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justfandomwritings · 2 years

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Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)

Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.

“Who did this to you?”

Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.

You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back.

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen.

“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated.

You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman.

You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did.

Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell.

In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions.

He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it.

On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down.

“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.

His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you.

“You already know who.”

It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman.

The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend.

Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man.

You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched.

Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage.

“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch.

“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away.

Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea.

A flood of memories came back to you.

‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.

‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard.

‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from.

‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life.

Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either.

You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over.

You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today.

“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer.

It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken.

Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends.

“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny.

The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway.

“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack.

You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy.

You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late.

“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”

Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”

“Hangman, I-”

“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.

—------------------------------------------------

Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.

You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks.

Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down.

The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.

The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away.

Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game.

One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.

There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.

Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.

“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”

Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.

Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.

Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.

You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.

‘I’m still coming to pick you up from work.’

Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.

You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone.

You did the first thing that came to mind.

It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.

You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down.

Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding.

You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like.

“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.

“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”

When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours.

Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing.

“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”

Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”

Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction.

Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave.

“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”

“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.

No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.

—------

“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses.

Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.

You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober.

His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned.

“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.

Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him.

You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.”

You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in.

“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door.

There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.

“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him.

“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary.

“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.

You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary.

He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication.

“Would you come in?”

Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.

“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”

Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”

The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away.

Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.

You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.

You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.

“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen.

“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”

“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.

“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”

“He has a key.”

“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”

Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.”

Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.

—-------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow.

You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all.

You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.

You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again.

You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.

Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.

A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:

‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’

As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.

‘No, I couldn’t.’

You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table.

True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking mess with puffy red eyes.

Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.

“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”

“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”

“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.”

“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.”

He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.

—--------------------------

You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this.

True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.

The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool.

Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman.

All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.

Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.

The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway.

Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind.

No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.

There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back.

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.

“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables.

You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register.

“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot.

Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…”

The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.

He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.

You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving.

Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.

“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.

Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon.

Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”

Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react.

“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on.

Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage.

You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door.

Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it.

A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.

Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it.

If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!”

Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.

The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?”

There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision.

None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin.

“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”

Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake.

As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one.

It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion.

Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.

Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him.

Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other.

“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence.

Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.

“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”

Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.”

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform.

You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.

“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”

That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”

Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”

You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.”

For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.

Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”

You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.

Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began.

Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist.

Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”

Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.

Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change.

Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”

Without warning, Devin swung.

He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.

It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.

You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.

The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.

Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.

It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.

The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.

Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.

Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.

“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.

Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.

“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.

“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”

“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.

His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.

Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.

“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”

Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.

There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.

Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.

Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.

“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.

The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.

Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.

“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”

You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.

“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”

You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.

“Are you…”

“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.

You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.

In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.

Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.

His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.

Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.

“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”

It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.

Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.

You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.

—————————————

“Thank you.”

It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.

He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.

The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.

Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.

But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.

“What did Mav say to you when you left?”

“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”

“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”

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tongue-like-a-razor · 6 months

Text

Ex Appeal

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin gets a frightful visitor on Halloween.

CW: Angst, fluff, suggestive themes, alludes to past cheating

WC: 3500+

This fic was written for @roosterforme’s Rocktober challenge! Inspired by the song Poison by Alice Cooper.

Masterlist

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jake says with a look of disgust – as much of it as he can muster. You, after all, have been his greatest source of misery as of late.

You give him a dirty look – your specialty – and barge into his home as though you own the place and Jake’s just a goddamn doorman. “I need to lay low for a bit.”

Jake narrows his eyes as he turns to face you. He keeps the door open because he’s still hoping you’re going to leave any minute. “Lay low?” he asks mockingly. “What’d you do? Commit murder?” He wouldn’t be surprised.

You peek around his arm to glance out at the street. “Someone’s looking for me.”

Jake watches you impassively. “Is it the police?” Then, after a moment, he adds, “Is there a reward?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re the only one in this neighbourhood that I trust,” you say, pushing on the door that Jake is obstinately keeping open.

Jake nods. “Shame that trust doesn’t go both ways,” he comments contemptuously.

You eye him irritably. “Close the door.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

“I just did.”

Jake shakes his head. “You could not have been more vague.”

You sigh. “Close the door and I’ll tell you.”

Jake exhales warily and shuts the front door. He surveys your outfit. “What are you wearing?”

You glance down at your ensemble: a black, form-fitting body suit and fishnet stockings. You’re also sporting knee-high boots and you’ve got what looks like six extra arms coming out of your back. You look back up at him with an annoyed expression on your face. “It’s Halloween,” you snap defensively.

Jake grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” He gestures to a cauldron full of candy sitting near the front door. “There’s gonna be a fuck-tonne of children coming through here trick-or-treating in like half an hour and you’re dressed like a gothic porn star.”

Instead of being offended, you lift your eyebrows in surprise. “You’re handing out candy?”

Jake sighs and places his hands on his hips, fixing you with a stern look. “Yeah, I’m handing out candy. That’s what adults do on Halloween.”

You stare at him as a smile materializes on your face. “Is that your costume?” you ask facetiously, gesturing at his checkered polo shirt. “Adult?”

Jake squares his jaw to mask the fact that he found your joke humorous, but you seem to notice the shift in his features because your own grin broadens. “My mom got me this shirt,” he says.

“Ah,” you respond. “A fellow adult.”

Jake tears his gaze away from you, focusing instead on the shiny, pointed toes of your stilettos. “Why’re you here?” he asks again, this time a lot less peevishly and a lot more grimly.

You bend down to unzip your boots. “I’m a spider,” you say. “Black widow.”

Jake glances up to meet your gaze as you straighten up. He nods. “Suits you.”

You give him a flat look. “I was at the bus stop and some dude started harassing me.”

Jake’s eyes trail down your scantily glad body. “You don’t say,” he remarks sarcastically.

Your jaw drops in outrage. “Are you victim blaming?”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “It was a joke.”

You cringe. “It was in poor taste.”

Jake closes his eyes and lets out a tired sigh. He’s had about enough of your attitude. “You wanna talk about poor taste?” he asks. “Where’s that lovely boyfriend of yours?”

You watch him sourly. “We’re not together anymore, if you must know,” you reply.

Truth be told, Jake probably didn’t need to know. But, now that he does, it’s only fitting that he respond with, “Shocking.”

You give him the finger. As if he were the one who’d been dating two people at the same time.

There’s a knock on the door. “Fuck,” he mutters, giving you a moody look. “Hide,” he says. “Unless you’d rather traumatize a bunch of eight-year-olds.”

You grimace at him. “You think eight-year-olds haven’t seen worse?”

Jake scans the low-cut neckline of your costume. He can’t think of anything more erotic if he tried. But, if he’s being honest, it’s not the outfit so much as your insane body that’s the culprit. He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you aside, making sure you’re tucked safely behind the door before opening it.

He smiles down at the two little kids on his porch when they yell, “TRICK-OR-TREAT!” at the top of their lungs.

“Well, well, well,” he says cheerily, bending down to grab a handful of candy out of his cauldron. “Who do we have here?” He puts the candy into one of their bags. “Are you a mermaid?”

The girl nods happily.

Jake wows in amazement. “You’re the prettiest mermaid I’ve ever seen!” He bends down to grab another handful of candy and drops it into the second child’s bag. “And you must be Iron Man!” he exclaims. “That’s one cool costume, bud. You look great!”

When Jake finally closes the door and looks at you, he sees that you’ve got your arms folded over your chest and a giant smirk on your face.

“What?” he asks darkly.

Your smile widens. “That was cute.”

Jake takes a step from the door and looks away from you. He’s not about to get sucked back into your web of lies, no pun intended. “You wanna hand some out?” he asks.

“I thought you don’t want me traumatizing the children,” you respond sarcastically, stepping out of the corner toward him.

Jake glances at you with a small smile. “I can give you some clothes, if you like.”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Adult clothes?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Come on, before more kids show up.”

He makes his way into his bedroom and grabs a pair of jogging pants and t-shirt and brings them back out for you. “Bathroom’s down the hall,” he says.

“I remember,” you respond, but you’ve already started to remove your bodysuit.

Jake turns away in alarm and holds out the clothes for you. “Do you?”

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” you say. “Shoot, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Jake groans. “Are you for fucking real?”

“You got a pair of boxers?”

Jake swallows uncomfortably. “Hold this,” he instructs, keeping a hand over his eyes as he hands you the crumpled clothes and starts back for his bedroom.

“You know what? I’ll just go commando.”

Jake takes a deep, cleansing breath and turns back toward you. He keeps his eyes closed and holds a hand out so as not to bump into anything as he walks. Of course, as luck would have it, he stumbles into you.

“What the fuck, dude?” you exclaim as his hands cling to your naked body, steadying you so you don’t fall over.

Jake squeezes his eyes tightly so that they don’t open inadvertently. “Sorry, sorry!” he winces, finally stabilizing both himself and you. He feels the softness of your skin underneath his palms as his hands do a final sweep along your back before he lifts them away from your body with a grimace. He’s bracing himself for a punch in the face.

“Are you a dumbass? Open your eyes!” you screech. “You’ve seen me naked how many times?!”

“Twelve,” he responds, a little hoarsely. All he can think about is how smooth your skin felt in his hands not a moment ago and it’s driving him a little mad.

“It was a rhetorical question,” you say pointedly. “You counted?”

“Are you decent yet?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“I’m never decent,” you mutter under your breath and Jake can’t help but smirk. “But if you’re asking whether or not I’m dressed. Then, yes, I am.”

Jake releases a heavy sigh and opens his eyes cautiously.

You scowl at him. “What, you think I’m tricking you?”

“Well, you aren’t treating me.”

You stare at him coolly. “You’re such a delight. Can’t imagine why we ever broke up.”

“Need a reminder?” he calls as you make your way back into the front hall. “It’s because you cheated on me!”

You’re standing at the front door with your arms crossed. “I didn’t cheat, for the last time,” you retort. “We weren’t exclusive.”

Jake presses his lips into a thin line. “I was exclusive.”

You shake your head in frustration. “Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

There’s another knock on the door. You sigh irritably and reach for the doorknob.

“Hello!” you exclaim enthusiastically the moment the door is open.

The mob of children on Jake’s doorstep all look up at you with exuberant grins and yell their opening line in a loud, messy chorus.

You react with an animated gasp. “Oh my goodness! You guys are a frightful bunch!”

The kids laugh. Indeed, they’re dressed as zombies, ghosts, and vampires, and, when you comment on their appearance, they growl and make scary faces at you. Jake smiles at them and then at you as you distribute the candy from the cauldron excitedly.

Once the door is closed, however, you drop the act, giving him an icy look as you settle yourself on the little bench near the door.

