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theharddeck · 1 year

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can't unfeel that // Jake Seresin x fem!reader

pairing: hangman x reader (no y/n)

synopsis: jake and his FWB are going strong, totally not developing feelings, totally unaffected and happily still in friends territory...in completely unrelated news, Jake discovers a breeding kink

word count: 8k of smut interspersed with feelings

A/N: This fic is a follow up to kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit; it’s not necessary to read that first, but it is the dynamic (if you haven’t read it, that’s where Jake discovers choking so it’s a fun time) (also the title is another line from the same song). Thank you to @gigisimsonmars for the inspo and beta-ing, and @laracrofted and @bradshawsbitch for opinions, moral support, and straight up coaching!! 💙

Warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI explicit PiV, unprotected sex, non negotiated breeding kink—friendly reminder this is a work of FICTION oh my god use protection and communicate explicitly with your partner beforehand please please please— f!receiving oral sex, hint on condescension, denied/delayed orgasm, overstimulation…if none of that phases you, there’s also swearing.

This was friend behavior; friends totally go grocery shopping together.

It definitely wasn’t a big deal that you and Jake were at a Whole Foods, him looking for some kind of weird protein powder while you picked through cartons of blackberries.

It was absolutely casual that he’d moved into a small house off base, and you were spending the night more often than not.

Your friends with benefits situation was continuing as expected, and the domesticity of it all was not, in any way whatsoever, throwing you off.

You wrinkled your nose at your reflection in the mirrors over the produce section, wondering who you were convincing. In the mirrors, you saw a man with a child on his hip come up to peruse the bell pepper section, and you stepped aside to give them more room.

“I’m so sorry to bother, but would you mind?”

You were surprised when the man spoke to you, and you turned to see him sheepishly looking between the rows of bell peppers, and the toddler who wouldn’t let go of her father, her lower lip quivering dangerously each time he readjusted his grip to reach for some vegetables.

“Of course,” you said, pulling down a produce bag. “What can I grab for you?”

“Actually,” the man shifted the child on his hip, “could you just take her for a minute? My wife sent this massive list and I have like a dozen things I need to get, and it’d just be faster…”

“Oh,” you said, looking at the girl who looked dubiously back at you, trying not to read gender roles and expectations into someone just asking for help. “If it’ll help, sure.”

“Thank you so much,” the man sighed in relief, handing over the child with little fanfare. The kid looked at you suspiciously, and you settled her onto your hip, not giving her a chance to second guess the arrangement. The man moved quickly down the aisle, pulling out a list to consult and grabbing different vegetables, as you narrated to the child, hoping the steady flow of information would be enough to offset the fact that she was being held by a stranger.

“Did you know,” you told her quietly, “that Brussels sprouts grow on stalks, like almonds? They look like little cabbages, and they’re technically related, I think, but they don’t come out of the ground like that. The pattern they grow in is actually called helical—which I’ve never said aloud until this moment, but it’s the same base word as helix, so I hope I got it right—around the stalk…”

You rambled on as the father continued to dart up and down the aisle, coming back occasionally to drop the bagged produce into the trolley. You heard a familiar footstep on the linoleum, and turned both you and the child towards it.

“And that man over there,” you told her, smiling conspiratorially as Jake rounded the corner, his boots giving a distinctive cadence to his step, “didn’t believe me when I told him it’s actually Brussels sprouts, with an ‘s’ at the end.”

Jake’s face went on a journey when he found you, then registered that you were holding an unfamiliar child, and his eyes slid over to the father running frantically up and down the aisle. A strange expression settled on his face when he looked back at you, almost frowning, as he walked closer to you.

“It’s not his fault,” you continued to the toddler, who was watching Jake with open fascination as he approached. “He’s a cretin whose unpopular vegetable of choice is an asparagus.”

“Ha ha,” Jake deadpanned as he stepped beside you, looking between you and the child with that same unfamiliar expression on his face. “What’s this?”

The father chose that moment to reappear, dropping a mesh bag of yellow onions, a carton of fingerling potatoes, a bundle of scallions, and a couple heads of garlic into the trolley, and nodding at Jake before turning back to you.

“Honestly, you’re a lifesaver,” he thanked you fervently, reaching for his kid. She went without complaint, and you briefly envied her unflappability, before you were preoccupied by other things.

Things like Jake stepping way into your personal space, and leaning forward to brush a kiss on your cheek. You shivered, surprised by the contact, but Jake stared intently at the man’s retreating figure, juggling his daughter and the trolley, either unaware of or unbothered by the heavy gaze following him.

“What was that?” you asked him, as soon as the man finally rounded the corner. Jake’s nose wrinkled, before he shook his head and stepped out of your personal space. He wasn’t looking at you, but held out the shopping basket towards you, showing a brown envelope labeled Organic Pea Protein on top of the groceries you’d already picked out.

“I found the powder,” he said, his voice level, and you weren’t sure if you were crazy or if he was suppressing. But Jake didn’t look like he was going to divulge any additional information, so you reached behind you haphazardly, grabbing the first carton of berries your fingers closed on.

“And I’ve got the berries,” you announced. You checked your selection as you dropped it into the basket, mentally grimacing when you saw you’d picked blueberries.

“You hate blueberries,” Jake said, frowning slightly.

“Sure do,” you muttered, looking at them, before pasting a smile on your face to look back at Jake. “But we’ve committed at this point. Anything else we need?”

Jake looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head tersely. “Uh, no. No, let’s go.”

You were both quiet as you stood in line to check out, making cordial conversation with the cashier, and then fading out as you carried the paper grocery bags out to the truck. The silence was almost disconcerting, but Jake didn’t seem upset, just like he was focusing intently on something, you weren’t sure what. You were loading the groceries into the backseat behind the passenger door when you realized Jake wasn’t opposite you, and that his bags had already been loaded. You were looking around for him when strong hands closed around your waist, and Jake pulled you to him, closing the door in front of you, before pressing you against the side of his truck. You expected him to turn you to face him, but you braced yourself against the truck when he didn’t, his broad body caging you against the door.

“Jake?” you asked softly, unsure what he needed, or was looking for, knowing that sometimes it was easier for him to feel you than to tell you. You could feel him drawing in slow breaths from the way his chest expanded against your back, and his hips pressed slightly forward at your soft question.

“Just a sec,” he said gruffly, his voice muffled as he turned his face into your hair. He wasn’t kissing and he wasn’t nuzzling; it just felt like he was grounding himself by touching you, and you knew that, despite trying to convince yourself otherwise by the bell peppers, your heart was in trouble. Because not only only did you not mind, you wish he’d let you do this more.

You nodded, sliding your hand up the side of the truck so you could rest your face on the back of it, while you waited for him. Jake drew in a couple more breaths, and then his hands on your waist loosened, as he turned you to face him.

You went easily, arms dropping from the truck to his shoulders, hoping if your presence had steadied him, your touch could do the same. His eyes were stormy, the green of them clouded over by something complicated, something messy, and your hand snuck up from his shoulder to the back of his head, pulling his face down to you. You didn’t kiss him, but you watched his eyes slide closed as you pressed his forehead to yours, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Want to tell me about it?” you asked quietly.

He didn’t say anything, but you felt him shake his head, his hair scratching your forehead from where it was trapped between you.

“Want to get out of here?” you asked instead, and this time felt him nod, causing something like pride to well up in your chest, relieved that he’d trust you enough to be able to voice what he wanted.

“Okay, then,” you said, gently as you could, “ let’s go.”

Again, Jake nodded, and you felt his hands tighten on your waist.

“When we get home,” he said, his voice rough, “I’m unloading the groceries. You’re going straight to my bed, changing out of this, and into my old Staubach tshirt.”

Jake didn’t phrase it like a question, but you knew he was asking it anyway, so you nodded. You felt him exhale a long breath against your cheek, like relief, and then he released you suddenly, like he had to do it at once or he wouldn’t at all.

He stepped away from you to open the passenger door, made sure your feet were tucked in before shutting it, then crossed in front of the truck quickly, pulling the truck out of the lot before his word choice snagged in your mind—home.

You looked at Jake out of the corner of your eye and he wove the truck in and out of traffic. His eyes were squinted against the bright sunlight, but the expression on his face was unfamiliar to you. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were tight on the steering wheel, and when one dropped to the stick to shift gears, the movement was terse, precise. You wanted to be a more altruistic person, you did, but realistically, something warmed deep in your stomach as you anticipated what that meant for when you got home.

When he pulled into the driveway, Jake was out of truck before it’d fully stopped, yanking open your door and turning you to face him, on the edge of the seat. You fumbled to undo your safety belt as his hand on the back of your neck drew your mouth to his, his lips claiming yours in a hungry kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you reached a hand up to his jawline to steady yourself as he pressed you back against the seat. He kissed you hard, heavy, and you knew there was something he was saying that he wasn’t telling you, but you couldn’t quite read it off his lips. His mouth moved hungrily over yours, then he pulled himself back, pressing chaste kisses on the corners of your lips, your chin, across your cheekbones.

“Upstairs,” he said, his voice low. “Be ready for me.”

The heat that had been curling in your belly since the parking lot fanned into a flame in his words, and you nodded mutely. Jake helped you out of the cab of the truck (a couple more kisses and a smidge more of that voice, and you probably would’ve slid off the seat), and you walked on unsteady legs towards the house.

Upstairs, you rooted through Jake’s pajama drawer, looking for the worn navy tshirt he’d requested. You could hear the refrigerator door opening and shutting as Jake shuffled groceries around the kitchen, and you stripped unceremoniously, before pulling the tshirt over your head. The material felt soft, the hem falling just to the tops of your thighs. Jake’s footsteps sounded on the stairs and you darted over to the bed, perching on the edge of it as he came into the room.

At the sight of you, something softened in his demeanor.

His shoulders lost some of their tension, even as he pulled in a deep breath, looking at you. Your thighs pressed together as you fought the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, no less unsettling for its familiarity. He noticed, of course, his eyes darting down to your thighs, and an almost-smile growing on his lips.

He walked into the room slowly, each step measured, and by the time he made it to the bed you were practically vibrating with need. To hear his voice, to feel his touch, to know you’d generated some kind of reaction from him, while you sat fidgeting.

Jake stopped in front of you, running a finger along the neckline of the shirt, and you couldn’t help but lean towards him.

“Thank you.”

He said it quietly, and it surprised you. You weren’t sure if he meant for changing, for waiting, for understanding that he couldn’t say whatever it was, but as you met his eyes as he stood over you, you nodded an unspoken ‘you’re welcome’.

Jake’s hand trailed down the front of the tshirt, his touch warm even through the cotton. His fingers stalled when he reached your breasts, his thumbs passing languidly over you as he confirmed you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Your nipples hardened under his teasing touch, light and unhurried, even as his eyes darkened.

“So good for me,” Jake murmured, and his hands dropped farther. He tapped the tops of your thighs and you opened them obediently. There was no pretense here, no point in pretending his words and his authority didn’t affect you. As you parted your legs, Jake sank to his knees beside the bed, his eyes flashing as he bent level to your hips.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over you, the endearment falling from his lips like it was natural, even if it was only when you were like this, “is this for me?”

He pressed a feather-light kiss to your core, his tongue darting out between his lips to taste you and you knew what he meant—you were already glistening with arousal. Jake’s fingers came up to grip your thighs and he inhaled deeply as he spread your legs farther, sending a flush of color across your chest. You always felt desired with Jake, but sometimes it felt carnal, the way he needed you to fill all his senses.

Another light kiss, another sweep of his tongue, tantalizing promises and teases for the both of you. You leaned back on your hands, braced on the bed, as Jake’s gentle touches continued. It wasn’t at all what you’d expected, this soft exploration, and your hips lifted towards him, asking for more.

He pulled back.

You whimpered at the loss of his mouth, looking down to see him licking his lips. Jake’s chin was wet, shining with your arousal, and he’d barely touched you.

“Jake…” you started, your body canting towards him, but his hands on your legs stilled you.

“Asked you a question,” he mumbled, holding your eyes while he leaned in to place another chaste kiss on your cunt. His lips closed over you, his tongue curled against you, and you trembled at the dark look in his eyes.

“Yes, fuck,” you breathed, and Jake sucked where his lips had sealed, a reward. “All for you, Jake, only you.”

He hummed, the vibration causing your head to fall back as he placed another maddeningly controlled kiss on your core. He lapped at you slowly, pulling your arousal into his mouth, savoring your taste, taking his time. You realized you were trembling, your body shaking as Jake took what he desired, finding his pleasure between your thighs.

He kissed you, again, again, a soft trail up to your clit. When he rolled his tongue over that tight mound, your arms gave out, one of your hands tangling into his hair while you fell back to your other elbow.

Jake chuckled against your core.

“Need something, sweetheart?” he asked, licking a long stroke up your cunt. Your back arched and you cried out as Jake smirked into you, his tongue circling your clit. “Use your words.”

“More,” you gasped, your hips bucking into his touch. “Please, Jake, I need more.”

“More?” Jake asked, his voice low, and his teeth brushed over your clit as he sucked. You moaned, and Jake soothed you with more light kisses before you felt him shifting. A moment later, a thick finger traced along your folds, and you nodded feverishly.

