... And In Health

... And In Health

Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Summary: A year after Jake has come to terms with his sickness, he might just have the opportunity to find the cure.

Notes/Warnings: note much, maybe some language? mostly just Jake being a sweety and being cute <3 This part is set about a year after the first one.

In Sickness...

When the waitress stops by your table for the fourth time, with a free pity-drink, your lip begins to wobble as she walks away. An hour ago you promised yourself you weren’t going to cry, at least not until you got home.

You’ve always been quick to emote, but even more so since your last breakup. Although you were shy and quiet, you hadn’t always lacked confidence in the romance department, but after finding your boyfriend sleeping with someone else, you hadn't realised the hit your self-esteem had taken until recently, when you’d started putting yourself out there again.

Suddenly instead of worrying about how your butt looked or what your hair was doing, you had deeper, far more troubling worries, like not ever being enough, and feeling like a constant burden.

Being stood up tonight was really, honestly, the very last thing you needed. Worse still, you knew that when you called your pickup, you were likely going to have to explain the situation, and that you weren’t looking forward to whatsoever. Which is why you’d been waiting out the time, so at least you might be able to convince Jake that your date had shown up.

You doubt he’ll believe you if you tried lying, your feelings were always much too clear on your face, you were practically an open book. Jake in particular always seemed to see right through you, like he was paying more attention to you, but you think he might just be observant of everyone. You wouldn’t allow yourself to go on thinking you were special in some way to him, even if the two of you had been slightly closer since your previous breakup.

You appreciated it, that’s as far as you would let yourself go. Jake had told you that he saw you as a friend, and even if you lacked self confidence in that friendship, you knew Jake was the sort of person who went hard for his friends.

Which was the whole reason he’d offered to pick you up tonight in the first place.

Your own car had been playing up and when you’d finally gotten it in the mechanics, they’d given you the unfortunate news that they weren’t going to have it back to you in time for your date tonight. You’d been telling Phoenix that you were going to cancel, as you didn’t feel comfortable being picked up by a date you didn’t know all that well, when Jake had chimed in that he would be your ride, if you still wanted to go. Although he still made you flustered when he fixed you with one of his looks, you really did trust Jake, and you wouldn’t have accepted if it were anyone else, because you also knew he would never have offered if he hadn’t meant it.

You have had a few regrets now, but you don’t let yourself linger on them. This whole situation was already pushing you to the edge, you know that Jake picking you up and likely being annoyed on your behalf shouldn’t count towards that… even if part of you feared he might start an ongoing joke about that time you were stood up.

You cringe when you shoot off an ‘all done’ text, and receive an ‘already??’ In reply, but you force yourself not to elaborate.

You don’t even have his car door shut before you’ve burst into tears.

“Hey, woah! What the hell happened?!” Jake’s voice is bewildered and slightly panicked, but quickly it turns hard. “Is he still in there? Wait here.”

Hurriedly you reach across to grab his shirt sleeve, one hand still rapidly trying to wipe your eyes, now filled with scratchy mascara specks.

“It’s fine, please. Just take me home?” You sniffle, trying your best to calm down and hope he looks past your sobbing and does as you ask. He doesn’t though, looking at you like you had absolutely lost your mind.

“You’re crying!” He gestures at you as if you weren’t away. You shake your head, before realising you can’t exactly deny it, and nod.

When he pulls open his door and steps out, he pulls himself from your grasp with little effort. Pathetically you let your hand drop and desperately wipe more at your eyes, trying to see where he’s going. You almost jump when your car door opens again and Jake appears, ducking down into your line of sight, his face stern, but his eyes slightly wide and very concerned. You feel bad for making him worry.

“Cricket,” Jake begins, digging into his glove box and pulling out a wad of face wipes. “I’m going to need you to explain to me why you are crying, otherwise I’m going in there.” He isn’t using his normal friendly voice, right now you’re confronted with Hangman, not Jake, and it actually comforts you a little. You knew how Hangman worked, Jake often gave you more cause for confusion.

“He didn’t come. I know I shouldn’t be so upset, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and—”

“—He didn’t come?!” He cuts you off, sounding disgusted, and when you look up at him, you see his lip curled and his face pulled into a snarl. You drop your gaze, and all of sudden his temper seems to disappear and change entirely.

“So you’re saying he’s not even in there for me to chat to?”

It makes you snort a little, and when you glance up at him, Hangman is gone and once again you’re with Jake. You watch him look away from you, over the top of his car roof, and let out a deep sigh, before he looks back at you, his expression unreadable, but soft.

“Here,” Jake takes the wad of wipes you’ve been holding on to and you’re too tired and worn out emotionally to protest when he tips your face up and begins cleaning off your ruined makeup. He goes about it a lot more diligently than you’d have expected, and about five minutes later, he grabs the fistful of now filthy, makeup covered tissues, and steps briefly away to throw them in a nearby bin.

When Jake returns, he doesn’t come to stand at your side again, instead he closes it and returns to the driver's seat.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks, like the last ten minutes hadn’t happened. You shake your head, and rest it against the window as he lets out a breath, and begins to pull out. The hand he reaches out to balance on your car seat as he checks behind him almost makes you wish you could just hug him, but you push that feeling down.

“Alright. Let’s go get you some food then, sweetheart.”

It’s not the first time Jake has ever called you ‘sweetheart’, but it’s the first time he hasn’t been teasing you when he’s said it. Your pulse jumps at the almost casual intimacy of the way he says it, like he’d said it this way a hundred times before. Like this was something you did regularly with one another.

It’s almost a blessing he doesn’t say much else for the rest of the short drive, if you’re overthinking this much already. You feel stretched thin, tired from your work week, and even more tired now that you've expended all the effort and emotional preparation in order to come out tonight only for it to end in pure disappointment. All you want to do is hide under your blankets for the rest of the weekend, and maybe drink a bottle of red wine through a curly straw while you do.