Jake fights the urge to sit next to you and maybe get a little lost in the smell of your perfume. He still gets a whiff of it from time to time when he walks by his closet. Which reminds him –

“I have your sweater,” he says awkwardly.

You glance up at him coldly. “Well, why didn’t you give it to me? It’d probably look better than this.” You tug on the hem of the t-shirt he gave you.

Jake doubts it; the fact that he could see your nipples through the fabric of his own shirt is even more of a turn on than your low-cut bodysuit had been. But he responds with, “Probably. But I’m not about to let you change again.”

You snort. “Fair.”

Jake wonders just how detrimental sitting next to you might be to his personal journey of recovery. He figures that you also would prefer that he stay as far away from you as possible. Ultimately, however, he decides that it’s his bench, after all, and that he’ll be sharing it with you and not the other way around. And, with regard to getting over you, well, he can try again tomorrow.

Jake makes his way over to the bench and you eye him cautiously as he approaches. Silently, you slide to make room for him. He gulps nervously and lowers himself onto the seat beside you.

“What were you doing at the bus stop, anyway?” he asks, staring down at his own clasped hands because he can’t handle looking at you when you’re sitting so close.

“Frank and I were on our way to a party,” you respond sullenly.

Jake glances up at you despite himself. “Thought you two broke up.”

You meet his gaze and promptly look away – apparently, you’re not too keen on engaging in eye contact at this proximity either. “We did,” you say curtly. “About an hour ago.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “An hour ago?”

“We had a fight on the way. I hopped out of the car at a red light.”

Jake leaps out of his seat. “Are you crazy?” he exclaims. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

You give him an amused look. “Don’t you fly jets for a living?”

Jake gapes at you incredulously. “I trained for that,” he retorts.

You let out a small laugh. “You’re right,” you reply. “I should’ve practiced first.”

Jake draws a hand over his mouth. “Okay, so you got out of the car in the middle of traffic,” he says with a wince. “And he, what? Just let you go?”

You shrug. “Wouldn’t you?”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “In what you were wearing? I wouldn’t even let you go to the bathroom by yourself.”

You stare at him with a grin. “That’s a bit excessive.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “How many guys made passes at you before you finally decided that taking the bus home wasn’t the brightest idea?”

You lower your gaze without responding.

“As if that douchebag just left you,” Jake says angrily.

“Well, I wasn’t being very nice.”

“There’s a surprise.”

You eye him dangerously.

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” Jake says. “This isn’t the safest neighbourhood.”

You suck in your cheeks and nod. “Yeah, I was pretty freaked out actually,” you admit. “There was a group of guys following me and they kept making lewd comments. When I got to the bus stop, they sort of surrounded me…”

You trail off and Jake’s hands curls into fists of their own volition. “I could kill your boyfriend.”

“Ex,” you remind him.

“Whatever,” he says. After a moment, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I pretended to call someone – you actually,” you say with a laugh. “I had a whole fake conversation with you on my way over. They lost interest in me after a little while and took off.”

He watches you solemnly. “You could’ve actually called me,” he says.

Your face turns skeptical. “Right. And you’d pick up?”

Probably not. “Of course,” he responds. Then he sighs and shakes his head. “Maybe I wouldn’t.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jake sighs and sits back down beside you.

Several more groups of trick-or-treaters come and go and you and him take turns answering the door. Occasionally, both of you jump up at the same time and end up oohing and aahing in unison at the various costumes that grace Jake’s doorstep.

This activity does little to help quell the feelings he’s tried for months to repress. He remembers grudgingly the night he told you he was falling for you and you telling him that you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment. That’s when he found out that he wasn’t the only one you’d been seeing.

In your defense, it’s not something you had been actively hiding. In fact, you probably thought that Jake was also sleeping around, given his reputation. But Jake caught feelings like an idiot and was heartbroken when you finally showed your cards.

He spent nearly a year convincing himself that you’re absolute scum. Yet, here you are, looking cute as a button in his joggers and t-shirt, laughing giddily at the neighborhood children like you’re some kind of sweetheart. Like you could fool him now.

Jake slumps back down on the bench, trying to interact with you as little as possible. He can sense that you’re starting to win him over again, and he can’t have that happen. He will not be seduced.

You sit beside him with a grand sigh and lean your head back against the wall. “You get a lot of kids here,” you say lightly.

“Mm-hm,” he hums, bending forward to rest his arms on his legs.

“I’m getting hungry,” you say. “You?”

Jake closes his eyes. The last thing he needs is a fucking dinner date with you. “There are some leftovers in the fridge. You can go heat some up for yourself.”

You lay a hand on his back and Jake goes rigid. “You’re not going to eat?” you ask.

“Not hungry,” he manages to say.

Your hand slides unhurriedly down his spine, your fingers grazing him delicately. Jake brings a fist to his mouth to suppress a moan. “I’ll wait, then,” you say softly. Then, before Jake can gather the strength to remove himself from the situation, you lean your body into his and rest your head on his shoulder.

Jake sits very still, trying to decide how best to navigate this turn of events.

“Do you ever miss me?” you murmur faintly.

Jake turns his head to look down at your face while his heart springs into his throat to constrict his breathing. “What are you doing?” he asks huskily.

Your eyes stare deeply into his. “I’m just wondering,” you whisper.

Jake sighs and rubs his forehead. “You just broke up with Frank.”

Your eyes start to fill with tears. “I miss you.”

“Fuck,” Jake mutters and straightens his back. His head drops like a deadweight against the drywall in behind.

You’re displaced in the process but, once he’s situated, you slowly move closer, until your head is resting over his chest.

Jake grits his teeth but wraps his arm around you and, in response, you lay your arm over his abdomen. He can feel your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt. He tightens his embrace around your shoulders and curses some more, in silence this time. What is it about you that he just can’t resist?

You lift your head off his chest so you can be face to face with him. Jake tries very hard not to lock eyes with you because that would likely be the end of him. “Jake,” you say in a wispy sort of tone and Jake instantly loses that fight. He meets your gaze, and your eyes entrance him. “I want you to kiss me,” you breathe.

Jake can almost taste the citrus of your perfume; it hangs over you like a veil. He can already hear your melodic moans; he knows what you sound like when he touches you. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest, the ardent urging of your hands as they slip underneath his shirt.

But what he can’t do is kiss you.

Your lips… your lips are all he can think about. He wants you more than anything in the world but you’re not here the same way he’s here; you’re just passing through while he’s here to stay.

You come impossibly close, aching for just a split second of contact. “Don’t you want to?” you whisper.

Jake can hardly stand being this close to you. “Why are you doing this?” he asks in a low, uneven voice.

You gulp and the tip of your nose brushes his. “I want to be with you, Jake,” you whimper, your fingers digging persistently into his ribs. Your travelling hands ignite a chain of pyrotechnics under his skin that sort of set his entire chest ablaze. “Don’t you want that?”

If only you knew how much. He shakes his head, cupping your cheek in his hand. “How can that be? When you’ve only been single for an hour?”

Your eyes start to sparkle. “You don’t believe me?”

He’ll never believe a word you say. But that doesn’t make him want you any less. He catches the tears that stream down your face with his thumb.

“I never got over you, Jake,” you say, clasping your hand over his on your cheek. “I think about you all the time.”

Jake leans his head into yours and grips your hand in his. If you’re telling the truth, he sympathizes. But, more likely than not, every word coming out of your mouth is fiction.

You push him away and sit up straight, wiping at your tears. “I never meant to hurt you,” you say. “I made a mistake. I realized that the moment you left. And I was too proud to go after you.”

Jake grimaces. “So, you dated Frank for ten months?”

You shrug. “On and off. He cheated on me, so…” you trail off with a cynical laugh. “Got what I deserved.”

Jake furrows his brows. “You don’t deserve that.”

You glance up at him with renewed hope. “I don’t deserve you,” you say with a strangled sigh. “I know that. And you know that, obviously. Which is why you won’t kiss me.”

Jake shakes his head.

“I know that it’s long over, Jake. I’m not delusional,” you say, your eyes so penetrating it feels like they’re clawing right into his soul. “And, I swear, I did not come here for this. It’s just, seeing you again – and your fucking disgustingly adorable adult shirt – handing out candy like a well-adjusted member of society – it reminded me what I missed out on.”

Jake lifts his eyebrows. “A lame, costume-less, party-less Halloween?”

You smile. “It’s not lame. It’s perfect.”

Jake watches you wretchedly. You may look innocent sitting before him in his very own baggy joggers and t-shirt with your dizzyingly beautiful eyes. But you are a fucking black widow. With a venomous bite. And sweet lips that spew lies, webs of which he could never untangle. Poison on the tongue. Toxic to the bone. Fatal. “You’re perfect,” he says.

You gaze at him tenderly, waiting for your moment to strike. Jake is waiting too. There’s no use fighting it, he lost the moment he met you. And he’ll lose as many times as it will take to win you for good.

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. Let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

@atarmychick007

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roosterbruiser · 10 months

Note

If it's not too early to request for the sleepover.... this prompt with Jake “next time we get into an argument, i’m reminding you that i took your virginity.” 🥰

it's just how you and Jake operate. you get into little tizzies--about everything, about nothing, about dinner, about the weather, about driving, about the dog, about the overhead light in the living room.

they're no big deal--not really. usually the two of you are grinning in exasperation, rolling your eyes playfully, blowing raspberries in jest when the other gets the upper-hand. there's never any yelling, never any true anger. just a slight back-and-forth, one accompanied by little pinches of the thigh and light nudges.

it's rare that any quarrel lasts more than a few minutes--which is why you're so frustrated right now.

"you're not listening," you accuse Jake, dragging your hand down your face.

the sun is beating down relentlessly, your hair hot to the touch and your shoulders beginning to darken.

Jake, standing beside you with his comically over-packed hiking backpack, throws his arms up in an exaggerated shrug.

"yeah, 'cause I don't listen to people when they're wrong," he says, squinting at you beneath his aviators. he gestures to the sign before you again. "it says the Peacock Trail is west. baby, I navigate for a living! don't you think I know my cardinals?"

groaning, you fidget with the rolled band of your biker shorts and then widen your eyes at him.

"yes, but--!"

"--no but's! just listen to the fighter pilot," Jake exclaims, glancing at you from the top of his aviators. he gives you an award-winning grin. one that makes you really, really steam. "and everything else will be gravy, baby."

stamping your foot into the dust, you sigh.

"we don't want to go on the Peacock Trail," you say shrilly. you point to the correct trail--the one you read extensively about the night before like you always do--and then glance at him. "we want to go on the Patriot Trail!"