“Please,” you begged, “I need—”

“Oh she needs, does she?” Jake mused, and you whimpered as he pulled back. You felt his cheek press against your thigh as he watched his fingers pulling through you. He spread you with his hand, holding your folds apart so he could lick deeply into you. The pressure of his tongue, the sureness of his touch, it felt so good, but it wasn't anywhere near enough.

And he knew it, the asshole.

“Yes, please, I—” you broke off with a yelp when Jake pinched your clit. He leaned in to soothe it with another frustrating kiss, but your body echoed with the throbbing pulse.

“Most people would be grateful to have their man on his knees, wouldn’t they?” Jake said, his voice muffled as his lips trailed over your core, but the teasing derision still present, sending a tremor through you. “But not you, hmm, honey? You want more.”

Your breath caught at his words; surely he hadn’t meant to say your man.

He wasn’t yours like that, hot as it was for him to say it…but the illusion of it was enough to set your reeling. You looked down at him—hair mussed from your fingers, pupils blown wide from your taste, shoulders panting as he chose between air and more of you—and this afternoon you liked the idea of him being yours.

“Greedy, greedy girl,” Jake chastised softly, when you didn’t correct him, but if you closed your eyes, you could pretend there was a fondness hiding in the gentleness of his voice.

He thrust two fingers into you.

You arched off the bed, a wail falling from your lips as Jake curled his fingers inside of you.

“And I take care of you, don’t I,” he said, kissing your cunt sloppily as his fingers worked in and out of you. “Every damn time, satisfy this needy pussy, this fucking perfect cunt.”

The stretch of his fingers, the wet drag of his tongue, the dirty sting of his words, washed over you and you moaned as he wrecked you.

“Yes, Jake,” you practically whined. “You’re so good, you feel so good, please—”

“That’s right,” Jake gritted, his fingers working faster. He thrust into you, stroking your walls and kissing it better with his warm mouth. You felt your thighs shaking and heat building in your center and you didn’t remember falling back onto the bed, but you didn’t remember anything other than the torturous, teasing, all consuming need that Jake was stroking between your legs.

“Fuck, honey, squeezing me so tight,” Jake panted. “You gonna cum for me? After all that needing, you gonna let me make you feel good? Come on, sweetheart, let me have it; it’s mine.”

His fingers continued stretching you, thrusting into you with perfect, intoxicating, precision and Jake leaned closer to your core again. His nose brushed against your clit before his lips closed around it, sucking messily, and you felt the building pressure inside of you shatter.

You heard yourself sobbing like something in a dream, distant and echoing, but all you could feel was the tremors wracking your body, and Jake’s tongue pulling you through it.

“Pretty girl,” Jake was murmuring between kisses. “You’re so damn beautiful, all the time, but when you come for me it’s something else. You did so good, sweetheart, so good, and you taste like fucking heaven…”

You whimpered as your head cleared, pulling weakly at his hair as he continued to kiss your sensitive core.

Jake continued to lap up your release, unrelenting, unsatiated, and you both groaned when he eased a finger back into you.

“How we doing, sweetheart,” he asked, and when you opened your eyes, he was watching you carefully. You realized he was holding his finger still inside of you, and it was your hips pulling him into you, rocking into his hand.

“Good,” you whispered.

Jake nodded, and his finger curled. “That’s my girl.”

His words soothed over you, and you felt them settle warmly over your skin, the same as when he’d called himself your man. It was probably pheromones, nothing more, but God it was a lovely thought.

“Sweetheart…” Jake’s voice was quiet, dangerous. “You know what that look does to me.”

This was happening more often than not, little moments where you wished for more, and Jake had to remind you that that wasn’t the deal you’d both agreed to. You clenched your eyes shut again, trying to make it go away.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

When you looked at him again, Jake’s forehead was pursed in a frown, and he shifted his weight to climb up onto the bed. He lowered himself over you, his hard body pressing over your soft one, and his mouth found yours. He kissed you and you tasted yourself on his tongue, even in the gentle insistence of this kiss.

Jake pulled back, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck.

“Don’t apologize, honey, please don’t,” he whispered against your skin. “I can’t…please don’t.”

And you pressed your lips tightly together to trap the words, but when he pulled back to look at you, you knew you couldn’t look, not without showing him what he didn’t want to see. You could feel him watching you carefully, gauging your reaction as he added another finger inside of you. He groaned when you clenched around him, his hips rocking into you slowly as yours spread wider, to cradle him.

“Feels good, Jake,” you gasped, loving the weight and motion of him.

He sucked on your neck, nibbling lightly and letting go as he rocked into you again. “Why’d you have to do that,” he mumbled into your collarbone, “look at me like that, then tell me it feels good. Makes me want to keep you, honey.”

Your hips stuttered against his, even as you knew he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t. Before you could ask and before he could take it back, he surged up to kiss you again. There was something almost frantic in his kiss, desperate enough that you knew this was it, whatever had gotten into him back at the grocery store.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, pulling his fingers out of you, settling his hands on your waist, squeezing tightly to orient himself. His face was buried in your neck, hiding, even as his clothed hips rutted harder against you.

“Tell me what you need,” you asked, one of your hands coming up to card through his hair. He shivered, this enormous pilot, shivered at your words and your touch. He pulled back to look at you again, carefully, for a long moment.

The afternoon sun was fading, and he looked golden in your arms, crouched above you. He hadn’t pushed your hand from his hair, and you smiled when he moved his head, adjusting where you were scratching him, working up the gumption to say whatever it was he needed.

“Can we pretend?” he asked at last, his voice holding something almost vulnerable. “I…maybe I can explain it later. But for now, can we just pretend?”

You didn’t know what he meant, but, irrationally, you trusted him anyway. If this was what he needed, and you could provide it, then you would. You nodded, and he let out a slow breath, nodding back. Beyond that, he didn’t move, looking almost uncertain with what to do next, so you pushed at his shoulders lightly.

“Let’s start here, yeah?” you prompted, pulling his shirt over his head.

Jake helped you, shifting to his side so you both could work on getting his pants off. Then he was in his boxer briefs, and you were in his shirt, and then he pulled that off of you too. The air was thick for a moment as you lay looking at each other, waiting.

You ran a hand down his chest, over the smooth skin and coarse hair, thickening as you trailed lower. You brushed your fingers over his length, straining against his underwear, and looked back up at him through your lashes.

“Don’t you want to fuck me, Jake?” you asked softly. He nodded, eyes closing as you ran your hand over him again.

“More than that,” he whispered.

He felt good in your hand, hot and thick, and you watched the outline grow as you waited for him to finish the thought.

You felt him brush some of your hair out of your face, before he said quietly, “Want to get you pregnant.”

You froze.

When you looked back up at him, Jake was watching you closely and your heart felt like someone had it in a chokehold because that was what he’d meant by pretending?? You’d mentally prepared for some variety of roleplay, maybe even an admiral or rank kink, but this? You, just with a future together?

While your mind was screaming that it was unintentionally cruel, your body was sighing that it was so. Damn. Hot.

You had an IUD so it wasn’t a possibility, but the fantasy was admittedly one that sent a pulse of need straight through you.

“Color,” Jake asked softly, and you bit your lip.

If you said no, he’d be apologetic, probably fix you a bath or go downstairs, give you some space while he fixed something from the grocery run earlier. You’d eat together, pretend it hadn’t happened, and he’d help you get back to base, whatever you needed. Unless what you needed was to be here with him, like this, only not pretend.

It was that simple, wasn’t it: there was no way you were walking unscathed away from knowing how Jake fucked you when he wanted a future with you.

But you looked at him, into his soft eyes that were waiting for you, hoping for you, and there was only one word in your mind.

“Green,” you whispered.

Jake’s eyes closed.

The hand that had brushed your hair away settled on your neck and he pulled you to him.

“Thank you,” he said, and before you could process that, he kissed you.

This kiss was different.

It wasn’t possessive, it wasn’t hungry. It was almost tender. It was gratitude, honest and insistent, pressed against your lips as Jake thanked you for something he had no way of knowing you wanted.

It was too gentle, but when you tried to deepen it, Jake held back, soothing you with soft caresses. His hands were light on your shoulders, your waist, the side of your face, embracing you with more than just his kiss. You melted into it, the gentle slide of his mouth against yours, his sweet taste, the strength of his arms around you. Jake kissed you until he felt you trust him with it, and then he rolled you both over.

He settled over you, his long body draping over yours, and you wanted to melt into the bedspread. Your arms were wrapped around him, pulling him closer to you, and one of your hands ran over his stomach to slip into his underwear. You hummed into Jake’s kiss as your fingers wrapped around his cock, warm and heavy in your hand, and his hips pushed further into your grasp.

“Honey, hold on—” he muttered against your lips, but you shook your head. His touch was too good, there was too much unspoken, and if you let the tenderness fester unchecked, you weren’t going to be able to handle this.

You could lean into this, you could do it. You slid your hands around his back, pushing his boxer briefs down to his thighs before your hand returned to his cock. You knew he always got a little worked up when he went down on you, and as you stroked your hand over him, precum beaded on the tip of his cock.

“Waited long enough, Jake,” you whispered, “want you to fill me.”

Jake drew in a sharp breath at your words, and he nudged your chin with his nose, moving your face so he could kiss up your neck. His mouth was more desperate than focused; you knew he’d leave marks and you tried not to think about why you wanted him to. You shifted under him, moving to guide his cock towards your entrance, brushing against your thighs, slicked with his spit and your orgasm.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, words muffled against your neck, a warning and a promise as you ran his cock through your folds. “You’re so warm and I’m not even in you yet.”

“Want to feel you,” you told him, wishing your voice was wrecked because he’d asked you to pretend, not because the thought of him having you like this sent your head spinning.

“I know, honey,” Jake said, voice low. “Just give me a sec.”

You could hear his breathing, measured like he had to count it, like it was overwhelming for him too. You licked your lips as you lined him up with your core.

“Come on, Jacob,” you cooed, letting go of his cock and running your hands up his side, settling under his shoulder blades, “don’t you want to breed me?”

“Fucking hell,” Jake swore, and his hips slammed forward.

Your head fell back as he shoved his cock into you, stretching you, deep and hot and sudden. You whimpered his name as your body ached in the most delicious way, stuffed, full.

“What’d you think would happen, honey,” Jake said, his voice hoarse, but his tone sharp. His arms caged around you, and he pushed off the bed to pull out slowly.

The drag of his cock through your cunt was devastating, but not half as much as the look on his face, when you opened your eyes.

Fuck, he looked so good.

Sandy hair in his eyes, expression strained as he held his body in check, his eyes blown wide with desire. His head dropped when he pulled nearly out of you, just the tip still in you, and you felt yourself clenching down on him, needing him. His lowered head draped his dog tags against your chest, the cold metal causing you to gasp.

Jake chuckled, a rumble of a laugh, and the tags dragged across your chest, then trailed up your neck as he leaned forward while he pushed back into you. You looked down your body, down to where his thick cock, shining with your joint arousal, was pressing back into your entrance.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Jake said, and you looked up at him. “That’s right. Look at me while I feed you my cock.”

You whimpered, every impulse telling you to close your eyes, let your head fall, focus only on the stretch of his cock and your body adjusting to him. But you let your eyes burn as you looked up at him, and Jake almost smiled.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Beautiful girl, doing so good for me.”

Your nails raked up his back as he bottomed out in you. He felt so deep, like you could feel his heartbeat, or maybe that was just the way his chest was pressed up against yours. It felt like every inch of your body was connected to his, melting into him, as Jake waited for you to adjust. His eyes darted over your face, watching you carefully, and it warmed you just as much as his body over yours.

“Need you to move, Jake,” you gasped, when you were ready. “Need to feel you move.”

“We’re back to need, are we?” Jake asked wryly, but he rolled his hips, pushing deeper into you before pulling himself back out. He thrust back into you, your body accepting him, craving the push and pull and the fullness of him. Jake set a steady pace, deep and thorough and you felt like every time he pressed into you it was too much, and when he pulled out, like you needed him all the more for it.

So, yeah, you were back to need.

“Fuck, those sounds you’re making,” Jake groaned. “You sound so good, sweetheart, I could come just from hearing you.”

You hadn’t even realized you were whining, each thrust of Jake’s hips punching sounds out of you. A layer of sweat coated his skin, soothing the abrasion of his chest hair as he moved over your and the juxtaposition of it all—his words, his cock, his sweat, his chest—clouded your mind so all you could do was keep making whatever noises he pulled from you.

“But not today, huh?” Jake continued, pushing back into you. “Not today, because today’s not just about getting us there, is it, it’s about fucking filling you.”

You moaned at his words, nodding desperately, feeling yourself clenching him tighter at his words. God, you wanted to feel that, wanted to feel him.

“‘s that what you want, baby?” Jake gritted, his hips slamming forward. “To be so full of me, with my seed, not just when I can give it to you like this. Fuck, you’d always have me in you, wouldn’t you, carrying me.”

