird. But the last thing you wanted was your subconscious at the helm.

“No.” It was a complete sentence. No follow up required. But Rooster thought otherwise.

“Uh, I really think you should just get maybe like, a solid half an hour at the minimum?” Bradley replied as he stood with his hands resting slightly cunty on his hips. “Jake would–” Before Rooster got the chance to finish, you deadpanned him. His blood ran cold when you glared his way. A look he never wanted to be on the receiving end of ever again.

“They made Jake watch a lot of things happen to me,” Bradley had no idea where you were going with this. But he chose to listen regardless. “They made him watch them rape me, over and over again.” You paused just to listen to Jake’s heart rate monitor. The rhythmic beeping soothed your troubled heart in a way you felt ungrateful to experience. Sure Jake was in the hospital after being held as a prisoner of war…but at least he was alive.

“They forced him to watch every time, and said it was always his fault.” Bradley’s heart sank at the thought of having to go through that, let alone watch it unfold. The levels of physical and psychological torture you were describing were almost unbearable to listen to. But for you, he would. “But he never gave them what they wanted. Jake never gave up on me even when he could have.”

“Y/n–” Again Bradley tried to speak. But you kept talking over him. Just trying to get your point across.

“They forced him to hurt me, they used him against me in ways I wish I could describe to you right now,” You began to shake your head as your tears ricocheted down your heated cheeks. “‘Don’t look away. Don’t look away Seresin’–on goddamn repeat, while I was cut and used and beaten until I could barely breathe and without fail after everything was said and done he was still there.” Bradley could very much see you unraveling right before him. He didn’t recognise the look in your eye. He chose to take a few cautious steps back towards the door, giving you some space and himself some distance.

“He was there for me to crawl home to even when I couldn’t see,” Your voice softened as you looked over at Jake. Bradley saw it, the moment your eyes caught the rise and fall of Jakes chest. God, it broke his heart. All of this did.

“So no–” You hissed. “I will not be leaving his side and I will not sleep until I get to tell him that I love him and not until I get to see him wake up,” You explained for the last time. You were sick and tired of people telling you to rest. To sleep. To take care of yourself. They didn’t know what you had been through. They didn’t understand what you were going through. They didn’t understand what it was like to witness torture, to experience hell day in and day out. “Do you understand?”

Bradley didn’t respond right away. He simply looked at you with a look you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of. One of sympathy. One of pity. So you snapped. “I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?” Your voice echoed down the hall as Rooster backed away even more. He placed his hands where you could see him as if he wanted you to know he wasn’t there to hurt you.

“Hollywood, take it easy.” Rooster cooed. “It’s me, Rooster.”

“Get me out of here!” You screamed all the while clawing at the wires and tubes attached to various parts of you. Your arms, chest, stomach. “Let me go!”

“NURSE!” Bradley called down the hall towards the nurse’s station. He turned his back for five seconds only to turn around to witness you trying to pull the vent from Jake’s throat. The one helping him to breathe. The life-saving piece of equipment you were now messing with. “Fuck! Y/n!”

“I’ve got you,” You cried as you tried to save Jake. Not understanding you were in the middle of a panic attack mixed with exhaustion. “I’ll save you, I’m here.”

“Hollywood!” Rooster wrapped his arms around your torso from behind. “Stop it, you’re in the hospital!”

“Let go of me!” You cried out as a handful of nurses approached Jake’s room. They saw the look of utter shock plastered across Bradley’s face. “LET ME GO!” You shouted again as you violently kicked and thrashed against Rooster as your feet left the ground.

“I don’t know what I said to set her off like this?” Explaining himself to the nurses, Bradley held you tight as you fought against him.

“JAKE!!!” You cried out in unimaginable terror.

“She’s having an attack again,” One of the nurses explained as she jabbed you with a sedative. “Anything will trigger her right now.”

Bradley listened to your screams get weaker as your body grew heavier in his embrace. He knew you were gone the second your head lulled to the side.

“She’s in a bad way, they both are.” Rooster groaned in frustration. Not at you or Jake, but at the situation as a whole. “Someone needs to be held responsible for all of this.”

