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Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
EEEK! I loved this! Just some good old fashioned wooing 🥰 It was so fluffy and such a warm and cost read!
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
@teacupsandtopgun I’m so glad that you enjoyed my little fic! 🖤
Jake is a determined soul and I love the thought of him just rolling up his sleeves and pulling out all of the stops, dead set on showing you just how much he cares for you.
I just know that poor Beau has been subjected to a fair share of negative PR because of his subordinates antics. The man has nightmares about giving press statements and though there are few things that scare him in this world, Sandra from HR is definitely high up on the list.
Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
I totally remember I reblog this... but there was no reblog 🫣🤔
Btw ... wort the re reading 🥰
Jake is the texan gentleman we all know so we... charming, sweet, sexy, with a little bit of insecurities, an ego bigger than Texas itself and a heart as big as his ego 💚
Jake’s mother raised him to be a southern gentleman and underneath that arrogant exterior of his, he really does have a soft heart!
This man will bring you flowers when he picks you up for your dinner date, he’ll tell you how beautiful you look and will definitely hold the door for you and pull out your chair.
Afterwards, Jake will take the scenic route home along the coast. He’ll sneak glances at you while he drives, his heart full as he admires the way that the sunset casts your smiling face in a warm glow, wondering just how on earth he got so lucky.
warnings
strong language, friends to lovers, (soft) unprotected sex and other content meant for those 18 years old and over. minors do not interact. literally, just porn without plot, enjoy!
”This is a one time thing.”
Your voice is quiet, just barely above whisper. Nervousness lacing your words as your chest rises and falls at an uneven pace.
”Yeah,” Jake agrees. The tone of his voice is husky, maybe even a little dangerous – yet still there is a certain calmness to it. ”sure it is, baby.”
Like hell it is.
Through the open window of Jake’s bedroom, the soft ocean breeze is blowing in. It smells like summer — like saltwater and watermelon slices. The scent floods your senses, tickling your nostrils.
”This okay?” Jake asks.
His hand is drawing lazy circles onto your inner thigh, squeezing the soft flesh every now and then. Slowly his coarse fingertips are moving closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.
Your chest feels tight. The air that’s surrounding you is thick, heavy – compressing your lungs, pressing against your chest as you draw in deep breaths, trying to hopelessly regulate your breathing.
Looking up at Jake now, through arousal blurred eyes, you are certain he has never looked more beautiful. Those pretty, sage green eyes of his are glistening in the golden evening light. His pupils are blown, covering most of the green of his eyes.
It’s evident that Jake takes care of his body. He’s always been good looking, fit and muscular. Though now, with the setting sun casting long shadows into the room, Jake looks even more toned than usual – if that’s even possible. With a feather light touch, you trace along the lines of his abdomen. You have thought about it one or two times – how he must be made of clay. How someone must have spent hours upon hours sculpting him, perfecting every single detail.
You are completely unaware of the effect you have on him.
Jake’s throat grows tight at the sight of you. Your lips are slick with saliva, glistening as the light bounces off them. Your eyes are glossy, arousal graying the color of your eyes. Your chest is heaving, raising and falling more rapidly than usual. The California heat has gathered a few beads of sweat between your collarbones.
You look breathtakingly beautiful, though Jake doesn't say it out loud. It'd be too much, he thinks.
“Jake…”
Your fingertips are tingling with anticipation. It feels like there’d be hot steam inside your lungs, burning the delicate flesh inside your throat as you breathe. Capturing your lower lip between your teeth, you wonder if you should be ashamed for being as desperate for Jake’s touch as you are.
For as long as Jake can remember, you have been the only girl that has not fallen at his feet. You are the only girl Jake has never been able to get a read on. It’s been driving him crazy for what feels like forever now.
Jake knows that he is not good enough for you. He knows you deserve so much more than what he’ll ever be able to give you. You deserve stability, endless happiness and someone that’s going to stay by your side through thick and thin. Jake isn’t ready to settle down. Truth be told, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be.
But God if he still doesn’t dream of coming home to you.