You felt yourself sliding up the bed, being pushed up by the force of his thrusts. You reached back for the headboard, finding it closer than you’d expected, pushing back to meet Jake, and he moaned.

“That’s right, sweetheart, push yourself back on this cock. You need that don’t you, to milk it till you’re full of me?”

You cried out as you nodded, needing that, just like he said. Jake swore under his breath, reaching down to rearrange you. He pulled your legs out from your hips, hooking his elbows under your thighs and easing into you again.

“Jake, fuck,” you groaned, the new angle pushing him impossibly deeper. Pleasure curled hot in your core, stoked higher by the friction of Jake’s thrusts. Your body was still sensitive from your first orgasm, but his cock and his words had you hurtling towards that precipice again, sooner than you could’ve imagined.

“You too, sweetheart,” he gritted, but he couldn’t know, couldn’t feel this as much as you did.

“Jake,” you whimpered. “I’m want to come, please—”

“No,” Jake gasped, and your eyes flew open. His jaw was slack, his eyes hooded, but his expression was intense as he looked down at you. His mouth opened slightly when he pressed deeper into you again, but he gained control when he pulled back, your body protesting the loss of him.

“No?” you echoed, and he shook his head.

“We have to time it right,” Jake murmured, his cock shoving back into you, “if we want this to stick, honey, you have to come with me.”

Your eyes rolled back, at his words or from the steady press of his cock. “Jake—”

“Count us down, sweetheart,” Jake said, voice stern. He braced his hands on either side of you, his arms shaking as he held himself in check, but his expression steady. “I’ll get us there, but you tell me when you need it.”

Fuck, you were pretty sure you could come just then, if he told you to. But you bit your lip and nodded, rewarded by a slow push as Jake rolled his hips into you.

“Ten…” he prompted.

“Ten,” you repeated, not sure if you could make it that long. Jake pulled back as he stroked out of you, and you heard him spit a moment before a cool wetness covered your clit.

“You look so beautiful,” Jake whispered, his thumb brushing over your clit. “God, how unreal you’re going to look carrying my child.”

“Nine,” you gasped, your vision blurring as his finger worked over you.

“Fuck, with your stomach all round,” Jake broke off as he thrust into you sharply, “filled, carrying my child...”

His thumb moved in a circle with delicious, maddening pressure, and you moaned as his words settled over you. “Eight.”

“These tits,” Jake leaned forward, his shoulders pressing your thighs flat against the bed and his mouth closing over your breast, messily kissing you, “they’ll be fucking swollen, won’t they, as you get ready to nurse our child.”

Your back arched off the bed as his tongue worked over you, mirroring the motion of his thumb. His mouth was wet and warm and perfect, and heat pulsed through your body. You could feel everything and you keened as you tamped it down, knowing you had to wait.

“Seven,” you managed, and Jake hummed, you could feel it.

“So soft, swollen, and all full of milk,” Jake mumbled, switching to the other breast. “And when you’re aching and sensitive, I’ll be there for you—bet you’ll taste so sweet like that, won’t you, darlin’.”

The thought of nursing Jake was stunning, and you moaned when you realized he was sucking at you, nipping and miming milking your breasts. You felt your body tighten, your toes curling and you shook your head against the pillow.

“Six; I’m not going to—”

“You’ll make it,” Jake soothed, releasing your breasts and shifting back, returning his attention to your clit. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart, I know you can do it. Just a little longer, have to make sure you’re ready for me.”

“Five,” you gasped, “I’m ready, Jake, please–”

Jake pressed more firmly on your clit, stealing your words as your breath caught. “I don’t know, honey—you’re doing so good for me, but it’s a big fucking load. That’s what you need, that’s what I need, so much fucking cum, to get my girl pregnant.”

You could only moan, surrendering to the feelings and emotions he was caressing out of you. Your skin felt white hot, and you could feel your legs trembling; it was only a matter of time before you lost control entirely.

“Four,” you whimpered, and Jake thrust into you again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothed, his own voice tight as he fought off his orgasm. “You’re milking my cock so good, honey, can you feel it? Feel how hard you make me, how bad I need you, how I need to fill you?”

His rhythm faltered as his pace sped up, his cock plunging into you. Jake grunted at the top of every thrust, a sound of deep satisfaction that curled through you, gave you strength you didn’t know to hold off, to wait for him, to do it together.

“Three,” you cried.

“That’s it, sweetheart, because I do need to feel you, need to fill you, pump till you’re full of me and see me dripping out of my pretty cunt. Christ, you feel so good, you’re so good, how are you—”

Jake broke off, his hips slamming into yours, his cock reaching a place that had you seeing stars. Your eyes rolled back and you reached for him blindly, anchoring yourself with a hand in his hair, the other closing around his dog tags, moving with him as he thrust over you.

“Two,” you moaned.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” Jake groaned. “Almost there, almost time for me to fuck a baby into you. Fuck, you’ll be such a good mama, won’t you, so smart and beautiful and glowing when you’re carrying my child, all contented because I gave you everything, always will, and you can’t leave then, not with my seed—tell me you’re close, honey, are you almost there?”

“Jake,” you wailed, your count forgotten as your body trembled, his words closing around your heart like a vice. Jake’s pace was bordering on erratic, rhythm lost, his sweat dripping down to your joined bodies every time his hips met yours.

“Gonna give you a baby,” he gritted, “but you have to come with me, come with me now, please, fuck, sweatheart—”

Jake came with a shout, hoarse and sharp and he pressed his hips into you. He pulsed inside of you, his hips shuddering, and you could feel his cum streaming into you, hot and deep and what you needed. His head dropped to your chest as his body loosened with his release and you felt your orgasm break over you, like a thousand fuses lit at once.

The room swam, blinding light and senseless heat, pulsing over your skin like a heartbeat, and your awareness was distilled to him—Jake.

Jake’s beautiful groan when he finished, echoing around in your head, the holiest sound you’d ever heard.

Jake’s hips stuttering weakly against yours, thrusting even after he’d cum, like he couldn’t stop.

Jake’s voice, hoarse, whispering words you couldn’t discern, phrases you must’ve heard incorrectly, promises pressed against your skin.

Jake’s hands, shaking with the force of his orgasm, but smoothing over your skin, checking you, soothing you.

The light faded and you fell back into yourself, into your wrung out body, drenched in sweat and pleasure. The room felt hazy, heavy, and you realized Jake had matched his breathing to yours. You reached down, pushing the sweat-dampened hair off his forehead, smiling reassuringly when he looked up at you.

You could see it on the tip of his tongue, wanting to ask if you were okay, but he held it back, and you watched him shut down the part of him that was nervous about what had just happened.

“Hi,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“Hey,” Jake said back, clearing his throat. “Um, I can get a towel—”

“Can we stay?” you asked, hoping it didn’t sound too desperate. You just needed a minute, just a moment to bask in the warmth of what you’d pretended to feel, before your mind could catch up enough to pretend it away.

Jake hesitated for a moment, before nodding, and gently rearranging your legs, laying them down beside him before he shifted onto his back, pulling you with him. You went easily, resting on his chest and drawing a deep breath, thankful for the borrowed moment.

He probably wasn’t pulling out to avoid making a mess, knowing a washcloth was far away, but you could almost imagine it was because he craved the closeness as much as you did.

As you settled against his chest, one of Jake’s hands came up, absently running up and down your arm. You thought it had to count for something, the ‘friends’ part of ‘friends with benefits’, so you steadied yourself before you asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jake’s hand stilled, then resumed its slow brushing as he petted you. You knew he knew what you meant—you weren’t asking about the sex, you were asking about before.

“Not really,” he said quietly.

You’d expected as much. “Okay.”

Jake’s fingers drummed against your arm, and the room was quiet again. The sun was setting, casting the room in an orange light, like the inside of a lamp.

“I mean, if you want to, we can,” he hedged, after a minute.

You scoffed. “That doesn’t mean much; I always want to talk with you.”

Shit.

The words had slipped out before you could stop them, and you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could take them back.

“We can ignore that,” you mumbled, and Jake chuckled softly, before sobering.

“If I tell you why,” he said, “can we ignore that, too?”

Ignoring and pretending, how you’d always expected falling in love to be.

Even though no one could see you, you rolled your eyes at yourself, and your malaise. You nodded into Jake’s chest, knowing he could feel it.

His hand was back to stroking your arm, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

“You kinda looked like that kid,” he said.

Your heart stopped.

“What?” you managed.

“At Whole Foods,” Jake said, “when you were holding that little girl. I just came around the corner and it was like…like I saw a whole parallel life, one where someone married you, gave you kids. And I’d just walk by you in a grocery store, without knowing. Hell, even knowing, you looked like a family, like you fit together, like…”

He trailed off and your head physically ached as your mind whirred, processing his words. “Jake, she didn’t look anything like me.” “Her hair was similar,” he continued, a stubborn lilt to his voice, and you knew he wasn’t looking to be reasoned out of this.

“Okay,” you said, wetting your lips, waiting for Jake to finish the thought.

Only he didn’t.

He simply lay there, with you, his hand moving gently up and down your arm, seemingly content.

“So you decided you wanted to roleplay us getting pregnant?” you prompted, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else.

Jake sighed. “I hated it.”

You jolted at his words. “What?”

“Shit no, sweetheart, not that,” Jake said hurriedly. “Not what we—no, are you kidding, that was so damn hot—I meant seeing you in the store. With him. And holding her. It…I don’t know, it made me mad it wasn’t me.”

You pulled in a sharp breath, trying to find a platonic way to interpret that.

You could feel your heartbeat in your temples, so loud you couldn’t think, much less rationalize and you pushed yourself off of his chest. Your hips ached as you spread them again, settling your knees on either side of Jake as you looked down at him, still joined. Jake’s expression was guarded, but he let you look, shifting his shoulders on the pillows but meeting your eyes. Without your arm to stroke, his hand fell to the top of your thighs and resumed its motion there; you could tell the silence was making him nervous.

Well, that made two of you.

“I need you to be so fucking honest with me, Jake Seresin,” you said, proud of the way your voice was steady. “What does that mean?”

A hundred emotions flashed across Jake’s face before you could name them, and then he pushed himself up, settling you firmly on his lap as he brought his eyes level to yours.

“It should be me,” he said, “not with a kid, per se, and not just in Whole Foods, but people should look at us and see we fit.”

And then he kissed you.

For a moment, you were frozen.

This couldn’t be happening.

It had to be a weird, sex-induced dream where Jake told you he was jealous of an absolute stranger, jealous enough to admit he had something dangerously close to feelings for you.

But even as alarm bells sounded in your head, you knew this wasn’t a dream.

Because your body was sore in a very real way, the man in front of you was flushed, his fingers digging into your thighs with nervous tension, and he was kissing you carefully, so carefully, like he could pull back at any moment if you told him to.

Like hell.

You leaned into him, your hands wrapping around the back of his head to pull him closer to you. You felt him relax, felt his shoulders loosen and his arms wind around your waist, pulling your body flush against him. And this kiss was new, it was different, it was excitement and a little bit of embarrassment, at the foolishness of waiting so long.

You broke away, panting, and Jake rested his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. In the orange light, he looked gilded, too good to be true, like maybe he was Midas but you didn’t care if your skin turned to metal, so long as he didn’t stop touching you.

His long lashes fluttered, and your heart flipped at what you read in his green eyes as he opened them.

“Jesus, Jake,” you muttered, teasing, “you could’ve just told me you wanted to go steady.”

He chuckled, a warm low sound that you felt shake his body at the old-fashioned phrase.

“Yeah,” he said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple, “but then we would’ve never discovered you had a breeding kink.”

Your jaw dropped and you pulled back, sputtering. “Excuse me—”

“I know, I know,” Jake shook his head, grinning, incorrigible. “But admit it: you loved it.”

You snapped your mouth shut, trapping the response that threatened to bubble out, words you hadn’t dared think, much less speak, before this moment. Jake looked at you, at your pressed-together lips and eyes that always said too much, and his smile softened.

“I know,” he said again, quietly, and he kissed you gently. Jake’s arms were tight around you and you leaned into him, letting it—whose kink it was, what you loved, what he knew—all go, knowing there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

taglist: @peakyrogers @hangmanbrainrot @wildbornsiren @princessofglitterland @mandylove1000 @daggerspare-standingby @blue-aconite @abaker74 @lt-bradshaw @dempy @callsignvalley @princessphilly @aurora-whispers @mxgyver @mlibbydp @bioodforbiood @thedroneranger

#jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin smut #hangman smut #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader smut #jake seresin x reader smut #misskielwrites

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

jake helps his drunk girlfriend

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Drabble

Words: 438

Notes/Warnings: mentions of alcohol use, spelling mistakes, im sure. I know it's the shortest thing ever.

Requested for the under 500 word drabble thing about a millennium ago, and it’s embarrassing how long it took me to post it. My bad :(

---

“Damn, she’s out cold, huh?” Rooster said from the driver’s seat of his truck after parking it in the driveway of your home. Both he and Jake were twisted at the waist, peering back at you through the middle opening between the front seats.