Jake seems to have other plans though, as when the car stops at last, you aren’t outside your apartment building. Before you can even open your mouth and ask him where you are, he’s at your door again, pulling it open and holding out his hand.

“Where are we?” You know you sound silly, seeing as the big neon sign flashed bright in front of you through the window.

“At a restaurant. A good one, this time.” Is as far as Jake goes to explain to you. Dumbly, you unbuckle yourself and go to hop out of the car, forgetting that he holds a hand out for you. Jake doesn’t forget though, and quickly moves to take your hand before you can balance it on the car door.

The movement makes your pulse jump again, and this time it doesn’t stop, seemingly keeping its new fast pace going. You blink rapidly up at the blind who watches you carefully, your mouth opening, working like a fish for a moment as you try to get your brain working again, but Jake gets there before you.

“Humour me,” he says sweetly, giving your fingers a slight squeeze as he does, doubling your heartbeat again, but you can’t stop yourself from nodding. When he smiles at you, you half expect it to be a familiar cheeky smirk, but it’s not.

You let Jake help you from the car, and try to get ahold of yourself as he guides you away and toward the front door. He even leads you around the grating in the sidewalk which your high heels would surely fall through, and you wonder why you’d never considered that Jake would be a good date before. At least, you’ve never considered it beyond his cocky persona. You’ve never thought about how he would open your door for you, or gently hold your hand, or make sure you didn’t have to contend with holes in the pavement.

You’re still tired, but this turn of events shocks a small amount of adrenaline into you, and you decide that you have enough energy at least for whatever Jake has planned. Or, at the very least, you don’t have the energy to fight it, but you trust him, so you choose to trust that whatever it is, he means the best.

Jake releases your hand when he reaches for the door, and you find yourself startled by the feeling of loss that overcomes you when he does. You notice then for the first time that Jake wears a simple pair of slacks and a knit polo shirt that still sits a little rumpled from where you’d grabbed him by the sleeve earlier.

Once you’ve allowed yourself to be ushered inside the restaurant, you turn back and quickly smooth out the soft material, doing your best to be impartial to the feeling of his firm bicep under your fingertips, even though you find yourself needing to pull down the fabric where it seems to stretch even tighter around his muscled arm. Normally you really only take notice of Jake’s physique when he’s purposefully using it against you, to make you tongue-tied for his amusement, but this is really the first time you’ve found yourself up-close and personal, and you’re once more surprised by the intense desire you have to be hugged by him, to press yourself up against what you know to be his incredible strong body, feel that strength wrap itself around you.

Briefly you glance up at his face, expecting an amused smirk, but all you find is another unreadable expression, though his eyes do follow your movements closely. You finish your smoothing with a small pat, and turn away again. It takes another moment for you to feel him stir back into action behind you, and you find yourself again caught up in your thoughts as he steps slightly around you, to speak to a waiter who pops out to see you seated.

You’re vaguely aware that when you’re shown to your table, Jake pulls your chair out for you, and rests his hand briefly on your shoulder as you’re settled, squeezing it gently before he steps away to his own seat.

For a while the both of you are quiet as you mull over the menu, but the more your stomach begins to grumble, the more your senses seem to come back to you properly at last, and the bitter taste of disappointment and embarrassment that has been swirling around inside your chest and head all night begins to recede. This was just Jake, and even though sometimes he confused you, you knew Jake. You know that what he’s doing right now is his own way of hugging you and telling you it’ll be okay, like Phoenix would if she were in his place.

Your shoulders, which you hadn’t even realised had been slightly raised, relax as you place down your menu and take to studying the man in front of you instead. You’re able to watch him for a good minute before he turns the page of his menu, long enough to know he wasn’t reading it at all.

“I like Italian,” you venture, though your inflection makes it sound a little like a question, one you’re not sure you have the courage yet to ask.

“I know.” Jake replies, at last dropping the laminated booklet and linking his hands together on the table in front of him. You want to challenge him, but you stop yourself, figuring that knowing what your friends liked was the least someone could do.

You soften a little then, and drop your gaze to your place setting, straightening the silverware nervously, feeling his gaze locked on to you, and you chance peeking up at him as you talk.

“You really don’t have to–” you don’t even get to finish speaking before his sharp gaze flashes, eyes narrowing and he lowers his chin. “If you want dessert you won’t finish that sentence,” his words are humorous, but his voice maintains a level of sternness that you’d heard earlier when he’d been worried. You wonder if he usually masked his concern or anxiety with hardness. You wonder if that worked for him like it worked for you. You can’t deny that his cutting through your shit to get at the real problem was helpful when you were so prone to brushing off your own comfort for the sake of others.

Jake sighs then, but doesn’t even look away from you as he picks up the carafe of water and pours you each a glass.

“I’m not letting you go home tonight with that being the last date under your belt,” he sounds more casual now, and there's an offended scoff that punctuates his words, like the idea insulted him as well as you.

“This isn’t a date, though,” you hear yourself argue, though it's more out of sheer confusion than any real protest. You regret it immediately though, as Jake’s signature smirk makes an appearance, and he unfolds his hands to fix you with pure amusement.

You almost jump right out of your skin when something warm brushes over your hand again, and you realise too late that he’s taking it in his own, leaning toward you and cocking his head as his thumb begins brushing softly across the tops of your fingers, like he knew his actions have frozen you in place.

“Sure it is,” he tells you, and that seems to be that.

It takes you a moment to reboot your brain.

“You took all my makeup off…!” you protest after a moment, letting your arm go more slack as the feeling returns to the hand he holds. Jake raises an eyebrow, lips twitching.

“Don’t need it,” he shrugs, before relenting some. “For what it’s worth, in the two seconds I saw you before you started crying, it looked nice.”