“I know, angel.” he coos. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”
Just his voice alone is enough to send shivers down your spine, to make your toes curl. You scrunch your eyebrows together slightly, knowing that Jake shouldn’t have this effect on you.
You have known Jake for a long time now. He’s always been too handsome for his own good. He is smooth and flirty by nature, and he has that kind of a smile that’s able to bring any girl onto their knees.
Jake is hovering over you, one palm firmly planted next to your head, against the semi hard mattress you are laying on top of. He hears the way your breath hitches as his fingers brush over your clothed core once, then twice.
“This okay?”
You can feel heat spreading across your cheeks, burning your temples as Jake presses his thumb against your clit. Even through the soft, cotton fabric of your underwear, Jake’s fingers feel warm. You know that his hands are always warm – he’s hot blooded like that.
Not trusting your voice, you nod in answer.
You couldn’t arch your back more if you tried. A silent whimper escapes your lips as you feel Jake yanking your underwear to the side and running his fingers through your folds. You are already so worked up for him. Your cunt is swollen with anticipation, dripping with slick arousal.
“Oh, fuck.”
Scrunching your eyebrows together, you grasp a hold of Jake’s biceps as he sinks two fingers into your wetness. It’s the sweetest stretch, the kind that makes you desperately grind yourself against his palm without realizing it yourself.
Jake takes his time, slowly working you open. He pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt at a steady pace. He isn’t in a hurry. He wants to make this last.
“That feel good?”
Of course it does. Jake is skilled with his fingers. He knows what he’s doing.
“Y-yes.” you manage to breathe out.
Jake presses his arousal coated thumb onto your clit. “Good,” he whispers, moving his thumb in slow circles around your sensitive nub. “Want you to feel good.”
The tone of his voice is deep, hoarse. And if his words alone weren’t enough to make your eyes roll back, the feeling of his lips on your neck surely is. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck.
Jake closes his eyes. He listens carefully to all those quiet little whimpers you are trying so hard to silence. He knows he’ll be thinking about this. About you like this. Under him, whimpering, arching your back at him, sinking your nails into his biceps as pleasure takes over you.
You’ll be thinking about this too. About how comfortable you feel, how safe you feel. How good it feels to be touched by him. How good his lips feel on your neck. How gently he is moving his fingers in and out of you – as if you’d break if he moved any faster.
“That’s it, baby.”
Jake kisses your neck, your jaw, your cheek. Moving his fingers at a painfully slow pace, trying to draw out all the noises you have to give.
“Jake, I’m gonna–,”
He knows. He can feel the way those velvety soft walls of yours are squeezing his fingers, hugging them so tightly. “I know,” he murmurs against your neck. “And I’ll get you there, I promise.”
Lips attached to the side of your neck, Jake slowly withdraws his fingers from your cunt. You sink your fingernails into the flesh of his arms, leaving crescent moon shapes behind, as you try to stop him. “No, don’t–,”
“Shh…” Jake coos. “I said I’ll get you there.”
Your mouth is feeling dry. Saliva thick on your tongue as you swallow. Jake sits back, bending down at his waist to kiss your lower belly as he helps you out of your underwear. You are at a loss for words. Jake is being so gentle with you. Kissing your body so sweetly, caressing your skin like it was made out of glass.
Jake settles down in between your legs, head now in level with your dripping cunt.
“You don’t have to–,” you tell him, but Jake cuts you off.
“I know.”
“Jake–,”
You have thought about this so many times. Too many.
The thought of the two of you like this, skin to skin, crossed your mind for the very first time four years ago. It was a nice, casual Sunday evening. The skies were clear, allowing the sun to kiss your cheeks when you watched Jake’s Adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat as he took a sip of his beer. You felt hot and sweaty, maybe a little uncomfortable as a sweet ache between your thighs kept your thoughts elsewhere from the casual conversation you were engaged in.
Throughout the years, you have found yourself looking Jake’s way a little too often for your own liking.