“I’m just the night nurse, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” One of the nurses replied much to Roosters’ shock. He was venting more so than looking for a response. “But if I were gonna start somewhere, I’d start with having a conversation with her father.”

Rooster took that note onboard as he carried you back down the hall towards where your empty hospital bed was. A room just as bleak as Jake’s.

“I got you alright?” Bradley sighed as he laid you down, taking notice of how at peace you looked. So content. So…Sedated. “I’ve got you and I’ve got Jake.” As the nurses followed him in to fix up your machines and copious wires, Rooster took a moment to sit in his torture. Reminding himself of the promise he’d made. “Always.”

We are an extension of our cells. Just like them, we are programmed to find others…to reach out to one another and find nourishment and love. Much like our cells, we’re not meant to be alone. So once we find each other…

We try our best to hold onto what we’ve got. Even after horrific petri dish experiments.

***************************

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dizzybee03 · 11 days ago

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He is such a perfect gentleman 💙

Halloween Bingo Card 2024: Haunted House - Dwayne Pride x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @keyweegirlie @luckyladycreator2 @buckysteveloki-me

Haunted Houses have never been Dwayne’s thing. He’s been to a couple of them over the years back when Laurel was a teen and she wanted to do something spooky. He’d spent hours researching the best Haunted Houses in New Orleans and he came up with three, The first one had been too whimsical, the second one too dark and smoky, the third one though, the third one had kept her up for a week with nightmares. She’d given up on them after that and so had he.

That is until you came along.

You’ve been in New Orleans for a couple of years at this point and want to experience Halloween the same way you did in Georgia, by packing as much fun as physically possible into one week and that includes a Haunted House.

When Sebastian has to cancel your plans to attend The Mortuary Haunted Mansion because he’s being quarantined Dwayne can tell you’re disappointed.

You decide to go on your own, give the spare ticket to someone outside in a way to brighten their day. It breaks his heart because places like that, they’re a lot more fun when you have company.

When you see him standing at the gate waiting for you, your entire face lights up and Dwayne wishes he could bottle that feeling he gets right there in the centre of his chest. You spend the majority of the tour tucked in against him as he whispers reassuring words against your temple because it’s clear you didn’t expect The Mortuary to be as terrifying as it is.

“Do you have stuff like that in Georgia?” He asks you when the two of you get outside, he still has his arm wrapped around you, holding you close.

“I don’t think they have stuff like that in Hell.” You tell him, tilting your head up towards him.

He smiles as he looks down at you and those eyes…

He doesn’t think, he’s ever seen such a beautiful hue.

He wants to kiss you in that moment, to take you home, undress you but he doesn’t, he pulls away instead, his hands tucking into the pockets of his jacket.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.” He says, tilting his head towards the parking lot. “We wouldn’t want a werewolf to snatch you up.”

Love Dwayne? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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dizzybee03 · 12 days ago

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Oh man this just hurts so good!!!!!!

Summary: After four years of marriage, you find out that your husband, Bradley Bradshaw, has cheated on you with your best friend.

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

WC: 1.4K

Warnings: Cheating, slight smut, reference to pregnancy, alcohol. Sorry to all my Bradley girls this one is gonna hurt!

You woke up in a sweat, eyes flying open, hand stretching out to the other side of the bed.

And where you had expected the warmth of your husband, instead you found the cold emptiness of sheets that hadn’t been laid on in days.

You laid back, eyes brimming with tears.

In the living room, only ten feet away, separated by a thin door, Bradley laid on the couch with his eyes focused on the spinning fan on the ceiling. He felt sick to his stomach. There was a knot that had buried itself deep into his stomach and wouldn’t unfurl, no matter what he did. Bring you sandwiches at work, flowers before dinner, kisses when you least expected it. He lived with doubt and fear riddled in his very bones. Every time your phone buzzed or you checked the screen, he felt every muscle in his body tense. And then you’d turn to him with the sweetest smile in the world. And his heart shattered into pieces again.

You were the love of his life. And you were about to be the one that got away.