Jake debates this for a moment, following your finger. and with an internal sigh but no outward change in his appearance, he realizes that you're right. shit. he hates it when that happens.

and here he is, standing in his athletic clothes and his over-stuffed backpack and his new tennis shoes, thinking he's hot shit. he glances at you--you haven't broken your dubious gaze from him.

even though he really hates not being right--like really, really hates not being right--he hates to truly exasperate you even more. besides, it's a beautiful day. a rare Saturday off paired with a blue sky and new hiking shoes and, best of all, you. everything else is just dust, he decides.

just as he's about to admit that he's wrong, just as he's about to tuck his tail between his legs, you grin at him.

"ha! you're wrong! you know you're wrong," you laugh, shaking your head at Jake as he stares back at you with his jaw slack. "trying to I'm a fighter-pilot me like that's ever worked."

"but I was just about to--!"

"--no but's! just listen to the fighter pilot's girlfriend and everything else will be gravy, baby," you say sweetly--and mockingly--before leaning up to peck his shocked lips.

you start for the trail--the correct trail--and Jake watches from a few paces behind. he's stunned, really. no one has ever returned his words so quickly, so fiercely before. Jesus.

but then you turn, squinting beneath the yellow sun, and give him a grin.

"c'mon, flyboy! time's a-wasting!"

flyboy. he hates that term.

"you know," Jake starts, finally moving his feet. "next time we argue, I'm so going to remind you that I took your virginity."

with a gasp, you halt and turn to him. there's that award-winning grin again.

"you wouldn't dare," you say quietly.

"oh, I would," he says, nodding emphatically. "I really, really would."

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jupitercomet · 10 months

Note

Angsty sugar daddy Jake where his ex sugar baby/girlfriend says something really mean and degrading(?) to reader

warnings - ceo au, sugar daddy au, grumpy x sunshine trope, language, degrading language around sex work

It wasn’t a surprise to you that Jake was a bit of a playboy. Honestly, you don’t know how he couldn’t be. He didn’t really understand the point of feelings and took relationships with a grain of salt, that didn’t exactly scream Mr. Commitment. It didn’t bother you that Jake had women in his past—you’re still trying to get over the surprise that he doesn’t have other women in his present. Jake having been with other women was just a fact to you.

You just weren’t expecting them to be so mean.

Jake glances at you for what must be the fifth time. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was uncomfortable with the current situation—and he probably is—but to you, he just looks worried. You keep your head pressed against the glass of the car window, watching the trees and cars pass with little interest. Car. Tree. Car. Car. Tree. Tree. Fast Car. Tree—

“Do you want to stop anywhere? We’re close to the Outlets.” Jake’s voice cuts through the numbed haze of it all. Just like the rest of him, it’s pointed, so it does so with ease. You know what he’s doing. It’s his emotionally distant way of trying to comfort you.

And normally it works. But right now the thought of being pampered with expensive things only makes you sick. Does Jake really think that purses and shoes are the only things that make you happy? That all you are is some airhead who’s so superficial that all she needs to perk up is a pair of diamond earrings. Does he truly think that little of you?

You bite down on your lip, keeping your eyes trained on the scenery in front of you. “No thank you.”

The car goes quiet—Jake’s driver had the mind to already raise the divider, giving you and Jake the privacy of being able to digest what just happened in the company of just yourselves. You’re not doing a great job of it, you’ve been on the verge of tears since the ignition started. And you really don’t want to cry, you did your mascara so good this morning.

“She didn’t—” Jake clears his throat, his voice coming out more confident. “She didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, she did.”

You hardly register your voice as your own, it sounds far too hollow and dejected. You look down at your freshly manicured nails with an almost contempt. Jake had paid for those nails. He surprised you with it suddenly, transferring the money to your bank account with a small note to have fun. He said he liked them when you came home and showed him.

Jake sighs heavily and you can imagine that this is probably the last thing he wants to be doing. Today was supposed to be his day off and now he’s trying to stop you from crying in the back of a Bentely. “She was mad at me. Not you. She just wanted to embarrass me.”

“Right.” Tears well up in your eyes and you will yourself not to cry. Because it would be embarrassing to Jake - if you were a gold-digging slut with no self respect. To be seen with someone like that would be embarrassing.

“That’s not what I— I mean, she was upset to see us at a restaurant—”

Her eyes hold an animosity you’ve never seen before, especially not in someone you’ve never even met before. She sneers, snatching her purse between bright red acrylic nails. “You’re pathetic.” She spits the words laced in venom in your direction. “Does it make you feel special or something? Whoring yourself out to a bunch of guys that will never actually love you?”

Jake takes a step forward but his ex fling—as you’ve pieced together—just laughs. “Oh, by all means, Jake, please tell me why this gold-digging slut is good enough to be seen in public with you, but I wasn’t.”

“You’re causing a scene.” Jake’s jaw ticks.

His ex fling lets her mouth drop incredulously. “That’s all you have to say? You—” Her fury comes on suddenly and, all at once there’s a cup of water in her hand and then its contents all over Jake’s front. “God, I forgot you were such a fucking dickhead! Have fun with your whore then, I’d get tested if I were you.”

You sniff, interrupting Jake mid-explanation. “I have feelings.”

Jake freezes, features only slightly confused. “What?”

“I have feelings,” you repeat. “I feel like people forget that sometimes.”

“Look—”

“And I don’t know how to make them remember.” The haze returns and you go back to looking out the window. Car. Tree. Tree. Car. Car.

You can feel Jake staring at you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. You think that he might say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls his phone out from his slacks pocket and starts looking over emails. You think it might almost be symbolic in a way - you, looking out the window, and Jake, looking at his emails.

It only takes a bit more of car and tree counting for your eyes to droop, the steady movement of the car lulling you to sleep.

Jake looks up from his phone when your hand slips slightly and it catches his attention and he takes in the fact that you’re sleeping peacefully against his car door with a slight frown. You’ll get a crick in your neck in that position. He doesn’t have time to worry about resituating you though, as the car comes to a stop outside of his apartment building.

Jake moves to wake you up, but hesitates. Your lashes are dancing across your cheeks, your lips slightly parted as you breathe softly. The dress he bought for you has curled up your thighs, the seam stretching as it wraps around your legs.

He lets his hand drop, getting out of the car and then carefully opening your door. You shift slightly, but don’t stir more than that as Jake picks you up from the leather seat. Your cheek rests against his still slightly damp button up. Your makeup will probably sparkle against the white when Jake sets you down, but right now he doesn’t mind.

“Mr. Seresin.” The voice of his driver stills Jake in his tracks. “Should I inform Ms. Trace that you’ll still be accompanying her for dinner?”

Jake opens his mouth to confirm, but you murmur against his chest and his eyes are drawn back to you. He pauses. “No, um… Tell her something came up.”

Jake misses his driver’s knowing smile as he takes you inside. You almost wake up on the elevator ride to his penthouse, but somehow Jake’s able to coax you back to sleep. This is the longest Jake has ever been thoughtful and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing when he sets you down on his bed and changes you into one of his shirts.

Jake doesn’t really know where your makeup remover is—and doesn’t really want to look for it—so he just wets a washcloth with water and hopes that does the trick. You always complain about sleeping with your makeup on.

“Jake?” You whisper drowsily when the cool water raises you from sleep.

Jake shushes you softly, pulling the cloth from your face and surveying it to make sure he didn’t miss any of your makeup. That’s all it takes for you to be pulled under the lulling waves of sleep again and Jake gets up from the bed quietly, placing the dirty washcloth in the bathroom.

He locks eyes with himself in the sink mirror, his damp shirt and strands of hair that are still drying. Undoing the buttons of his shirt, Jake shakes off his reflection and grabs some comfortable clothes of his own. The events of today are playing through his head, but they almost don’t feel real. Like they’re part of some movie he watched instead of his actual life.

Uncharacteristically, Jake decides that he’ll pick his clothes up later, leaving them on the floor as he pads to the bed. You’ve rolled onto your side now, chest rising and falling under his silk sheets. Jake gets comfortable, only able to stare at you for several seconds.

Hesitantly, his hand comes out to trace your features with a feather light touch. He props his head up on his other elbow, watching intently as he traces over your cheekbones, nose, and eyebrows. You relax into his touch subconsciously and Jake shifts closer, moving his hand from your face to your hip. He drops a kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer to his chest.

Burrowing his face in your hairline, and breathing in your honey shampoo, Jake starts to whisper all the things he wanted to tell you today.

#jake seresin imagine #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin au #hangman imagine #hangman imagines #hangman x reader #hangman fluff #hangman angst #hangman au #sugar daddy!jake #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #buggy’s got a pen

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 7 months

Text

The Danger Zone (Part 3) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 2.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You struggle to keep your secret. Maverick's birthday dinner is off to a disastrous start.

Series Master List

Master List

It had been about two weeks since Phoenix and Coyote’s wedding and you hadn’t slept well a single night since. There was a weariness to your movements that wasn’t there before. Jake’s words were still echoing around in your head, threatening to upend what was left of your sanity at any second.

And you still didn’t know what to do.

Jake was pretty much ignoring you, doing what you did to him before the wedding. He dodged your calls, didn’t answer your texts, and the only thing that you hadn’t done yet to get his attention was show up at his apartment. You did have a key, but you were worried about pushing too much into crazy ex-girlfriend territory.

And you weren’t even his ex-girlfriend. You were just the woman he fucked around with and knocked up.

But could you really raise a baby on your own? Maybe. After all, your mom was a single mom for most of your life. And you knew that even though Maverick and Rooster would go apeshit for some time after finding out, they wouldn’t turn their backs on you. You would have help. You would have support. There was no way that your family would leave you and the baby to fend for yourselves.

But was that the future, the life you really wanted?

“Are you okay?” Emma asked you as you slowly worked on Maverick's birthday cake.

You were standing in Maverick’s kitchen with your sister-in-law, preparing Maverick’s surprise birthday dinner. Emma was cooking dinner with some help from Bradley, though his real job was to go out and grab ingredients that his wife forgot to buy, Penny was distracting Maverick for the day, and you were in charge of baking the cake.

You always found baking soothing. It took you back to the Sunday afternoons that you spent with your mom while she taught you how to make everything from scratch. Bradley never really had an interest in baking, just eating, so it was always your alone time with your mom. And after she passed, you always turned to baking when you needed some kind of comfort or a simple, meaningless task to focus on.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you murmured, lazily frosting the cake in front of you.

“Are you sure? You haven’t really been like yourself for some time.”

“I’m just tired.”

It wasn’t even a lie. You were exhausted. And it didn’t help that your stomach decided when it was happy with the food that you gave it and when it wasn’t with the flip of a coin. You felt so tired and drained already. Pulling the cake closer to you, you started writing out ‘Happy Birthday’ with the tube of blue icing.

“Is it something with work?”

“No.”

“Something wrong with your apartment again?”