And you know that it isn’t right. Friends don’t do this. Friends don’t think of each other like this. Jake’s a friend. He has always been. It’s what he’ll always be.
Yet still, you can’t bite back the moan that escapes your lips as Jake licks a long stride through your folds with a flat tongue, before securing his lips around your clit. He sucks at the sensitive nub softly, careful not to overwhelm you.
“Oh fuck, that feels good.” you whisper, words getting lost somewhere under your uneven breaths.
It feels as if there would be a wildfire spreading in your lower belly, melting your organs. It’s white and hot, burning in your abdomen, making your muscles tighten time after time again. Jake’s good at this. He works his tongue over your core with such expertise that it makes you dizzy.
“Look at me.”
You can’t.
You could, if the person between your legs would be anyone else but Jake. It’s all too much.
“Jake–,”
Wrapping his fingers around your calf, Jake guides your leg to rest on top of his shoulder. He strokes the soft skin of your leg with his thumb a few times.
“C’mon, sweetheart.” he encourages, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “It’s just me.”
Jake keeps his lips attached to your inner thigh, sucking at your skin softly as he waits for you. He is not in a hurry. He has been patient. He has waited so long. He can wait a little longer.
“Fuck,” you whine, feeling the cool air hit your cunt. “I can’t, Jake.”
You look so beautiful. With the inner corners of your eyebrows raised in desperation, lips parted and glossy, chest heaving, you might just be the most beautiful thing Jake’s ever seen.
“Yes, you can.” he decides. “C’mon, baby. Look at me.”
Your cunt clenches around nothing as Jake presses another kiss to your inner thigh, this time a little closer to your throbbing core. He sucks at the soft flesh, leaving a mark behind. He has thought about this too – about marking you up – so many times. Too many.
You lift your head up slightly, forcing your eyes to meet with Jake’s green ones.
The sight of him knocks the air out of your lungs. His pupils are dilated, lust darkening the color of his eyes. His complexion is flushed, excitement coloring the tan of his cheeks with shades of pink. His lips are swollen, his jaw glistening with your arousal.
And you thought he couldn’t get any more beautiful if he tried to.
“There we go.” Jake praises, a satisfied smirk climbing onto his lips. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
With blurry eyes, you watch as Jake secures his lips around your clit once more. He takes his time with you – takes his time kissing and sucking at your clit, gliding his tongue through your folds every now and then.
“Oh my god…” you whimper, feeling Jake’s tongue lapping around your clit. “Don’t stop.”
You taste every bit as good as you look – like a sweet, cherry pie. It’s this light, syrupy kind of sweetness. A little musky, a little earthy. It’s intoxicating. Jake is completely drunk on the taste of you. He hums in answer, not having any intentions to stop.
A single drop of the mixture of your arousal and Jake’s spit is making its way down from the corner of his mouth as he sinks his fingers back into your wet heat, stretching you open. Knowing that you are close, he curls his fingers as he pumps them in and out of your cunt, hitting that sweet, spongy spot inside you with each drive.
You are scrunching your eyebrows together, lips slightly parted as the pleasure comes crashing over you. It rolls over your entire body, making your skin feel numb and hot at the same time.
In a complete haze, your fingers find their way into Jake’s hair, pulling at his blonde locks as you grind yourself onto his chin. What a desperate thing you are – so needy for more.
Jake works you through your high, enjoying the feeling of you messing up his hair. He knows that this is something he’ll remember – the way you taste on his tongue, the way you sound when you fall apart above him.
While you are still catching your breath, Jake undresses himself. He watches how the band of your bra sits snug around your ribs, stretching as you draw in deep breaths, filling your lungs with air.
Your eyes are still closed. A single tear rolls down your temple, getting lost somewhere in your messy hair. You feel good. Like, overwhelmingly good. It feels as if you’ve just released a breath you’ve been holding in for years. Maybe you have.
You feel the bed sink from next to your head as Jake places his palm there. You don’t dare to open your eyes. You know how fucked out you must look. The tops of your cheekbones feel like they’re on fire, as if there were tiny flames dancing on top of them. You are a mess. You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed about it.