You’re forced to reconcile with the idea that Jake thought you looked nice, and attempt to work out what that means for you now.

“Oh… Thank you…” is all you’re able to say, and are immediately greeted once again with his regular smirk, though it feels a little softer around the edges now, almost tender, but you think that must be only in your imagination.

“This is when you tell me how handsome I look,” Jake prompts, and you could roll your eyes and laugh him off, but the more you think about it, the more you actually agree with him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” you say, meaning it, finally able to laugh softly when he preens obviously at the praise.

“And have I been working out?” he’s definitely teasing you now, but you don’t mind so much, because his thumb is still slowly moving in circles over your fingers, which you’ve only just realised do feel rather cold.

“You’re always working out.” you tell him, your brows furrowing just a little but only for show. Jake fixes you with an amused expression and shakes his head. His hand tightens around yours just a little.

“Not always. Sometimes I take beautiful, lovely women out on dates.” he corrects you. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you blink at him, dazed.

“Sorry to interrupt your plans, then,” you joke, but it comes out a little more self-deprecating than you really mean. Jake narrows his eyes at you again.

“Are you questioning my tastes?”

“Almost always.”

“I’ll have you know that you are both beautiful, and inarguably lovely, Cricket.”

His words make you stare dumbly at him, mouth once more working like a fish to try and figure out what it is you’re supposed to say to that. You don't realise until it's too late that you’ve said those words aloud.

Jake smiles, full and wide and not teasing at all this time.

“You say ‘thank you, baby. This is the best date I’ve ever been on’,” he almost sing-songs.

“I’m not calling you ‘baby’!” you sputter, your brain going into overdrive at the thought of Jake calling you baby.

“Not yet you aren’t,” Jake blinks slowly at you, but he doesn’t back down from the statement, staring at you until you’re the one forced to look away, and he speaks again. “But I can be patient. I’ve been patient.”

You find yourself transfixed by what he could possibly mean by the fact that he’s been patient, but you don’t get the opportunity to ask, because your waiter returns and watch enamoured as Jake orders for you, not really that surprised that he knows what you want, but surprised that you’re so quickly becoming normalised to this behaviour from him.

Oddly, as dinner goes on, you almost forget that it’s Jake you’re with. He seems softer, gentler in a way that you hadn’t been aware existed within him, but in a way that you aren’t sure how you’re going to live without once he drops you home again and the spell is broken. In your minds eye, you realise that day to day you’ve seen glimpses of this Jake, when he’d wordlessly begun offering you a hand when you’d climb up to your jet around a year ago now, or how he’d normally complain about the amount of time everybody else took with their shots at darts, but sometimes when it was just the two of you he simply waits quietly for you to line yourself up properly, even occasionally giving you an ego-free pointer that always helped.

You wonder how often other people saw this side of Jake, and if you might be able to convince you into showing you more. For once his perpetual amusement and teasing seems to be at bay, and you’d like to think that this is the way he is in the quiet times, in the morning before his coffee, or in the grocery store. You can picture him in these times, but more importantly you want to see him in these times, more than you might have thought you would, more than out of simple curiosity.

His fingers lacing with yours after your plates are cleared makes you think once more of his talk of patience, and you wonder briefly if he wanted you to see him like this too.

“Absolutely not,” Jake quickly cuts in when you both stand by back near the entrance, reviewing the bill. The card you hold out, and the hand it’s in are engulfed suddenly by his much larger one, and even as the waiter smiles between the two of you, Jake doesn’t let you escape his grasp, holding you firmly in place as he hands his own card over.

“Jake!” you grumble, trying to pull your fist out of his, but he simply tightens his hold and gives the waiter a look like ‘can you believe this woman’.

“I’m so sorry about her, she hasn’t been taken out properly in a while, she’s forgotten all about how dates are supposed to work,” Jake tells the waiter conspiratorially, voice thick with faux-sympathy, like your cause was truly tragic. Your protests are fully silenced however, when he shoots you a pitying look, and brings your enclosed fist to his lips, kissing it softly like you were a sick puppy or something of the like.

You know he’s aware of the effect he has on you, it was why he teased you so much, but for the first time ever, you think he’s actually using it properly against you to get his way, and unfortunately, you aren’t even able to summon much annoyance about it. Quite the opposite in fact, his display makes your argument fall quiet and your heart skip several beats as he kisses your fingers tenderly again, before offering it back to you at last.

Quietly, you put your card away and bite your lip as he finishes paying.

—

“Jake,” you begin slowly, having taken most of the car ride so far to gather your thoughts together.

“Cricket,” Jake matches your tone and cadence, while shooting you an amused smile.

“Why did you hold my hand?” you try your best to ignore him, and shift slightly in your seat. Jake seems to shift too, but he only glances briefly over at you this time.

“Do you mean ‘why am I still holding your hand?’?” he squeezes your aforementioned hand, still in his grip and laying on the centre console. When he shoots you another amused grin, he’s met only with your pursed lips. Placing his gaze back toward the road, he rolls his eyes a little.

“Because I want to? I don’t know, feels kinda nice, don’t ya think?” Jake clears his throat a little, before a frown begins forming between his eyebrows and he seems to lurch. “Unless it doesn’t, in which case–” he begins to loosen his grip on you, but before you can think too much about what you’re doing, you tighten your own fingers laced through his, and give him an even more unimpressed look.

“So it does feel nice, note taken.”

You sit in silence for a few more minutes, in which time Jake begins slowly stroking his thumb across the back of your hand. When you do finally pull up to your apartment block, you feel the need to say something, but you don’t know what, so you keep quiet as Jake puts his car into park.

“Wait here,” he tells you and before you can really respond, he’s jumping out of the car and loping around to your side, opening the door with a gallant smile.