“No, it’s just . . . it’s nothing.”

Since Jake walked off at the reception, you hadn’t told anyone else about your pregnancy. Penny asked you about it once a few days after the wedding and you just told her that you were still trying to tell the father and that was it. You didn’t really have the strength to mention the fact that Jake was ignoring you and you were very quickly beginning to spiral.

“Alright,” Emma replied softly, going back to chopping vegetables. She left you alone for about a minute before turning back to you. “Did you want some wine? Bradley nicked some bottles from the reception. Including that rosé that you like so much.”

“No, I’m alright with water.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m . . . not drinking right now,” you replied awkwardly.

“Really?” Emma asked, sounding honestly surprised at your poor attempt to get out of drinking that evening. “So, no more Wine Down Wednesdays then?”

“Not for a bit, no.”

“Alright,” Emma replied quietly, now more than a little suspicious.

Emma had known you for longer than she had known Bradley. The two of you went to the same college and knew each other through sports. She was one of the captains when you were a freshman and took you under her wing. And when she moved out to San Diego, you offered to take her out for a drink at the Hard Deck. Rooster was there and you introduced them and the rest was history.

And she knew that something was off with you.

Emma knew that both you and Bradley had a tendency to shut yourselves down when you were feeling a lot of emotional stress. She chalked it up to unresolved childhood trauma, of which you both had a decent amount.

And it was written all over your face. You were stressed. You weren’t sleeping well. You weren’t eating well. You were cutting yourself off from the world around you. And she was getting seriously concerned about you and your health.

Emma set down her knife and slowly turned to face you, though you ignored her gaze, and gently called your name. You kept your head stubbornly down, focusing on the design on Maverick’s birthday cake, piping meaningless designs to just try and bide your time away from the conversation with your sister-in-law.

“Did something happen at the wedding?”

“Can you drop it?” you snapped, finally turning to face Emma.

She paused, not looking offended, but all the more concerned. Sighing, you set down the icing bag and walked out of the kitchen. Emma didn’t follow after you immediately, giving you some space to breathe for a moment as you stepped out for some fresh air. But when she saw you starting to cry, she hurried outside after you.

As she approached the bench where you were sitting outside, you didn’t look up. But when she sat down beside you and gently pulled you in for a hug, you immediately turned to her. Latching onto her, every emotion that you plugged up inside since the wedding just came pouring out. She brushed your hair and just let you cry, not entirely shocked by your reaction.

“You know, if you tell me anything, whatever it is, I’m not going to share it with Bradley without your permission, right?” Emma spoke softly, rubbing your back supportively. “And that goes for any topic here, okay?”

You wanted the first person you told about your pregnancy, minus Penny that is, to be Jake. He was the one who knocked you up. This was his baby. But Jake wasn’t listening to you. And holy shit you wanted to get some of the burden of this secret off of your shoulders. You wouldn’t last much longer just holding onto this by yourself.

“You can’t tell Bradley, okay?” you whispered out shakily, causing Emma to nod.

“Lips are sealed,” Emma promised you, giving you a supportive squeeze.

You pursed your quivering lips together, just trying to take a moment to pull yourself together so that you didn’t start sobbing again. Sniffling, you buried your face into Emma’s chest a bit more, thinking for a moment about how your mom would have reacted to this situation, before finally letting it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

You could feel Emma tense up, but she didn’t say a word. Your stomach started to grow tight as the stress and anxiety of the last few weeks reached a new peak. But right as you started to go down the train of thought that you were truly on your own, Emma pulled you in for a tighter hug and steeled her own emotions in the moment.

“You’re sure?” she whispered, rubbing your back again.

“I took three tests. Penny knows. She was there when I took them.”

“Have you been to see a doctor?”

“No,” you croaked out, straightening up on your own. Wiping away your tears and snot, you stared down at your lap for a moment. “I got an appointment. But I don’t really know what to expect with the whole . . . situation.”

“And how are you feeling about it all?” Emma asked softly.

“I’m . . . I’ve been better,” you replied lamely, wiping some more tears away.

“Has the . . . father been supporting you through this? What did you say when you told him?” Emma questioned quietly.

“Well, I haven’t told him yet,” you stated, causing Emma to nod slowly.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes, of course,” you responded a bit sharper than you meant to, turning to meet Emma’s concerned gaze. “I meant to, but he’s . . . sort of . . . ignoring me now.”

“Ignoring you?” Emma demanded, frowning protectively. “Why do you think he is ignoring you?”

“I sort of . . . pushed away from him after I found out I was pregnant and then he tried to talk to me about it when I wasn’t ready and I tried to push it off a little bit more and then he got mad and stormed off and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

Without digging too much into how much the situation reminded her of petty high school drama, Emma straightened up in her seat, trying to come up with some sort of plan to get the father of your baby to grow the fuck up.

“Who is he anyways? Does he live around here?”

“You’re not going to break down his door,” you sighed, rubbing your face. Biting your lip, you turned to your sister-in-law. “I would tell you, but I think that you’ll freak out.”

“I promise that I won’t freak out,” Emma assured you.

“The father . . . is Jake,” you announced after a few moments of silence.

“Jake who?”

“Hangman,” you rephrased, a bit harsher than you intended.

“Hangman?” Emma repeated, clearly trying to manage her tone and expression. When you nodded, she tried to manage her expression further. “The father of your baby is . . . Hangman. And he’s the one ignoring you?”

“Yes,” you stressed, your anxiety starting to spike again.

Before Emma could reply, the sound of the fire alarm inside caused you both to get to your feet. Running and swearing, you raced inside. Smoke billowed out of the oven as soon as Emma pulled it open. She hurried to turn it off as you started to open the windows and beat the smoke away from the fire alarm.

“What the fuck!?” Bradley cursed, running into the house after returning from the store.

Grabbing the fire extinguisher by the front door, he ran over and put out the fire. You kept fanning the smoke away, but soon the smell of burnt food caused your stomach to roll and you were rushing into the bathroom.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned as you yanked the lid up.

Emma ran into the bathroom once the chaos in the kitchen dwindled down and Bradley got control of the situation some more. Cursing, she kneeled down beside you and delicately pulled the strands of hair that unfortunately made their way into the bowl.

“Sorry,” she apologized, wincing as you wretched again. “I forgot to turn off the oven before I ran outside after you.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed, picking your head up. “It’s just how my life’s going at this point. What’s another disaster?”

“Well, it’s all settled,” Bradley sighed, walking over to where you and Emma were in the bathroom. Spotting you leaning over the toilet, he quickly stepped into the room, concerned. “What happened to you?”

“The smoke just made me nauseous,” you replied softly, not meeting your brother’s gaze. “I’m fine, Bradley.”

“This is like the tenth time I’ve seen you throw up,” Bradley stated, folding his arms over his chest, like he always did when he was about to lecture you. “I think that you should see a doctor at this point.”

“I’ve got an appointment,” you sighed, closing the lid and flushing your stomach’s contents away. “I’m a big girl, Bradley.” Sitting on the floor and leaning against the vanity, you looked up at your brother. “How’s the cake?”

“A little smokey, but it should be fine. As for the rest of it . . .”

“There’s always take out,” Emma stated, standing up. “But maybe we should host it somewhere that isn’t so smokey.”

“The only other option is my apartment,” you replied, getting to your feet.

“Great,” Bradley sighed, earning a nudge from his wife. “I mean, that’s great.”

“Hilarious,” you muttered, getting to your feet as well. “I’ll text Penny and tell her about the change in plans. I’ll take the cake and go set up at my apartment. You two clean up here and figure out dinner.”

You left Maverick’s house shortly thereafter, returning to your apartment. It didn’t take too long to set up the cake and dinner. Bradley and Emma arrived with the food about thirty minutes later and the three of you were hurrying around trying to make it look homemade.

“Shit,” you cursed when your doorbell rang. “Just hide the containers in my pantry.”

Rushing over to the door, you pulled it open, just expecting it to be Maverick and Penny. But when you looked up and saw Jake standing there, you instantly tensed up. He stared at you for a moment, looking a bit nervous, but with that usual reserved air of confidence about him.

“Jake,” you breathed out, gripping the door so hard it hurt.

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bradshawsvinyl · 2 months

Text

Castles Crumbling

Tolerate It (Part two)

read part one here.

authors note: not sure if this is the ending you guys were expecting but I hope you like it!

warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, miscommunication tropes.

It was two in the morning when Jake softly unlocked the door to the home he shared with you. He silently took off his shoes and went upstairs to see where you were. He knew taking off on you was wrong. He knew that you just wanted to let him in. All you ever tried to do was love him and all he ever did was shut you out.

He had been planning to propose to you. He was constantly in communication with your best friend Julianna. He was talking to her about things he didn’t quite understand like ring sizes and diamonds. He wanted to make this proposal perfect for you. He wanted to give you everything you deserved and more.

But work was stressing him out. Maverick warned Jake and the rest of the squad that they would be shipping off for an important mission in the next three months. The mission details were classified. All Maverick said was that they’d better prepare their families for the possibility that they might not come back.

Mortality had never scared Jake away from doing his job. He knew he was one of the best fighter pilots in the nation. That was why he was a part of Top Gun.

Mortality never scared Jake until he met you. He knew he loved you. You were the only person he ever saw a future with. Kids, a dog, a white picket fence, he wanted that with you. But in the back of his mind, he knew there was a chance that something could go wrong on a mission. He didn’t want to leave you alone with kids or make you a widow. He couldn’t do that to you. And so he did the only thing he knew how to do. He ran.

Jake crept upstairs and found you sitting up in bed reading a book. “I thought you would be asleep by now.” He said while sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t sleep if you’re not here. You know that Seresin.” You replied, still looking at the words in your hands.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right to shut you out and I-“

“Don’t even,” You interrupted him. “You can’t keep doing this to me Jake. It isn’t fair. All I've ever wanted to do was help you. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

“Baby, I know I'm sorry I'm just overwhelmed with work. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You didn’t know what else to do?” You replied, voice rising from anger. “You could’ve talked to me. You didn’t have to leave me here crying like an idiot over something that I don’t even know about.”

“I know it’s just that I'm not the best at dealing with my emotions.” He said softly. “I love you.”

“Why was Julianna calling you then?” You changed the subject.

“What do you…” Jake started.

“Don’t play stupid Seresin. I saw her call you five times in the span of 10 minutes. She’s my friend. You’ve only met her a few times. Why would she be calling you at ten o'clock at night?”

Jake’s just looked at you in disbelief. There was nothing going on between him and Julianna. He was simply asking her for her opinion on how to propose and what ring to buy. She was your best friend after all. He couldn’t believe that you would think he was cheating on you with her. If you asked him to give you the moon, he would’ve done it. No questions asked.