“You are so beautiful, you know that?” Jake murmurs.
Your heartbeat quickens. It’s so sincere. He’s not saying that to please you. He’s not saying that to get into your pants. He’s not saying that because he knows you feel embarrassed. He’s saying that because he means it. Because he’s been meaning to tell you that for a long time now.
Not giving you time to answer, Jake captures your lips in a searing kiss. It’s soft yet passionate. He is telling you so much with that kiss. He likes you. So much. And he doesn’t want to talk about it. So he doesn’t say it out loud. He doesn’t have any expectations for you.
You kiss him back. You understand. You don’t want to talk about it either. You don’t know if you want to be his girlfriend. You don’t know if this makes any sense. All you know is that it feels good – that it feels right.
Jake is painfully hard. Those veins running along the length of his cock are pulsating with anticipation. There is fire in his abdomen too, making his muscles tighten as he slips his tongue into your mouth.
Fingers wrapped around his cock, Jake runs his tip through your folds a few times, coating himself with a mixture of your arousal and his saliva. Being as impatient as you are, you can’t help but roll your hips in search of friction.
Lips attached to yours, Jake muffles the quiet cries you let out when he pushes himself inside you, practically splitting you in half as he bottoms out. The stretch of him feels good, a hint of pain mixing in with the pleasure as Jake slowly starts to move.
Jake takes his time, fucks you at an unhurried pace, kissing you senseless as he does do. His thrusts are slow and languid – massaging your walls as he rocks his hips against yours. He is resting his weight on his elbows, fingers getting tangled up in your hair as he holds your head still.
You hook your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly close to you, keeping him there. Your hands have found their way to the back of his neck, fingers caressing its base as you move your lips against his.
Never in a million years did you think kissing Jake would feel this good, this natural. It’s as if your lips were molded from the same clay – as if they were meant to be dancing together. You can still taste yourself on his lips. It makes something tighten in your belly – in a way he is yours now, for as long as one can taste you on his lips.
Jake groans into the kiss, pushing down the lacy bra that’s covering your breasts. He palms one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze. Feeling how hard your nipple is, he captures it between his fingers, pinching it gently, earning a soft cry of pleasure from you.
It’s right in front of you now. You can see it clearly. You can feel it there – the edge of the cliff you are both standing on. You know that you are going to fall off that cliff together, every inch of your body touching every inch of his.
It’s quiet, neither of you not saying anything. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. You don’t feel like you need to speak. The sound of Jake’s hips coming in contact with yours, mixed in with your quiet whimpers and Jake’s groans tells you more than one could ever tell you with words.
And when it finally happens, when the two of you finally fall off the edge of that cliff you were standing on, it’s magical. You feel euphoric, as if you were high. You think you might be, that’s how good it feels. It’s that white, hot pleasure that washes over the two of you, making every single muscle in your bodies tighten.
Jake’s seed is coating your walls, painting them white as you fall apart on him. His release is warm, filling you up so good. You are squeezing him tightly, shockwaves still flowing through your body.
Slowly coming down from your high, you let your eyes flutter open. Jake is there, with his cheeks flushed and with a few beads of sweat sitting on his forehead. He is looking at you through hooded eyes, still intoxicated by the feeling.
“That… You’re–,”
“We don’t have to talk about it.” you decide. “Not now.”
“Okay.” Jake agrees, his voice just a little above whisper – it's hoarse, arousal still tightening up his throat.
You cup his cheek, gently running your thumb over the flush that’s coloring his cheeks. He’s a beautiful creature, there’s no denying that. Jake leans into your touch. He likes it – likes to be held by you.
“Kiss me again.” you whisper.
authors note
i hope you enjoyed this smut i word vomited today, though i still don't know when i'll be back to posting regularly. just wanted to share this now that it's fresh. thank you for reading!! :)
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Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
@yuckosworld Smitten!Jake who brings you flowers and opens doors for you. He’ll slow dance with you in your living room to old songs and wrap his jacket around your shoulders during your evening walks on the beach, even when you insist that you’re not cold.
Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
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Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
@roger-that-cap Jake looks forward to his drives home from work now, seeing her curled up on her porch, watching the waves as the candle she’s lit casts a glow over her face? He’s smitten.
Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.
Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.
A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.
You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.
That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.
Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.
Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.
"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.
"Ok. What's the damage today?"
It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door and breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.
The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.
"Afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon-"
"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.
"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.
"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."
You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.
"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.
"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."
He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.
"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.
"Please, call me Hangman."
"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.
"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.
It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.
You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.
"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.
"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.
"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.
"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.
"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."
His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.
You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.
"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."
Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.
You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.
"Come in."
You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.
It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.
"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.
You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.
"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.
"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.
"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.
"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.
"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.
"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.
Can you believe that he's interested in her?
I don't get it either!
Who?
You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.
You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.
Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.
Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.
You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.
At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.
You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.
You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.
Why me?
Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?
That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.
You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.
"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.
"No Sir."
"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.
Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.
"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.
"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover
"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."
"A friend?"
He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.
"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.
Are you ok?
"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.
"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.
It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.
You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.
It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.
Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.
You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.
You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.
You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.
You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.
By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.
You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.
As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.
Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.
He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.
You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.
"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.
"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.
"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.
"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.
"You're not serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.
"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."
He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.
"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.
She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.
His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.
"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.
"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.
"Listen, Hangman-"
"Jake." He insists.
"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.
"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.
"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"
His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.
"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.
"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."
You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.
"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."
He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.
"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."
You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.
"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."
"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."
"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."
You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.
"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."
You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.
"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.
"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.
Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.
"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.
"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.
"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"
That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?
You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.
You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.
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Warnings: Explicit 18+ only, please read at your own risk. Noncon / dubcon, slavery, manipulation, sexual content, violence, descriptions of wounds and blood.
Character Pairing: King!Ivar the Boneless x Slave!Reader
Summary: You find yourself a captive of Ivar the Boneless.
Word Count: 2.2K
A/N: I finally found the inspiration to continue this fic after a whole year. Comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.
You stirred as cold fingertips traced along your leg, a large callused hand smoothing shapes over soft the flesh, waking you from your dream. You kicked out at the explorative touch, making a sound of displeasure as Ivar caught your ankle in his firm grip and snickered in amusement.
"It is time to get up, Valkyrie." You groaned, burrowing your face further into the furs.
"Leave me be, King. Let me sleep." He huffed at you from his perch at the end of the bed and you gasped in surprise as he leaned forward and snatched your leg from beneath the blankets, jostling you as he hitched it over his broad shoulder. His icy eyes locked with yours as he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your knee.
You tried to ignore the heat simmering in your belly as his lips brushed against the sensitive flesh, leaving fire in their wake. His intense gaze bore down into you and flashes of the night before came rushing back; the way that Ivar had looked at you as you had taken control of him and used him for your pleasure.
You had behaved no better than a common whore, desperate for the gratification that his body could offer and you felt your cheeks heat at the memory, your stomach twisting into knots.
You leaned back on your elbows and studied Ivar, he was already dressed in his light armour; with his axe fixed to his hip, his knives stowed at his waist, and metal braces in place on his legs. You didn't have time to wonder what his plans for the day were before he brought you out of your thoughts, his breath tickling your soft skin as he spoke.
"I thought that you would be eager to see your little mouse, Valkyrie. But if you would rather remain in bed-" His voice was teasing and you bolted upright, wrenching your leg back from his grip as you looked at him with narrowed eyes, suspicious.
"You will allow it?" He nodded once, his bright eyes fixated on you.
"You have been good for me, haven't you? Torsten is waiting outside to escort you." You tried and failed to hide your excitement as you stood from the bed and rushed to get dressed. Ivar's lips tilted up at the corners and his eyes remained glued to your form as he watched you ready yourself for the day, beguiled by you.
As you walked the streets of Kattegat you had quickly learned that Torsten was not a talkative man; he was tall and well-built with short hair, shorn at the sides and a dark beard. He was more of a mountain than a man, clearly battle hardened and you had no doubts that he was one of Ivar's finest warriors.
