the-winter-marvel33reblogs

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Brb crying for Jake

Less Talk | Part IX

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: It's been a minute, y'all! I've missed my Less Talk crew! Second last chapter, here we go!

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: Swearing, smut, angst, fluff, you might dislike me when this is over

Masterlist | Part I

“Jake!” you call as you run after him out of the restaurant. “Jake, wait!”

But Jake doesn’t stop. He can’t.

The moment Mustang utters the words ‘we’re engaged’, he goes numb. Bradley says something that he can’t quite hear or doesn’t want to comprehend. The crowd starts cheering and closing in. And he sees your eyes, wide with alarm as you try to keep him in your line of sight despite the moving bodies between you.

And then he’s gone. Shoving his way through the well-wishers as he makes for the door. But he’s only halfway to his truck when he hears your voice. And as he pulls aggressively on the handle, he perceives your approaching footsteps; you’re running.

He lets out an aggravated sigh and turns to look at you without a word. You jog toward him, stopping just short of his bumper, and then you move forward slowly, as though you’re afraid he might bolt.

“It’s not true,” you blurt out, your words slurring into one another because you’re trying to get them out so quickly.

Jake gawks at you, not know what to believe anymore.

“I promise you,” you say. “It’s over.”

Jake furrows his brows, staring at you incredulously. “I don’t think he knows that.”

You let out a shaky breath and sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “He will.”

Jake watches you with contempt. “So, he doesn’t yet.”

Your eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun but you blink away the tears, conveniently averting your gaze. Jake sets his jaw; he isn’t falling for the innocent act.

“I can’t help you,” he says levelly. “Because I don’t know what’s going on.” He bangs a fist on the hood of his truck and then takes a step toward you. “Because you won’t tell me anything!”

You nod, catching a couple of tears with the tip of your index finger. You don’t let any of them fall and you manage to compose yourself before your emotions get out of hand. “I don’t need your help,” you whisper, looking at the dirt caked into the treads of his tire rather than up at his face.

“Fine,” he replies. Although it’s not fine. Nothing is fine. He, certainly, is not fine. “Then I don’t need to be here.”

“Fine.” You shrug, obstinately avoiding eye contact.

Your apathetic tone irks Jake, but he’s not about to let you witness just how much you affect him. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans before balling them up into fists. There’s only one piece of information he absolutely needs to know. The rest can probably wait. “Are you gonna marry him?” he asks, a little more forcefully than he anticipates.

You meet his gaze finally – guiltily – but don’t respond.

Jake says nothing more. He opens the door to his truck and gets in, and you don’t stop him. He turns over the engine and waits for you to step out of the way before he backs out swiftly and floors it out of the lot.

…

The sound of your voice jolts him awake. He sits up straight in his bed, listening intently, wondering if he’d dreamt it. But then your laughter carries up to the second floor. Jake closes his eyes. You must be in the kitchen with Bradley.

Jake hasn’t seen you in two weeks; hasn’t wanted to. Seeing you has only ever caused him pain. Even before he realized he liked you, your presence had always seemed to shift him out of orbit. Your stupid quips and endless debates, the judgmental look in your eye whenever Jake tried to stand his ground. It got worse when it finally occurred to him that he enjoyed that sort of abuse.

Jake runs his hands over his face, trying to tune you out. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the arguments. You’re the only person who’s ever really put him in his place. And how he’s loved putting you in yours.

Jake gets out of bed with a sigh, pausing at the closed door of his bedroom to listen. It isn’t eavesdropping if he’s not actually interested in the topic of conversation; all he wants is to hear your voice.

“I swear I will never drink drip coffee again,” you announce with conviction.

Jake holds back a laugh, leaning his head into the doorframe.

“It’s basically sewer water by comparison,” you continue.

Jake snorts.

“Have another croissant,” you urge.

“You brought enough to feed a squadron,” he hears Bradley retort. “I’m not eating them all.”

You go quiet for a moment, saying something Jake can’t quite make out. He pushes off the frame and shuffles into the bathroom. He’s still pissed, and no amount of baked goods will convince him to go downstairs. He’s not ready for that. And, if all goes to plan, he’ll just slowly get over you and never have to see you again.

Once he’s out of the shower, Jake towel dries his hair and then quickly pats down his body. He listens for signs of conversation, but the house is quiet now. You and Bradley must have left.

“Bradshaw?” he calls, just in case.

No answer.

He heads down to start a pot of coffee before getting dressed but, when he enters the kitchen, you are the first thing he sees. You look up from where you're sitting at his table and yelp – because he’s butt naked – leaping out of your seat and covering your eyes with your hands, promptly turning away.

“What the fuck, Seresin!” you scream.

Jake jumps behind the counter. “What?” he shouts. “What the fuck, yourself! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you!” you screech. “But, like, not so much of you!”

Jake cringes, still in shock from the encounter. He grabs a throw blanket off the couch and wraps it around his waist. “Why didn’t you answer when I called down?” he yells, his temples pounding as if his head is housing a goddamn woodpecker.

“You called for Bradley!”

Jake shakes his head. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why are you running around naked?” you squeal, still turned away and holding your hands over your eyes.

“I thought I was home alone! You don’t walk around naked in your own home?” Jake cries in outrage. He’s not about to let you win this fight.

“Uh, sometimes, I guess,” you admit.

Jake, who’s about to retort to whatever argument you make, falls silent. He stares at your back, trying very hard not to picture what that particular scenario might look like. He gulps. “Well, alright, then,” he says. He steps away from the counter, the blanket securely tied at his hips, and walks around tentatively. “You can look now,” he says wearily.

Hesitantly, you turn to face him, although you avoid looking directly at him. “You’re still not wearing a shirt,” you say pointedly, keeping a hand up to block the view.

Jake grimaces. “Is it too exhilarating for you, princess?” he bites back.

You drop your hand and finally look at him – albeit with a scowl. You narrow your eyes irritably. “Get over yourself.”

Jake shrugs. “You can always return the favor,” he suggests, gesturing at your baby tee that’s hugging your curves just right.

You roll your eyes and make your way toward the counter, purposefully walking around the table – which is the longer route – to avoid getting too close to Jake. He watches you levelly. “Why did you want to see me?” he asks sourly.

You glance up at him, still frowning, and push a bakery box across the counter toward him. “I brought you breakfast.”

Jake doesn’t smile; one breakfast two weeks down the road isn’t going to magically repair the damage you’ve done. “Why?”

You gulp. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and drops his gaze. “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” he responds moodily.

You reach further down the counter and drag a paper cup into view. “I got you a coffee, too,” you add, as though this might tip the scales in your favor. “Americano.”

Jake, who is dying for some caffeine, responds with, “I’m not thirsty.”

You exhale sharply. “Don’t be a baby.”

He fixes you with a scathing look. “Don’t be a nuisance.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Am I bothering you?”

Jake scoffs. “Well, for starters, you’re still here.” He walks over to the refrigerator and takes out a carton of eggs. “You hungry?” he asks grumpily.

You turn to face him as he sets a bowl down on the counter and starts cracking eggs. He’s right next to you now so he can see you seething out of the corner of his eye.

“I brought you breakfast!” you cry in outrage.

Jake starts to whisk the eggs without looking at you. “I don’t want that, I want this.” He glances over at you at this point and adds spitefully, “We all have to make difficult choices from time to time.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jake!” you exclaim, pulling the bowl out from under his nose. Half-beaten egg splashes onto the counter.

Jake tosses his whisk into the sink and takes a step away from the counter. He releases a quick breath and sets his jaw; but he still can’t look at you. “What is your problem?” he says in a low voice, keeping his eyes on a random chip in the paint of one of his kitchen cupboards.

“What’s my problem?” you screech.

He can tell that you’re getting worked up and it’s taking all his energy to keep his cool. He clenches his teeth and rolls his shoulders, trying to relax the tension in his muscles.

“You’re so mad at me that you won’t even drink my coffee?” you yell, the bowl of raw egg still in your hands.

Jake stares harder at the paint chip because he’s on the verge of completely flying off the handle. But he could only devote so much of his attention to negligible bullshit until he finally breaks. Agitatedly, he meets your gaze and bellows, “I’M SO MAD AT YOU, I CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT YOU!”

Your mouth falls open at his words and you blink at him in shock. After a moment, you look away, silently replacing the bowl on the counter. You’re chewing on your lip as you do this, your gaze lingering on the bowl even after you’ve released it from your grasp, like you’re reluctant to let it go.

Jake briefly closes his eyes. You’re not facing him, so you don’t witness the fleeting display of regret that steals over his features. He doesn’t want to hurt you in a way that makes you go quiet. He wants you to react – loudly, obnoxiously, passionately. He wants you to yell back. Because that’s how he knows you’re okay.

“I’ll go,” you say, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your shorts. You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a resigned sort of look.

He nods. As much as he might've missed this kind of heated warfare, the lingering hostility is not in anyone’s best interest. “There’s an idea,” he says sarcastically, still keeping a safe distance away from where you’re standing by the counter.

Your mouth falls agape again. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to go. But, if you do, he wants you to leave angry; not sad. So, he provokes you. “And take your crazy with you,” he says, gesturing toward the front door with his entire arm.

You let out an indignant scoff that turns into a sort of cry. “What did you call me?” you shriek, stepping up to him aggressively.

Jake glances down at you, squaring his jaw to keep from smirking. “What’s the politically correct word for completely unhinged?”

Your eyes go wide and, for a split second, he thinks you might actually hit him. But you’re not one for physical violence; you can strike below the belt with your words. “As if you give a damn about offending an already stigmatized group of people,” you retort.

Jake narrows his eyes. “At least I give a damn about the people I actually know.”

You let out a derisive laugh. “Oh yeah? So much so that you’re practically shoving me out the door?” you yell.

Jake rolls his eyes. “No one’s kicking you out,” he says gruffly, walking past you back to the counter. “Just stop taking my eggs away and we’re gravy.”

You fold your arms grumpily and stand there in his kitchen, fuming.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “What?” he says.

“You don’t like croissants?” you ask crossly, as if he’s gravely insulted you by opting for scrambled eggs.

Jake sighs. He reaches for the box of pastries on his counter and throws open the lid. He grabs a croissant irritably and brings it to his mouth, taking a large bite. “Happy?” he asks, chewing.

You watch him impassively. “You’re ridiculous,” you say.

“You’re ridiculous!” he yells. “You’re pissed because I won’t eat your damn food?”