***

It was a mistake. Or at least, that’s what Bradley told himself. The first time he saw her out, it had been an accident. He was at the mall, searching through Sephora and trying to find the lipstick you had sent him to buy. Bradley was too big for small aisles, and he knocked into someone, then went sputtering the other way into a display case of perfumes, brown eyes wide as he held his breath, waiting to hear bottles crash to the ground. Instead, a hand shot out, righting the triangular shaped bottle that was rocking and saving it from cascading to the ground.

“Shit!” he muttered.

June looked up, eyes wide. “Bradley?”

He grinned. “Hey there.” He had known June as long as he had known you. The two of you were a packaged deal. She was there the first night the two of you met, on the other side of the bar, egging you on. She was standing on your other side of the altar as the two of you kissed in the drizzle that unexpectedly rainy Saturday in June. And here she was, saving Bradley’s ass in a Sephora.

She cocked her head. “Y/N sent you on errands?”

He nodded. “I’m on a quest for,” he paused, looking down at his phone, “Charlotte Tilbury Pillow Talk.”

She smiled. “Follow me.”

The Sephora trip turned into an impromptu lunch that parted with a friendly hug. When Bradley got home, you praised him for finding everything and even picking out a gift – a new perfume from Jo Malone – and he didn’t have the heart to tell you that June had chosen it.

A week later, when he saw her struggling with a case of seltzer water in the grocery store parking lot, he lifted it out of her arms with ease and she smiled at him in a way that made Bradley feel fuzzy around the edges. And so when she touched his arm he let his mind wander for a moment. How long had it been since you had looked at him like that? Like he was your savior.

They went on like that, running into each other here and there. Del Mar was a small town. You and Bradley had chosen to buy your first house there to get out of San Diego, away from the crowds and the hustle. You liked quiet, a good book on a Friday night with a glass of wine and a blanket over your toes. It was Bradley who wanted more – more lights, more energy, more attention.

So when you went out of town for work to New York, Bradley found himself nursing a beer at the local pub. And when June sat down to his right, it wasn’t long before they were five drinks deep and she was pulling him on the dance floor.

And before Bradley knew it, his hand was wrapped around her neck and her eyes were screaming fuck me, and he leaned down and tasted her.

They fucked in the car, fast and dirty, Bradley’s head hitting the window of the side door, his pants barely unbuckled as his cock slammed into her and she moaned beneath him like a porn star. He was drunk, and with his eyes closed he could almost forget that it wasn’t you. But then she ran her fingers down his cheek – you kept yours short, most nurses do – and sighed so breathy he almost stilled inside of her before she wrapped her legs around his waist, milking him to completion by rolling her hips with a gasp.

They vowed to never speak of it again. But everywhere he went, Bradley felt like June would be there. He ignored her calls the rest of the week you were gone. And when you called, tired after a full day of medical seminars, he forced himself to swallow the truth that threatened to burst from his lips.

“I love you,” you whispered into the phone.

Bradley choked back a sob. “I love you too, baby.”

***

You didn’t know. At least, you didn’t think you knew. It was just a hunch, a suspicion.

The first clue was when you got home from New York. The house was spotless. Normally, Bradley was a slob. A jersey hung over empty dining room chairs, tupperware piled in the sink, beard trimmings along the granite countertops in the bathroom. This time it looked like a forensic team had swooped in.

And then the way he looked at you. Sad, soulful eyes. Usually, Bradley greeted you like a dog at the door. Eager, blissfully ignorant.

This time, there was something hovering beyond the watery irises.

And when you called June to ask if she thought you had any reason to worry, there was the sharp inhale on her end of the line. You had heard that inhale before. Sophomore year at Vanderbilt. Your roommate had cheated with your boyfriend of two months. And when you asked her why there was a condom in her trash can, she sucked in a breath, eyes darting around the room, refusing to make contact with your own. And then the next time you saw her with your boyfriend in tow at the dining hall, you knew. The way they looked at each other. There were secrets hiding in plain sight.

So you invited June to dinner. And when she showed up in a dowdy dress, luscious hair pulled back into a bun, you felt your stomach drop to your toes. And when Bradley wouldn’t meet her eyes, you knew.

***

You promised." Bradley's eyes filled with tears. He went to touch you, but you stumbled back, out of his reach. "I only asked you one thing. Not to break my heart. But you did it anyway. And with her."