You travelled in silence, trying to ignore the stares of the townspeople as you passed through the busy market, some offered you looks of pity, whilst others flashed you looks of distaste. You couldn't decipher the hushed words and low whispers that were spoken, but you imagined that it was gossip of the king's newest toy, his foreign concubine.
You wondered how many there were before you and what words were spoken of them, whether they were also from Eire or from lands further afield.
Torsten came to a stop when you neared a large barn and gestured you in ahead of him. You entered the dimly lit space hesitantly, mindful of the other thralls as they bustled around, readying for their tasks of the day.
You eyes flitted through the crowd of women, searching for the head of golden hair when a weight suddenly barrelled into you, taking your breath and nearly knocking you backwards as a smaller figure clung tightly to your waist.
Alva sobbed against you, her tears staining the richly-dyed fabric of your dress, 'a gift' Ivar had said, 'wear it for me'.
"I thought- I though that I would never see you again-" You hushed the younger girl as she cried, hiccuping as she tried to form words between her gasped breaths and tears.
"I'm here, Alva. All is well." You rubbed her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other as she slowly calmed and managed to steady her breathing once more.
She looked up at you with glassy eyes, deep emerald irises that she had inherited from her mother's side.
"Come." You took her hand in yours and lead her away from the barn, down to the waterfront where it was quieter, calmer. You both walked in silence along the waters edge, taking in the warmth of the sun on your face and the sound of the waves as they lapped gently at the shore. Torsten followed behind, giving you just enough distance to speak privately, a courtesy you hadn't expected from the warrior.
Alva sobbed against you, her tears staining the richly-dyed fabric of your dress, 'a gift' Ivar had said, 'wear it for me'.
"I thought- I though that I would never see you again-" You hushed the younger girl as she cried, trying to form words between her gasped breaths and tears.
"I'm here, Alva. All is well." You rubbed her back with one hand and stroked her hair with the other as she slowly calmed and steadied her breathing.
She looked up at you with glassy eyes, a deep, rich emerald that she had inherited from her mother's side.
"Come." You took her hand and lead her away from the barn and down to the waterfront. You both walked along the waters edge, your shoes sinking slightly into the damp sand as Torsten followed behind you at a distance, giving you enough space speak privately. It was a courtesy you hadn't expected from the warrior but appreciated immensely.
"Where did they take you?" Your heart wrenched at the concern and fear in her shaking voice.
"They took me to the king." Alva's face paled, her eyes widening further. She looked akin to a doe in the forest, startled by a waiting hunter in the trees.
"Ivar the boneless." Her fear was evident now, her eyes moving over your body franticly. "What did he do? Did he hurt you?"
"No Alva, I'm fine." Your stomach twists at that and you let out a deep sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly. She was six summers younger than you but she was naive for her age, fragile. She wasn't hardened like you, she was innocent and she couldn't begin to understand the complexities of your situation.
She was a lamb amongst wolves and you knew that you had to do everything you could to protect her, even if it meant being the king's whore.
"King Ivar has taken me as his and so long as I am good to him, useful to him, our safety is guaranteed here. We may be thralls here but we are alive Alva, and we are protected. That is all that matters." She chewed her lip nervously and her worried gaze dropped to the floor.
"I have heard things, whispers from the other girls.." You stopped and crouched down to her level, ignoring the cold water that seeped into the hem of your gown as you searched her face with questioning eyes.
"What things?"
"They talk about the king, they say that he is a great warrior, that he is favoured by the gods and has never lost a battle. But-"
"Go on, Alva." You insisted as she shifted her weight nervously.
"They say that because of his legs, he cannot please a woman. He has hurt slave girls and threatened to kill them if they speak of it. They talk of a woman called Margarette, they say he strangled her."
Your eyes lowered to the sand and you nodded your head solemnly, you would not be surprised by such things given your experience of Ivar's volatile nature. You returned to your full height and forced a small smile, one you hoped would reassure the young girl.