“You know, you’re a pretty good date, Jake,” you say softly, letting him take your hand once again and help you out of the car. Jake beams at you in an almost boyish manner that makes you want to squish his cheeks, but you refrain.

“Why thank you,” he says proudly, making you smile too.

You stand and stare at one another for a moment once you’re settled on your heels, and Jake cocks his head at you, before offering out his hand for you. Biting your lip slightly, you can’t help but look at your feet as you reach out and take the offered hand, feeling your chest go all warm again when he adjusts his hold to be more firm, and you both begin walking again.

Jake lets you take more of a lead, even though you know he knows where you live, considering he had been one of the friends you’d enlisted to help you move out of your old place. You can’t help but wonder if all this hand-holding was going to affect your friendship now, or what it even meant for your friendship. Your mind goes back to what Jake had said about patience at dinner, and what that meant.

Biting your lip again, you come to a stop in front of your apartment door, taking your hand back reluctantly so that you can pull your key from your purse and unlock your door.

“You aren’t going to cry again once I’m gone, are you?” Jake suddenly asks, making you blink back at him. He shoves both hands in his pockets and purses his lips. “Can’t be having that, now can we?” he says as if that explained his concern.

“No… No, I feel a lot better now,” you tell him, and you really do mean it. “Thank you for dinner.”

Jake stares at you, like he often does when he’s trying to make someone crack. Usually it worked pretty well on you, but you have nothing to crack over right now, so you simply stare back at him and shrug.

“I’m glad you feel better, Cricket. I don’t like seeing you upset.” Jake tells you, and even though his expression is humorous, his voice is stern and sincere, and it makes your stomach twist and turn violently in a way you’ve felt it attempt to do several times recently, but you’ve never let yourself linger on. It's as though all at once you can’t stop it, and an explosion of butterflies takes the place of all your internal organs.

“What was that?” Jake murmurs, and you blink at the step he takes forward, his brow furrowed in concern. You realise you’ve spoken the question that’s been on your mind out loud, and you swallow thickly as you try to gather yourself again.

“I… Earlier, you said you’ve been patient… what did that mean?” you ask, chewing the inside of your lip, wondering if you even want this question answered in the first place.

Jake cocks his head at you, and you can’t help but take note of how his lips quirk in the corners, like he thought it was adorable that you even had to ask.

“It means,” Jake begins, stepping even closer, and resting his arm on the wall above your head. “That about a year ago, I realised that I wanted to kiss you, and a year later, I still do.”

You stare up at him, and try to refrain from moving too much, as if he might disappear if you did.

“But only if you want me to,” he adds after a moment, beginning to peel back from you. Once more you don’t think too hard about what your body does, and you realise too late that your hand has shot out to rest against his chest, smoothing over his collar. Jake stops in his retreat and fixes you in his gaze again, even as your mouth opens and closes silently. You frown at your own inability to talk, and feel a pit begin to open in your stomach, sucking up the butterflies let loose there.

Jake frowns down at you, as if he can read your thoughts, and gently covers your hand with his own.

“Do you want me to?” he asks softly, and you’re glad he doesn’t make you say it, you aren’t sure you’re ready to ask yet, but you think he might understand this about you.

You nod at him and hold your breath as he seems to cock his head again. Briefly you see him smile, full and warm, but quickly you’re gasping softly as he kisses you.

Kissing Jake has been something you’ve refused to let yourself think about, repressing the thought so much that you’re truly surprised by how good he is at it. It makes sense, you think, that Jake would be a great kisser, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve never ever been kissed like this before, either. If this was what you’d been missing out on for a year, you feel foolish and idiot, because right now you vow that you will let Jake kiss you whenever he wants, wherever he wants from now on.

When at last he pulls away, you relish in the way his hand cups your cheek, thumb swiping back and forth tenderly.

“I don’t know about you, Cricket,” he says, making your chest flutter when he nuzzles at your nose sweetly. “But I think that feels kinda nice too, don’t you think?” he places another, much chaster kiss to your lips, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“Yes, Jake. I think it feels nice, too.”

@starlightstories @fox-bee926 @startrekfangirl2233 @izzyomfg @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @t-nd-rfoot @sehnsuchts-trunken @dagger-wren @bradshawsbitch @penwieldingdreamer @roleycoleyland @ussgallifrey just tagging some possibly interested folks!!!!

congratulations on 2k!! big milestone in your way to becoming the mayor of the world babey! how do you feel about this population expansion under your mayoralty?

🐖 oink oink for jake pretty please?? just want to see babe (haha) adopt an introvert, so can be with angel or any of the bcug(irlies) or outside, i’m not particular. or just anything really, i will hog whatever you grant us!

if I become mayor of the world we should all be very frightened, but I am loving the pig puns 😭 I decided to do it with canon Jake because I think Angel is really the only introvert and this trope doesn't totally fit them :)

warnings: language, I don't know anything about boats, this is like 2k words is it still a blurb?

If someone had told you that khaki wearing, pool playing Jake “Hangman” Seresin would end up becoming one of your closest friends, you would have looked at him entertaining a crowd of people, then back to the spot you hadn’t left since you arrived at the Hard Deck, and told them they have a weird sense of humor. Because you and Jake couldn’t have less in common if you tried. He was the loud, center of attention, flirt who never seemed to care what people thought of him. And you preferred to listen rather than talk, and only ever to people you already knew, because the thought of even one person not liking you made you want to hide under your blankets and never come out.

But a trip to a local coffee shop and a sticker from The Office on your laptop changed all of that, prompting an otherwise stranger Jake Seresin to come up and make conversation with you. Because that’s what he does. And you began to understand why Jake is so popular because he really wasn’t awful to talk to. It was the longest conversation you’ve ever had with someone you didn’t know and you left the coffee shop hours later with Jake’s number and a mind reeling from what was just the beginning of one of your most meaningful friendships.