Your eyes suddenly well up with tears. “I’m pissed because – because” – you suck in your cheeks defiantly, as if you’re not prepared to elaborate.

Jake swallows uncomfortably; he doesn’t like the idea of being responsible for making you cry.

You shake your head and sniffle. “I’m not mad!” you shout. “I came here to make up with you!”

Jake tosses the croissant onto the counter and it lands in the spilt yolk from earlier. He ignores this and steps toward you. “Why?” he yells back.

“Why what?” you scream as he approaches.

“Why make up with me?” he presses.

You stare at him angrily. “What do you mean? We were friends!”

Jake shrugs. “We weren’t close.”

You scoff. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Jake says levelly, then he adds, raising the volume of his voice as if the conversation could stand to get any louder. “I never wanted to be your friend!” You go quiet for a moment, your tears subsiding as you take in his words. But he doesn’t give you a chance to mull them over. “You’re a fucking nightmare!” he continues emphatically, taking another step.

You lift your face as he draws nearer, glaring at him unblinkingly. You don’t back away; you stay put, even as he towers over you.

Jake grimaces in a way that conveys disgruntlement and despair in equal measure. He lets out an uneven sigh, his eyes skimming over your face. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he says, much quieter now, as he meets your gaze.

You stay perfectly still, as if his immense frame looming over your body is completely insignificant compared to your ruthless glower. In all fairness, you’re probably right. “I hate you,” you whisper.

Jake nods with a slight smirk. “Likewise.”

The thrill of riling you scorches his veins, but he’ll be damned if anger is the only thing he can make you feel. He wants you so desperately, he can hardly think straight.

You’re scowling at him but all he can see is the fire in your eyes, fierce and unrelenting, daring him to make another move. Jake is game – enthusiastically, to boot. He’s mad, sure. But, truth be told, you could be engaged to fifty men – none of them him – and he’d still want to fuck you. Hell, this only makes things easier; no fucking strings, just fucking sex.

He slides an arm behind your waist and pulls you forward abruptly. You gasp as if you weren’t expecting it. But with the way you’ve been staring him down, there is no way you didn’t see this coming.

He waits a moment, anyway, allowing you the opportunity to give him a smack for being overly presumptuous. But the animosity on your face has already been replaced with a kind of cautious curiosity. You’re very still, staring up at him sympathetically, because you know – you know – what he wants. Because you want it too.

Jake lifts his free hand up to the side of your neck, sliding it up through your hair to cup the back of your head and gently pull you forward. This is exactly the kind of situation he was meaning to avoid. But the warning bells are fleeting, and his lips are on top of yours before he can stop himself.

You push into him slightly – almost imperceptibly, except he perceives it – and instantly this kiss becomes the single most thrilling experience of his life. He moves in, absorbing your body in a rushed, impatient embrace, and you mold against him, closer than you’ve ever been before.

He can feel the soft fabric of your shirt rubbing against his skin but all that he truly registers is how your tits are compressing into his chest. He kisses you harder, stifling an entire anthology of dirty words that suddenly materializes on the tip of his tongue. There aren’t enough terms in the English language to fully express the way he craves to handle every inch of you, anyway.

You withdraw, at this point, to breathlessly exclaim, “You think you’re not a pain in the ass?”

Jake pulls you back with a mild roll of the eyes. “Shut up,” he mutters, kissing the corner of your mouth as you scoff in outrage.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” you retort between the pecks he layers over your lips.

Jake grins against your mouth. “Shut up,” he repeats, dragging you backward as he steers you toward the staircase.

You let out a muffled – but distinctly indignant – cry. “Make me!” you exclaim as he stoops to wrap his hands around your thighs and lift you off the ground.

“I’m fucking trying,” he replies, closing his mouth around yours once he's picked you up.

Strategically speaking, making out while carrying someone up a flight of stairs is efficient. In practice, however, it’s a complicated task. Several times, Jake veers into one of the railings or nearly trips over his own feet. By the time he’s reached the second floor, his legs are tangled in the blanket he had wrapped around his torso, and the blanket itself is on the verge of unravelling. But Jake ignores the obstacles and resolutely marches you right into his bedroom.

He throws you unceremoniously onto the bed and retightens the blanket around his hips as though he means to keep it on. He looks down, pausing for a second to watch you catch your breath. Not because he thinks you might unexpectedly have a change of heart, but because he wants to savor the moment. He takes your legs and unhurriedly pulls you closer to where he stands. “You’re awful quiet,” he notes with a smirk, his fingers winding up the sides of your thighs.

You gulp with a relatively stoic expression for someone who’s about to be railed. “You told me to shut up,” you deadpan.

Jake raises his eyebrows. “You listened?”

You bite into your lips, nodding slowly, and Jake’s heart damn near somersaults right out of his body. For once, you want to give up the reins.

He reaches up underneath the fringed hem of your shorts, grabbing your ass and tugging you forward. “What, no instructions?” he says, his hands lingering on your butt cheeks because he’s waited oh so long to squeeze that flesh. The way your eyes half-close tells him you don’t necessarily mind.

“You need instructions?” you say in a breathy but still detectably mocking tone.

Jake chuckles. “Whether or not I need them isn’t likely to stop you.”

“I can do a post hoc analysis,” you say as one of his hands finally moves upward, bunching your shirt at your ribs to expose your stomach.

Jake grins at your words. “Hot.” So much for dirty talk. Apparently, the plan is to have sarcastic sex.

Your lips spread into a wry smile, and you reach up to the blanket tied around his waist to pull him on top of you. “Stop talking, Seresin,” you whisper.

“Hey, that’s my line,” he says, bracing himself on his forearm at the side of your head. He stares into your eyes, wondering if he could really go through with it. How much does he really need to understand the complexities of your situation with Mustang? Isn’t it enough that you’re clearly hot for Jake? Isn’t it enough to just fuck and forget that you’re technically taken?

You’re watching him back, probably wondering the exact same thing. Isn’t it enough?

The truth is, every single moment spent in your presence is enough for Jake. And he was a fool to think that he could ever stay away.

He glides his hand up your abdomen, feeling your breath hitch underneath his fingertips every time he lets them linger for a moment atop your skin. Does Mustang know that you like it slow? That you want to feel the rush of anticipation? Jake is willing to bet that Mustang only goes one speed.

Jake traces the curve of your ribs, his exploration leading him eventually to the swell of your breasts. Your bare breasts. How he hadn’t noticed that you’d been braless downstairs bemuses him. He must’ve been too preoccupied with his own wardrobe to thoroughly examine yours.

His hand seizes for a moment as he gets used to the idea of touching you. Of feeling your chest flare into the palm of his hand every time you take a breath. Then, he wraps his fingers around your ribcage, his thumb grazing the side of your tit as he moves you upward on the bed.

“You comfortable?” he asks after repositioning you.

You nod, your eyes still locked on his like you’re trying to see right through to his soul. When his thumb sweeps underneath your breast, you let out a whimper that disturbs the air between your mouth and his. And there’s a dizzying note of desperation in your voice that paralyzes Jake.

He drops his head into the crook of your neck, wondering how long before he’s completely lost himself in you. Wondering if that ship’s sailed. Wondering if Mustang has ever felt like he’s drowning and soaring all at once. If he’s ever been this gone. If you’ve ever moaned like that for him.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your skin, realizing that he’s lost the upper hand. That he’s going to need a moment to recuperate. That there’s a debilitating weakness in his limbs that’s an extension of his weakness for you, and he can hardly hold himself up any longer.

He breathes heavily into your neck, his lips catching on your collarbone as his fingers skim across your nipple. You let out a breathy whine that vibrates his very core. You like being teased. Figures.

Jake drives his pelvis into your side, seeking a split second of relief. The blanket around his torso is a mess of twisted, sticky fabric that’s now pressing into your bare skin, hopefully arousing you. You move your leg up and down, stroking him through the fleece with your thigh, and Jake groans, spreading his fingers over your tit and finally giving it a squeeze.

You release a soft moan and Jake brings his lips to your other nipple, grazing his teeth over the thin cotton of your shirt. It’s not that he can’t be bothered to remove your clothes, rather, he very well might not survive the spectacle. So, he sucks on your nipple right through the fabric while continuing to massage your other breast, pressing himself closer and closer.

This is all that he could ask for, really. You, in his bed, at long last talked out. And yet, he can’t help himself; conversing with you has become second nature and, without even thinking, he mutters, “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

You let out a laugh that morphs into a soft cry as Jake pinches your nipple.

“Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea,” he continues, smirking against your neck.

Your chuckle pleases him. “Maybe if I weren’t such a pain in the ass.”

Jake squeezes his eyes shut, cringing slightly as he nuzzles his head under your chin. “Maybe,” he agrees, dragging your t-shirt upward. He lifts his head and meets your gaze as you raise your arms, letting him remove it. “Maybe if you didn’t hate me,” he adds, somewhat hoarsely because you’re half naked now and he’s understandably distracted.

You bring your arms back down and slide your hands unhurriedly up his chest, linking your fingers behind his neck. “And you me,” you remind him gently.

Jake lets himself take you in for a moment, his eyes slipping southward before he looks back at you with a smirk. “At least the feeling’s mutual,” he says, slowly lowering himself until his lips meet yours.

You open your mouth, bathing Jake in your hot breath as you kiss him, and he reciprocates the gesture eagerly. Urgently. His hand is suddenly gripping your leg, sliding up the inside of your thigh. You’re moaning before he’s even reached the summit, tearing viciously at his lips with your teeth. Your fingers are twisting into his hair as you pull yourself into him, breathless and impatient.

Jake unbuttons your shorts with a couple of fingers and is hastily pushing them over your hips as your breathy gasps warm his ear. “What is it, princess?” he whispers, suddenly slowing his pace. He kicks your shorts off your ankles and places his hand on your inner thigh where he gently strokes your tender skin. He grins wickedly. “What can I do for you?”

“Jake!” you whimper desperately, shimmying yourself down to meet his hand.

Jake obliges, sliding his fingers up between your legs. He’s not about to make you beg for it when he can barely keep it together himself. Another time, maybe. Assuming there will be one. He’d like to hear you ask for it. Tell him exactly what you want, sparing no detail. He wants you to talk dirty to him. Talk, talk, talk.

But instead of talking, you reach out and grab him by the waist. You blink up at him silently and maneuver his hips until he’s right over top of you. Then, without taking your eyes off his face, you unravel the blanket that’s somehow still wrapped around him and shove it aside.