“What are you insinuating?” He said slowly growing more angry when he realized what you thought he was doing.

“I’m insinuating that you’re seeing her on the side.” You said, near tears. “Just tell me the truth Jake. I can’t keep sitting here wondering why you’re shutting me out. You can’t keep leaving me here like an idiot.”

“Listen,” he said while grabbing your hands. “There is nothing going on between me and Julianna. I just needed to ask her something. That’s it. I would never cheat on you. You’re the only person I could ever love.”

“So why won’t you let me in.” You whispered. “If it’s not her then who? You won’t talk to me anymore. You won’t touch me. You barely even look at me.”

Suddenly Jake’s face dropped. “I might not come back.” He said, so softly that you might have missed it if you weren’t right next to him.

“What do you mean you might not come back?” You said growing more and more confused.

“Maverick said that this next mission is going to be dangerous. He said to hope for the best but expect the worst and I just-“ Suddenly Jake started sobbing.

You were shocked. Suddenly things started making sense. He was shutting you out because he didn’t want you to be hurt if he didn’t come back. You knew Jake tended to be more quiet when there was a tough mission coming up.

You pulled him into a tight hug and began to comfort him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t help you if I don’t know what is going on with you.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just trying to protect you.” He said.

“I’m here for you no matter what.” You said, eyes beginning to fill with tears. “We’re a team. You have to tell me if there’s something happening. I love you.”

“I’m sorry.” He said while kissing your cheek. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I should’ve told you about the mission sooner. You’re my rock. I love you.”

As your tears and Jake's tears subside, he holds you tightly. You hold him back feeling all the walls between the two of you crumble.

Jake knew two things for certain. He would come home to you, and he would marry you.

#jake hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #hangman top gun #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #hangman x you #hangman angst #top gun hangman #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #my writing #glen powell x reader #glen powell #top gun x you #top gun 1986

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ereardon · 14 days

Text

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Nine

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky and Bob have a heart-to-heart after his accident

WC: 1.7K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You were officially in your second trimester. Twelve weeks.

You stood in the mirror, holding your hands against your lower stomach. There was a definitive bulge. More than gas or constipation or a food baby.

A real baby.

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice floated through the apartment. “I’m home.”

“One sec,” you called out, pulling your loose shirt back down. You didn’t want him to see it. Even though the secret was out, you still felt like it was just for you to know it was there. In the kitchen, Jake set down a pizza and a bag of groceries.

“I got dinner.”

“I’m starving,” you replied, sitting down on a chair at the table and flinging the box open. “Hell yes.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the cabinets, green eyes watching you greedily as you pulled a cheesy slice out, savoring it on your tongue. “That baby is going to be thirty pounds and twenty of it is going to be cheese.”

“Shut up,” you replied between mouthfuls. “It’s your fault if they’re enormous. Isn’t that the man’s genes or something?”

“I see you’re reading the pregnancy books.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like you are.”

“Actually, I am.” You looked up, squinting. Jake shrugged. “What? Not much to do during training when we’re waiting for a group to do their test flight.”

“So you’re telling me Mr. Pilot sits around and reads What To Expect When You’re Expecting between top secret dangerous missions?”

Jake took a seat across the table and yanked on a slice of pizza. “Pretty much.”

“You’re not what I expected,” you replied sincerely.

His eyes landed on yours. “You’re better than I expected.”

A silence enveloped the room. “Jake—”

Your cell phone buzzed on the table.

“Hello?” You listened intently for a moment, eyes widening. Jake’s gaze never left yours. “Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the phone away.

“What is it?” he asked. “Y/N? Is everything OK?”

“It’s Bob,” you murmured. “He’s awake.”

***

Anxiety — heavy and damp — sat in your chest, curled around your stomach, clenching your insides. You took a deep, quivering breath, and pushed the door open.

Bobby looked up, squinting from behind his large frames. He looked thinner, the effects of being in a coma for almost five days.

Quietly, you stepped closer. “Hi.”

“Hi Ducky.”

You choked back a sob. “How are you?”

“Terrible,” he replied and you frowned, looking over at the monitors. But nothing was beeping or going insane. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Bob shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. I just messed up.”

“Phoenix said there was nothing that could have been done differently. That there wasn’t even time to think.”

He shook his head and grimaced. “Not about that. I don’t care about that. I messed up with you. With us.”

“Oh.” Your voice trembled. “Bobby, I—”

“I love you, Ducky,” he said and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “And I fucked it all up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s OK.”

“It’s not,” Bob said. There was an exhaustion in his voice. “You needed me. And I did the opposite of what I should have. I spent my whole life trying to be a good brother. And the second you really, truly needed me, I pushed you away.”

“You were mad at me,” you whispered. “I messed up everything you did to get me where I was supposed to go. I get it.”

Bob shook his head. “It’s not my job to tell you what to do with your life, Y/N.”

“You’re just realizing that?”

He smiled softly. “I’m a little behind.” Bob paused. “Will you forgive me?”

“Always.”

Bob reached out a hand and you took it. How many times had you held Bob’s hand in yours? You could count very few times when you were the one taking care of him. You reached down and pulled the hem of your shirt up, exposing your bare stomach. Bob’s eyes went wide as you pressed his flat palm against your warm skin. He could feel the raised curve of your expanding belly.

“Promise me something, Bobby,” you whispered. He nodded. “You don’t leave us again.”

Tears flooded his eyes and you pressed down against his hand, the two of you covering the bump with your intertwined fingertips as he sobbed. After a moment, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. Bob’s fingers gripped you, hard, holding you so tight you thought he might never let you go. “I promise, Ducky,” he whispered into your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Bobby.”

***

You had an armful of books, leaning against the front door trying to undo the lock when it swung open unexpectedly and you tumbled inside. A pair of warm arms caught you midair. “Woah!”

Jake pushed you to an upright position, one of his hands resting on your low back, the other pressed against your arm. “What are you doing carrying all of those?” he demanded, taking the books out of your hands and putting them down on the table.

You rolled your eyes. “I work at a library, Jake. Don’t you think I carry around books all day?”

“Guess I never thought about it,” he said. “But I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to pretend to be worried about me,” you huffed.

“Who said I’m pretending?”

The air in the room froze. You looked up at Jake. He had obviously gotten home only minutes before you because he was still wearing his flight suit, hair tousled and sweaty, some pieces matted to his forehead. It was unfair how good he looked when you were wearing practically a potato sack, the only thing that didn’t tug against your expanding stomach. You shook your head and put your tote bag down on the ground, whirling around to face him. “I think there’s some stuff we didn’t talk about when we moved in because of everything that was going on. So maybe we need to have that conversation.”

Jake nodded and you two took a seat on the couch. God, the cushions felt good against your screaming back. How the hell you were going to do six more months of this you weren’t sure. “Alright, darlin’, I’m listening.”

“That,” you said, raising a finger and he frowned. “Cute pet names.”

“I can’t call you pet names?”

“We’re roommates, Jake. Nothing more.”

“You’re carrying my child.” His voice tipped as he said that last word. “You’re more than a roommate and we both know it.”

“I’m just a girl who lives in the guest room,” you whispered.

“Is that what you want?”

You nodded. “I want you to live your life like you would normally. Date, even.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to date?”

“Sure.”

Jake squinted. “Are you going to date?”

“Nobody wants me,” you replied and his face fell. “A pregnant twenty-three-year-old? Yeah, no, not the hottest commodity on the market.”

“But if someone asked you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Jake’s green eyes, normally so luminous, darkened. He nodded tightly. “Got it.”

“You should feel free to date whoever you want,” you replied. “Phoenix, maybe.”

“Nat? Seriously?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t been there done that.”

His eyebrows shot up. “She told you?”

“Yup. Really get around, don’t you?”

“Could say the same about you.” He looked up as the realization of what he had said crossed his mind. For a moment, the room was silent. Then you laughed, and so did Jake.

“Fuck you,” you said, chuckling. “You’re a dick.”

“It’s my unique draw.”

“Well your pregnant roommate isn’t going to be much of a chick magnet,” you replied, standing up. “So I would go to the girl’s house, if given the option. I’ll do the same.”

“Are you really going to fuck random guys?” Jake asked as you made your way toward the hallway and bedroom.

You turned. “I fucked you, didn’t I?”

***

“Be careful you idiot!”

Bob shot you a dirty look. “Aren’t moms supposed to be nice?”

“Not a mom yet,” you replied, hands resting on your stomach for a moment before you slapped a hot cheeto out of his hand. “Doctor said whole foods.”

He groaned. “Can I have Hangman stay with me instead? He might actually be a better alternative.”

“You’re stuck with me for another day,” you said, leaning back onto the couch. Bob sat in a reclining chair across from you.

“Ducky?”

“Yeah?”

“You scared?”

“Terrified.”

“I don’t know what’s crazier. That my little sister is going to be someone’s mom. Or that I’m going to be Uncle Bobby.”

“Uncle Bobby,” you repeated. It sounded strangely familiar on your tongue. “It fits though.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” he asked.

You frowned. “Think this was the longest I’ve ever stayed mad at you in my life. Except maybe the time you donated my pony collection.”

“I couldn’t have a horse girl for a sister,” he replied. “Besides, you were fifteen.”

“Was not!”

“Yes you were, because it was the same year I punched Mike Turner for kissing you on the front porch.”

“God, that feels like ages ago.”

“You were just a kid,” Bob replied softly. “You’re still a kid to me.”

“I’m an adult, Bobby,” you whispered. “More adult than you.”

“Hey!”

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Bob blushed. “No time, Ducky.”

“I’ve heard stories from the team.” You raised your eyebrow. “Apparently you’re a hot commodity at the bar.”

“Don’t listen to anything Bradshaw says.”

“Jake said it, too.”

“Really don’t listen to anything Hangman says.”

“Are you happy, Bobby?”

He frowned. “Does being in a relationship automatically make you happy?”

“No,” you sighed. “But it’s better than being alone.”

“You’re not alone, Ducky,” Bob said quietly. “You have me. And Jake, unfortunately.”

You leaned back against the couch. “Yeah. I have you. And Jake.”

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ultralightpoe · 1 year

Text

Tiktok Trouble- Jake Seresin

Authors Note: Let me know if you like this, might do more

Warning: Allusions to smexy times

Word count:1519

Description: You learn you like pranking your husband....tiktok likes it too.

Enjoy!

It starts off with you being pissed at your husband, Jake.

To be fair it wasn’t his fault. You both had planned a date night but he had been caught up helping fix a jet at work, so he called you and told you he would be missing the night. So although you were angry, you weren’t super angry.