With Jake, things were easy. If he pushed you to go out somewhere, he stuck by your side for most of the event. But he was just as willing to spend a night in too—you learned he was very good at making oven-ready pizza, which you still didn’t fully understand because, logically, it shouldn’t taste any different but it does. He just understood you, and made you happy, and was dependable in a way you never expected him to be. 

It was no surprise you fell in love with him.

And that must be the reason you find yourself surrounded by a crew of Naval Aviators as Coyote drives his boat out of the dock.

“All aboard, motherfuckers!”

Fanboy cups his mouth with his hands calling back to the loudly cheering Coyote as the boat lurches into movement. “That’s a train, dipshit!”

You laugh quietly from next to Jake. You still aren’t totally comfortable around the Dagger Crew—at least, not all at once—but you do know they’re nice, and Jake always makes it fun. Even now, you feel better knowing he’s next to you, a large hand planted on your back.

“Did you bring a swimsuit?” He asks as you get farther and farther from the dock. His own swim trunk-clad body has been distracting you and you make a point to look away as you nod.

“Yeah, it’s under my clothes. Should I change?”

Phoenix overhears you and waves you over before Jake can respond, greeting you with a friendly smile as you both strip out of your clothes. You fold your t-shirt and shorts neatly, ignoring the unusual silence from the pilot who usually can’t keep his mouth shut.

“That’s a cute suit,” Phoenix compliments, though something behind you catches her eye as she lights up in a smirk. “Dontcha think, Hangman?”

You cock your head at her before following her gaze to Jake, who’s already staring at you with a pink tint to his cheeks. You look away quickly, trying to suppress the way your heart seems to skip a few beats. 

“Yeah, it’s, um,” Jake swallows. “It’s nice… Nice, uh, color.”

You give him a shy smile in gratitude, moving on from the moment quickly. It takes Jake only a few minutes to recover from whatever seemed to have taken over him, and then he’s right back to joking with Javy as they both argue over where to anchor the boat. You watch the interaction with a fond smile, enjoying the brotherly-like teasing. 

Not wanting to be in the way, you converse with Phoenix quietly until Jake finishes. And even though you’ve been nice enough not to bother him, as soon as he can turn his attention to you, Jake is back to his usual antics.

“Jake,” you warn, giving him a cold glare as the grin on his face grew larger. “Don’t you dare.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, stepping closer to you and you feel the railing of the boat press up against your back. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Jake,” you try to bolt across the boat, so you aren’t cornered, but he’s quicker than you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you off the ground. “Jake!”

You can feel him laughing against you, the sound echoing around your ears as he starts running towards the edge of the boat. While Jake’s laugh usually paralyzes you for a couple minutes, the suddenly present fear of plummeting into very cold water snaps you out of it faster than usual.

“Jake!” You try to climb over his shoulder, struggling against him, but all it does is make him tighten his grip. “Put me down! I swear—”

Your threat is cut short as Jake leaps over the boat and your motivation suddenly changes from trying to get away from him to clinging to him as you both submerge into the icy waves. If you weren’t so cold, you would have definitely been worried about the fact that your arms are now wrapped tightly around his neck and your legs are clasped behind his back. And you would have been a lot more worried about the fact that his arms are squeezing into your hips. You remove one of your hands from him to wipe the water from your eyes.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jake has a goofy grin on his face, his hair plastered to his forehead. “You love me.”

You’re in love with Jake Seresin. You love him the way you love a sunrise. You know that every day, without fail, he’ll be there, but you also know that every day, without fail, you’ll find something else you love about him. You’re willing to wake up at the crack of dawn, every day, just to watch him explode with color. And it isn’t even hard. 

You love Jake the way you love your favorite song. You close your eyes and put your headphones in. You know every word, every beat, every crescendo. You know everything about it and, yet, every time you hear it, it’s like hearing it for the first time.  You do love Jake, you love him more than he could even imagine. And something about him saying it, and not knowing, is something you just couldn’t bear.

You must have been staring for too long because Jake’s mouth is opening to ask if you’re okay, but you don’t give him the chance. Your lips are on his before he can even get the question out. His cologne fills your senses, the saltwater taste on his lips a lingering thought in your mind as you use your arm around his neck as leverage to deepen the kiss. 

Jake’s grip tightened on your legs, his hands moving from your thighs back to your hips as if unable to pick a spot to settle. It isn’t until you feel his hand trace the band of your swimsuit that you catch yourself, pulling away from him suddenly. His eyes widen in surprise as you detangle yourself from him. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” You pull your gaze away from his swollen lips, forcing yourself to paddle back to the boat and get as far away from Jake as humanly possible. 

Not even bothering to dry off, you make a run for the cabin. You know you’re being a coward. Considering you’re trapped in the middle of the ocean with him, you can’t just ignore him. But you also know that you aren’t supposed to kiss a guy like Jake Seresin. 

So, if you have to somehow convince Jake that he imagined the whole thing and you never kissed him in the first place, then that’s what you have to do. You just have to figure out how the hell to do that. You dart past Javy, who gives you a strange look, and continue down the steps to the cabin. 

Even though you know that it wouldn’t actually do a thing, you convinced yourself that if you could just get into a room and lock a door, you’d be home free. You just have to get there first. The sound of feet moving above your head causes your heartbeat to quicken and you break out into a run. You can see the door of the cabin in front of you and as soon as you reach it, you let out a sigh of relief.

A wave of utter mortification hits you again as you lock the door and you physically cringe as you try to wrap your head around what you just did. You kissed Jake. And then you ran away. You let out a loud groan, scrunching your eyes as if that will rid the thought.