Jake has never in his life made love. He’s fucked, sure. He’s had plenty relations. And this time is no different. Except, he’s feeling something pure amidst the lewd temptation driving his corpus. It’s a buoyancy that’s both nauseating and distressingly pleasant and it radiates outward from his chest, nearly overriding his ever-present desire to make – fuck you silly.

And then, as Jake slides slowly inside you, you cling frantically to his neck and utter a shaky, monosyllabic nonword that is the epitome of less talk.

And Jake is suddenly making love.

…

“Y/N came earlier today,” Bradley says to Jake that evening, casually popping open a can of beer.

Jake lifts his eyes and looks over at his friend with a straight face. “She did,” he confirms.

“Oh.” Bradley nods. “She caught you, then.”

Jake stares at him mutely before turning away and clicking the kettle on the counter. “You could say that.”

Bradley nods, taking a gulp of beer. “She told you, then?”

Jake freezes with his hand on his mug. The only thing he seems to recall you saying is not something you would have also said to your best friend. “Told me what?” he says, slowly turning to face Bradley.

The latter furrows his brows. “Did you guys talk?”

Jake watches Bradley curiously. “Tons,” he responds. “You know how she never shuts up.”

Bradley narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You did see her, right?”

“I did,” Jake says confidently because he, indeed, saw you. All of you.

“Weird,” Bradley says. “She said she was hanging back so she could tell you too.”

“Tell me what, Bradshaw?” Jake asks impatiently, forgetting about the boiling kettle as he walks toward the table with an empty mug in his hand.

Bradley sets down his beer and leans back in his chair uneasily. “That she’s leaving.”

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[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

This is so hot omg

warm blood

about: a few drinks at everyone’s favourite bar. you’re home, it’s been a few very cold months at sea. but he warms you to your bones each time you see him. but it’s sadly just not meant to be. 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: angst, language, vivid thots of smut if you have an over-active imagination.

The sound that escaped Rooster’s lips as you dragged your nails through his unruly sun-kissed curls had you cackling. A feral growl that started at his boots, so low that when released, he almost didn’t recognise himself. “Rooster Bradshaw, you need a girlfriend,” you decided.

His side-eye to you was legendary and he sighed dramatically. “I don’t need a girlfriend; I just need to get laid,” he clarified, realising just how pitiful he sounded and then adding softly when you ceased your ministrations, “Please don’t stop. That feels so fuckin’ good. It’s like the most physical contact I’ve had in…” he mumbled, his honey-coloured eyes fluttering closed and took a deep, satisfied pull of his beer. God, how long had it been? He didn’t want to admit to himself, let alone you, how long it’d been since someone had touched him like that.

Keep reading

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

I need Jake Seresin in my life.

love grows (where the mustache goes)

summary: As the squad is giving Jake as much shit as possible for the new offensive hair growing on his lip, you are frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language, realization of feelings, alcohol consumption to combat dirty thoughts.

notes: based on this lovely gifset by unicornships

word count: 2.2k

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you always kind of had a thing about Hangman.

Look, you didn't hate him, per se, but he definitely stirred some feelings in you that were less than normal. He made you feel totally feral, if you will, unrestrained and vicious. The sort of anger that made you want to scratch your skin off, vibrating and seething, screaming at the top of your lungs.

It took barely a look, less than a glance, not even a word before you were fuming just by being in his presence. He had some sort of grip on you.

So, you tended to stay as far away from him as possible. Leaving when he arrived, staying home when his attendance was announced, and sticking close to people that either didn't like him or didn't know him. It was easier that way.

Easier than thinking about why he really made you so angry.

But the worst part was, the cherry on top, was that he just loved being around you. Loved seeing how worked up he could get you, making you squirm under his gaze, and making you turn bright red from his flirting.

He had to know. There was no way he didn't. The squad must have told him how much you didn't want to be near him which is why he made it his mission always to find you in every room.

He had to know how much he rattled you.

On this particular night, he had yet to make an appearance. But wherever Rooster was Hangman usually followed, and the tall, mustached, Hawaiian-shirted pilot had already made his way over to the piano tonight and the rest of Dagger had slowly trickled in.

You didn't know why you came out tonight especially since their shore leave had just ended and all of the pilots had started making their way back to base and the surrounding area which always included the Hard Deck.

But it was the only fun place around and Penny was so nice to you and going out in a dress on a Friday night and nursing a drink for a couple of hours just to be seen and known instead of rotting in your little apartment after work was worth the possibility you might see him.

Your eyes lock on the little crowd surrounding Rooster, as charismatic as ever, singing another 80s hit. You smile despite yourself.

God, how you wished Bradshaw was the one that made your brain go fuzzy. He was sure of himself, not arrogant, teasing, not antagonistic, handsome, not drop-dead gorgeous.

Sometimes you looked at Hangman and wondered why God would make him so fucking hot and then let him open his mouth.

It honestly wasn't fair.

Eventually, you hear his voice, and your back goes ramrod straight, awareness prickling at the back of your neck, and your hands instantly sweaty.

"Bradshaw, you started without me? I'm heartbroken. After I went through all this trouble to do this just for you? Absolutely devasted."

You don't look. Because if you look it will just cement how much you want to look, and don't want to stop looking.

A choked laugh sputters, as if they're surprised and then Phoenix's voice pierces through the crowd. "You didn't. Please tell me that's not real."

"No way! Someone go pull on it! Probably glued on." Fanboy shouts and you hear the sound of someone falling out of their chair.

"You got to be kidding me. What the fuck is that! Did something die on your face?" Javy yells in disbelief and disgust.

You want to look so bad. Just their reactions almost make you turn. Did he get a bad haircut or something? You're just close enough that you can hear every word but not enough that anyone's noticed you.

"Pay up, now, I called it! I can't believe you guys doubted me. I said he would do something like this." Reuben sounds like he's smiling triumphantly.

Bob's voice is quietly astounded, "He looks like 70s Porn Star Ken."

You sit up even straighter. Oh god.

He grew a mustache.

Rooster finally acknowledges him. "Man, Hangman, I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is another level."

You can't ever look over there now. Just the visual has your skin feeling too tight.

"You like it? Took me a whole month to grow this bad boy just 'cause I wanted to see the looks on all your faces, but I gotta say, now that I'm here, totally worth it." He's grinning, he has to be, shit-eating and ear-to-ear, you can feel it, can practically see his smile in your head. You've stared at it long enough.

"That's great. When are you shaving it?" Natasha sounds disgusted and it almost makes you laugh if you weren't so fucking frozen like a deer in headlights.

"I can't believe none of you are appreciating the effort I went through to do this. Unbelievable."

"You look like someone from the cast of Boogie Nights."

"Well that's a great movie, so thank you." He sounds closer now and the hand around your glass threatens to break it. "Y'know if I can't get you guys to recognize my dedication, I know someone who will."

Oh god, oh no.

"Hangman, don't--" But before another voice can dissuade him, he's already sidling up to you at the bar. You feel the heat of him before you hear his voice.

"Hi, sweetheart, did you miss me? I know I missed you." You grab your drink and finish it off quickly, eyes not looking over at him.

"What do you want, Hangman?" You hope to come off as annoyed, not rattled to the fucking core.

"Well, I know you love Rooster so much so I thought I'd do something to make me look a little bit more like him. Maybe get you to not run out of the room every time you see me, yeah?"

Goddammit, he can't know that you do that. Unless he pays attention to you as much as you do him.

"I don't love Rooster, okay, I just don't like you." You grit your teeth and call the other bartender on duty for another drink.

"Will you at least look at it, before making your judgment, babe? You're hurting my feelings." The faux hurt in his voice almost makes you turn.

"Don't call me that." "What should I call you then, huh?"

Your name, for starters, maybe. "Nothing. I don't even want you to talk to me."

Your drink gets refilled and emptied just as quickly. "Woah, slow down there. Don't need you passing out on me." You have to get the hell out of here, quickly.

You turn and make your way off the bar stool and it rushes over you all too fast. An empty stomach and tequila do not a wise girl make.

You nearly fall off the seat and onto your ass but a warm hand finds its way around your waist and catches you just as quick. "Easy there." You shiver and turn in his grasp trying to get away but it just makes you meet his eyes.

Shit, shit, shit.

"You good?"

No, you are very much not good. He looks--fuck.

You don't see Hangman out of uniform often. You weren't a pilot or even in the military. Just a casual acquaintance that sometimes had a few chats with his squadron. So, you'd seen him in what he usually hangs out in, his tan jumpsuit, his swimsuit, you've even seen him in his dress whites before. But this Hangman just got back and hasn't even been to the base yet so this is Jake Seresin, Texas born and bred, raised on a farm, rides horses in his spare time, mama sweeter than apple pie, probably owns a fucking cowboy hat.

So, of course, he's got a plaid shirt on. Over that is a bomber jacket, like one you've seen Mav sporting before, only it looks like something you'd wear to go ranching in the winter not fly a plane. He's got jeans on, they’re all beaten up and used, and a leather belt, and he looks like he stepped out of some country romance Hallmark movie.

The mustache is the icing on the cake.

It's not that you had a thing for mustaches. You didn't because you had no feelings for Rooster whatsoever, but you didn't think they were unattractive or creepy like most of the population seemed to.

Did you have a big crush on Tom Selleck in Magnum P.I. when you were younger? Yes. But who didn't? And liking Bella's dad in Twilight didn't make it a pattern, okay! Everyone liked him.

"Uh." You finally gracefully spit out.

He smiles teasingly. "Didn't hit your head, did you?" He knows you didn't. He's playing with you. Riling you up as he always does. Because it's funny to him. Not because he likes you--wants you.

You sober up slightly and push at him. "No, get off."

Jake--God, no, when did he become Jake in your head--just smiles more but it seems softer. "I knew you'd fallen for me, but I didn't think you'd also do it literally."

You turn even redder if possible. "Shut up."

Christ, how was it you had reverted to playground comebacks at just the sight of him? Were you really so weak?

"You didn't answer my question." Was he still talking? You felt fuzzy.

"I need another drink." You can still feel his hand on your waist because despite pushing him away he hadn't let you go.

"Did I finally break you?" He laughs and shit, he knows.

"Why are you still talking to me?" You finally snap at him and his face falls a little, just slightly, that if you didn't have every inch of his face memorized you wouldn't have noticed it at all.

"Because I care what you think." It's a confession. It has to be. You don't know what else it could be.