But you were just a little upset and took to watching tiktok instead of the date, and that is where you came up with the idea……the perfect prank. You made dinner, making sure to set out a plate for him when he texted you he was heading home, moving to jump into the shower once you heard his car in the driveway.

You knew he would be upset but you had to set it all up, so you started the water and soon enough you heard him calling for you. When he got no response from downstairs he came up and opened your bedroom door. “Sugar?”

“Just in the shower!” You call.

“Right now? Did you eat already?” He asks, trying to open the door. “Is it locked?”

“I ate! I just wanna shower.” You laugh and hear him give a dramatic sigh before making a kiss sound and disappearing. You finish your shower and rush to dress, waiting for him to come in and get ready for bed.

You wait until Jake is ready for bed, just down to his boxers as usual, crawling in and then you move to the dresser.

“What you doing ,sugar?” He calls, not looking as he tries to find his phone charger while you set up your phone to record. Once you are sure he won’t notice you give the camera a small thumbs up before heading over to the bed and grabbing your pillow. “Sugar?”

Jake watches, eyebrows pinched together as you fluff it before grabbing a blanket, he sits up quickly when you go to leave. “Y/n, what’s goin’ on here?”

“I just kinda want to sleep on the couch.” You shrug, giving him a small smile.

“....Okay?” He looks confused but gets up as well, snatching his pillow and moving to you. “We can have a little movie night-”

“No no, I just kinda want to sleep by myself.” You laugh, kissing his cheek, a small amount of guilt filling you when he looks like a kicked puppy.

“But…but…” He looks to the bed, then back to you, then back to the bed…..then back to you. “I promise I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m there!”

“Bubs, I just wanna spend the night by myself-” You don’t get to finish the sentence before he is snatching the blanket and pillow and storming past you. “Where are you going?!”

“To set up downstairs. I never sleep without you-” You break then, laughing your butt off which makes him gasp.

“I’m so confused right now.”

“Bubs, it was a tiktok idea.” You explain, pointing to the camera and moving to shut it off as he gasps dramatically.

“You were pranking me?!”

“Duh.” You giggle, turning to look at him and his eyes squint as a smug smile covers his features.

“Y/n? Sugar? Bubs? Light of my life?”

“Yeah……”

“I’m going to ruin you.” You barely get a second to squeal and rush across the bed before he can catch you, the game of chase underway.

—----------------

You had posted the video, and it got popular fast.

Which wasn’t a shocker considering you already knew how handsome your husband was and everyone else was more than willing to say the same. Him only being in boxers definitely helped. But everyone began sending in ideas and you just couldn’t help yourself.

The next prank came a week later.

You had set up your phone to film at the window in front of the sink, pretending to do the dishes as soon as you heard the front door.

“Sugar?! I am homeEeeEE.”

“Doing dishes - OW OW OW!” You act hurt, pretending your hand is stuck in a travel bottle as he rushes in, dropping his keys and glasses on the way.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” He panics, rushing in to check you. You show him the bottle, doing your best to look like you are in pain.

“Shit- under the water, put it under the water.” He rushes out, moving you to the sink and turning on the water to try and get your hand out. “Just relax, relax relax relax.”

“Let’s try soap-” You offer, taking your hand out of the cup to grab some soap and shove it back in. He nods, reaching over you to grab the bottle and add more, kissing your forehead in a soothing manner before his eyebrows shoot up and he steps back.

“Wait-” You die laughing then, taking your hand out of the cup as he rolls his eyes. “Oh come on! Low blow even for you.”

He’s laughing too, and you can’t breathe at this point. “That….that was…..so funny-” You collapse to your knees cackling as he finds the camera and leans forward to look into it.

“I regret getting married.” He laughs, turning off the water before flicking your forehead and walking to go pick up the things he had dropped to get to you. “I want a divorce!”

The clip ends with you just cackling.

—------------------

Your weekly date night had come up, and you felt like being a really cute wife…..partly.

He was sitting on your shared bed watching some youtube videos on fixing sinks (yours wasn’t broken so you honestly had no clue why) and he had left you alone in the bathroom to do your makeup, perfectly content to just be near you.

You shut the door, murmuring that you were going to the bathroom which he hummed to and once the door was shut you began recording yourself. Doing your best not to laugh as you took a lip liner and overlined your lips….. Like a lot.

You had to take a second to reign in your giggles before you were heading out to where he was laying on the bed, shuffling until you were kneeling in between his legs, they came up to wrap around you instantly as he kept watching his video.

“Bubs.” You smile, waiting. He hums in acknowledgement, one eyebrow raising as he listens but doesn’t look. “Bubs-”

“Yeah sugarpi- holy crap.” His face turns to one of shock when he looks at you finally, eyebrows shooting up as one hand covers his mouth.

“I watched this makeup video while you were gone,” You smile, flipping your hair. “I think I like it.”

“You….. o-okay.” He smiles, clearing his throat. “It… wow.”

“Wow? Like stunning wow?” You ask, doing a little pose.

“Sure. Yeah. That.” He smiles, trying to be supportive. “Hey, how about we stay in tonight?”

“Really?”

“Yeah…yeah for sure. I just- you just look so good I want to keep you to myself-” He smiles, leaning up to kiss your cheek. You laugh at that, allowing him to kiss you before he sits up and swipes at your lips. “Love the lip shade….But sugar?”

“Yeah bubs?”

“Can… can I be honest for a second?”

“Of course?”

“You look like a bee stung your lips.” You break at that, once again cackling and he looks very worried. “I don’t wanna be the ass but-”

“I’ll remove the lipstick. Just get ready to go you dork.” You laugh, kissing his lips and walking off.

—--------------------

“Alright, I’m gonna head out. You need anything?” Jake asks, dressed in his errand clothes with his sunglasses on his head while he pulls the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss.

You give in easily, moaning a little before pulling back. “Oh bubs, your lips are chapped.”

“What?” He laughs, moving up to touch his lips and smack them.

“Yes. Here.” You dig through your purse and pull out the chapstick that you had already replaced with lipstick. He smiles at you, kissing your forehead before generously applying it over his lips and smacking them.

Naval Aviator Jake Seresin…..wearing bright red lipstick. …… amazing.

He smiles at you, a big cheesy smile, and kisses you once more before strutting to the door. He does his little butt wiggle when he reaches the door that makes you laugh before he disappears through the door.

Once he is gone you turn and wink to the camera.

He gets back an hour later, you hear the front door slam and him call your name. You immediately turn your camera on, walking to the stairs and walking down them.

“Yeah bu-”

“Do not bub me right now.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I ran into Maverick at the store.”

You crack out into laughter, covering your face as he glares.

“That’s it. Pranking time is over. Your ass better be in those sheets naked by the time I get up there!” He snaps and you stand straight, heat traveling you. “3…2….” You don’t need to be told twice.

Comments:

“Honestly mom and dad”

“Can you adopt me????”

“Tell him to take his top off!”

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thewulf · 1 year

Text

Wild Child || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: The four times Jake catches you in precarious situation plus the one time you catch him in one.

A/N: A request from a friend.: I’m sooooo sorry if your name is Heidi (You’ll see why). Really unedited but I wanted to get you guys something out. Please enjoy!

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 6,200+

The First Incident

A wild child is how your family always described you. You liked ‘free spirit’ better. Wild child made you sound unhinged. You didn’t like to consider yourself unhinged per say but you couldn’t stand to be tied down to anything. One minute you were a white-water rafting instructor at the Grand Canyon, the next you’re teaching people how to paraglide in the Alps. You craved adventure. Loved it more than anything in the world.

The thought of a corporate job holding you down made you gag, literally. You knew this lifestyle wasn’t maintainable per say but you just couldn’t seem to give a damn. You let the wind blow you to your next opportunity. That’s how you ended up in San Diego as a water sports instructor. You’d been working as a ski school coach in Colorado when you got word help was needed on the West Coast. You approached the guy who needed help and the rest was history. You were on a plane to San Diego the next day with a job running the little shack on the beach.

You loved it. It might’ve been your favorite job to date. You got to hang out in the sun all day and rent Jet Ski’s, paddle boards and kayak’s to people. Your favorite days were the ones you got to do jet ski tours on. You’d spend endless hours on the open ocean having the time of your life. Your least favorite days were the ones when you had to do maintenance on all the equipment. Usually, Doug or Jim your coworkers would take on changing the oil out on the jet ski’s but naturally they were both off when one needed to be done.

It didn’t take long before you found yourself in a less than ideal situation. You’d forgotten to put the oil cap back on before cranking the engine on. Well, the entire contents of oil you just dumped in the chamber was now all over your face and clothing, the engine spitting it back at you.

“Fuck!” You cried jumping back away from the machine. Ripping off the safety glasses you used your hands and clothing to try and get the oil off your face. Without much success you paused trying to assess the situation.

You realized you had two options. Jump in the freezing ass Ocean or run into Penny’s place. Deciding on the latter option you pulled your shirt off leaving you in your bathing suit. Luckily, most of the oil was on your shirt avoiding the rest of your body.

It was only five so the bar had just opened, “Penny!” You called loudly for the woman as you walked into the Hard Deck.

“Y/N!” She called back before turning to you. When she did her face displayed every emotion. Her smiley face turned to shock as she took in your oily black appearance. Then it turned to confusion as she took in your entire appearance. You must’ve looked like a horror story walking into her bar. No shoes, no shirt and certainly a problem.

“The damn jet ski blew up on me. Marty’s cheap ass won’t upgrade them. It’s certainly nothing that I did!” Crossing your hands over your chest with a pout on your face making your way over to a bar stool you gave her an overly exasperated look.

The last and final emotion that crossed her face was with hilarity. She couldn’t stop laughing once she realized it was more than likely a self-inflicted casualty, “Did it now?”

Nodding your head, you gratefully accepted the rag from her. Beginning to wipe away some more of the oil from your face you heard some commotion from the front door.

“Penny!” A male voice you hadn’t recognized rang through the bar just as yours had seconds prior.

Her brows stitched together in confusion as she had just seen that same scene play out with you not a moment before, “Jake!” She replied, just the same as she had with you. Spinning around in the bar stool you were thankful the rag was covering your mouth because you were sure it would have dropped right then and there. The most devilishly handsome military man just walked through Penny’s doors, and you had your eyes set right on him.

He too, had his eyes set right on you but you had a sneaking suspicion it was from the engine oil that caked your face and upper body, “You have a little something here.” Jake pointed to his forehead giving you a cheeky smirk.

“Oh, thanks.” You rolled your eyes, “So helpful.” Dramatically you took the damp rag wiping your forehead free of motor oil, “Did I get it?” You quipped back.

He nodded smiling, enjoying how much of an attitude you already had with him. It made the game way more fun when they didn’t get off on the right foot, “You got it.” He nodded his head down, “Jake Seresin. Don’t think we’ve met.” The stupid cheeky grin never left his face. Only growing wider when he saw your irritated expression grow.