Rooster’s words didn’t stir you; neither did Jake’s when he said, “She’s had a lot going on lately; hasn’t slept right in a week. I thought she was going to pass out earlier, but she was determined not to miss Phoenix’s birthday.”

The weight of your head had it lolling to the side.

“The alcohol probably didn’t help,” Jake sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I better carry her. She won’t make it one step.”

“You want me to get the front door?”

“Yea, if you don’t mind.”

The pilots’ hopped out of the car. Jake went to the door behind his, pulled it open, and reached inside to grab you. He helped you stand briefly before he bent at the waist, tucked his arm under your knees and lifted you up, allowing your shoulder blades to rest across his other arm.

A little whimper escaped your lips as you snuggled into him, a hand instinctively reaching up to rest behind his neck. “I want my boyfriend,” you mumbled, your eyes still closed.

Jake snickered. “I am your boyfriend, baby.”

“Oh.”

He turned to his side, squeezing your bodies through the front door.

“You need anything else?” Rooster asked, and Jake shook his head.

“But thanks,” he replied. “And thanks for the ride.”

“No problem. See you guys tomorrow.”

—

“Alright, baby, clothes off,” Jake said as he worked to shimmy you out of your dress. You were absolutely no help, sitting on the edge of the mattress and letting your limbs fall like a rag doll. “I can honestly say I’ve never had such a hard time getting you naked.”

He yanked the dress up over your head and tossed it to the side, then reached behind you to unclasp your bra, allowing the straps to slide down your shoulders and bare your breasts.

“As much as I hate to cover these up,” he said, “you’ll get cold in the night and then you’ll hate me.”

“Mhmm.”

He slipped one of his t-shirts over your body and helped you recline on the mattress before dragging the duvet up to your neck. Then he ripped off his own clothes until he was down to his underwear, got in bed beside you and pulled you close.

“Love you, Jake,” you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

He kissed your forehead in return. “I love you, beautiful.”

---

tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @izzzzy-the-amazing @teacupsandtopgun @himbos-on-ice @xoxabs88xox @happypopcornprincess @violyn20 @jordanturpen @buckymcu12 @jerseybagel @nagygreta @rintheemolion @coldmuffinbanditshoe

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stcverogers · 1 year

Text

TOP GUN FIC RECS 7!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F: it's all about you by @bussyslayer333 the four times jake knew that his girl was the one he was going to marry, and the one time he made her his wife.

F: next thing you know by @disturbedbeautywrites you and jake met at the hard deck. in the blink of an eye, you're happily married with children you adore.

F: one man's loss is another man's gain by @sebastianstangirl01 jake would never thank rooster for anything other than leading his wife to him.

F: dad's shirt by @stargazing15 you and your daughter get jake a shirt for father's day, though she's more excited to wear it than him.

F + A: oh deer by @wkndwlff jake loved you, that he was sure of. out of fear of ruining your friendship, he kept that a secret. when you're in a car accident and jake almost losing you, he had to let you know.

F: i think there's been a glitch by @folkloreslovechild jake can't help who he is when he's around you.

F + A: 5 times hangman got older + 1 time he got wiser, too by @folkloreslovechild jake had always loved you, he just never realised it.

F: jake and his sweet wife by @fireinmoonshot

F + A: always a bridesmaid by @sugarcoated-lame when the dagger squad arrived at rooster's wedding, he had given them a stern warning to stay away from his baby sister. of course, jake is never one to listen to what bradley bradshaw has to say.

F: and i know when i need it i can count on you by @carnationworld-writings jake will do anything to help alleviate some of his pregnant wife's pain

F + A: you again by @ereardon you and jake were once in love, till he decided that you needed to break up. years have passed and you've both achieved your aspirations. will this then make room for both of you to rekindle that lost flame?

F: apple pie and you and i by @honeyhenry jake realises how fortunate he is when he's surrounded by the people he loves most, his family.

F: reunions by @gigisimsonmars you and jake haven't been together long and a pregnancy scare creates uncertainty about your relationship.

F + A: beach day by @harvestleaves jake's main concern will always be his girl, even if it meant skipping out on showing rooster up at dogfight football.

S + A: stay by @sere-sins jake never spent the night, but you needed him. so he'll stay, even if it's just for today.

A: pink light by @sushiwriterhere jake seresin, in all his blonde haired glory, had you wrapped around his finger. you loved him like the earth loved the moon. he didn't.

A: past the texas line by @allbark-no-bite jake will do anything for you, there is no line he wouldn't cross.

F: let me walk you home by @fireinmoonshot jake thought that tonight was finally the night that he would make a move on you. much to his dismay, you were preoccupied the whole night. he settles on walking you home.

F + A: the worst best man by @youvebeenlivingfictional jake seresin was already an insufferable man. pit him as best man while you've the maid of honour for a wedding, you were sure to be on the verge of pulling your hair out.

F + A: hung the galaxy by @creativeashproductions the last time you stepped foot in the city of angels, you had become a runaway bride. this time, you’re happily together with a fiancé you love dearly.

F + A: would that i by @uselsshuman jake, the ever loving partner, will always be there to clean up your accidents, no matter how big or small.

F + A: the olive theory by @eternalsams on every person’s 24th birthday, they will receive an envelope detailing who their soulmate is. you’re disheartened when the contents of the letter doesn’t describe jake.

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F + A: i don’t know, blame the air force? by @gretagerwigsmuse you are hopeful in getting your end of year bonus, only to find out a big chunk of it was going to the defence budget. it didn't help that you were dating a military man.

F + A: days like this by @sometimesanalice when you've had a terrible day, bradley is there to cheer you up

F: a little bit of courage by @callsignmeiga you and bradley have reached the point in your relationship where he's ready for you to meet his found family.

F: all of the girls you loved before by @wannabeschyulersister all of the girls rooster's loved before made him the one you've fallen for.

F + A: do you want me? by @ash5monster01 rooster assures you that he wants you as much as you want him.

F: sweet encounters + sweet tooth by @junkdrawerfics rooster's first time meeting you was with payback drunkenly stumbling into your bakery, screaming for your croissants.

F + A: bad idea by @sometimesanalice rooster sees the girl that had dumped him at the hard deck, flirting with someone who definitely did not deserve her.

F + A: just roommates by @risriswrites you and rooster were just roommates, till you weren't.

F + A: rescue me by @beccaanne814 bradley is left haunted by the events of the uranium mission and seeks comfort in the one person who can give it to him.

F + A: ruffling feathers by @helloheyhihowdyheya yours and rooster's feud didn't just exist in the air.

F + S: baby come close by @bradshawsweetheart you trust bradley with all your heart, deciding that you are ready to take your relationship to another level.

F + A: pick your battles 𖥻 by @intoanotherworld23 your relationship with bradley ended on a bad note, cruel words were spat and feelings were hurt. you're both called back to topgun for a suicide mission and tensions arise.

F: baby on my left, wife on my right by @popcornlover wanting to be carried from the car into the house, you and your daughter pretend to be asleep

F: stuck on you by @teowritesthings bradley gives you the sweetest morning surprise.

BOB 'ROBERT' FLOYD

F + A: my girl by @rlphunter phoenix sets you up on a date, not knowing that you are secretly dating her backseater.

F: fix it by @lovingperfectionsblog bob was not good with women. he also should have known better than to seek advice from womaniser, jake seresin.

F: you gift bob flowers by @peachystenbrough

F: wicked game by @icegirl03 you and bob slow dance in the living room

F: baby, i'm yours by @superhornetbaby bob dials up the endearment when he's drunk

MICKEY 'FANBOY' GARCIA

F: 512 by @bonitanightmxres you've always thought that the guy living in apartment 512 was cute. you finally gather the courage to ask him out.

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sugarcoated-lame · 10 months

Text

Lost and Found | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader | Sneak Peek*

Just a little snippet that nobody asked for from my single dad Bradley fic :) ❤️

Summary: When Bradley’s four-year old daughter goes missing during a trip to the mall, he doesn’t expect to find himself so taken with the pretty stranger who helps her find her way back to him.

…

You’re walking through the busy mall with a couple of bags in hand, all finished with your shopping and ready to head home when you see her.

A little girl — tiny really, she can’t be older than five — with curls a golden shade bordering on both blonde and brown, standing by the bottom of the escalator, alone.

Playing with her little fingers as she looks around the crowd aimlessly with unshed tears in her big, brown eyes. The scared look on her adorable little face breaks your heart, and you know you can’t leave before making sure she’s okay.

You approach her slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, speaking softly so as not to scare her any further. “Hey, honey. Are you alright?”

The look she gives you was a shy one, eyes widening before she looks down at her light-up sneakers and shakes her head.

You can tell the little girl is apprehensive about talking to a stranger — smart. Kneeling down to be at her eye-level before speaking again, and setting your shopping bags down at your sides, you tell her your name and ask for hers.

“I’m Caroline.” Her voice is sweet and shy, a near-whisper as she chances a glance up at you, eyes still shining with tears when she lifts her head.

•

*UPDATE: The full story is up now! <3

Part 2 is also up !!

taglist: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! :)

Tagging a few others who may be interested ❤️: @hangmanssunnies @rhettabbotts @sunlightmurdock @rosiahills22 @gigisimsonmars @becks-things @teacupsandtopgun

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #miles teller #dad bradley #my writing

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Note

“If I could stop loving you, I would.” With any of the pilots

love that's a real long shot

pairing- hangman x pilot!reader (callsign violet)

synopsis- you and jake keep running into each other over the years and jake just can’t seem to let you go

warnings- fwb! happy ending!!! angst! 18+ for slight smuttiness (if you read my normal stuff this is extremely tame comparatively - just want to manage expectations 😉) light enemies to it’s just sex to pining to lovers. naval inaccuracies but it's my pretend world y'all just live in it, sad jake's pov but he's pretty he'll be fine

length- 7.7k

an- companion piece to this 0.6k drabble one time thing but that is not required reading - pretty much all of ott is revisited in this fic

i really, really don’t know how I feel about this one but i've been tinkering and agonizing over it forever and i have to be done so LOL here ya go

credit for the cs violet goes to my soulmate @justfandomwritings thank you for loving angst as much as i do, thank you for being brilliant

title courtesy of it ain't over - the black keys

tagging those that were upset with me for the ending of one time thing - @unstablecaffeinatedmind / @ahopelessromanticwritersworld / @gigisimsonmars / @flashyourgreeneyesatme / @forever-sleepy-sloth / @gingerbreadandpaper / @lovingjakeseresin

also - @mandylove1000 ily

Virginia Beach, 2019

Jake’s glad the packed bar gives him enough cover to stay hidden when he overhears Bradshaw asking his new roommate if she’s interested in him.

He bites back a huff of annoyance, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He talked to her for all of five seconds before mustache boy strutted up to make it very clear his friend was off-limits, was barely even flirting with her. Charming smiles are basically a reflex of his at this point.

“That man has never given a girl an orgasm.”

Jake rolls his eyes but keeps his mouth shut. It’s categorically untrue, but who cares what Bradshaw’s roommate thinks?

Your back is to him too, but he hears you hum in agreement, stifling a laugh. Jake’s hackles suddenly raise, and he briefly wonders why it irritates him so much that you seem to agree with that statement.

Rooster chokes on his beer. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs, fidgeting with her drink. “You were asking if I was into your friend – Hangman, was it? That should be enough of an answer.”

“I don’t really want to think about Seresin’s like in bed.”

“You’re breaking my heart, little bird,” Jake drawls from behind Rooster, figuring he should let you guys know of his presence before you get any further. “And here I thought we had something special.”

You roll your eyes before pushing your stool back. “Well, that’s my cue to leave.”

Jake immediately wonders what the appropriate amount of time is before he can excuse himself too.

“If you wanted to know what I’m like behind closed doors, you could’ve just asked, darlin’,” Jake murmurs from behind you, having found the corner of the bar you disappeared to. “I’d be happy to give you a lesson. I’m very hands-on.”

“Hard pass, Hangman.”

He smiles lazily, turning the charm up to full wattage and leaning on the bar next to you. Not close enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough to make you avert your eyes from his bicep and shift a little in your seat.

“I have a pretty good idea already.”

His smirk goes a little sharp around the edges, a predator locking in his prey. “That so? And what idea might that be?”

You raise an eyebrow. The derision you manage to convey in one unimpressed glance goes straight to his cock.

His eyes flash, fingers clenching around his beer, but he makes sure the infamous smirk stays put. “Think you’ve got me figured out?”

You shrug. “Guys that look like you are rarely anything more than a disappointment in bed.”

He smiles at that, leaning towards playful instead of goading, wondering if you’ve realized what you just admitted. “I think you’re pretty too, sweetheart.”

“You’re intelligent enough to know what you look like. It’d be stupid to pretend otherwise.”

He rolls his beer between his palms, gaze far away and calculating.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asks, feigned innocence taking over as he brings his eyes back to you.

“Stop thinking about how you’re gonna get me to sleep with you.”

The problem for you is, Jake sees the way you look at him. And it’s nothing like the polite boredom he’s witnessed you grace guys with when they truly don’t have a chance with you.