"Why?" You squint at him. Dumbfounded is the only word that comes to mind.

"Why? What--you don't, you seriously don't know?" He still holding onto you, and his hand flexes, fingers slightly digging into your hip and you feel yourself inch towards him, always stuck in his orbit, gravity pulling you closer.

"Don't know what?" You lick your lips in anticipation and he glances, once, up, twice, down, and then looks away and swallows.

"Why the hell do you think I talk to you all the time? Come find you in a room? Grew this fucking thing on my face?" He laughs, bewildered, and shakes his head.

"Why?" You ask again, if he doesn't say it, you won't. Too goddamn scared that you're making it all up, reading too much into it. "I thought you just liked to tease me. Get a rise out of me. I thought you were making fun of me."

"C'mon, you know me, I do the same shit I do to you that I do to Rooster. That's just what I do when I like someone."

You punch him in the arm.

"Ow! What the hell was that for!" He whines and grabs his arm, taken aback and pretending as if it actually hurt him.

"Why didn't you just tell me that, you ass!" You screech a little, desperately, feeling way too many emotions at once. He tends to do that to you.

He scoffs. "Have you met me? Do you really think I'm emotionally mature enough to do that?"

"That whole time you were just, what, flirting with me?" You question incredulously.

He laughs, a little bashfully. "I mean, come on, I thought it was obvious. I mean it was to everyone else."

You pale a little. "The others know?"

"Yeah, 'course they do. They're the ones that pointed it out in the first place. I didn't even realize I was doing it at first either." He scratches his neck, almost nervously.

"So why the mustache?"

"I don't know. I was just trying to get you to pay attention to me. Thought this might help." And god help you, Jake blushes, actually reddens a bit.

"How'd you know?"

"Hm, know what?" He smirks at you.

You cough. "You know, that I'd--that I'd like it."

Jake grins. "I didn't but you just told me you did."

You hit him again, a slap on the shoulder, almost playful, and you can't believe it, you're flirting with him, you're really this close to him, doing this. "Fuck off."

He smiles again but this one is different. His eyes are incredibly soft and he's looking at you and--did he always look at you like this? Were you really this blind?

"I need you to answer another question for me." His hand on your hips snakes around you and you stumble into him, putting your hands on his chest to brace yourself, and, Christ, he smells good. “Do you think I could take you out sometime?”

"Um." You're throat suddenly feels incredibly dry and you're heart feels like it about to beat right out of your chest. "I mean, if you want to."

"Yeah, baby. I want to."

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

I love Jake seresin. Truly.

Less Talk | Part VII

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: Swearing, suggestive language, excessive banter & fluff

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Masterlist

Jake walks out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. You’re sitting on the top step with your elbows resting on your knees and your chin in your hands.

“You look happy,” Jake comments, taking a seat beside you.

You glance over at him jadedly. “I’ve had a day,” you respond.

Jake gives you a pointed look. “You don’t say,” he notes sarcastically. He had gathered as much when you fled the living room after snapping at Bradley for trying to interrogate you once more.

You roll your eyes, but your mouth moves into a slight grin. “Shut up, Seresin.”

Jake leans sideways to nudge you gently on the shoulder. “Wanna get out of here?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “This is your party.”

Jake waves a hand. “It’s Bradley’s party.”

You eye him skeptically. “Right,” you say, seemingly unconvinced. “What’s he celebrating again?”

Jake endeavors to keep a straight face while meeting your gaze. “How should I know?” he asks.

You half-scoff, half-laugh in response and this makes Jake bizarrely happy. It’s stupid how giddy getting you to smile makes him feel.

He watches you steadily, wondering how many times you’ve caught him staring at you when even he hadn’t realized it. “Seriously,” he says. “What’s stopping us from just taking off?”

You glance at him with a somewhat bewildered expression. “Where would we even go?” you ask.

Jake shrugs. “Wherever you want to go.”

You narrow your eyes distrustfully. “You’re doing it again,” you say.

Jake grimaces. “What?”

“Being nice.”

“It’s strange that you find kindness suspicious,” he responds. “It’s kind of a red flag.”

You let out a soft laugh. “In my defense, I don’t ever expect it out of you.”

Jake nods, not entirely surprised at your response. Nonetheless, he exhales wearily and turns to face forward.

He feels your shoulder as you nudge him back. “Well, don’t sulk about it, you big baby,” you say playfully. “Is it my fault you’re usually an asshole?”

Jake stares at the porch steps before him stiffly, having barely registered your insult. You’re still leaning into him and, as a result, his entire body is in a state of acute arousal. Thoughts of reaching over and sinking his hand into your thigh to pull you in and wrap your leg around his torso are trampling his original intentions of carrying on a respectable conversation. “Did you just call me baby?” he mutters absently.

“Umm.” There’s an awkward pause after this articulation during which you straighten your back, thereby releasing Jake from the stupor caused by your innocent – yet noticeably prolonged – nudge.

Jake turns to look at you, still mildly dazed. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I missed that last part.”

You blink at him mutely, then tear your gaze away and rise to your feet. “I said, you’re an asshole,” you say causally.

Jake creases his eyebrows, glancing after you as you skip down the steps. “I might’ve missed a little more than just the last part, then,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. Then he gets up. “You know who’s an asshole?” he says, confidence gaining in his voice. “Mustang.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t even know him.”

Jake cocks his head inquisitively, wondering if your ex might have something to do with your elusive behavior. “I know enough,” he says, hoping to provoke you into conversation.

You kick at the overgrown yard. “You should cut your grass,” you say moodily, clearly attempting to change the subject.

Jake sighs, disappointed that you didn’t take the bait. “It’s No Mow May,” Jake says half-heartedly, surprised that you aren’t familiar with the trend considering your aggressive views on environmental preservation.

You give him a disgusted look. “Don’t tell me you buy that crap.”

Jake gawks at you. “I’m saving the bees!”

You lift an eyebrow judgementally. “For a month?”

“Look at all my dandelions!”

You shake your head disapprovingly. “All you’re doing is delaying the inevitable. Your weeds are already outgrowing your grass and you’re going to end up needing pesticides before the summer is through, thus negating your supposed act of good will.”

“It’s about spreading awareness, genius,” Jake bites back.

“It’s about a lack of awareness, actually.”

Jake sighs audibly, rolling his head back to glance upward in frustration. He puts his hands on his hips before looking back down at you. “Must you always be so goddamn pessimistic?”

You scoff indignantly. “And what happens when you mow your lawn in June? You destroy the food source of all your precious pollinators. Maybe chop up some unsuspecting field mice or bunnies that have taken up shelter in your luscious yard.”

Jake’s jaw drops in horror. “Stop talking,” he says with a cringe.

“Well, don’t be an idiot and cut your damn grass, Seresin.”

“It was Bradshaw’s idea,” Jake retorts. Now that he’s learned your opinion, he no longer needs to take credit for the so-called eco-friendly practice of propagating weeds.

You eye the unkempt grass skeptically, apparently not sold on the notion that Bradley Bradshaw should be on the receiving end of your criticism. But just when you open your mouth to voice your displeasure on the matter, Jake lets out a resolute breath, takes a swift step toward you, and plants his lips right on top of yours.

It takes a moment for him to even realize what he’s doing, let alone recognize that you aren’t pulling away or shrieking in alarm or punching the living daylights out of him. On the contrary, you’re completely still, frozen in place; possibly traumatized.

And Jake, well, Jake is just as shocked as you are, if not more. And, as a result, just as immobile. Never in all his years has Jake Seresin underperformed so tremendously. Never has he delivered such an inadequate kiss. A kiss? Could he even call it that? He ponders as his lips remain glued motionless on top of yours.

And then, you shift ever so slightly forward. And this gesture, this cue – because that is how Jake decides to interpret your movement which could just as easily be attributed to uncomfortable footwear – gives him a much-needed confidence boost. He places his hands firmly on your hips, clutching you with purpose, with conviction.

In response, you slide further into him, forcing him to wrap his arms all the way around your waist. And you open your mouth, letting him slip his tongue inside while your lips brush softly over his. And, when he feels your hands rest tentatively on his abdomen, he nearly loses his balance, paralyzed all over again.

He takes your hand – the one creeping up his chest – easing the tension in your curled-up fist as his kiss draws you closer and closer. He is so consumed by the feel of your body in his arms, so stunned that you’re actually allowing him to hold you, that your earlier argument about – birds, was it? – has thoroughly been swept from his mind. And your previously puzzling behavior is but a distant memory.

Until, that is, the front door creaks open and the two of you abruptly disperse, and you have the audacity to welcome the intrusion with a wide, guilt-ridden smile. “Bradley!” you exclaim. “We were just commending your decision to participate in No Mow May!”

Jake turns to look at you in awe.

Bradley appears skeptical. “You were?”

Jake watches you sourly before turning to his roommate. “She was going on and on about it,” he confirms.

Bradley glances between the two of you suspiciously. “So, you guys are just out here admiring the lawn?”

Jake purses his lips. “More or less,” he responds.

Bradley nods slowly. “Yeah, I think it was a good decision,” he says finally.

Jake watches you take in a controlled breath and grins. “Definitely,” he says. “If nothing else, it serves as excellent fodder for conversation.”

“Not that the two of you ever lack fodder,” Bradley notes sarcastically.

“Speaking of fodder,” you say, placing a hand over your stomach. “I’m hungry.” You start for the door, but Jake intervenes before you even reach the porch.

“But,” he says, “our…the…” He sighs. “Don’t you think we should finish our conversation?”

Bradley steps aside to let you pass and turns to Jake. “I didn’t realize you were this enthusiastic about biodiversity.”

Jake gives Bradley a flat look. “Who isn’t?”

Bradley nods appreciatively. “Want to talk to me about it?” he asks.

Jake narrows his eyes at him as though he can’t believe that his friend isn’t catching on yet. “Not really.” Then he hops up onto the porch after you. “You’re going inside?” he asks, catching up to you. You glance up at him and he meets your gaze in a bit of a panic. “It was quite a riveting discussion we were having that Rooster so rudely interrupted,” he says, giving Bradley another pointed look before turning back to you. “Don’t you have anything to add?”

Bradley rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. “Do you really have that much more to say on the topic of grass, Hangman?”

Jake makes a face at him. “Bradshaw, don’t you have a party to host?”

You let out a quiet chuckle and Jake reverts his attention to you. You grace him with a tight smile and say, “We can chat later, Seresin.”