Quickly, you ran your hand along the other side of your face making sure to coat your hand in oil before accepting the handshake. His grin broke out into a full smile seeing your play. A low chuckle reverberated from his body as your hand coated his in oil, “Sorry, I thought you said I got it?” Giving him a wink, you snatched your hand back from his grip. Easy to do since they were both coated in the slippery liquid.

He tipped his head in your direction, “Fair play ma’am.”

“That’s all I do, Mr. Seresin.” Taking the rag, you fully wiped off your face. You knew your hair was coated but opted to throw it up in a bun until you’d be able to shower it off. Penny gave you a new clean one while she handed Jake a napkin after seeing the exchange between the two of you.

“Did you need something Jake?” Penny interrupted the two young adults who were seemingly very into each other. Penny could tell. She always could. It didn’t help that she hardly knew either of you. You’d just started at the shack two weeks ago, only occasionally crossing paths. You worked early and she worked late.

“I did.” He nodded looking back at you, “But for some odd reason, I can’t remember what that was.” He threw you a wink taking a seat next to you.

You wanted to roll your eyes, but something drew you into him. Like you wanted to know just a little bit more, “Cheesy.”

“She doesn’t like cheesy, noted.” Jake leaned back looking you over. He’d noticed you were just in your swimsuit, not really mad about it.

“Well, I didn’t say that did I?”

He took the beer Penny had poured from him, “Noted.”

The Second Incident

“No, no, no!” You yelled out while you running around the beach trying to collect the umbrellas that got pulled up by the rather strong gust of wind. You’d gotten three before the fourth got caught in another gust and took off.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You sighed before jogging along the water hoping to catch it before it went out into the ocean. You loved this job, but you didn’t love it that much to go swimming for it.

To your delight the blonde boy from the bar caught it before you did. Coming out of nowhere he grabbed the end of it before quickly closing it. After catching up to him you took the awkwardly large umbrella from his hands, “My hero! Thank you. Might’ve saved my job.”

He smiled back at you almost immediately, enthralled you were chatting with him so easily. It wasn’t that often he came across a woman that could hold her own with him. Natasha being one of the rare few. He had a feeling you were just like her with your quick remarks and witty comebacks, “You’re welcome…You never told me your name.” He frowned looking at you expectedly.

“I didn’t?”

He shook his head, “No ma’am.”

“Hmm.” You began to walk away knowing he’d follow right after you. You were oddly good at this game. Truth be told you hadn’t a clue where your confidence came from. Even with men as attractive as Jake you knew how to wind them up and get them to do your bidding. A unique skill not only reserved for the men. You mom always said you’d make for a great politician because you were a master at manipulating people to do what you needed them to do. She always made it sound cooler than it was. But you sure did use that skill to your advantage in these situations.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” He caught up to you with ease. Your smaller frame and the gigantic umbrella slowed you down.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” You gave him a wide grin already seeming to know how to reel him right into you.

He paused for a moment before making his way back to you, “I’ll go ask Penny.”

“Go for it. That’s cheating but it’s fine.” You knew military men had a weird thing with cheating so again, you used it against him.

“That’s not cheating!” He took the umbrella from you, tired of seeing you struggle with it while he knew he could carry it so easily.

“Thanks,” You smiled up at him before heading back to the shack. A nasty storm appeared to be rolling in that wasn’t on the radar that morning. You wouldn’t have set out the umbrellas had you known it would be coming in so quickly, “But it so is cheating!” You couldn’t drop it either.

“In what world?”

You shrugged, “Mine.”

“Fine.” He nodded his head placing the umbrella down in the shack, “What’s it going to take for me to get your name?”

Returning the smile while tapping your finger on your chin you answered him, “I don’t know yet Jake.”

Slumping over slightly he looked a tad defeated, “Well this is impossible.”

“Giving up already Mr. Seresin?” You challenged him. Another thing you knew military men loved, a good challenge.

Shaking his head vigorously he turned the frowned back into that charming smile you already loved, “No, didn’t say that did I?”

Shaking your head, you could only answer, “Fair play military boy.”

“Navy.” He corrected you. Not that you were wrong per say but you weren’t specific enough.

“Navy boy.” You nodded at him, as a touché, “What do you do for the Navy anyway?” You wanted the conversation to continue. Jake intrigued you. Not many people did. You’d come across all sorts of fascinating and downright boring people as you traversed the world. But few captured your attention longer than a few hours.

“If I answer, will you give me your name?”

Shrugging you answered, “Maybe.” You respected the little game he was playing. It was fun. Fun intrigued you. Fun kept you engaged with him.

“I’m a pilot.”

“Ohh, you get to fly fast planes?” He’d really got you now. Planes had always fascinated you. You loved adventure more than anything in the world, but planes always seemed to be off limits, especially fast ones.

“Something like that. We call them jets.”

You nodded along enthralled by the admission, “That’s really cool Jake.” It was a high compliment from you and Jake knew it. He knew he intrigued you as much as you intrigued him. You wouldn’t have tolerated his presence if you felt otherwise. Something he picked up on quickly, you spoke your mind and you weren’t afraid who heard. A rare quality he rarely saw in people.

“It is. I love it.” His smile softened for the first time around you. You noticed how the cheeky grin downturned ever so slightly into a more genuine smile. One you knew that likely didn’t come around often.

“Y/N. That’s my name.”

“Y/N.” He repeated back, “That’s beautiful.”

“You should tell that to my mother. My dad wanted to name me Heidi. She saved me from that childhood torture. Bless that woman.” Smiling you leaned back against the shack.

Jake smiled a bit wider taking in the small bits of information you were willing to share about yourself. He had a feeling you were a closed book masking being an open one. He understood, he was the same way. An extroverted persona on the outside and a hidden softer side that only came out around people that wee trusted. There was nothing wrong with this per say it was just exhausting. Having to put a wall up 24/7 wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed.

“Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to Y/N.”

You giggled. A sound you hadn’t heard in so long. The last time you felt this stupidly giddy from a boy’s comment was ages ago, back in college when you were tied down, “Maybe Mr. Seresin. Just maybe.”

The Third Incident

The day was brutal. The sun beamed down at you all morning and afternoon. You could hardly sit in the shade because almost all of your equipment was rented out. It wasn’t a bad thing. You were raking in tips. But it made for a long and exhausting day. That paired with no air conditioning made you feel like you were starting to go a little crazy.

So, when you turned over the key in your vehicle and it didn’t start you all but lost it. You let yourself yell once and shed a tear out of frustration before heading into Penny’s place. Lucky for you she opened up a bit earlier on the weekends to attract more customers from the beach who wanted to day drink.

You spotted the woman quickly before making a beeline straight towards her, “Penny, please tell me your mechanic of a boyfriend is around.”

She frowned, “No, he’s out of town. What’s up?”

“Damn.” You sighed taking a seat at the nearly empty bar. You hadn’t seen Jake and his Navy buddies sitting in the back as you made your way straight to the bar. But he saw you. He always noticed you. The simple chats started turning deeper as both of you tip toed around what you both wanted but neither wanted to admit, “This one’s going to cost me. Car won’t start. Hopefully it’s just the starter or the battery.”

Both of you were terribly afraid of commitment for one reason or another. But sometimes that spark that you find can’t be put out. The flame couldn’t be diminished. It needed to be explored. The spark was slowly growing into a flame and neither of you wanted to extinguish it but neither brave enough to let it grow. To let the flame, turn into a fire. For that meant commitment. And commitment was terrifying.

It made sense for Jake. He was always on the move. Always going from one base to the next. Early in his career he would try but it got too hard. It was hard to fall for someone and then have to move because he was reassigned to a new base. It was way easier being an asshole who was there for the hookup than commit to someone. But it was different now. He’d completed all his goals. Done what he wanted to accomplish as a pilot. If he ever wanted to be an admiral, he needed to clean up his act and excel as an instructor at Top Gun. Show Naval leadership he was meant to be a leader too.

It made sense for you too. You were in an amazing relationship throughout college. You’d met a boy early on in your freshman year and stayed with him through your senior year. He’d even proposed. But then he got sick. The sickness took him away from you. So, you ran. Your wild child was let out. You couldn’t be tied down again. You couldn’t go through that again.

“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry Y/N. How about a beer on the house?” She smiled as sweetly as she could. She knew how shitty the feeling was. Unreliable vehicles were the worst. Lucky for you it wasn’t a far walk home worst come to worst. The only downfall of the lifestyle was never having enough money. A tow was certainly out of budget. It needed to be fixed in the lot. You’d figure it out. You always did.

Sighing and lifting your head from the bar top you gave her a thumbs up, “Thanks Penny.”

Her eyes widened spotting the blonde pilot making his way over to you. Penny was many things, but she wasn’t dumb. She certainly wasn’t blind. She didn’t know Jake well, but she’d heard about him. Heard all the rumors of the fuck boy that he supposedly was. She’d yet to see it. Over the last few weeks, he’d had nothing but eyes for you.

Penny had also gotten to know you a whole hell of a lot better as you spent the last bit of your day here all too often now. There were usually hardly any customers and Penny lent the best conversation you’ve come across in San Diego. So, you started coming to the Hard Deck every day after work. She realized quickly that you were damn near oblivious to Jake’s feelings. Always flirting back but never agreeing with Penny about his intentions.

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” Jake had begun using those sweet terms of endearment a few days ago. Finally finding the courage to make his feelings a little more obviously known. But of course, you hadn’t a clue. It didn’t mean anything for you. Your way of deflecting, naturally.

“Jake, hey.” You straightened up a bit, “Car won’t start.”

He frowned, “That’s no good. Let me take a look.”

Your eyes peaked up in curiosity, “You know cars?”

“I know jets. How different can cars really be?”

Laughing you nodded, “I’m pretty sure they’re really different actually.”

“You have no faith in me darling.”

“Oh, have at it. Just don’t break it any further.” You smiled taking a sip of the beer. He stood for the stool waiting for you.

Giving him a quizzical look, he continued, “After you.”

“You were being serious?” You set the glass down. It wasn’t very often that people went out their way to help you. That was another problem with the nomadic lifestyle you’d become accustom too.

“As a heart attack. I’ve got some tools in my truck. I can figure it out.”

Hopping down from the stool you gave Penny a wave. She gave you a knowing head shake waving you off. Leading Jake to your car you popped the hood to give him a look.

“Can you turn it over?” He asked. Giving him a nod, you tried to start the engine only to be met with silence, “Just a dead battery. Let me go get my truck for a jump start.”

Another few moments and a jump start later you were met with a started vehicle. Jake parked the truck next to yours. Getting out you were too afraid to turn it off before driving to a car shop to swap out the battery.