It doesn’t

You didn’t know how long you had before Jake found you, but you’re not expecting him to knock on the door as soon as he does. Your blood runs cold and you freeze as if not making a sound will somehow trick him into thinking you aren’t there. 

The doorknob rattles slightly. “I know you’re in there.”

You hold your breath, refusing to say anything as Jake tries with the door again.

“Would you just talk to me?” The movement on the doorknob stops.

You’re at the door before you can fully realize it, but you still can’t bring yourself to unlatch the lock. Sliding down the oak wood, you try to steady your breathing.

“You can’t just pretend that never happened.” Jake’s voice is quieter on the other side of the door and it sounds like he’s also sitting against it.

You swallow thickly because that is exactly what you’re hoping to do.

“Will you open the door?”

“Jake, can you please just go away?” You finally find your voice, Jake's incessant reminders making you fall deeper and deeper into a pit of embarrassment.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?”

You can picture him now, head leaning against the door, confusion painted across his features.

“Please?”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s his turn to be silent, letting you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I did something really stupid. I wasn’t—”

“You think kissing me was stupid?” His voice sounds almost defeated on the other side of the door.

“I—” You bite your lip. “I don’t know, I don’t want to find out.”

“Well… I don’t think it was stupid.”

Jake’s words hit you like an anvil. You never once planned on confessing your feelings to Jake—let alone in this fashion—but the potential that he also felt something for you was not something you had accounted for.

“Would you open the door already?” He tries to joke, but you can tell he’s slowly getting desperate.

You get up from the floor on wobbly legs. “You better not be fucking with me.”

You turn the lock slowly, not having enough courage to actually open the door yourself, and after a moment Jake tries again with the knob. When it opens against his weight, he looks at you, frozen in the doorway as you’re equally still inside the cabin.

“Do you still think it was stupid?” He asks finally.

“Do you think it was stupid?”

He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you. “No, I don’t think it was stupid.”

Jake is getting closer to you now and, though you’re still frozen in place, that sinking feeling in your stomach is getting smaller.

“Actually, I think it was so unstupid that I want to do it again.”

Your body processes his words before your brain does and he already has his lips on yours by the time you fully understand what he’s saying. Jake pulls you into him firmly, hands finding your hips as yours wrap loosely around his neck.

After a moment, you pull away with a small smile. “I, um, I love you.”

“I figured.”

You let out a shocked laugh at his boldness and a cheesy grin lights up his face as he dips down to your lips again. 

“I love you too.”

Oh dang Shit about to go down

Ties That Bind 7

Pairing: MC!Bucky Barnes x Clint’s Twin Sister!Reader

Warning: Oh theeeeee language, sass, banter, violence, sexual puns, loss, abuse mentioned, possessive male characters, criminal activity, defiant females.

At the age of six, Bucky gave me a valentine’s day card, with a sloppy heart and BB scribbled inside.

At ten, he gave me a kiss on the cheek after wailing on Clint for pulling my hair.

At twelve, he pissed me off, staking claim on me in front of the others.

At fifteen, we had our first break up.

At eighteen, we graduated high school and got married.

At twenty one, everything changed.

Two years later, he’s dragging me home… to face the table and all I ran out on.

Tag List Is Open!!

Keep reading

okay tasm!peter parker thought!!! he’s obsessed with touching your face. like, when you’re talking about something he’ll just randomly grab your face and smoosh your cheeks. he’ll boop or kiss your nose at random times. most importantly, when he’s kissing you he’ll be holding your face, his big hands on your cheeks guiding your head so he can kiss you better. omg

doughnuts

summary you're really excited about doughnuts. peter really wants to kiss you.

content tasm!peterparker x fem!afab!reader

note this is my first time writing for tasm!peter please forgive me if it sucks.

For the first time in a while, you come home after work with enough excitement to light up the entire flat.

Peter's sitting up in his bed reading when you find him. All things soft with rumpled hair, his clothes even worse, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. You're not sure if he really needs them anymore, but he likes to wear them to keep an ounce of normalcy.

"Hi," you chirp when he notices you. He dog-ears his book and puts it down almost immediately. You beam.

"Hi, baby," he seems just as happy to see you as you do him. Though, there's a buzz to you that Pete lacks. You think if you got home twenty minutes later he would've been napping.

You move across his room while pushing your work skirt down your legs. Peter's heart skips when it looks like you might trip and he tries to keep his eyes off your soft thighs. You rifle through his draws to find one of his shirts to wear, unbuttoning your own blouse in the process.

"How was your day?" you ask, holding up a shirt to your nose. You choose it because it smells more like your boyfriend than the others.

Peter crumples his face, trying not to laugh. "It was good. Didn't do much - you?"

You say something while pulling the shirt over your face that Pete can't discern. You all but jump into his lap when you reach him. Hooking your thighs over his lap until you're face to face.

He allows you to get comfy, pushing your knees into his side while he sits up, hands finding their place on your hips. "Hello," he says again, much quieter now that you're in his space. You look adorable in his shirt and your work tights.

"Did you hear me?" you ask, basically pulsing with giddy energy. You push your fingers under the hem of his shirt and he short-circuits for a moment.

He blinks. "You had your face in your shirt."

"Right," you giggle, a girlish sound that Peter wants seared in his brain, "I said, you know the food truck around the block?"

"You'll have to be more specific," he says, squeezing at your hips.

"The one that shut down."

"Oh, right. The Jam Van," he laughs knowingly. You'd moped for almost a month when they closed. You were inconsolable.

"Yeah," you grin, poking his chest, "yeah, they reopened!"

You're smiling so hard Peter worries that you'll get stuck like that. With your eyebrows raised and your cheeks appled. He thinks he needs to hold your face like right now.

He lets his hands leave your hips and raises them to hold your cheeks. Your skin is warm under his touch like he expected. "That's great, baby."