Jake stares at you dizzily, trying to determine whether the two of you are on the same page, metaphorically speaking. When your eyes linger suggestively on his, he dares to return your smile. “Looking forward to it,” he responds cheekily.

Then, Bradley, who, by this point, has also made it back up onto the porch, clears his throat. “Actually, while we’re on the topic of local ecosystems” – he says, but Jake interrupts him before he can finish.

“Good god, are you still here?”

Bradley stops talking and blinks between you and Jake. “Did I interrupt something?” he says.

“No,” you reply.

At the same time, Jake says, “Yes.” You give him a sharp look and he adds, “An argument.”

“Ah.” Bradley nods, apparently completely satisfied with this response.

“And it was very heated,” Jake continues.

You roll your eyes.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I came out when I did,” Bradley says, resting his hands on both yours and Jake’s shoulders. “Before things got physical.”

Jake draws a deep, irritated breath, eyeing you knowingly while you avoid his gaze. “Yeah, we definitely wouldn’t want that,” he says tersely.

…

After finally losing Bradley, who seems hellbent on speaking with you in private, Jake watches you head downstairs with an entire bowl of sliced watermelon. He sets down his beer and proceeds after you, rushing down the steps until he arrives at the bottom together with you.

You look over your shoulder in surprise, and he grins at you broadly.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says cheerily.

You snort, making your way into the rec room with your bowl.

Jake follows you leisurely, as though he isn’t utterly dying to get his hands on you again. “What’s with the fruit?”

You set the bowl down on a side table and plop down onto the couch. “This is the best watermelon I’ve ever eaten.”

Jake raises his eyebrows, approaching the couch. “Guess who picked out that watermelon.”

You throw him a taunting smile. “It’s ridiculous how proud you are about this.”

Jake scoffs, staring at you in amazement. “You just said it’s the best watermelon you’ve ever had! Of course, I’m proud. You’re a hard woman to please.”

Your smile widens and you lower your gaze in a – if Jake didn’t know any better – bashful manner. “Have you been trying?” you ask, glancing back up at him. “To please me?”

Hearing the words please and me come out of your mouth in direct succession sends a significant amount of his blood south, leaving insufficient quantities for frivolous brain functions such as, for instance, speech, so it takes him a minute to formulate a response. “Extensively,” he finally says, his throat a little dry and his voice a little hoarse.

Despite his frankness, you regard him with an air of suspicion, as though his assertion isn't altogether reliable. When he moves to take a seat on the couch, you say, “Did you know that there’s actually a method of picking a good watermelon?”

Jake smiles as he plants himself on the opposite end of the couch, realizing that he finds your evasive techniques remarkably endearing. He looks up at you with feigned interest and says with a hint of sarcasm, “I bet I’m about to.”

You give him an impassive look. “I don’t have to tell you if you don’t want to know.”

Jake laughs. “Are you telling me that, all this time, I could have just asked you to stop talking?”

You pucker your lips trying to keep a straight face. You pull the bowl off the table and extend your arm. “Want some?”

“Some of the best watermelon you’ve ever had?” he asks facetiously.

You roll your eyes. “Get over it, cowboy.”

Jake chuckles. “I’m good,” he says. You shrug and take a slice out of the bowl for yourself. Meanwhile, Jake is in the mood for something entirely different but not any less sweet.

“Hey, Seresin,” you say, setting the bowl back down and sinking further into the couch, getting cozy. You pull your legs up and sit cross-legged, biting into your watermelon. “I have a sort of weird question for you.”

Jake stretches his arm over the back of the couch, facing you. “That is weird,” he says. “Normally, all you have are answers.”

You make a face at him but continue, “What do you want out of life?”

Jake watches you carefully, wondering if this is yet another attempt to pull his leg.

“I mean” – you wave your hand casually – “disregarding the fact that we are tiny, meaningless specks of matter in an infinite expanse of universe, and our existence is inconceivably fleeting in the grand scheme of things and thus our desires absolutely irrelevant.” You meet his gaze earnestly. “What do you want?”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Disregarding all of that?” he asks wryly.

You sigh impatiently. “Don’t be a dick.”

“It’s hard.” Jake cringes. “Sorry, bad joke,” he adds. “I’ll stop.”

You shake your head and look away. “Forget it.”

Jake takes advantage of your brief lapse in vigilance to slide a little closer. “Does this weird question have anything to do with that thing you don’t want to talk about?”

Your silence confirms Jake’s theory. His arm is still stretched over the back of the couch only, now that he’s closer, his hand is resting right behind your head. Hesitantly, he lifts it and skims his fingertips up the back of your neck. You look over at him sharply, startling him enough that he nearly jumps.

You study him guardedly, but the intensity of your gaze isn’t the threatening kind. Your teeth graze your bottom lip as your eyes flit down to his mouth. Meanwhile, Jake sits very still, trying to supress any physical manifestations of the pandemonium surging in his gut and setting his insides ablaze.

Finally, you relax your posture and slump into the couch, resting your head back, right into his hand. Jake curls his fingers into your hair and runs his thumb along the curve of your ear, admiring your side profile. After several minutes, you turn your head so that your face rests in his palm and give him a small smile.

Jake debates whether he should kiss you again since you seemed to not mind it so much the first time around. Besides, now that he’s tasted your lips, he can hardly think of anything else. So, before you have a chance to bestow upon him yet another random piece of wisdom, he leans forward and brushes your lips with his.

And he can feel your face lift from his hand as you stretch your neck to kiss him back, and he compensates by sliding his hand down your neck. And you reach outward to grab a chunk of his shirt to pull him in, and he obliges by moving closer. And you gasp softly into his mouth when his other hand finds its way to the side of your face, and Jake lets it linger over your cheek because you seem to like it there.

And the way your tongue rolls gently against his; the way your breaths coincide with his every movement; the way you whisper, “Jake,” like he’s the source of your pleasure has him on the brink of a very precarious precipice.

He cups your face between his hands, breathing out steadily as he tries to control the unrelenting urge to rip the clothes right off of your body. The way you’re panting against his mouth tells him that you may be anticipating a similar scenario.

And maybe he should. Maybe he should just give it to you right here in the middle of the rec room in the musty, old basement. Maybe he should just take you right now in the midst of your mysterious, emotional crisis. Maybe he should just get you out of his system and move on.

Only, he already knows that you’re not that kind of girl. The kind of girl he could just fuck and forget.

Only, he isn’t the kind of guy who could get over a girl like you. Not anymore.

Only, your kiss is interrupted again. This time, however, it's Bob, and he's stumbling down the stairs in search of an unoccupied bathroom in which he could, in his own words, violently hurl and subsequently die and possibly piss, if he remembers to do so.

And, as Jake directs him to the facilities, you wander back upstairs and Jake, who spends a good hour ensuring that Bob doesn't, in fact, die, doesn't see you again until the following morning at Mickey's birthday brunch, to which you arrive in a white fucking mustang.

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[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Where can I find a Bradley Bradshaw?

That’s What Friends Are For

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary - When you ask Bradley to help you one Saturday afternoon, he’s more than willing to drop everything.  But when you accidentally slip up and say something you shouldn’t have, how will he react?

Warnings - Cursing, and Sexy Fluff

Word Count - 2.2K

The top was down on the Bronco and she was enjoying the warm breeze on her skin as Bradley’s favorite music played through the speakers.  “Thanks again for doing this.  I really appreciate it.”

Stopping at a light, he turned towards her and let his sunglasses slip down his nose.  There was a confused look in his deep brown eyes.  “Remind me again why the store couldn’t deliver this instead of making you pick it up?”

She rolled her eyes, but the gesture was lost on him since her own sunglasses obscured her eyes from him.  “They’re backed up on deliveries and it was going to be two weeks before I could get my new mattress.”

Keep reading

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Hehehehe i love jake blushing

Hi writing queen can i request ^^ A, smiling like an idiot: “<friend name> I am so incredibly curious what exactly has B said about this mysterious person” B: “LETS CHANGE THE TOPIC-“ “well A, according to B they’re the best sex B’s ever ha-” “NO NO NO WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS” while A is just like so enthusiastic “no no PLEASE elaborate” with just a smug smile knowing that it’s about them with hangy

sorry it's so long ILY

omg this is soooo hangy 🤭 r’s call sign is Cosmo!

“Please,” Natasha groans, faux-sorrowful, “stop making that face.”

“Face?” You echo in a too-high voice, sitting up a little straighter. Your cheeks burn. “There’s no face.”

“Oh, there’s definitely a face,” Natasha returns, taking an appraising pull of her beer. She leans in close and presses the rim to your name-tag, condensation making the emblazoned letters shine. “It’s that mystery guy again, isn’t it? He’s taking over your goddamn brain.”

A pause. You pick at the broken edge of your thumb nail absentmindedly, trying to play it cool. Avoid looking in aforementioned guy’s direction.

If you do, let you gaze linger on the game of pool he’s dominating, Natasha’s sure to recognise your diffidence and call him over to your table.

And then, Jake Seresin will win. Like he always does. Like he did when you gave in and slept with him.

“No he isn’t,” you bristle, scowling weakly. No real fire to it. You tip back your beer to take a generous sip, and as you lift your head to do so, your eyes pull to Jake’s figure.

He’s smirking this stupid, pleased smirk that you should hate, a second away from sinking his last ball and taking the win. There’s a toothpick pressed against one corner of his mouth, his uniform sleeves taut where they hug his biceps. Really solid biceps. You blink.

Okay, so maybe you more than just gave in to your sexual ardour. Though you’ll vehemently deny it to anyone who asks, there’s a soft spot you harbour for smug assholes with a Southern drawl.

“Sure he isn’t,” Natasha scoffs, shaking her head exasperatedly. Her voice is loud enough, now, to carry over the clamour of patrons; as the game comes to a close, your fellow aviators begin to follow it.

Bradley pipes up first. “Who isn’t?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

Your eyes widen in a panic, and you turn to Natasha, something helpless about it. “No one,” you answer, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Natasha frowns, sending you a bewildered glance. “What? Is it some kind of secret now?”

“A secret, huh?” Bradley teases, bumping his shoulder against yours. “What kind, Cosmo?”

“Yeah, Cosmo,” Jake adds meaningfully, poking his tongue against his cheek. “What kind?”

His gaze skates over your figure with enough intensity to burn, the mild amusement on his features doing little to subdue your nerves. Asshole. He’s enjoying this more than he should.