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, the strain in his voice evident. His voice, normally so deep, was raspy, as if he was gasping for air in the desert. "Baby. I love you. I fucked up and I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Bradley," you whispered.

He frowned. "Of course it matters. You matter. It all matters."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. Bradley felt his heart plummet in his chest, stretching for his feet, shattering every rib bone along the way as it cascaded out of his chest. He had never hurt anyone the way he had hurt you. "It doesn't, because it's over."

"You can't just say it's over," he replied. "I asked you to marry me. You said yes. We got married, Y/N. You can't just call quits on that because of one small thing."

"One small thing?" He winced as your voice rose. "You fucked her, Bradley. My best friend in the whole world. You fucked her and you lied to me about it."

"I don't know what to tell you other than I am so sorry. I regret it with every fiber of my being. I hate myself for it. Is that what you wanted? Will knowing that make you happy? That I hate who I've become? That I hate the person who could do that to you?"

"Well I hate him too," you said, the anger whipping through your teeth. "I hate you, Bradley Bradshaw. I wish we had never met."

"Don't say that. Baby, I love you. You're my wife and I love you."

"We're leaving. Don't bother trying to come after us."

"We?" Bradley's brown eyes squinted.

"I'm pregnant."

A/N: Yes, another blurb with this bc I'm angsty tonight!!

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dizzybee03 · 12 days ago

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Right!? Like the whole pregnancy he thinks it’s his, maybe even doesn’t find out until the kid is older

How about an angsty ask with Jake trying to raise a kid on his own after his wife dying OR Jake thinking he’s gonna be a dad only to find out it’s not his baby

OMG the second one -- BRUTAL!! Like he's so excited to be a dad and then she lets him believe it for a while but ends up caving and confessing it's not his ... he would be devastated

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dizzybee03 · 12 days ago

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Man Jake as a bad guy is blowing my mind 🤯

I've Got You

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 25. Betrayal, "How could you?" Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader Summary: A night at The Hard Deck takes a dire turn when you realize someone has slipped something into your drink. As the drugs begin kicking in, you turn to your pilot for help. Word Count: 2326 TW: Reader is Hangman's Backseater, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drugged, Spiked Drink, Betrayal, Jake Carries Reader, Fighting, Implied Future Sexual Assualt, Language, NOT ALL TWs LISTED READ AT OWN RISK Notes: Thank you to @ohtobeleah for looking this over 💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

For the third time, you jammed your fingers down your throat trying to expel whatever drug had entered your system into the toilet in front of you. Yet as hard as you tried, nothing else was coming up. You collapsed sideways and dragged yourself over to the back wall. There, wedged between the toilet and the side of the stall, you tried to figure out what to do next. Your head was growing foggier by the minute and your body was becoming so heavy that it was a struggle to even lift your hand or hold your head up.

Using what little strength you had left, you dug your phone out of your pocket, and, with it lying on the floor beside you, you typed the words “help. bathroom. now.” into your last text chat and pressed send. Then all the tension left your body as you slumped limply against the toilet.

You had no idea how long you waited like that, but eventually, you heard a soft knock at the stall door. “Sunshine? You in here?”

“Jake…”

That was all he needed to hear. You only ever called him Jake when you were being one hundred percent serious or the situation was dire. There was a second of silence before the door smashed open, the lock shattering as the full force of Hangman’s foot slammed into the door. He looked around before he noticed you wedged in the corner. His eyes grew wide and his tanned skin paled in the fluorescent lighting as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Oh my god…” He grabbed your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to get a better look at your eyes. “Your pupils are huge. What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

“Drink…” You swallowed and tried to claw your way out of the darkness you were slipping into. “S-someone put something in my drink.”

“Fuck…” Jake muttered, glancing over his shoulder. Then, his attention returned to you as he leaned in, his beer-scented breath breezing across your face. “Who were you drinking with? Sunny, stay with me.” He gently slapped your cheeks to get you to open your eyes. “Who was it?”

You tried to think but the fog rolling through your mind made it hard to focus. Finally, you recalled, “Frogger. Frogger and Screwball.”