You ignore his hands. "Right? It's amazing."

Peter pushes your cheeks together until your lips pout outwards. He thinks you look extremely cute. Even worse when you try to frown and it just looks like a smooshed mess. He wants to laugh but you look peeved.

"Pete," you try to say. It comes out all mumbled.

"Yeah?" he says, distracted by your puffy face.

You pull your face from his hands and struggle a bit. Holding his arms to his chest you say, "Are you even listening to me?"

"The Jam Van," he says nodding. Smarmy.

"Right," you say, still mildly upset, "they're open right now if you wanna..."

"You wanna go get doughnuts?" he asks with his arms still pinned to his body. His hands wriggle to touch you.

"Can we?" you ask, eyes wide with hope. Peter wishes he had his camera with him.

"Can I kiss you first?" he grins boyishly. You wish you had a better resolve. He's awfully pretty and you really want doughnuts.

You let his arms go, huffing like kissing him is a difficult task. "If you really want." You have to hold back a laugh.

He reaches his hands back up to your cheeks and gives them another squeeze, "Of course, I want to."

You let him guide your face down to meet his lips, huffing into his mouth once they meet. You go lax in his lap when he presses firmer, spreading his fingers over your warming cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he has better access to slip his tongue in your mouth. You whine when he has you exactly where he wants. Putty in his hold, holding you close by your soft cheeks.

You pull away from his lips, blinking away the dizziness. "Pete," you say panting.

Peter licks his lips, "Yeah?"

You push your face into his neck to hide the way he so obviously makes you feel, holding onto his sleep shirt for dear life. You try to even out your breathing and fail.

"You okay, love?" he asks. There's a hint of smartassery you don't miss. He's awful.

"Yeah," you say a tad breathlessly. "Yeah."

He kisses your shoulder and you shudder. His ego swells tenfold. "You sure?"

You take a moment to compose yourself, hating yourself for being so pliable. You sit back to look him in the eye. "So," you say with a confidence you lack, "Jam Van?"

Peter laughs and catches your face again. You like it much more than the first time. "That felt like coercion ."

"You asked to kiss me!" you say bewildered, pushing at his chest with not enough force than you feel is deserved.

"You tricked me," he laughs with you, letting you paw at his chest. It's quite adorable, really.

"Whatever," you say with more heat than you mean, a smile tugging at your red lips. You untangle yourself from his lap and stand to walk away. "I'll get my own jam doughnuts."

Peter smacks your ass before you can get away and you gasp. "Peter Parker!"

"You can't go out like that."

"I'll do what I like!" you call from the other end of the hallway.

Peter chases you around the flat until he gets you in his arms. The doughnuts wait for a few more hours.

Little Things

Pairings: Jake Seresin x female reader. Synopsis: Jake takes care of his girl when she has her period. Warnings: mentions of period symptoms, infertility, depression. This is inspired by a lovely request I got from @callsignmaverick5

You groaned in agony, rolling onto your side and tucking your legs up so you were in a foetal position, hugging your knees close to your chest. The pain grew spreading across your lower abdomen and causing you to tense your muscles and wait for the pain to subside. Your period had been late which had you a little worried for the last few days, it wasn’t that you didn’t want kids. Both you and Jake really wanted kids but your period had come with a vengeance and now you were paying for it. You hadn’t been especially trying for kids, you and Jake had a great sex life, that man was like a horny teenager and could barely keep his hands off you. Closing your eyes slowly you willed the discomfort to stop, easing yourself further under the bed covers as the pain continued. You had been so caught up in your affliction that you didn’t hear Jake and the others come home, all piling into the living room chatting loudly to each other.

“Hang on a minute guys I’m just gonna check on her, make yourselves at home,” Jake said, making his way down the corridor to your shared bedroom. “Darlin’ are you in here?” He pushed open the door and was met with an empty room, minus a crumpled bed with a small figure hiding beneath the covers. “Baby girl, are you ok?” Jake perched on his side of the bed, leaning across and pulling the covers back to reveal your small, hunched form. “Oh, Darlin’,” he cooed, pushing the covers back the rest of the way and pulling you against him, immediately slipping his hand down to cradle your lower abdomen. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be this month,” he said looking down at you through hooded lashes. You could tell he was disappointed and you wanted to apologise to him but another wave of agony ripped through you and you doubled over, leaning into Jake’s side and whining. You could hear the others chatting amorously downstairs and Jake sighed. He had to admit he’d been looking forward to movie night with the gang, but he loved you more and right now you needed him.

“Don’t worry about me, Jake, I’m fine. Go spend time with the others. I know you’ve been looking forward to it.” You shuffled away from him and pulled the covers back up to your chin.

“Not a chance, Babygirl. I'm here for you Darlin’, remember ‘in sickness and in health’,” he used air quotation marks as he quoted your wedding vows, causing you to let out a small giggle.

“Right, I’ll kick the others out and then I’m getting paracetamol, a hot water bottle, ice cream and Bill Pullman and Sandra Bullock and then I’ll be right back, Baby.” You watched as Jake hurried away with his mental list of all your sickness supplies. You heard Jake talking quietly to the others who all complained loudly until Phoenix gave them a piece of her mind and they all went silent, departing your home respectfully and leaving you in peace. Jake was crashing around in the kitchen before reappearing in the doorway with a tray stacked high with all your essentials. He placed the tray down and moved over to you, helping you shuffle forward so he could place more pillows behind your back. He handed you the hot water bottle which you accepted gratefully, placing it onto your abdomen and immediately relaxing into the soothing warmth. Jake set up the DVD and sunk back onto the bed next to you as the titles for ‘While You Were Sleeping’ began playing through the small tv on the wall. It had always been your comfort film, ever since you were a kid you and your mum would watch it whenever one of you was sick and this had been a tradition that Jake had adopted too. He handed you a mug of hot chocolate and two paracetamol, giving you a small kiss on your forehead. “Better?”