“Don’t worry about it,” you answer primly, pretending to zip your lips and throw away the key.

Jake cocks his head to one side, his stupid, pleased smirk widening a little. “Oh,” he announces mock-solemnly, letting out a sigh. “It’s too late for that, darlin’. Consider me worried.”

“Me too,” Natasha says then, narrowing her eyes at Jake before continuing. “I mean — not to agree with something that’s come out of Bagman’s smug mouth, but you’ve been acting real out of character recently.”

You furrow your brow defensively, gaze flitting to Jake on instinct. “Have not,” you argue, trying for a scowl. Failing miserably. Jake’s scrubbing his hand over the side of his throat absentmindedly, and it’s reminding you of the bruises he’s left below your collar.

A little rough, a little sloven, an airtight seal to paint them deep amaranthine. You add, your voice uncharacteristically high, “I’m acting totally normal.”

Bradley frowns bemusedly. “What’s with the voice, Cosmo?”

“What —” you grimace when you hear it, clearing your throat significantly, “— what voice? There’s no voice.”

“Well shit,” Bradley wolf-whistles, looking at Natasha expectantly. “Tell us everything you know, Phoenix.”

“I don’t know very much,” Natasha grumbles, sending you a reproachful look. “Just that she met some mystery guy last week at the bar and had the best sex of her —”

“Phoenix,” you interrupt furiously, fixing her with a pointed glare. “We are not talking about this here.”

“No, Phoenix, really,” Jake says then, rolling his tongue over his toothpick with a grin. “Go on. Best sex of her…?”

“Seresin,” you warn, turning to face him with arms folded. “I’m serious.”

Jake takes a step toward you and nudges your forearm with his bottle, features mock-indignant but green eyes full of mirth. “What?” He asks, looking over you indulgently. Something fond about it. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Are we?”

Jake’s bottle, still pressed against your skin, acquiesces. As his hand falls to his side, it grazes along bare hip. The heat of his touch lingers. “I thought we were, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, softer.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Bagman was the best sex of your life? Seriously?”

You grimace. Jake doesn’t even flinch.

“I mean…” you trail off, looking over at Natasha helplessly. Beside her, Bradley’s sending you an incredulous look, his Adam’s apple bobbing against his throat, “…yeah?”

“Christ, and look at that fucking face,” she adds disdainfully, turning her nose up at Jake’s expression. You don’t have to glance up at him to presume it’s cockier than ever. All smug and self- assured with that crooked smirk that makes you —

“It’s so… you’re fucking blushing, Bagman.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you have to actively bite back a smile. Blushing? That’s new. Maybe you’re winning this as much as Jake is, after all.

“Fuck off, Phoenix,” Jake scowls, scrubbing his cheek before folding his hand over your waist. He pinches its curve playfully, faux-solemn when you glance up at him. “She’s delusional.”

“For sure,” you agree, grinning freely now. “Especially about that whole, best sex of my life thing from before. Definitely didn’t say that.”

Jake grins in tandem. “Sure you didn’t.”

“I’m serious, Seresin.”

“Yeah, Cosmo.” He kneads your skin indulgently, pulling you flush against him. “Seriously in love with me.”

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Ethan can get it anytime

Beautiful Desires

ethan landry x reader

words: 2.2k

warnings: nsfw, first time writing smut kinda nervous, two cuties, inexperienced reader & ethan, p in v , riding, sex with no protection (do not do this irl), loss of virginity, biting, slight mentions of choking.

You were rushing to his dorm, skipping excitedly with a bunch of cardboard in your hands, a small bag of different paints and a pair of crafting scissors carefully placed in your pocket.

Ethan sent you a text ten minutes prior saying 'Urgent matter! Chad forced me to go to the Halloween party and I panicked and said yes, I DONT EVEN HAVE A COSTUME.'

You hadn't even bothered to answer his text already jumping out of bed to get all the materials.

Banging on his door with your leg you impatiently waited for him to open it, bouncing up and down.

He couldn't even open the door as you were already pushing thru, giggling like a maniac.

"We're gonna make you a costume!" You were smiling from ear to ear, the sight giving him butterflies as he laughed.

You entered his room placing all the materials on the floor

"You could've told me you're coming, my room's a mess." He awkwardly scratched his neck, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Nahh, it's okay we're probably gonna make an even bigger mess anyways", you said as you checked him out trying your hardest to stifle your giggles, "nice pjs I love the details." Now erupting into laughter as you pointed at the small Yodas showing off their middle finger. Ethan's face a deep shade of red as he mumbled a small 'I could've changed too.'

"Looks cute." You said averting your gaze, trying to be bolder hoping he'd catch the signs and notice the fact that you're borderline in love with him.

The only thing you heard in return was a breath hitch, shit, maybe you made him uncomfortable. "I mean, you know like... like you don't have to change, so don't worry."

You clapped your hands hoping to ease the tension, failing to catch the way his eyes slowly lost their spark. You scooted over, now sitting on the floor as you patted the spot next to you.

Small, shy steps approached you. Looks cute. Did you mean it? The words repeating over and over in his head as he stared at the floor.

"Helloo, are you listening?" You were flapping your hands around trying to snap him out of his daze. "Sorry, what did you say?" Ethan's eyes now bore into yours and you swore at any moment now, you'll lose it.

"I said", you paused holding up the cardboard, "what about a knight?" You shifted excitedly, "Fits you don't you think? Handsome and brave!" Not even thinking about what you said you tilted your head smiling at him.

Ethan was hot all over his body, thinking he'll explode at any moment given, he shyly nodded his head as you let out a squeal.

You started drawing patterns on the cardboard trying your hardest to make it look good.

Ethan was scanning you, he thought it was cute really, how you came to his dorm so fast just to make a costume for him, your lips pressed into a thin line, tongue slightly peeking out, a sign of concentration.

"Okay, get up I need to see if this would fit." You spoke as he slowly got up. Making your way to him, you put the cardboard up to his body, trying to get down the sizing.

You were close, so close he could hear your small huffs as you kept cutting the carboard to make it a perfect fit.

"Do you think I'll look good?" Ethan shyly asked looking down to get a better look of you. "Of course Eth, you always do." Your eyes held a gentle look as you spoke. "The girls are gonna be all over you." You patted his chest and sat back down on the floor. "I doubt it." He spoke as he plopped down next to you.

"You underestimate yourself." You said handing him a paintbrush. "What do you mean?" You sighed "With girls, I mean, you're oblivious, there's so many girls who like you and you never take the hint."

Sure maybe you were talking about yourself right now but it really annoyed you sometimes, how he never got the hint as you tried to subtly show him your feelings but you couldn't blame him, you'd probably do the same.

"I'm not completely oblivious." He was "You are." You didn't even let him finish. "Well so are yo-" Splash.

There was paint all over his cheek as you loudly laughed.

"Hey!" He exclaimed as he smiled, his fangs showing. "Does this even wash off?" You were still laughing, his smile widening, you were gorgeous. "I'm pretty sure it does, I hope." You trailed off looking at him. His eyes were a bit wide and you couldn't help but find it cute.

"I'm just kidding Ethan, look." You leaned in slowly as you cupped his cheek, thumb sliding off some of the paint.

He forced down a gulp, you were too close, his eyes staring into yours.

Ethan slowly glanced down at your lips, licking his own in an attempt to calm down his growing desire.

His heart was thumping in his chest so loud he was afraid you'd hear it, his body betraying him as he leaned in before he could even think about it.

You were glued in place your eyes shutting in anticipation, gasping softly when you felt his hand gently grab your neck bringing you closer to him.

Your lips collided with his, teeth clashing as he kissed you.

Truth be told he had no idea what to do, he was merely following the patterns of your lips hoping you’d never notice his lack of experience.

You broke apart, a small string of saliva connecting you to him as butterflies erupted in your stomach. "Ethan, wait," you paused as he chased your lips still trying to kiss you, gently placing a hand on his chest to stop him. His eyes widened "Wait, sorry, oh my god, sorry did I make you uncomfortable?" He was rambling. "No, no, not at all", you reassured him and he sighed, relieved he didn't scare you away, "I just don't think I'd like to make out with you, on the floor." You couldn't even finish as he hastily picked you up and dropped you on the bed giggling as you made your way onto his lap.

Hands tangling in his hair, gently tugging at his soft curls. He groaned, his large hands squeezing your hips to calm himself down.

He kissed you sloppily, whimpering as you subconsciously grinded your hips on his growing length.

"You're so pretty Y/n." Ethan mumbled into your mouth gently tugging at your shirt. You smiled into the kiss, slowly taking off the piece of clothing, your upper body almost exposed for him as he broke the kiss.

He leaned back slowly taking you in, your glossy lips now a bit swollen from the kiss you shared, lustful eyes staring into his, your hair messily flowing down your shoulders the ponytail long gone.

All because of him, all only for him.

Ethan's hands now travelled from your hips slowly making their way up to your bra, slipping his hands under it curiously. Your cheeks were slowly growing warmer.

Gently wrapping your hand on his wrist to stop him. "Have you done this before?"

You were quite inexperienced yourself, sure you made out with your friends before but this was something new.

Afraid you'd embarrass yourself in front of him, you shyly looked at him.

"I haven't." His eyes were locked onto yours, a deep red flush coating his cheeks matching yours. "You're the first girl I ever kissed." He said growing a bit timid.

His words echoed in your mind, you're the first girl I ever kissed, you let go of his hand letting him trail it under your bra as you leaned back in to kiss him, desperately gripping onto him as he curiously touched you. You're the first girl I ever kissed.

This was the moment you were waiting for, all these months, all the lingering touches and loving gazes that made the ache in your abdomen gradually increase, you finally tasted him, trailing kisses down his jaw.

Ethan tilted his head as you harshly bit down his neck hoping to leave a mark, moaning when he trailed his hand over your nipple all the way to the back of your bra unclasping it with one hand.

“Where’d you learn that?” You smiled against his neck as he mumbled a shy ‘secret’.

You were desperately tugging at his clothes, wanting to discard them as fast as possible, you wanted to feel him, feel all of him.

He took off his shirt, his abs flexing as he leaned back in to kiss you, his own tongue now shyly grazing your bottom lip, letting him explore your mouth.

You rose on your knees to take off your pants, your forehead connecting with his, maintaining eye contact as you slid them off.

"Fuck, you're beautiful." He hesitated as he slowly stroked your legs trailing his hands dangerously close to your clit, the anticipation making you whine quietly as your arousal grew with each second.