“Okay, good.” Jake ran his hand up and down your arm, trying to keep you awake. “We need to let Penny know and have her call the cops. And probably the MPs. I won’t let them get away with this.”

“Thank…you…” you muttered, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time since you realized what was happening, you felt safe.

“I’m not gonna let someone mess with my backseater, now am I? Only I’m allowed to do that,” Jake smiled back, ruffling your hair. Then he placed his arms under your arms and legs and lifted your limp body off the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Now, let’s get outta here.”

With your head carefully tucked against his chest, Jake carried you from the bathroom. Your eyes were half-lidded and your vision was still tinged with darkness but at least it wasn’t getting worse and you were no longer fighting to remain awake with everything in you. You were still having trouble moving your limbs or lifting your head, however, it didn’t matter as you were safely gathered in Jake’s arms.

As soon as Jake walked into the main room of the bar, Penny noticed the two of you and gasped. Tossing her bar rag onto her shoulder, she hurried to Jake’s side, placing her hand on your cheek as she asked, “Oh my god! Is she alright?”

“She will be. But you need to call the cops.” Jake nodded towards the end of the bar where Frogger and Screwball were still sitting next to your empty seat. “Those two bastards spiked her drink.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Seresin?” Frogger demanded, sliding off his bar stool as his face grew red. “We didn’t do anything to her! We were just flirting a little.”

Screwball looked like a deer caught in headlights as he glanced from Frogger to you and back to Frogger. “Frog—”

“Shut up,” the other pilot growled under his breath. Then, turning back to Jake, he said, “I don’t care what the bitch says, we didn’t touch her or her fucking drink. You’re not pinning this on us. I’m not going down for something I didn’t do.”

“You were the only ones with her since she got her drink,” Penny snapped, her hands on her hips. “And I sure as hell didn’t drug her when I served her.”

Screwball jumped off his chair and took off for the door, but before he could get more than a few steps, Rooster, Coyote, and Payback blocked his way. All three men had at least four inches and twenty pounds on the small pilot and they all looked out for blood after an attack on one of their own.

Screwball whirled around and pointed a trembling finger at Frogger. “It had to be him! I just wanted to play some darts but he’s the one who insisted we chat up Sunshine. He has to be the one that did it!”

“You son of a bitch!”

Frogger turned and launched himself at Screwball, knocking both men to the floor. Before anyone could react, Frogger began pummeling Screwball in the face as he yelled, “Take it back, you fucking traitor! I didn’t do it!”

The three pilots who had been guarding the door dove into the fray and pulled Frogger off Screwball even as he continued kicking and cursing. Screwball curled into a ball and sobbed, alternating between cries of pain and cries of his innocence.

Penny had momentarily vanished in the scuffle but reappeared back at your side with her phone and a water bottle that she held out to you. “Here, honey, drink this. It’ll help flush whatever they gave you out of your system.”

With her help, you took a few big sips out of the bottle, spilling some of it down your shirt. However, the cool water felt refreshing on your feverish skin and you relaxed into Jake’s arms with a sigh.

Penny smiled, tucking the water bottle between your arm and Jake’s chest. Then she dialed 911 and waited for someone to answer. Glancing at Jake, she asked, “Should I have them send an ambulance too?”

“No, it’s okay.” Jake shifted you slightly so he had a better hold on you, then began heading towards the bar’s exit. “I’ll take her to the hospital, make sure she’s alright.”

“Thank you, Jake,” Penny smiled, the phone still up to her ear. Pointing at him as Bob held the door open, Penny added, “All your drinks are on the house for the next month.”

“I’m gonna make you regret that,” Jake chuckled, then he carried you out into the night.

It was a short walk across the parking lot to his truck. Once there, Jake settled you into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side and climbing in, placing your water bottle in the cup holder. When he started the engine, he cracked your window so you could get a little breeze then he pulled out of the parking lot.

Between throwing up, the cool night air in your face, and the water Penny gave you, you were starting to feel more alert. The world around you was still swimming slightly, but you were able to sit up and lift your head.

Jake must have noticed because he grinned as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Hey there, Sunshine. How you feeling?”