“Tell me one thing, Violet,” he says, your callsign rolling off his tongue like honey. “Why is it that you’re so nice to everyone else, but so mean to me?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you that much,” you answer, but the barbs in your words are undermined by the way your eyes dart to his chest. He wants to pat himself on the back for going home to change out of his flight suit and into a threadbare grey t-shirt before coming out tonight.

Jake purses his lips, nodding like he’s seriously considering your words, leaning in, and lowering his voice. “Or maybe, you like me a little more than you’d care to admit.”

You shoot him a dirty look for invading your space. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

Your thighs press together, almost imperceptibly. If he wasn’t completely attuned to you, he probably would’ve missed it.

Bingo.

“Tell me to fuck off and I will,” Jake rumbles, mouth ghosting over your ear now, too close to be played off as a joke. “Or let me prove you wrong.”

When you lift your eyes to meet his, refusing to shy away from him towering over you in your seat, there’s something dark, something glazed taking them over.

“A one-time thing and I’ll never bring it up again,” Jake promises. “I have new orders for Lemoore anyways; I leave in two days.”

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Take me home before I change my mind, Seresin.”

You’ve been gripping his hair for what seems like hours, thighs still shaking where they’re bracketed around Jake’s head.

“What was it – I’ve never given a girl an orgasm?” He asks smugly. “I must be some kind of prodigy, then.”

“Don’t ruin my afterglow,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re still far too coherent for his liking, and Jake ducks his head back down, savoring the broken moan that rips from your throat.

He doesn’t stop until the only word you can form is his name.

North Island, 2020

“Look who showed up,” Jake calls from across the Hard Deck, eyes running down your body. He shifts, adjusting himself as subtly as he can. “If it ain’t Violet.”

As generic as your uniform is, all he can picture now is the body he knows lies beneath it.

“Hangman,” you say, not quite able to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Glad to see we have a runner-up for the TOPGUN trophy.”

You look almost, dare he say, fond? “Your ego hasn’t dimmed a bit, has it Hang?”

Jake gives you another obvious once-over, smirking to balance out the warmth he can’t keep out of his voice. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

Jake’s skin has been buzzing all night, high off his win, drunk off being within inches of you outside the Hard Deck after thirteen weeks of having you just out of arm’s reach.

“Congratulations,” you say, and you don’t even seem that sore about it. Your eyes linger on where his shirt has slowly been coming unbuttoned as the night wears on when you add, “Can’t believe you beat me for first place.”

“An inevitability, darlin’.” Jake leans in, pleased to see your mouth part in his proximity. “Don’t tell anyone, but I might’ve worried you were gonna give me a run for my money for a second there.”

You scoff, but don’t move away, if anything you sway closer. His fingers twitch at his sides, fighting to pull you against him, aching to run his hands up your bare legs and under your flimsy sundress, to see if you’re as wet as the heat in your eyes suggests.

You turn to face the ocean, which just pushes your hips in closer to him and makes Jake’s mouth water. “Obviously. You barely won.”

He winks, knowing you’re keeping tabs on him from your periphery even as you pretend to study the crashing waves in front of you. “That’ll be our secret. Care to congratulate me in private?”

“Thought you said that was a one-time thing, Seresin.” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice and in that moment, Jake knows he’s won for the second time today.

“Shut up and meet me at my truck.”

You smirk, turning on your heel without another word.

Jake doesn’t take his time with you this time. Only immense self restraint and the threat of being slapped with a public indecency charge keeps him from bending you over in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

It doesn’t help that you seem less than willing to wait too, running delicate fingers along the inseam of his jeans, letting your skirt ride higher and higher as you shift in the passenger seat, giggling as he swerves when he catches a glimpse of red lace between your thighs.

By the time you reach his house you’re practically dragging him up the stairs by his belt loops, looking like you’re heading for the bedroom before he pushes you back up against the front door and takes you right there.

The second round you only make it as far as the couch, but he at least manages to get your clothes all the way off.

When you finally end up in his bed you’re both still panting and spent, Jake curling around you even though he’s tacky with sweat.

“I’ll be in Lemoore, now that I’m done with TOPGUN,” you whisper when you’re forming coherent sentences again, so quiet he can hardly hear you over the wind whipping against his bedroom window. “I think it’s short term, but we’ll see.”

Something warm lights up in Jake that he doesn’t want to examine very closely. “Good, everyone there is shit at pool. I’m in need of some actual competition.”

You smile against his skin and he drops a kiss to the top of your head, wondering if you can feel his heart speeding up.

Lemoore, 2021

You’re tracing mindless shapes across Jake’s chest, playing with his chest hair when you rip the rug out from underneath him.

“Got my new orders.”

It’s always amused him how fond you are of his chest hair, so it takes a few seconds for your words to sink in. When he does, his entire body flashes hot, then cold. He hopes you don’t notice the rigidity suddenly running through him. “When do you leave?”

Your face is blank, frustratingly neutral. “Tomorrow.”

Jake takes as deep of a breath as he can manage without being noticeable. Which given your proximity to his chest, is not very. He wants to be mad you didn’t tell him sooner, but the rational part of his brain reminds him he has no right to be.

“Where to?” He asks after a few beats of silence when he’s pretty sure it’ll come out even.

“Fallon.”

The scoff he lets out is genuine, at least. “Gross.”

Your indifference breaks as you giggle against his skin at his derision and he forgets that this is the last time he’ll get to have you like this. For now, at least.

“Are you spending the night?”

Jake doesn’t know why you ask anymore, in the last year he’s said no to sleeping in your bed zero times. He's turned down the opportunity to save you from sleazy guys hitting on you in dive bars even less than that - which is to say he does it without being asked and without even checking if you want his help anymore. Tact really is his middle name.

But like always, you ask and like always, he fights to keep the eagerness out of his voice. He’s fortunate to have decades of practice of keeping his tone level under his belt. “If you want me to.”

“I do,” you whisper, face still tucked into him, but he manages to see your lips purse, looking like you want to say more.

You don’t, though, and Jake hides his smile in your hair rather than commenting.

“Good. Wanna wake you up with my mouth on you,” he murmurs, trailing said mouth against your soft skin. He wills himself to say something else, to tell you he’ll miss you, that he doesn’t want whatever this is to end.

But his tongue stays stuck, arms tightening as his body says what his lips can’t.

North Island, 2022

Jake’s fists are clenched by his side, nails digging into his palms, pinpricks of pain the only thing keeping him from seeing red.

“I’m sorry?” You look confused. Scarlet edges into the corners of his vision. “That I didn’t tell you they sent me back to TOPGUN too? I haven’t seen you in almost a year, Jake.”

“Don’t act like we haven’t talked since then.” Jake doesn’t want to know what his face looks like, his normally careful façade shattered in favor of quiet outrage. “I think you know you were supposed to mention it.”

You had talked. Mostly sporadic, surface-level texts. Memes of an exasperated Chris Pine on his press tour he knew you would get a kick out of. In return, he received a graph detailing Leonardo DiCaprio’s age versus his girlfriends’, noting a clear age limit. You kept your jokes about him being a future Leo to a minimum, at least.

And on one memorable occasion, you called him drunk, and he got to talk to you for an hour after you snarkily admitted to missing him.

Neither of you mentioned it the next day.

You deflate. “Maybe. I don’t know what you want from me. We were always playing by your rules here.”

Jake’s mouth forms a tight line. “Right. My rules.”

Some bullshit he said, before Lemoore, way back in Oceana. Before you’d slept together, before TOPGUN, before he’d gotten to know the real you, before you’d gotten under his skin.

“Let’s just get through this mission, it’ll be easier if we’re not fighting. You do enough goading with Rooster.”

Jake’s so caught up in his own head that he doesn’t even bother to protest about Rooster. He’s grinding his teeth, jaw clenched so the rest of his body can remain still. He knows, on some level, that he’s probably overreacting. But he mentioned this return to TOPGUN to you last week and he can’t help but feel like he’s playing catch up when suddenly you’re here too.

If there’s one thing Hangman doesn’t allow, it’s being left behind.

He doesn’t know why this is on the laundry list of things you refuse to talk about. That’s probably the most frustrating of it all. You’ve always been the puzzle he can’t quite figure out.

“We’ll stay out of each other’s way,” he finds himself saying, mask slipping back into place. “Focus on the mission.”

“Yeah, focus on the mission,” you echo, and Jake wonders if it feels hollow to you too.

Your head is on Jake’s chest again, bare legs tangled with his and the tension is finally bleeding from his body.

“Don’t like fighting with you,” you mumble, muffled by his arms wrapped around you.

“Ended well,” he jokes, magnanimously gesturing to your naked state just barely covered by the thin sheet. “Gave us a vigor we haven’t had in a while.”

He feels your cheeks grow warm where they’re pressed against his skin, clearly thinking back to the adrenaline laden, ‘thank God we’re alive sex’ that lead to the casualty of at least one lamp.

Jake silently thanks Maverick for being such a hot mess that the Navy is unlikely to worry about a few broken items in his bunk.

He smirks at your embarrassment, as if falling into bed together is anything new. It’s the post-orgasm glow, he knows it is, but Jake feels the truth bubbling to the surface. Wouldn’t it be so easy not to let this end?

“Yeah.” You sigh, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. All the arguing, then making up so we can fool around. It’s time for us to grow up, don’t you think?”

Jake lets the words die on the tip of his tongue.

“Probably,” he manages.

He kisses you deeply, saying what his lips won’t. He doesn’t mean for it to turn heated; he just can’t bear to let you go yet.

Making love is the only way to describe what comes next. You’ve been at this for a long time, going on three years, and you’ve fucked; hard and fast and fiery. You’ve slept together; gentle and languid and easy.

It’s never felt quite like this.

When he slides into you for what he knows will be the last time, he tries to memorize every line of your face, every gasp from your parted lips, every flutter of your lashes. It’ll be months before he forgets the soft, unguarded shine of your eyes, the way your fingers feel tangled on the nape of his neck.

It feels like goodbye.

North Island, 2023

Your name is out of Jake’s mouth before he can stop himself, longing bowling over his reasoning abilities. Every urge to text you that he stomped out over the last year shows itself as a waste since any sense of self-preservation goes out the window once he lays his eyes on you.

It doesn’t hurt any less to see you without warning in Coronado, but at least this time he holds onto the reigns tightly enough to keep his tone level.

Your voice is happy when you turn towards him, and Jake tries not to outwardly react. “Hangman, hi.”

He wants to rush over, grab onto you, and never let go. Wants to tuck his nose into your hair, smell warm citrus, and have that niggle in the back of his brain soothed.

He waves as you stride towards him instead, boots cemented to the floor. “Back in California already?”

You chuckle, the adorable, lyrical sound raising goosebumps on his arms beneath his flight suit. “Thank God. Fallon’s a shithole.”

Jake’s mouth is open to respond when he clocks someone with curly dark hair behind you, moving forward decisively to your side.

“Babe,” the guy says, and Jake’s spine stiffens, noting the inch or two he has over this mystery guy out of reflex. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

There’s a split second where your expression shutters, where Jake thinks the fight or flight thrumming through him might not be necessary.

But as quickly as it shows up it’s gone, and he finds himself hoping the boom of jets taking off covers up the sound of his chest cracking open.

“Brandon, this is Hangman. We were in the same class at TOPGUN.”

Jake’s mouth is dry, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth as he internally winces at the obvious reduction of your history.

“Riot,” Brandon says, sticking his hand out to shake. Jake tries not to crush the bones in his fingers.

Riot and Violet, he thinks sarcastically. How cute.

“You’re with the Eightballers.” Jake glances at his patches, making sure to keep his tone neutral.

Helicopters. He wants to roll his eyes.

Riot nods and you grin, letting it light up your whole face. “His friends can’t believe he ended up with a jet bro. Can you imagine the shit I have to endure, hanging out with these helo knuckleheads?”

You're unmistakably fond, and Jake feels bile rising in his throat. Mercifully, he’s saved from having to answer by a group of pilots trying to get your attention.

“It was good to see you." Your smile softens as you turn to leave, the sun shining around your head, painting you in gold.

He nods. “I’m sure I’ll see you guys around.”

Jake doesn’t sprint to get away from you, he’s too calculated for that, but it’s a near thing. If his strides are just a touch longer than normal, no one has to know.

North Island, 2024

“It’s nice, what you guys have,” Jake's mouth is saying outside the Hard Deck, celebrating your fucking engagement, of all things. The words taste like acid on his tongue.

“Don’t tell me, eternal bachelor, Jake Seresin is thinking about settling down. The women of California will be knocking down your front door.”

Jake wants to laugh, that that’s still what you think of him. But knowing it’ll just come out thick and wet, he keeps the noises to himself. He hasn’t done much in the last year to combat that reputation – Coronado’s smaller than he’d like and you’ve never seen him with the same girl twice because he hasn’t been with the same girl twice.

What’s that they say about old habits?

He takes another sip of his beer instead. “No.”

The teasing is still lighting up your features, barely visible in the moonlight. “Just an introspective mood then, huh? Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Thinking about what it might’ve been like.”

“What?”

“To be with you.”

You blink.