"Ethan." His name rolled off your tongue so beautifully, your eyes closing, hips gently rocking, a silent sign for him to do something.

Eyes widening a bit, Ethan's hands were slightly shaking, not that he didn't want to do this, he was just... scared, he didn’t want his inexperience to ruin this, he wanted you to feel good.

"Can I take these off?" Ethan shyly asked and you nodded slowly as he took off the dainty underwear, your slick connecting it to your clit.

Slowly growing timid under his gaze you squirmed a bit.

He couldn't do it anymore, his dick twitching at the sight, threatening to spring out of his boxers on it's own as he slowly lifted you up, enough for him to have some space to take the last remains of clothing off.

He was big, bigger than you expected, the sight making your core clench.

You reached down to slowly stroke his cock, slow, curious hands working their way on it as he mewled at the contact, head falling on your shoulder.

"Are you sure?" He asked and you nodded, sloppily kissing his cheek. "I'm very sure Ethan, please." You begged and it took all his willpower to not slam his cock right into you.

He gently lowered you down, his tip teasing your entrance. Your eyes blown wide at the foreign feeling as you incoherently moaned his name. "Oh my god Ethan."

His hands were holding your hips, whining at the feeling of your plushy walls as he stopped you from taking him fully, afraid he'd hurt you, he let you adjust slowly.

It hurt you but it hurt so good. Tears slowly prickling your eyes you desperately lowered yourself on his aching cock.

"Fuck Y/n." He muttered when you suddenly slid down fully, taking him all in.

You kissed him, slowly starting to build a pace, bouncing up and down his length desperately, making him moan. His tongue shamelessly exploring your mouth, hands sliding back down to your hips as he rutted into you. "Is-is this okay?"

Ethan was now a whimpering mess, his head in your neck biting every spot he could find, your head thrown back moaning and blabbering nonsense. "Fuck—yes" you paused letting a big cry out as he hit a sensitive spot. "Shit, did I hurt you?" He lifted his head as he searched your face panicking.

"Harder", your eyes opened lazily. You could feel the heat growing, desperate for release. "Ethan, please."

He gently lifted you up, careful hands holding your head as he placed you down on the bed. You wrapped your legs around his waist, clawing at his back as he rammed into you like there's no tomorrow.

"Fuck Ethan—just like that, I-I'm close." You were blabbering again, unable to speak, he was fucking you senseless and it was so hot, he was so hot.

Tangling your hands in his hair again you kissed him, moaning his name over and over again, the foreign feeling of heat erupting throughout your whole body, eyes rolling back as you let out a high-pitched moan, legs twitching as Ethan continuously rutted into you chasing his own release.

"Come in me." Groaning, he spills into you, dick twitching as your walls clenched around him, the euphoric feeling hitting him as he slowed down his thrusts, gently pulling out of you.

Plopping down next to you he had a giddy smile on his face, deep red flush coating his cheeks as he looked at you.

"Maybe I am oblivious.” You snorted, turning around you set a gentle hand on his cheek stroking it. “You very much are Eth.” Placing a kiss to his forehead you tried to get up to clean yourself but failed horribly as your legs gave out.

Ethan laughed “Come, I’ll clean us both up.”

Gently scooping you up he guided you to the bathroom.

He turned the tap on to his bath trying to get it to a decent temperature, waiting for the tub to fill.

“You’re pretty.” He muttered and you pecked his nose, slowly walking towards the tub.

“You first my brave and handsome knight.” To this he perked up a bit. “Oh shit the costume Y/n.” Eyes creased as you laughed, you got in the tub. “We have time Ethan, ‘m too tired now.”

Slowly you both sank, equally exhausted. "You can stay and sleep, Chad's not home for the night." He spoke, voice a bit groggy as he kissed your temple. You hummed closing your eyes, finally getting what you craved for so long.

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

I am sucker for dad Jake.

Flight Suit Aphrodisiac

Summary: There was something about seeing Jake in his flight suit that got to you every single time. It had always been attractive, sure, but nowadays it was like something of an aphrodisiac. It didn’t matter what you were doing or where you were; when you saw him in it, you had to have him.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader (no use of y/n, can be read as unnamed OC)

Word Count: 1000

Warnings: Smut, language.

Notes: Written for this request from @arson-tm. I hope you like it! 

______

There was something about seeing Jake in his flight suit that got to you every single time. It had been attractive since the very first time you saw him in it, strutting down the produce section in the grocery store you met in, but nowadays it was like something of an aphrodisiac to you. Every time he wore it around you, your heart rate increased, your panties dampened (assuming you were wearing any to begin with), and you just had to have him. 

You blamed the hormones. 

“I’m going to be late for work,” he grunted into your neck, even as he continued to nip and suck at the skin, darkening the bruises he had left last night. You tightened both your legs and your pussy around him in response, making him groan. His next thrust was harder than the ones before and you craved more.

“Your fault,” you panted, nails scratching at his back hard enough to make him hiss. You raised your hips to meet his on his next downward stroke. “This god damn suit.” 

A cocky look you knew all too well took over Jake’s pretty face and he smirked down at you. “You like the flight suit, baby?” 

“You know I do,” you whined. His cock hit that spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back and you let out a loud, drawn out moan of his name. 

“Yeah you do. Can’t get enough of me in this thing, can you?” 

Your hair splayed out on the pillow as you frantically shook your head. You were so focused on how good he felt inside of you that you were losing the ability to form coherent sentences. But Jake loved you like this, you knew. His already inflated ego grew even bigger when you were a dumb, fucked out mess because of the pleasure he was bringing you. And truly, he deserved it. No one has ever made you feel this good and you knew no one ever would again. 

He gave a breathless chuckle as he pounded into you harder and faster. The mattress squeaked and the headboard hit against the wall. 

“Please,” you managed to whimper. That familiar coil was tightening inside of you, and you were growing closer and closer to the edge. All it took was the rough pad of Jake’s thumb pressing firmly against your clit to throw you over. You gushed around his cock, his name bouncing off the walls of your bedroom as you screamed. Through the haze you thought maybe he was praising you for being a good girl and how beautiful you looked as he chased after his own orgasm. You were still spasming around him when you felt him release inside of you, his warm cum filling you up. 

Like they always did when he was fucking you this way, his lips met yours as he rode it out. As much as he loved hearing you scream for him, he loved kissing you as you both came down from the high even more. You didn’t mind a bit as your tongue tangled with his; he tasted like the spearmint toothpaste he had used right before you jumped him. You hummed in delight. 

Your foreheads pressed together when he pulled away, the both of you fighting to catch your breath. You rubbed a hand up and down his back as your heart rate calmed, feeling the scratches you had left there. When you had your bearings somewhat back, you purposefully clenched your walls around him. His softening cock twitched inside of you and his groan made you smile.  

“You’re gonna be late,” you warned him, echoing his earlier words, “better go.” 

“You fucking tease of a woman,” he said gruffly, but there was no actual heat behind his words. He kissed you again before slowly pulling out and rolling off of you to stand. You clenched your thighs together on instinct; you loved the feel of his spend inside of you. You carefully moved onto your side to watch as he jogged into the en suite, coming back out with a damp washcloth. You took it from him before he had the chance to use it on you himself. 

“If you touch me down there right now, you won’t be going into work.” 

His chest puffed out in pride and you rolled your eyes; you loved him so much.

You watched him put his undershirt on and snap his briefs back into place, before continuing on to pull the heavy material of the suit back up his thighs. You don’t know if you were relieved or disappointed when, instead of putting it all the way on, he tied it at his hips. The full appeal came from seeing him all zipped up in it, the material stretched across his broad chest and shoulders with his patches on display, and he knew it. 

“I love you, darling.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips and then another to your forehead, before shifting to press a kiss to your growing tummy. He rubbed a thumb over the stretching skin. “And I love you too, little one.” 

Like it always did when he spoke to your unborn child, your heart melted a little. You grabbed his hand before he could walk away from the bed you were still lying in, completely naked and on display with no shame whatsoever. 

“Call me on your way home?” you requested. It was unnecessary because he always did, but you asked him every morning anyway. 

Jake quirked an eyebrow, a playful but knowing look in his eyes as he squeezed your hand. “Should I wear the flight suit home?”  You bit your lip with a nod, shamelessly looking him up and down. Desire sparked in you again as you thought about how good he always made you feel; you were so lucky he was all yours. “Yes. Please.”

______

Notes: Thanks for reading! Likes/comments/reblogs always mean a lot.

I don’t have a tag list for Jake and don’t want to bombard my Bradley girlies with this if they don’t want him, but in case I do anything for Hangman in the future, let me know if you’d like to be added to a new list 💚

Masterlist

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

A New Way (Chapter 9/X)

Pairing: Riff (WSS 2021) x OC Jet Girl (Mild AU)

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racist Language, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Assault

Summary: She might have been busy running around Manhattan solving murder mysteries, but for Riff, his loyalties still remained on the West Side, with his guys. He had his family to protect. Word Count: 7800+

Chapter One

Previous Chapter (Chapter Eight)

Masterlist

A/N: The longest chapter yet! There are a lot of moving parts in this story, and I had to fit it all in to build up to the next few chapters.

I go back to work tomorrow as my COVID-induced quarantine ends today, which means my chapter updates will likely become less frequent. I’ve tried my best to queue up some HCs and chapter outlines, but please bear with me as I get back to my regular schedule! I’m also going to be taking some personal time with friends/family for about a month in a couple of weeks, but I’ll try my best to keep things updated.

As previously mentioned, reading the HC requests isn’t required to understand what’s going on in the story, but they all exist in the same universe and can help add depth to the characters and their relationships. If you’ve sent in a request, I promise I’m not ignoring them - I’m just trying to space out my posting and responses.

Like always, let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list by DMing me or commenting below. I love hearing your feedback and your HC and one-shot requests and asks. Thanks for reading!

Keep reading

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Allie is a badass.

A New Way (Chapter 8/X)

Pairing: Riff (WSS 2021) x OC Jet Girl (Mild AU)

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racist Language, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Assault

Summary: Whatever Allie thought of him tonight didn’t seem much different than what she’d thought nine months prior, Milky Ways and amends be damned. Still, a small part of him had missed their back-and-forth. She was the one person in his life who could call him out on his bullshit, and never hesitated to. Even when he didn’t want to hear it. Word Count: 6500+

Chapter One

Previous Chapter (Chapter Seven)

Masterlist

A/N: I’m hoping to keep a balance between the chapters so not every single one is packed with plot and conflict, so this chapter has more dialogue and reflection than the next few will have. Please let me know if you think I should speed up or slow down the plot - I’m fully open to any suggestions or recommendations as I continue the story and build up to some of the bigger events.