"Come along, let us enjoy the water a little longer."
Torsten allowed you to spend a few hours with Alva, soaking up the warmth of the sun and the feel of the salty ocean breeze before telling you that it was time to return to the Hall.
Alva was unhappy to leave you and return to the thrall house but she finally relented when you reassured her that you'd be okay with a soft smile and promised that you would see her again soon.
You were almost back at the Hall when you heard your new moniker being called in the distance and turned to see Hvitserk making his way towards you.
"Valkyrie!" The man was completely different to Ivar, not only in his physical appearance but in his demeanour; whilst Ivar was impassive and unpredictable, Hvitserk was open and seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve.
He grinned widely at you as he rested on the fence of the training ground, his hair mussed and cheeks red from sparring.
"I see my brother has finally let you spread your wings." You huffed at his jest and moved to rest against the fence beside him, watching as Ivar's men fought each other with vigour, the sharp clashes of steel and crashes of shields heavy in the air.
"They are fine warriors. Though not as fine as you I'm sure.." Hvitserk raised an eyebrow at your taunt, his grin widening as mischief danced behind his eyes.
"You told me that you were a fighter, Valkyrie. Perhaps I wish to see it for myself." You raised your chin slightly, your eyes narrowing in playful challenge.
"My father always believed that I possessed enough fury to rival that of a berserker, maybe we should test that." The blonde man's eyes flashed in delight and he held a hand out to you, helping you over the wooden fence and into the training arena, ignoring Torsten's protests and silencing the larger man with a raised hand.
"Hand me a sword, Ragnarsson." He passed you a short-sword, lighter than you had used before but well-balanced and finely made. Hvitserk opted for a larger sword, heavier and better matched for his larger frame.
"Don't worry, Valkyrie. I will go easy on you." You scoffed, watching as his grin widened and his eyes changed, the mossy green growing darker with his building battle-lust.
You watched his feet, anticipating his initial attack and dodged each skilful slash of his sword. You moved in time with him, keeping up with the prince despite your heavy dress weighing down your movements.
You grinned as you blocked several of the beserker's attempted hits. Hvitserk's expression was positively wild and the fight between you became more intense the more you challenged him.
He barely managed to block your attack to his torso and you grinned as he growled in irritation. You were so focused, until your name was shouted from the fence line.
Your head turned for no more than a second but it was enough time for Hvitserk to land a hit, successfully slicing a line of crimson across your forearm. You gasped as the flesh stung and you clutched at the wound as the blood began to seep from it, running down your skin and dripping into the dirt beneath your feet.
Hvitserk froze, his face dropping into one of remorse as he realised what he had done, then one of uneasiness when he noticed Ivar stalking towards you both with his men in tow. His face was stony but his sapphire eyes gave away his rage, they were practically glowing as he glared at both of you.
"What do you think you are doing, hm?" His voice was level, an unnerving contradiction to the storm brewing behind his eyes. He turned on Hvitserk then and the older Ragnarsson visibly tensed. "I suppose that this was your idea, brother?"
You were quick to speak up, stepping in front of Hvitserk to shield him from Ivar's wrath. Although he had been the one to challenge you to spar, you had been just as willing. He hadn't meant to injure you and you had enjoyed the rush of it, the freedom.
Despite being your master's kin Hvitserk had been civil to you during your time in Kattegat, amiable even. From what you had witnessed he seemed to be a decent man and you didn't feel that he deserved to be reprimanded for your poor choices.
"It's not his fault, my King. I challenged him to fight, if you are to punish anyone then it must be me."
"Is that so?" Ivar tilted his head at you with a raised brow and you nodded, his face said everything his words did not. This is not over.
He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and nodded once, his jaw tensed.
"Very well, Torsten will take you back to our chambers." He dismissed the larger warrior with a wave of his hand and turned to face Hvitserk, fixing him with a false smile that left no room for argument. "Brother, you will go and fetch the healer. And the next time that you wish to fight? I suggest that you find a different opponent."