“You never gave me a shot,” Jake continues. He can’t help himself. “You were always convinced I wouldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I don’t think you would have.”

“I think you’re wrong. Doesn’t matter now though, does it?”

Jake tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. He can’t help but reach out for you, squeezing your wrist one last time, studiously avoiding looking at the diamond on your other hand. “I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”

It’s only partially a lie.

Jake wishes he could say the noise wakes him up, but he’s already busy staring at his ceiling fan and its endless circles when he hears the pounding on his front door.

He knows it’ll be you before he finishes rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Jake scrubs his hand over his chin, nose scrunching. “Sweetheart, it’s the middle of the night.”

You glower at him in response.

Whether it’s for the term of endearment or the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut in the face of your blinding diamond ring or some combination of the two, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that you have every right to be mad at him, after spilling secrets he’s held close to his chest for years.

He sighs, wishing he could say the timing was an accident, but he can’t lie to himself quite that well. “Come inside at least, so the neighbors don’t call the cops.”

Apparently, your earlier question was rhetorical because the moment the door is closed, you’re rambling, talking at him, really. After a couple of minutes of watching you spew a bunch of nonsense to skirt around the issue at hand, with no end in sight, Jake sighs again and moves into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

The wooden chair creaks as he settles his weight into it, sliding a glass over to you wordlessly. He’s not even sure you’ll notice it’s there, but you pick it up and gesticulate wildly with it before taking a sip. He’s somewhat impressed you don’t spill a drop.

You haven’t sat down, can’t seem to stop moving and Jake wishes he had a toothpick.

“We were so chaotic, Jake. We wouldn’t have worked.”

You finally look at him, taking a deep breath. Jake wonders about your lung capacity since you clearly haven’t breathed since barging into his off-base housing.

“I’m not arguing.”

You’re pacing back and forth, frustration bleeding from every pore. “What do you want me to say?”

Despite everything, Jake manages a smirk at that, albeit dimmer than normal. “I haven’t said anything for, like, ten entire minutes.”

The scowl he gets for that little comment is unbearably cute. He tries to ignore the tightening in his chest, stay in reality. “Is that what you stormed over to my house in the middle of the night to tell me, that we shouldn’t be together?”

You visibly deflate. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

There’s an inkling in the back of Jake’s brain that says he does, but he tells it to shut up.

You do not have a history of sticking around when it comes to verbal confrontation, and he’s painstakingly aware that one misstep could have you sprinting out the door.

It was something that worked well with you two, at the beginning, when everything was easy and fun. Blowing off steam with the competition, neither of you had ever been any good at talking so you figured why bother?

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why now? Don’t you think your timing sucks a little bit?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s a lie.

He knows. As much as he’d like to tell himself he was overwhelmed, seeing the ring on your finger, watching everyone congratulate you and your fiancé, deep down he knows that’s not true.

Like everything he does, it was deliberate. There was something telling him this was his last chance. Is his last chance.

“If I could stop loving you, I would.”

You drop down into the chair across from him, stalling as your brain clearly restarts.

“Loving, present tense?”

There’s a weariness to your voice that he doesn’t like one bit, which makes his heart drop into his stomach as he’s reminded of the risk in telling you this. A calculated risk, but still a risk. One where he’s already bet big, his chips all in, but the river is flipping over, and his gut tells him before he sees it that it’s not the card he needs.

He takes a sip of his Balcones, hoping the burn scorches the rampage building beneath his ribs.

You purse your lips, waiting for a response.

Jake shrugs, but he’s aware it doesn’t have the effect he’s going for when the tension refuses to bleed from his shoulders.

You look like you’ve forgotten how to breathe and will pass out any minute now. Jake debates the merits of passing out to get out of the hell that is this confession.

He avoids your eyes instead. Coward, his brain screams at him, willing him to look up at meet your gaze. “I’ve tried to stop.”

Hangman makes strategic withdrawals. When someone can’t be needled into responding, he pulls back. This is different. He’s never backed down from confrontation out of fear and he hates it, like he’s just discovered his skin doesn’t quite fit him.

Your mouth opens and closes several times without a noise leaving and it frustrates him to no end. When he grits his teeth, he doesn’t know if it’s to hold back the pleading and desperation or frustration at having flayed himself open only to receive silence. “Say something.”

“I’m shipping out,” you tell him as if that’s any sort of answer. “On Monday.”

Jake blinks. That's only three days from now, he wants to say. Opens his mouth and closes it, once, twice. Doesn’t bother with a third time. It won't change anything.

Maybe that is his answer. Let this go, this hope he’s carried onto multiple aircraft carriers, through several states, across endless miles of sky.

This is you telling him to let you go. To start over.

Hawaii, 2025

Some things have changed in 2025. Jake’s ability to control his mouth at the sight of you is not one of them.

“Where’s our helo hero?”

He feels pretty good about that one. As hard as it is to see you, as much as his entire being aches to touch you, he’s going to be normal with you and your fiancé. He owes you that at least.

Unfortunately, for him or for you – he doesn’t know who suffers more at this point – normal includes the patented Hangman barbs he just can’t seem to let go of.

“Seresin,” Phoenix whispers harshly.

Jake immediately thinks he’s missing a puzzle piece, that he’s flying blind, making a drop decision without a laser. Unwilling to admit anything he does what he always does; he rolls his shoulders back and smirks.

You shift from on your feet, clearly uncomfortable. “He’s not coming.”

He can’t resist the jab, but it feels sticky in his mouth. “Aw, come on, the rest of us managed to sync up our leaves, but helos are just too important?”

Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose, scowling at him, murder in her eyes. “Hangman, shut up.”

He tries to pretend that look doesn’t send chills down his spine, but he’s man enough to admit that Natasha Trace could put the fear of God into just about anyone.

You cough, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Uh, we broke up.”

Jake looks around, sure the world is suddenly tilting the wrong way on its axis. Fortunately, the rest of the group seems to be trickling in, so you and Phoenix don’t detect his crisis.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly while Phoenix is distracted by Bradshaw strutting towards them. “I didn’t know.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, a mask so familiar he feels like he’s staring into a mirror. Jake’s seen this cover before, it’s fight or flight. In the next few seconds, you’ll either be pretending he doesn’t exist, or you’ll be cutting through his armor with a few well-placed, very specific remarks.

You angle away from him, surveying Fanboy and Payback to your left. “All good, Hang.”

Guess it's flight.

Several bars and a few too many shots later, Coyote elbows Jake in the side. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“Just bored of beating y’all in darts,” Jake insists with a cocky grin he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. He just hopes no one notices.

Luckily for him, the only person that always sees straight through his bullshit smirks is you. And you’re at the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender, politely making conversation with some cheesy tourist.

A guy in an atrocious Hawaiian shirt (that he probably bought yesterday at the nearest ABC store, his internal monologue snidely adds) is clearly hitting on you and Jake forgot what it’s like to watch this. Because it’s been years since you were single, he forgot how it feels with sharks circling in the water around you, seeing you make small talk with strangers who have no reason to stop because you’re so goddamn kind and there’s no boyfriend for you to mention that will abruptly end their interest.

There’s a chance you actually want to talk to this chump, but Jake promptly tells that line of thought to kick rocks.

He kind of wants to throw himself into the ocean and drift away from this stupid vacation he should’ve never agreed to. Mrs. Lee will be fine watering his plants if he never comes back, right?

Because once upon a time, in a shitty bar in Lemoore, he’d save you so you wouldn’t have to turn anyone down and he’d tease you, that no one that’s seen you in the air, so quick and decisive and cunning, would ever believe you’d need a knight in shining armor to keep the creeps at bay. You’d tell him to shut up before dragging him out of there by his belt.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the memory. As it stands, the ocean is probably his best bet.

“Pool?” You ask when you return with a fresh mojito, sans cheesy Hawaiian shirt, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Miss the Hard Deck already, Vi?” Fanboy teases.

Even though the ice between you hasn’t completely thawed yet, Jake ignores him in favor of getting up, making his way toward the table in silent agreement. He figures it’ll give him something to do besides staring at the side of your head.

If his mid-game trash talk is a little pointed, a little too on the nose; well, that’ll stay between the two of you.

Jake tenses as he hears the back door of the bar swing open behind him, footsteps heavy and likely belonging to a number of people he doesn’t want to explain his sour mood to right now.

“Surprised you and Vi aren’t still going at it at the pool table, thought it was about to be a rematch of TOPGUN in there,” Rooster says.

“Couldn’t beat me then, can’t beat me now." He chuckles out of reflex more than anything, but it feels hollow and forced. "Sometimes I just like to rile her up, get her out of that shell she always wears on the ground.”

Rooster hums in agreement. “Better than the last time I saw you two together. You barely looked at each other then.”

During the Maverick mission, Jake hears lingering in the silence in the humid Hawaii air.

“Sure,” the blond says, willing to agree to anything that stops this train in its tracks.

“There a story there?” Rooster asks slowly, careful as ever.

“No,” he answers, but it’s rote, automatic. Even Bradshaw isn’t dense enough to miss the friction between you two, Jake knows that.

Rooster raises an eyebrow and Jake pointedly ignores him in favor of pulling a toothpick out of his pocket.

“How’s your girl, Bradshaw? Are you guys ever going to stop living in sin and tie the knot?”

He doesn’t comment on the abrupt change of subject, shrugging. “We’re happy. She’s pretty focused on her career right now. But when she’s ready.”

“I guess when you start fucking your roommate it’s nothing but sin from there on out, anyways, huh?”

The other man grins. “Jealous?’

Jake can’t help the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, an admission in its own right. Just not for what Rooster's implying. “Maybe.”

“Planning on coming after my girlfriend? Gotta tell you, Hangman, back in Virginia she was never very impressed by you.”

“She’s not my type. Any girl that’s into that atrocious caterpillar above your lip clearly has impaired vision.”

The other man brushes aside the dig easily. “That’s right. You only had eyes for Vi back then.”

Jake fights a full-body cringe, blaming the fact that he just walked straight into Rooster’s trap on the shots he took with Javy earlier. “What do you know? You hated me in Oceana.”

“Who says I don’t hate you now?”

“Touché.”

Rooster sighs, long-suffering like he can’t believe he’s the one that got saddled with the job of making sure Jake isn’t gonna lose it and ruin their vacation. “Seresin, you’re not the only one who notices things.”

Jake doesn’t need to dignify that with an answer. He’ll turn in his wings the day Rooster is more observant than him.

“Seems like forever ago, now, but I always thought she had a thing for you too.”

“I don’t know where you got that from, she was always arguing with me.”

Rooster waves it off. “Pulling your pigtails. Sound familiar?” He shoots him a knowing look that Jake pretends he doesn’t see, which unfortunately just gives mustache boy the idea he should continue.

“Yeah, sure,” Jake agrees, not without an air of sarcasm. Rooster may be right but it’s not like he’s going to genuinely admit that.

“D’you ever play Sudoku? My mom always loved it.”

Jake tries not to get whiplash, schooling his face into something neutral. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of Bradshaw’s childhood, but enough to know the other man’s putting a lot of faith in him by bringing his mom up at all.

“Did she?” he echoes, for lack of anything better to say.

Rooster nods, eyes far away, unfocused. “The thing about Sudoku is, you have to think about where you’re placing the numbers, so they don’t interfere with numbers in other boxes and lines.”

Jake barely bites back the word obviously, accompanied by a roll of his eyes.

“When we started dating, things weren’t always easy. We went from zero to sixty at the beginning, already living together.”

“But your mom loved sudoku,” Jake says, albeit dryly. “So, you knew to look at the puzzle as a whole.”

Rooster knocks their shoulders together in agreement, now you’re getting it.

“We had to slow down, take a look at what we were doing, where we were going, talk so that we didn’t fuck it up before it could even start.”

The blonde sighs. Leave it to Rooster to use some convoluted metaphor for Jake to parse out when his brain already feels like it’s been muddled alongside the mint in your mojitos.

“M’not the guy you should go to for relationship advice, normally.”

Jake snorts. “No shit.”

Rooster shoots him a bit of side-eye for that but nonetheless barrels on. “But I’ve known you and Vi a long time. For the better part of a decade.”

And isn’t that a thought, that Bradshaw of all people would be the one to know you and Jake better than anyone else?

“Is this your long-winded way of saying Vi and I need to slow down?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just gotta figure out the key. Whatever that looks like for you guys.”

Jake turns it over in his head a few times, pushing down his every instinct to blow this off, to make a joke that breaks the intensity that’s thicker than the Hawaii humidity.

“Patience,” he mutters, because of course it would be that for Bradshaw. “Trusting you’ll get there when you get there, not letting the pressure get to you guys.”

“Hm?”

“That’s your key.”

“Yeah,” Rooster nods, before taking a pull of his drink. “But maybe our puzzles are different.”

Jake scrunches his nose, so unused to metaphors and convoluted thinking. His head is still a jumbled mess, unpacking everything he’s learned in the last twelve hours.

“Sometimes you have to drop down and take the shot. Don’t pretend like that’s not in your wheelhouse, Seresin. You’ve always held back with her. Too scared she’s the only one that can keep up with you, maybe. That she's the only one you won’t shake off your tail.”