Reading the HC requests isn’t required to understand what’s going on in the story, but they can help add some layers! This chapter does make a minor reference to an HC that was requested regarding Riff’s relationship with Allie/Tony’s dad (linked here), as well as the first time Allie flirted with Riff, which is described in Chapter Two and expanded upon in this HC request. Speaking of which, please keep the requests coming! They don’t all need to be Riff/Allie related, and I promise I’m not ignoring them - I’m just trying to space out my posting and responses.

Like always, let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list by DMing me or commenting below. Thanks for reading!

Keep reading

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Riff is so in love.

A New Way (Chapter 7/X)

Pairing: Riff (WSS 2021) x OC Jet Girl (Mild AU)

Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Assault

Summary: He didn’t know what she thought of him anymore. He didn’t know if he wanted to know, either. Word Count: 4300+

Chapter One

Previous Chapter (Chapter Six)

A/N: For those who don’t already know, I tested positive for COVID today, which means that I suddenly have a significant amount of time to write. I’m going to try my best to crank out as many chapters and HCs as possible, but space out the actual posting. I’ll be busy again once I get back to work, so I want to create a nice buffer for myself! I’m doing okay with very minor symptoms.

This is a bit of a shorter chapter than previous ones, because I wanted to focus on two specific scenes while still keeping the pace of the story. There’s plenty of Riff angst, and a minor reference to one of the HCs that was requested (linked here). Speaking of which, please keep the requests coming! Also, they don’t all need to be Riff/Allie related, though I do appreciate how interested you all have been in the two of them as characters. 

As per usual, let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list by DMing me or commenting below! Thanks for reading!

Keep reading

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

I love her and Cameron’s friendship.

A New Way (Chapter 6/X)

Pairing: Riff (WSS 2021) x OC Jet Girl (Mild AU)

Warnings: Racist Language, Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence

Summary: The Jets clearly still had a hold on her, and whether she’d admit it or not, she clearly still cared about them. Word Count: 6400+

Chapter One

Previous Chapter (Chapter Five)

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay on this chapter! Work got a little ahead of me this week (I can’t wait until our busy season dies down), and my computer started having some technical issues as well. I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter, I’ll try to get the next one back on schedule. Also, thank you to everyone who has sent in AU HC requests! I honestly didn’t think I’d get so many but it has been very exciting to see what you all are requesting. I’m going to try to get one done every few days or so - some of them are easier to draft up than others because I’ve already thought it through while fleshing out the characters, but others are a little more creative and require more attention. Regardless, I really love all the requests so far so please keep sending them in, I promise I’ll get to it eventually!

As always, let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list by DMing me or commenting below. I’m still trying to figure out what direction I want this story to take (aka how close I want it to resemble the plot of the movie, or if I want to deviate completely), so if you have any feedback, please let me know!

Keep reading

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Riff being embarrassed is so cute

A New Way (Chapter 5/X)

Pairing: Riff (WSS 2021) x OC Jet Girl (Mild AU)

Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Sexual Abuse, Mentions of Domestic Abuse

Summary: It felt like she had her feet in two separate worlds, and it was just a matter of time before she took another step forward, fully leaving him and the Jets behind.

Word Count: 6000+

Chapter One

Previous Chapter (Chapter Four)

A/N: Happy Mike Faist BAFTA Weekend! If you’re like me you probably spent way too long admiring the various Getty Images photos we were blessed with today. This chapter has a lot of plot and dialogue to get the story rolling, and the next few chapters should be a lot more interesting as far as what happens to the characters. I’m going to try to get another chapter edited this weekend (if I can get it done before streaming the BAFTAs), but if not I should have the next chapter uploaded hopefully by the end of the week.

Again, thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, DM’ed, etc. If you’d like to be added to a tag list for future chapters, feel free to message me. 

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[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Jake is such a supportive bf.

1K blurb celebrations.

“it was open and i read it.” with Hangman please.

Congratulations on 1K. You deserve it so much!!!!

AHH I love you so much! Thank you so much for your CONSTANT support and never ending love! I hope you like it <3

Nicole's 1K Blurb Celebration

"What the hell are you doing?" You demand, catching Jake red handed with your mail in his hands.

"I uh-fuck," He sighs and drops his head and lets the mail fall back onto the table, "It was just sitting there! And it was open....and I read it."

"You can't just read other people's mail!" You screech, snatching the small pile from the table, "That was private!"

"Baby-"

"No," You step away from him, "You don't get to baby your way out of this. Not this time, Jacob."

"I'm really in trouble, aren't I?"

You scoff and nod your head. Honestly, you knew it was your fault for leaving it out on the table. Of course he was curious, you hadn't met anyone more curious than Jake "Hangman" Seresin. If curiosity killed the cat, it was coming for him next.

But still, you felt like he invaded the little bit of privacy you still had. Living with him for the last six months has been a dream, you would never say otherwise. But you had to give up so much to be with him, and you were so used to being alone until he came into the picture.

"Just, leave me alone for a while, okay?" You sound so defeated as you turn and walk towards your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Jake is left looking at the space where you were previously standing. He knew what he did was wrong, but he saw he big bold letters at the top from a publishing company you've been dying to hear back from and he just couldn't help himself. He had to know if they accepted your work or not. They did, of course they did, but that wasn't the point anymore. Because you were mad and he couldn't celebrate with you when you're mad at him.

He gives you an hour before he's softly knocking at the bedroom door and pushing it open just a little. You're curled up on the bed, your pile of letters at your feet.

"I said leave me alone," You mumble softly.

"I brought ice cream and champagne," He tells you, "Some strawberries too. We have something to celebrate, even if I'm a dickhead with no boundaries."

You sniffle a little and sit up. His heart breaks a little when he realizes you've been crying. But then you have a little smile on your face as you reach your hand out for him, and he realizes everything is going to be okay.

"They accepted it," you whisper, pure joy dancing in your eyes.

"Baby, you did it."

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

Jake is so silly

1K blurb celebrations.

“i didn’t mean to say that but yeah, i love you.” with fwb hangman

Hi love!! I had a lot of fun with this one, so I hope you enjoy it too!!!

Nicole's 1K Blurb Celebration

"Shit," He curses, "Fuck."

Next thing you know he's off the bed, pacing around the room. You sit up, pulling the sheets around your body to conceal yourself. Your head is spinning, unable to process what he just said to you.

Surely he didn't mean to say it, he just got caught up in the moment, in the feeling of you wrapped around him. Based off the way he's pacing around the room, cursing every few steps, you really doubt he meant it at all.

"H, are you okay?" You question, "Hangman?"

"Don't-" He curses again, "Don't call me that right now."

"It's your name," You say softly, confusion wrapping around you like a blanket, "What else should I call you?"

"My real name, damn it. You, of all people, should call me by my real name."

"Okay," You breathe out, trying to navigate whatever is going on, "Jake, what's happening?"

"I didn't mean to say that," He swears, gripping his hair.

You wonder if he might just tear the hair right out of his head. The thought flows through your mind just as you feel yourself deflate into the bed. He didn't mean it. He didn't love you.

"You didn't mean it," You clarify.

"No," He turns to you, eyes blown wide open, "No. Fuck no I didn't say that I didn't mean it."

You're even more confused now. This was just meant to be a couple of hookups between friends, no strings, and no feelings. Not that you could deny that you fell for him a long time ago, only agreeing to this whole friends with benefits thing so you could have a little piece of him.

"So...what are you saying? You meant it?" You ask carefully, trying not to hope.

"I didn't mean to say it," He clarifies for you, "But yeah, I love you."

[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

His smirk is so cocky but boy do I love it.

A New Way (Chapter 4/X)

Pairing: Riff (WSS 2021) x OC Jet Girl (Mild AU)

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racist Language, Violence/Firearms, Mentions of Sexual Abuse, Mentions of Domestic Abuse

Summary: He could see the tears well in the corners of her eyes, and secretly willed them not to fall. He knew he’d actually feel bad if she actually started crying, even if he derived some sick pleasure out of watching her squirm.

Word Count: 5800+

Chapter One

Previous Chapter (Chapter Three)

A/N: I want to start off by saying that this chapter contains various references to guns/firearms. Given Allie’s desired profession, I wasn’t able to avoid writing about it, but I tried my best to do it in a responsible manner. As someone who has operated firearms before, I take gun safety extremely seriously (I’ve never been more stressed out than during the scenes in WSS when the Jets toss the gun around and point it at each other. Also Maria just dropping a loaded gun to the ground? Yikes yikes yikes). I also do not think the use of firearms is glamorous in any way, which I hope is reflected in the writing. However, I apologize if guns and gun culture might be triggering to anyone.

As I mentioned before, my job has been keeping me very busy on the weekdays, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get around to editing the next chapter before the end of the week, but that is my goal. 

Thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, DM’ed, etc. I hope this story has been as fun for you to read as it has been for me to write it. If you’d like to be added to a tag list for future chapters, feel free to message me. Happy Monday!

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[the-winter-marvel33reblogs]

I am a sucker for angst.

A New Way (Chapter 3/X)

Pairing: Riff (WSS 2021) x OC Jet Girl (Mild AU)

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racist Language, Mild Sexual References, Mentions of Minor Character Death, Minor Mentions of Violence

Summary: She knew that Grazi had first been drawn to Tony as the leader of the Jets - now that he wasn’t, Riff was the obvious choice. And Riff had never shied away from flirting with beautiful girls.

Word Count: 5900+

Chapter One

Previous Chapter (Chapter Two)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s given such kind responses to this fic so far! It’s been fun to escape every now and then into the world of West Side Story, and I really appreciate how supportive you all have been. 

I’m hoping to queue up a few chapters so I can post fairly regularly, but I can’t make too many promises. My job (which is about as far from Tumblr and WSS as one can imagine) has really ramped up recently and I expect it to continue for the next couple of weeks, but I’ll try to edit when I’ve got some free time. I had to do a little bit of historical research for this chapter and I think it’ll increase as the story goes on, so please bear with me if it takes a little longer to update than usual.

Again, please let me know what you think in the comments or in my DMs - fully open to recommendations and critiques. If you’d like to be added to a tag list for future chapters, feel free to message me. Cheers!

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