“Better,” you mumbled, blinking a few times to try and clear your vision. Smiling softly at him, you said, “Thank you, Hangman. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“It’s what I do, Sunny,” Jake said. “I’m your pilot. I’ve always got your best interest in mind.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, leaning your head back against the door to get more air. “I guess you do.”

The two of you drove in silence for a few minutes and you were just about to drift off when you realized where you were. Sitting up, you asked, “Wait, I thought you were taking me to the hospital. Wasn’t that the turn?”

Jake shrugged. “Yeah, but they are doing construction down that road. I can turn up here.” He grabbed the open water bottle Penny had given you out of the cup holder and held it out to you. “Here. Drink some more of this. It’ll help.”

Taking it from him, you downed it in one gulp. You didn’t register the bitter sting on your tongue until after you had swallowed yet you recognized it immediately as the same taste that had initially alerted you that something was wrong back at the bar. But you had drunk half the water bottle when Penny first gave it to you without noticing anything off. Which could only mean…

Slowly, you raised your eyes to look at your pilot, the man you trusted with your life on a daily basis. “You wouldn’t…”

A smug grin spread across Jake’s face as he continued to stare at the road in front of him. “You know…I was so sure you had figured out it was me when I got your text. I thought you noticed me slipping the drug into your drink when I came up to the bar to grab my beer and that the game was over before it really even began. But then when I looked at you, huddled there on that disgusting floor looking so pathetic, I realized things had gone better than I hoped. I knew you’d tell someone what happened—probably Phoenix or Bob—then I’d step up to drive you to the hospital. I just never imagined I’d be the one you went to for help. Not when we weren’t on the clock.”

Tears slipped down your face, your voice quivering as you whispered, “How could you?”

“Come on, Sunshine. We both know you’ve been teasing me for months now, just begging me to make a move. Like I wouldn’t notice that perfume you’ve been wearing just for me? How I catch that faint trace of it in the cockpit when you shift in your seat behind me? Or how you always tie the arms of your flight suit around your waist when we’re going through after-training checks, showing off those perky breasts beneath that thin white tank top? Bending over in front of me rubbing that perfect ass in my face? You know how many times I’ve almost pinned you to the side of our plane and had my way with you? But no. You wanted to play the game, so I played the game. Now I’ve won, I’ve got you, and I’m ready for my prize.”

Horrified, all you could do was stare at this stranger with your pilot’s face. This was not the Jake Seresin you had been flying with for the past six months. The one who would flirt with almost any woman who crossed his path, yes, but who would never cross the line or hurt anyone…or so you thought.

Even as your body began to go slack in your seat as this new round of drugs kicked in, you tried to reason with him. “Jake, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression, but I don’t want this. I-I was just doing my job. I wasn’t trying to tease you or lead you on. And it’s not too late. P-Please, stop this now and we’ll just forget everything that happened tonight.”

“Oh, I know you will.” Jake’s grin took on a sinister edge as the shadows between street lights flashed across his face. “That’s the best part of this drug. You won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

“What?” you breathed, a whole new level of terror settling in at this revelation.

“But don’t worry, Sunny,” Jake purred as he turned into the driveway of a house you vaguely recalled visiting once to pick up some paperwork he forgot to file. “That just means we can play this game over and over and over again.”

He threw the truck into park and jumped out. A second later, your door opened and you tumbled out into his arms. Before in the bar, Jake had carried you so carefully, making sure you were positioned comfortably in his arms. There was no care or regard for your comfort this time. Now, he placed his arm under your knees and shoulders, letting your head hang down loosely and making the world turn upside down as he lugged your body around like a lifeless sack.

Whatever he stuck in the water bottle must have been slightly different from what he gave you in the bar because while you couldn’t even manage to turn your head or lift your finger, your head wasn’t swimming like before and your vision was clear.

Tears rolled up your face and up into your hair as Jake carried you up the driveway towards his front door. You were too weak to call out or struggle against him and, once he got you inside his house, you knew there was nothing to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you.

As he opened the door, you silently prayed that what he said earlier was true. While you knew you needed to know what happened tonight to recognize the monster hiding behind the toothpick and perfect smile you saw in the seat in front of you every day, you didn’t want to remember a second of what he was about to do to you.

Jake stepped into the darkness of his house and the door slammed behind you.

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