Rooster is frighteningly insightful tonight. Jake resolves to switch to whatever he’s drinking the moment he goes back inside.

“What would you have me do?” He asks, maybe a little more abrupt than Rooster deserves.

“Basic, normal, human communication would be a start.”

Jake flips him off.

“Not letting her go again, would be the next.”

It only takes Jake one Dark ‘n’ Stormy (of course, Rooster's drinking something that Jake feels like an idiot ordering) to build up the courage to follow you outside.

“You called it off.”

It’s not what he planned to say when he saw you sneaking out the back door of the bar. He was going to let you bring it up, maybe goad you into telling him what happened.

But he’s starting to realize his puzzle is less of a Sudoku and more of a jigsaw. He doesn’t know all the steps to complete the goal and won’t know until he’s in the middle of it. Each step comes up when it needs to, and he’ll have to figure it out then.

At least, he thinks that’s the point Bradshaw was trying to make. You two have to talk about something real, at some point, but patience hasn’t gotten him anywhere with you in the last six years.

You nod, staring into the distance, eyes focused on the water ahead.

“When?”

“Right before I deployed.”

Jake balks. He’s not sure what he expected your answer to be, but it wasn’t that. “And you didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”

You look down at your hands. Jake suddenly feels like an idiot, for not thinking anything of your bare ring finger. He should’ve known. He just assumed you’d become one of the many pilots that’s allergic to wedding rings.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t know what to say.”

There’s something working its way into the edges of his earshot, a timer dinging, the buzz of the right answer chiming. He laughs but there’s no humor in it. It’s only because otherwise, he’ll scream, as the puzzle pieces finally fit together.

“That was almost a year ago,” he mutters because he’s a glutton for punishment.

You continue staring at the water, still refusing to meet his gaze.

And he remembers, you’ve never been good at saying the hard things. As fierce as you are in the air, you temper your words on the ground, too wary to cut someone to the bone.

Shrinking violet, he thinks, wondering who was even well-read enough in your first squadron to know that reference.

He takes your silence for the answer that it is, nodding curtly and squeezing your wrist before turning to go back inside, a mirror of the last time his chest felt like candy glass, just waiting for the director to start the next take so it could have its turn to be shattered.

You finally turn to him, eyes glassy with tears. “Jake, I…”

He can’t wait for you to finish, doesn’t want to hear an excuse. Patience has never been his strong suit.

Jake shakes his head, biting his cheek to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never seen him cry and he’ll die before he lets that change on the back patio of this kitschy tiki bar. “Message received, Vi.”

Fucking Rooster. This is why he put this off for so long. It’s excruciating.

“No, Jake—that’s not what I—”

“Loud and clear, Violet.”

“I didn’t know if you’d feel the same way once I was single,” you say suddenly, and it stops him in his tracks. “You seem to forget you never said anything until I was supposed to marry someone else.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

Jake wants to pull his hair out. “Why did you call off the fucking wedding? Because it sure as shit wasn’t for me or you would’ve mentioned it sometime in the last ten months.”

“I was with him for two years, Jake. That doesn’t just go away. I didn’t want to tell you before I knew where my own head was at.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Silence.

He turns to leave again, knowing the panic is showing itself in his shaky hands and uneven voice. Desperately, he wishes he had a toothpick or a beer label, something to tear at so his expression could remain carefully blank, tone collected.

When you finally speak again, your voice is thick and heavy with emotion, muffled by unshed tears. “Because.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, not bothering to figure out what expression is playing itself out on his face.

You clear your throat. You play with the hem of your dress. You look anywhere except his eyes.

Fight or flight, he says silently. What’s it gonna be, Vi?

He hopes to God it’s fight.

“Because you don’t marry someone when you’re in love with someone else.”

It takes a few seconds for the meaning of your words to register. He feels like he’s underwater, slow and sluggish, when he finally asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Takes more than love to make a relationship work, Jake.”

It’s funny, how you choose the words Jake has repeated to himself in his weaker moments. When he wondered if loving you was enough, if it could overcome that you two are so much more similar than anyone would guess. You might have a reputation for mincing your words, but he’s the only one that takes that for what it is – a mask. He’s spent enough time underneath one to recognize it when he sees it. It’s your way of keeping people at bay, staying in control, not letting anyone climb those walls you’ve spent so long carefully building.

Someone would have to take their hands off the controls, even for a second. Neither of you knows what it’s like to rely on someone else. To not take the lead. To let someone else have your back.

“You have to be able to give me a chance sometime,” he counters, as gently as he can manage. “Let go of the reigns enough to let me try. Trust me to take the shot.”

“I’ve never been very good at that, especially with you,” you say, nodding and Jake’s chest is getting lighter by the second, that you've thought about this. “But I also knew it was going to take me time, to work through ending things with him. I couldn’t ask you to wait.”

“I did anyways.”

You raise your eyes to him at that. “You did?”

“I told you if I could stop loving you, I would have already.”

You exhale shakily, fingers twitching like you want to touch him, but just falling short in the air between you. “I didn’t – By now I thought you would’ve – fuck, Jake. I didn’t think you meant that. Thought you just needed time to get over me.”

He wants to laugh, feels it twitching at the corners of his mouth. “In less than a year? Have you met you?”

You grin at that, rich and bright and open like he hasn’t seen in far too long, and there’s something loosening in your defensive posture. “A lot of people would say ten months is a long time.”

Jake feels fuzzy, from his chest to his fingers as he reaches to pull you into him. You fold back against him, and he ducks his face into your hair, nudging around to get his lips on your jaw, letting his words get muffled by your skin. “Ten months is a blip on the radar.”

He feels you melt into him and finds the courage to lay the rest of it on the line.

“Doesn’t matter anyways because it hasn’t been ten months. It’s been six years. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“Sorry, I’m so slow. Hard to keep up with the infamous Hangman. I hear he flies like his ass depends on it.” The teasing is back in your tone, and it spreads warmth all over him.

You reach up to where his forearm rests on your collarbones, where he can’t bear to loosen his hold on you, his fingers twisting in the strap of your tank top.

The entire line of your back is touching him, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck smelling citrus and vanilla and home, but it’s still not enough, as far as Jake is concerned. Too many years spent apart, too many moments with you just out of reach have him itching for more.

“It’s okay,” he breathes against your neck. “As long as we get here in the end.”

“I trust you,” you whisper. “You know that right?”

He nods, fighting a shiver as your hand drifts across from his elbow to his hand. You run your thumb across his pulse point, fingers encircling his wrist. You squeeze, and he feels your promise.

This time he gets to start over with you.

"because you don't marry someone when you're in love with someone else" was stolen from michael westen in burn notice, episode 2.15 sins of omission (fantastic show!) although i changed the wording a little bit

thanks for reading!

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callsign-phoenix · 6 months

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I wrote this as a part of my 12 days of ficmas, I hope you like it!

It is a Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x gn!reader imagine.

The prompt is Jack Frost, and it’s for @sailor-aviator’s Christmas Writing Challenge.

Warnings: none

You loved that living with your boyfriend meant that you got to experience being with him on a whole other level.

Even when you had just started dating you had been so excited whenever you saw him, and the need to spend as much time as possible with him seemed to grow exponentially.

Jake was like a drug, you just wanted to be with him and spend your life in his presence.

You loved him very much as a person but you also loved just looking at him, every time he appeared you were reminded that he was in fact there with you.

It was the little things, the moments that were quiet, that you loved the most.

Even just seeing him come home from a long day at work, his face relaxing the moment he lay eyes on you, or him taking your hand when walking through an aisle at the grocery store.

Both moments filled you with so much pride and warmth.

It was just wonderful to be alive, especially with him around.

And while you were hopelessly in love with him for being loud, strong and cocky you also very much loved him when he had nothing to say.

The first snow that you experienced living together was a memory you certainly didn’t want to forget.

It had snowed overnight and the world looked like a winter wonderland, it was like in a fairytale.

Jake had been as surprised as you were but he recovered as he looked at you, a smile spreading over his lips as he leaned in to peck yours.

“I’ll be back soon, can’t have the sidewalk blocked the way it is”.

He hurried outside to shovel snow from the sidewalk so that people could walk on it again, before he had to leave for work.

The sun was just beginning to rise and the snow outside looked like it was burning orange, and orange drops fell from the sky.

It was a beautiful sight to see as you watched Jake work, a coffee in your hand that you happily sipped on.

When Jake came back in he brought a gust of cold air with him.

It made you shiver but a smile appeared on your face the moment your eyes met his.

His coat was sprinkled with now thawing snow, his hair glittering from the wetness as well.

Jake’s face and lips were paler than usual from the cold but his cheeks and nose spotted a beautiful pink color.

His eyes bore into yours as a tentative smile appeared on his face, but you were mesmerized by what you were seeing.

Jake’s beautifully long and curved eyelashes had also received a coating of snowflakes, making them a more prominent feature in his face.

You were entirely surprised that this small moment meant so much to you, but Jake just chuckled.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, and you just shook your head with a small smile.

“You look like Jack Frost,” you chuckled back, and his smile broadened noticeably.

“Like the Disney version or like Martin Short?” He joked, and you shook your head.

“You look beautiful, that’s all,” you managed to whisper, and received an icy kiss on the lips in return.

Even though you wanted to tell him, you didn’t yet want to say that he was the most beautiful person you had ever met.

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @iangiemae @kmsryles343 @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @dempy @bespinnn @tipsykeen @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @luckyladycreator2 @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @airedale17 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus @classyunknownlover @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #12 days of ficmas top gun

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horseshoegirl · 3 months

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Happy First Anniversary to Damn Those Dog Tags!

On February 22nd of last year, I decided to return to fan fiction writing with this story and posted the first chapter. I couldn't have predicted the response or how many people fell in love with Liz, Sadie, and their version of Jake. So I wanted to mark the occasion with something special.

A few people on here know I draw, so for over the past three months, I've been trying to design a book cover of sorts. I finally finished it last night.

💛This is my thank you to you guys 💛

Please be gentle... I'm not used to publicly sharing my artwork (Idk if it's even that good, and I was also really scared to post it), though this story means a lot to me, so I had to do something 😅💛 Can you guess what chapter this is from?

Damn Those Dog Tags Masterlist

Special thanks to @desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky and @callsignspitfire for your feedback over countless screenshots as I drew it and encouraging me to post it 😅💛

Tagging the tag list for DTDT here:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13

@ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

@its-the-pilot @dizzybee03 @fanficfandomlove

And for those who followed along: @mycobrakai1972 @wherethewildfanlives @abaker74 @wildxwidow @penguin876

@tgmreader @hookslove1592 @pinkdisneygirl97 @superskittles

From the master tag list:

@lynnevanss @wretchedmo @stargazer-88 @redbarn1995

@bellaireland1981 @halibshepherd

-Lucky ☘️

#horseshoegirlwrites #damnthosedogtags #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #damn those dog tags #fan art #my own fan art #jake and liz #maverick top gun #top gun maverick

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sushiwriterhere · 1 year

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one: description & objectives

flight path

summary: "It’s then that it occurs to you that he might be doing a sort of calculus that means that even though you might win this battle, you’re going to lose the war." rating: teen+ (eventually explicit, 18+ mdni) pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader word count: ~3.3k warnings: enemies to lovers!, college au!, eventual smut, hangman being hangman, no use of y/n. notes: dedicated to @waklman this ones for u bestie. i have the rest of the fic planned, just gotta write :) pls pls pls let me know what you think! masterlist here tagging: @roosterbruiser @gretagerwigsmuse @joaquinwhorres @sometimesanalice @seresinsweetie @bobfloyds @theharddeck @sebsxphia @jupitercomet @dempy @gigisimsonmars @sunsetsimpsblog @shanimallina87 @djs8891

“Your project partners are as listed in the PowerPoint, please do not come crying to me about who you’ve been selected to work with, I will not be changing it. Your project ideas are due two weeks from today.” You can feel the dread filling your body as you scan the list of names on the slide in front of you.

The further along you get, the sicker you feel. Each person you know who could at least be somewhat trusted to pull their weight, is partnered. Anyone who’s even slightly normal, is also partnered. And not with you.

The room fills with chatter as people stand to leave class and seek out their project partners, but all you can do is sit and stare at the name next to yours. Lifting your head to scan the lecture hall, you watch in abject horror as Jake Seresin, toothpick ever present between his perfect teeth, lifts a hand ever so slightly and wiggles his fingers at you.

You turn to the TA who always sits next to you, and put on your most flattering smile in hopes of a miracle, “Grace, I know Professor Simmons just said we couldn’t, but is there any chance—”

She laughs lightly, cutting you off, “Sorry kid, nothing we can do. Strict orders. But it shouldn’t be so bad, Jake’s second in the class y’know. I’m sure you two will come out on top.”

Gritting your teeth together, you barely manage to keep yourself from explaining to her that that’s precisely the problem.

You and Jake had met in freshman year intro to mechanical engineering—ENGR-M 101 to be exact. It was a larger lecture hall, but you’d ended up sitting next to the boy and his group of frat brothers. They were joking around, calling each other ridiculous nicknames, and you hoped you’d be able to avoid them throughout the rest of your time.