“Much better,” you told him, snuggling into his side and cracking open the ice cream, it was triple chocolate which just so happened to be yours and Jake’s favourite. As you ate your eyes fixed on the screen, Jake’s large hand coming down to rest on your abdomen, holding the water bottle in place for you. Hs other arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you impossibly close. These were the times you cherished most with your husband, not the grand gestures or great outbursts of love but the little things like comforting you on your period, doing the food shopping so you didn’t have to, making sure the laundry was done, cooking dinner if he was home early, these were the most thoughtful tasks Jake could perform in your eyes. Now snuggled into his side watching your favourite movie you couldn’t have loved him any more. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tag list: @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @alexxavicry @a-reader-and-a-writer @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @sunlightmurdock @airedale17 @callmemana @shadowolf993 @t-nd-rfoot @topguncultleader @flyboyjake @wkndwlff

hi!! happy vday celebrations <3 💝 could u do #21 from the are we friends or more list for bob? ik everyone makes fun of him and he doesn't care all that much but i wonder how he would react if he heard of/saw someone defending him

hi anon!! i thought long and hard abt how best to do this and eventually decided on this after rewatching the movie hehe<33 hope u enjoy! | [wc - 0.9k]

The Hard Deck was loud, but not overly loud; the bar-goers were tipsy, but not sloppy drunk; conversation flowed freely, but not into the realm of oversharing; people were good at pool, but not great. And you were here with your coworkers, having a lovely evening.

You stood with Coyote against the wall, both of you sipping a beer and chatting about the day’s training. Phoenix was kicking Hangman’s ass at darts, which was oddly satisfying, and Fanboy, Bob, and Payback were playing a three-way version of eight ball. It was a night like any others. Rooster hadn’t arrived yet, but you knew he would soon, and he’d rally the bar around the piano and bring up the energy.

There was nothing unique about this night.

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Fanboy asked, holding his cue out towards you.

Across the table, Bob’s eyes flickered towards you before dropping away again. He was sure you’d noticed anyway. No one ever noticed him the way you did. No one ever really noticed him, period. But then you’d showed up, and seemed to notice everything about him. He liked it, but it scared him, too.

Fondness and fear went hand in hand when it came to most of his feelings for you.

“I’m okay,” you said, waving Fanboy away. “We’re busy keeping score. Right, Javy?”

“Right,” said Coyote with a sharp nod, half-smiling.

“Alright,” said Payback. “Who’s winning, then?”

“Bob,” you said without missing a beat. You locked eyes with him briefly and he was sure that everyone could see the red flare in his cheeks before he glanced down.

“You guys obviously aren’t paying attention,” Payback scoffed, exchanging a glance with Fanboy and shaking his head before turning back to the game, leaning over the table to take his next shot.

Bob stepped back to chalk his cue, glancing sideways at you and Coyote when he thought you weren’t looking. You looked so comfortable, so at ease here with everybody. He was honestly jealous. You melded with the group in a way he’d never been able to, and you’d been here half as long. Everyone was drawn to you, Bob included. He knew he wasn’t the only one infatuated by your quick wit and earnest heart; Hangman especially had made his interest clear. But you’d never offered any of your coworkers anything in return.

Why did he think it’d be any different with him?

He puffed his cheeks up and exhaled, shaking himself and realizing that he’d over-chalking his cue. Tapping it against the table, he came around the far side, grateful to turn his back on you but nervous at the idea of you watching him bend over to line up his shot.

At that moment, however, the darts game apparently wrapped up, because Hangman and Phoenix came back to join the group. And as Bob leaned over the table, Hangman said loudly, “How’s there only three playing? Here, I’ll join a team.”

The cue was pulled from Bob’s hands, interrupting his shot. Hangman bumped him with his hip, leaning over and pocketing the ball that Bob had been eyeing. Bob shuffled backwards, invisible once again.

There was nothing unique about this night.

“Hey!”

Bob’s head snapped up. The casual conversation around the table faltered. Even Hangman, who’d been smirking and making some snarky remark at Phoenix, seemed to freeze. Because you’d pushed off the wall, and your normally relaxed posture had straightened into a harsh, tense line.

Hangman glanced sideways at Phoenix, who was looking like Christmas had come early. “Hey?” he said.

“Go get your own cue, Hangman,” you snapped, yanking it out of his hands. “They’re literally all over the walls. It would take you two seconds.”

Slowly, Bob realized what was happening. Hangman seemed to recognize at the same time, because his eyes slid from you to Bob, growing wide. “Seriously?” he said.

You moved the cue to one hand, using the other to wave Hangman off. “Go on, shoo! Get your own if you want to play so bad.” Then you turned and walked over to where Bob was standing with his back pressed to the wall, half hoping it would open and swallow him so everyone would stop staring.

But he kind of liked when you stared at him. Like the way you stared at him now.

You held out the cue. “This is yours, I think.”

“Thanks.” He took it, and his fingers brushed yours, sending a shiver up his arm. “You didn’t need to—I mean, he always—it’s not a—”

“I know that he does it all the time,” you said. “I just think he needs somebody to stand up to him sometimes. He pushes you around too much. They all do.”

He was positive you could see his blush. “Oh,” he said. “Um—thanks. For…yeah. Thank you.” He scratched nervously at the back of his neck. “Can I buy you a…beer or something? As thanks?”

You beamed at him, and he was worried everyone would be able to hear the way his heart started to pound. “One second,” you said. You walked back over to Coyote, who was holding your beer, and took it from him. As Bob watched, you drained the last few gulps of beer from the bottle before turning and walking back over to him with a shy smile.

“Now you can buy me a drink,” you said.