You were an unassuming kid when you started college, far away from friends and family, and really only focused on becoming the top of your class so you could get into the best PhD programs possible. If MIT and Stanford weren’t an option for undergrad, they’d certainly take you with a perfect GPA and stellar recommendations. Becoming the best aerospace engineer, the best engineer overall, in your class wasn’t just a goal, it was your destiny. You realized that focusing so hard on academics really meant that, well, social life would be lacking. But besides, the STEM dudes were usually an odd bunch—you briefly considered joining some sort of campus club before the options overwhelmed you and you decided to try and volunteer in a research lab. It could be turned into a paid position. And, grad students could be your friends.

But in that moment, you met your nemesis. Really, it felt childish to say it like that, but Jake Seresin seemed to derive a special sense of pleasure from tormenting you.

He’d introduced himself on that bright August morning with a winning smile, an extended hand, and a gentle Texan twang, “Jake Seresin. Nice to meet ‘ya.”

You shook his hand firmly, remembering the importance of men taking you seriously, and responded with your name.

His response made clear exactly what his personality was, “Think you’ll survive the weed out? I’ve heard this professor’s a real hard ass, and I’m planning to be top of our class.”

“He’s perfectly reasonable in the lab; and I’m sure he will be here too.” You had sniffed, not exactly trying to sound haughty but not trying to be subtle about the fact that you’d already gotten a head start on the resume work already.

The smile that spread across his lips was poisonous, as if he’d figured you out just in that instance, “I see my competition has my work cut out for me.”

And with that, he turned back to his friends, ignoring the way your face seemed to warm a thousand degrees. You weren’t his competition, you were sure you were leagues ahead of him. The stereotypes about hot-headed, ignorant, frat boys traveled, and you weren’t a fool.

That light tension in your initial interaction had, frankly, spiraled into something drastically out of proportion and lightly legendary. Every class you had with him, you fought for who was going to set the curve, whose in-class answers were better. And at some point, the details of the first interaction faded and were replaced simply by how he had made you feel: like a bug under a microscope, but also like he was pulling your pigtails and taunting you.

So that was the beginning of a long saga in which you now find yourself facing the cruel reality of an entire semester where your grade depends on the very person whose entire life mission seems to be to take you down a peg. Which, frankly, you consider to be ironic because if there is anyone with an ego the size of the planet, that is Jake.

You keep your eyes trained to the front of the room as you shut your laptop and slowly begin packing up. You can’t really afford to avoid him, because this professor’s whole schtick is ensuring that all engineering students aren't terrified of social interaction. Hence, a semester-long project of ‘intimate’ work with a peer.

It would be fine, except Jake isn’t moving either. He continues to sit and chat with his friends (somehow also engineering majors and frat bros?) while occasionally glancing up at you to see if you’ve moved. His smirk never wavers.

You steel your nerves, and decide that this won’t be the time he gets to you. You have to work with him? Fine. But you’ll take the lead, make sure it’s on your terms. No military themed projects, that’s for sure.

“Well look who it is, part two of the dream team.” Jake’s voice carries through the emptying lecture hall and you distantly hear some snickers, but his face remains almost impassive.

You can read the mocking undertone, you aren’t stupid. So you stand slightly awkwardly off to the side as his friends disperse slowly around the two of you. The only friend of his that you know by name, much less respect, Bradley Bradshaw, sends him a warning look and says hi softly as he passes you. Despite the fact that Jake’s standing in a lower row, he’s still slightly taller than you when he stands to his full height, backpack over one shoulder.

“Jake.” You grit out, trying to mask your displeasure. You’re sure it isn’t working.

“Sweets, it is a joy to see you.” His easygoing smile does nothing to make you feel at ease, in fact, you think it might be giving you high blood pressure.

“I will choose to ignore the fact that you seem to not know my name, and ask that we meet as soon as possible to start on this.” You cross your arms and turn around to start up the stairs, and you hear him hit himself on a desk in his rush to catch up to you. Serves him right.

He seems only slightly deterred by the fact that he just did the adult equivalent of smacking your shin with a scooter, and he keeps his stride even with yours. It’s your luck that you two actually have your next class together as well, something about senior requirements.

“You’re being unusually nice to me. Scared that your grade’s on the line?” He teases, only slightly distracted by his phone which he’s typing furiously into.

You round on him, and he grinds to a halt while you brandish your metal water bottle at him, “I take my grades very seriously, Jake Seresin, and I will not have you goofing around and sabotaging us just because you find glee in my suffering.”

Very cautiously, like he’s actually afraid you might hit him, he grabs the bottom of your water bottle and lowers it so it isn’t at his eye level. Then, he has the audacity to salute you. Not a corny one, but one that looks like he’s spent hours practicing it in the mirror when he’s doing his military nonsense. At the very least, he doesn’t snap his feet together, so he manages to save himself from looking like the world’s biggest dork.

“I pinky promise that I will not sabotage our project because I find it funny. I do also care about my grades y'know.” You exhale just slightly, and you turn back around to start walking again.

“Good to know you at least take something seriously,” You mutter under your breath, recalling all the times he’s breezed into lecture rooms right as the second hand indicates it’s the start of class.

He manages to catch your muttering, despite your best efforts, “I’m basically first in every engineering class we have, you cannot actually be questioning my academic prowess.”

Something curls in your chest, as you snap back, “Basically first?”

His laugh carries as you two finally exit the building and march through the quad. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that despite the size of your university, people know about your rivalry.

When you get to your next lecture, Jake plops himself down right next to you, trapping you in the aisle unless you take the long way out. You bristle at the proximity and glare at him, trying to mentally will him into leaving you alone. He seems not to get the message as he fully unpacks and manages to irk you even further by using the shared arm rest.

You almost completely lose your mind when you finally decide to change seats despite the one next to Jake being your unofficial-official seat, and your professor chooses that exact moment to start class.

Ignoring Jake through the lecture isn’t actually the hardest thing in the world. He wasn’t lying when he said that he took classes seriously–you notice that he takes diligent notes, keeps his online shopping and texting to minimum (that’s nothing to say for his frat brothers who seem to be intent on keeping their groupchat on fire), and doesn’t bother you. He keeps his elbow on the arm rest between you two, though.

When there’s only a few minutes left and the professor notices that he’s losing everyone, you feel a poke. You ignore it and grit your teeth as you attempt to maintain your composure. Jake pokes you again.

It takes all of your mental strength not to straight up just yell at him in the middle of a lecture hall, and you turn your head slowly to make eye contact with him. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and it makes you even more annoyed.

“Can I help you?” You whisper quietly, “I’m trying to focus here.”

Jake just keeps smiling and responds, “Library after this? We can have lunch.”

Then he has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows in a way that makes you raise yours at him. He seriously bothered you for this? The same man who insisted he would take the project seriously is trying to distract you from paying attention in one of your most difficult lectures.

In an instant, you remember that pissing him off completely probably isn’t the brightest idea, and even though you can already tell you’re going to spend most of this semester completely and constantly ticked off with him, you know you’re capable and you don’t want to have him drag you down completely. So, instead, you nod somberly at him, and turn back to the front.

He seems surprised by your reaction but doesn’t push it, thankfully.

Once the professor dismisses everyone, Jake once again takes his time putting everything on his desk away and finally standing to leave. You think you could’ve done a hundred physics problems before you two are leaving the lecture hall. Nearly everyone else has already left, and you just find that to be another reason to be irritated with him. This semester is going to be a million years long.

“Oh please, Jake, spare me the hyper nationalist histrionics.” You think this might be the fourth time you’ve rolled your eyes in the last two minutes as you and Jake argue about your project topic.

The two of you have claimed a table in the far corner of the second floor and spread textbooks, notebooks, and various supplies over it. Thankfully, there aren’t that many witnesses to the absolute hurricane of materials and the arguing that’s been varying in pitch for the countless minutes since you got here. You’re considering strangling him.

(Yes, you had argued about where to sit. You insisted on a study room on the fourth floor where it was quiet and you usually studied. Jake had won out only because of the fact that the fourth floor was a silent floor and “we’re probably going to yell at each other and I really don’t feel like getting on the librarians’ bad sides this early into the semester.” Five minutes after he said that, you’d raised your voice loud enough to make several people turn their heads– “Urban sustainability shows our versatility as engineers, asshole!”)

You only have two weeks to decide, and even that’s a stretch. These deadlines are fake in your mind–topic should be decided within three days to ensure maximum time for research, analysis, and polishing of the final product. You’d perfected your timeline second semester of freshman year and you were not about to deviate because Jake couldn’t understand that not everyone had their head so far up the Navy’s ass all they could see was its intestines.

So far, the only ‘work’ you and Jake have managed to get done is to argue about the ethics of the military industrial complex as well as, in his words, why you are not in fact a hippie just because you don’t approve of a bloated military budget. (“How much does one pilot’s helmet cost?”) Lunch is abandoned in front of you, a few containers of the sort-of-decent cafeteria food from the basement.

Jake seems determined to ensure the two of you spend the next sixteen weeks turning yourselves into cadets, or whatever the hell they’re called, and you could not care less. In fact, you absolutely cannot care less because you are not going to do research on the military and a deep dive into urban sustainability projects is the only option. Navy or Army or whoever be damned. You’ve already told him as much at least three times.

“You just said the word histrionics. Who even says that.”

At the very least, you can take comfort in the fact that he looks just as annoyed as you probably do. His usually unshakeable, smiley demeanor is gone, replaced by a look on his face that says he’s probably regretting being so cheerful about calling the two of you a “dream team”. He leans back in his chair so he’s only on the back two legs and you bite your tongue at the urge to chastise him for the extremely juvenile behavior. Someone’s mother clearly never terrified them at age five about putting their head through the windows behind the kitchen table.

“I say that, Jake, because I’m an adult with an adult vocabulary. And as an adult, as the adult, I’m deciding that we’re not doing some stupid shit about the Navy.” He narrows his eyes at you and you can see the gears turning.

“Okay, well, I’m also an adult and I don’t say histrionics.” It’s a weak comeback and you both know it, but he seems more preoccupied by whatever plan he seems to be thinking through.

It’s then that it occurs to you that he might be doing a sort of calculus that means that even though you might win this battle, you’re going to lose the war. You open your mouth to start arguing again, but this time about the project topic, when he holds up a palm to stop you. Now you’re not just considering throttling him, but wondering how aggravated assault can be explained away on graduate school applications.

“Okay, how about we compromise. We can do our project on fuel efficiency of a few types of Navy aircraft. That way I get to do the military and we can talk about the environment. It’s not exactly urban planning but,” He waves his hand around, gesturing wildly, “It’s some sort of planning.”

For a moment, you think he actually might be trying to compromise. But instead, you narrow your eyes. Jake Seresin isn’t nice, least of all to you. And he certainly doesn’t believe in compromises.

You stand firm, “I am not doing any project that involves the Navy. Or the Army.”

“National Guard?”

You almost leap across the table at the laughter that shakes his entire body. Instead, you sit and you seethe, considering how much clout you have in the department to get someone to convince your professor to let you switch partners. Or help you get away with murder.

Once he stops laughing, he settles easily back into his chair and then folds his hands together so he can rest his chin on them, a serious expression coming over his face, “How about a deal, sweets?”

Sirens immediately start going off in your head. Bad, bad, bad. You are not making a deal with the devil. But, some part of you is curious, what will he ask from you to let you take the lead on this?

“Go on.” You narrow your eyes at him, and gesture for him to continue.

“You have to come to at least five parties this semester at my invite, and stay for at least three hours, I’ll know if you don’t, and we will do the project the way you want it. I ask for three thousand words to talk about the military, give or take.” The twinkle in his eyes is mischievous in the worst way and it sets you on edge.

“What’s the catch?”

“What do you mean what’s the catch? An offer’s an offer, sweets.” He holds a hand out for you to shake but you shake your head at him.

“I wanna negotiate.” Jake raises an eyebrow at you (does he do his eyebrows?), but gestures for you to continue anyways, “I will come to exactly four of your stupid parties, and stay for two hours, no more. We do the project my way and you get two thousand words.”

You can tell he wants to say yes when he sits up in his chair, but then you realize that he’s getting too good of a deal so you cut him off, “Actually, no military or flight deviations. I hate parties.” You wrinkle your nose in displeasure.

“Zero is a hell of a lot smaller than three thousand, sweets.” A crooked grin spreads over Jake’s face and you make a mocking face at him. “And I know, but it’ll be good for you. Socializing with normal humans is good for the soul.”

“Okay well, our page limit is thirty, and that’s 7,500 words double spaced. Not including diagrams and footnotes, so I don’t want you eating up all my research space with military crap,” Jake scoffs when you say “my” but holds out his hand anyway.

“Fine. Four parties, two hours, project your way, one thousand words?” He wiggles the fingers of his outstretched hand like he had earlier in the day and you stare at it for a moment before deciding, what the hell.

Shaking Jake’s hand makes you realize that’s the first time you’ve ever touched him.

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