“This time you’re my Knight in Shining Armour.” You gleamed up at him as he made his way to the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I’m honored, really.”

“Thanks, fly boy. I gotta go get a new battery now.”

“Fly boy?” He smirked.

“Mhmm, heard you and your friends talking the other day. The girl said it and it stuck. I like it. Fly boy.”

He opened your car door, “Then you can call me fly boy. If you like it.”

“Didn’t know I needed your permission.” Again, you challenged him. You always seemed to challenge him. Making him second guess that smoothness that always seemed to work. Not on you though. You got the better of him all too often now.

The Fourth Incident

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You grumbled taking a seat in front of the knotted mess before you. You’d let the boys take the parasail up only for them to come back to you with a sheepish grin on their faces and a very tangled parasail before them.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Doug, usually your favorite co-worker replied seeing your very annoyed expression.

“It’s fine… just go help the customers. This is going to take me a while.” You let out a frustrated groan. At least it was a mindless task.

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded and quickly left, not wanting to get another earful from you.

“They certainly don’t make this job easy.” You sighed leaning back against the shack. You didn’t have a particular talent for untangling things, but you knew the boys certainly didn’t have the patience to even try. So here you were stuck with a loopy mess of ropes and cables.

“You always talk to yourself?” That now-familiar voice of the blonde pilot spoke out startling you from your focus.

Jumping slightly, you slapped his ankle, “You always stalk me?”

“I do not.” He scoffed sliding down the wall to sit down right next to you. He was close but neither of you made the effort to move farther apart. Not even a little. He let his thigh rest against your bare one. It was a hot one, so you were without shorts, just bathing suit bottoms. He was testing your boundaries and you were more than happy to welcome him right on in.

“I didn’t say I was complaining about it.” You quipped back.

You earned a hearty laugh from him. A sound you’d learned to cherish over the blossoming friendship you wished would turn something more, “You never cease to surprise me Y/N.”

“Hopefully that’s a good thing.” You grinned up at him momentarily forgetting about the mess laid before you.

“It’s a great thing.” He answered quickly not wanting to place doubt into your head, “You’re incredible. You know that right?”

Heart stuttering you snapped your head back up to him. What was he saying? What was he trying to imply? Was he trying to get you all sorts of flustered because it was certainly working. You’d always been awkward when receiving compliments so when Jake threw that one at you it made you want to disappear right then and there.

“If you think so.” You nodded your head gingerly making sure to focus your attention on the rope and not the gazing eyes of the man you’ve been crushing on a little too hard.

He took your hand in his, “I know so. You’re beyond fascinating. Every time I get to know a little bit more about you, I’m infinitely more intrigued by you. Rooster called me out on it, said I never seemed to shut up about you.” He admitted. He wasn’t all too sure why he was telling you this. It was easy with you. He wanted to tell you things. Things he’d never dream of sharing with a girl before. But with you it felt so natural. So effortless.

It wasn’t often somebody could make you blush, but Jake was doing an exquisite job of it. A fiery blaze crested up your neck settling on your cheeks. Thankful it was warm out you could just blame it on the sun, “Rooster?” You questioned. You’d yet to meet any of his friends but that didn’t seem like a terribly common name.

“Bradley. The one with the stash. It’s a call sign. We all have one.” He smiled knowing just how odd it sounded when he said it out loud.

“What’s yours?” You asked wanting the conversation to go on. He too intrigued you. You seemed to get lost in conversation whenever you ran into him. It too felt natural with him. Like two puzzle pieces just waiting to be linked together.

“Hangman.”

You smiled wondering where in the hell that could’ve come from, “That’s an interesting call sign.”

“You think?” His eyes stitched together in curiosity.

“For sure. I wonder what mine would be? I’m not cool enough though. I’d never make it.” You admitted to him looking away afraid you’ve overstepped.

He studied you up and down as if trying to come up with one on the spot. Not a second later he responded with one, almost as if he’d thought it through before, “I’d call you Bird.”

“Bird?” You grinned curious as to why.

“You’re a free spirit. Like a bird. Floating through the air making it look effortless even though you’re working harder than ever. You have a certain ease to you that makes you so free.” He paused collecting his thoughts, “And you’d make it just fine. You’re more levelheaded than half the guys I train on a regular basis.”

“Oh, that’s frightening Jake. I’m not even that levelheaded!” You laughed feeling a bit concerned over the state of who was employed by the Navy.

“I know.” He winked at you letting his leg full press into yours. The closeness let goosebumps ripple down your legs sending a shiver over your body. It frightened you how easily he affected you both mentally and clearly physically, “It’s terrifying who they let fly those things huh?” He laughed taking a cable in hand beginning to help you.

“Suppose you have to be some level of crazy, eh?” You giggled picking up another cord after untangling the first.

“You bet sweetheart.” He turned his body more towards you, pressing his thigh further into yours. You were sure you were about to explode from the contact. Hopefully it didn’t look like it. You had to play this cool. You’ve been doing so damn good over the last few weeks. But he was making it hard, very hard, “So.” He continued before pausing again giving you a look as he picked up another tangled cable.

“So.” You responded by looking back at him. He was giving you a look you had yet to see from him just yet. Almost nervous?

“Where are you off to next? Doesn’t seem like you stay in one place for too long.”

You shrugged, “I’ll be honest. I don’t have a clue. I like it here though. Usually something just falls into my lap taking me onto the next thing…” You smiled reminiscing through some memories before continuing, “But like I said. I like it here. The weather is amazing, and the people are even better.”

You really hadn’t thought about moving on. Not yet at least. It felt like you’d finally gotten into a rhythm here. Normally that’d terrify you. But it felt so damn right here. Like something was begging you to stay. That something might have been sitting there in front of you. Even if you’ve only been here a few months and known him less than that it still felt right. If there was one thing you always did was trust your gut and it was telling you to stay. Screaming at you to stay. It was a foreign feeling for you, but you welcomed it. The nomadic lifestyle was utterly exhausting and somewhat lonely. You were ready for change as you approached your thirtieth year.

He cracked another smile at your last statement, “Yeah? Even better than the Swiss?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded looking up to him again. You could’ve melted right then in there if humans could. The look he was giving you could make a strong man weak, “Way better than the Swiss. Much cuter too.” You chimed in making sure he knew you were talking about him.

“High praise.” He smirked leaning his whole body just a bit closer. You’d usually protest as it was so fucking hot out but this was a dream for you. Jake was practically on top of you this time. It must have looked funny from a distance. Two sweaty young people lost in each other’s eyes almost on top of each other on the beach.

“It’s only the truth.” Your face was so close to his. God you’d give anything to just kiss him. But you wouldn’t dream of making that move. That’s far too bold even for you. And what if he didn’t want it? You’d never be able to live down that kind of embarrassment.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m planning on staying for a little while too. I’m tired of jumping base to base. I just want to stay somewhere for a while you know?”

“It’s tiring.” You agreed with him, “I get it.”

“Would you stay here?”

You nodded your head vigorously, “I would. For the right reasons.”

Licking his lips while looking at yours he mimicked your head nod, “Good to know.”

The Fifth Incident

Standing waist deep in the ocean you wanted to be annoyed but the man standing in front of you was making that very difficult to do so. His cute little grin and snickers only made you laugh along with him, “Which one’s the gas again?” Jake asked leaning back on the jet ski you were trying to get him to take out.

“Right hand is the throttle, for the fourth time Mr. Seresin.” Playfully rolling your eyes you walked around the jet ski to do the final checks ensuring it was up to snuff before he took it out on the ocean.

Grinning from ear to ear he knew he had you. He had you wrapped around his pinky finger. Not that he was any different. You had him whipped and you weren’t even dating yet. Instead, the two of you were dancing around deeper emotions every time you saw one another. And the two of you sure did see each other as often as possible. After he helped you untangle the mess that was the parasail the two of you made it a point to see each other every day. He’d come find you while you were wrapping up work or you’d meet him at the Hard Deck.

You’d even gone so far as to meet a few of his Navy friends, at his request. Being far too nervous and not having a clue what the relationship was with the blonde pilot you were nervous to meet them. He wouldn’t take no for an answer though, bringing them to you instead.

As unshy as you were with your opinions it was becoming harder and harder to have the ‘what are we?’ conversation with him. You were having far too much fun in this stage that you didn’t want to ruin it. You started to have legitimate feelings for the flighty boy. It terrified you a bit. The last time you allowed yourself to feel things it ended horribly.

But even you had to admit you were exhausted of running. Running from feeling things. Afraid to commit to somebody. Afraid to tie yourself down.

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.,” Wiggling his eyebrows he leaned over towards you as you finished up the pre-op checklist.

“You’re welcome, Hangman.” This time you were smirking, loving to throw him off his game whenever you could. Initially refusing to use the call sign you decided to only throw it out there when you felt like you needed to one up him.

Eyes raised in curiosity he broke out into a grin seeing your expression. He’d never felt like this before. Felt so effortlessly comfortable around somebody. Like he knew you’d never judge him for a thing. You’d be there for him no questions asked. The two of you just clicking like nothing he’d ever experienced in his lifetime. He had to admit it terrified him a bit. But he was also excited. To try something new. To dive into a relationship with you headfirst. So long as that’s what you wanted. That’s why he was playing it so cool. He knew how much of a flight risk you were if he moved to fast. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you before he even had the chance to try it out. So, he decided to let you get comfortable and hopefully make a move. If you were too afraid to do so he’d do it eventually. He had nothing but time with you though. So, he wasn’t going to rush it. Terrified to mess it up before it started.

“So how long do I get out there darling?” He was testing your boundaries now. Wanting to see how you’d react.

Your heart rapidly picked up pace hearing that term of endearment escape his lips knowing that you could really get used to hearing it, “Thirty minutes. Then I have paying customers booked. So don’t be late.” You eyed him making sure he got your message loud and clear. He’d been begging you to go on one, but you’ve quite literally been booked out. Busy season was mad. But you had a customer cancel on you last minute which gave Jake the opportunity.

“Got it. See you soon pretty.” He shot you a wink before speeding off. Making sure to splash you with the throttle. Flipping him off you rung your hair out as you walked out of the ocean.

You’d only noticed he’d been gone for a little too long when the next clients walked up. You searched the ocean spotting Jake drifting a little bit further out than he should’ve been. Hopping on the reserved Jet Ski for staff you took off in his direction.

“What the hell Jake? I said thirty minutes.” You frowned at him pulling up beside his weirdly quiet one.

“I would’ve darling but well, it died on me.”

“Hop on.” You sighed annoyed the stupid thing gave out on you. It always reminded you of how cheap the dude who ran this place was.

You hooked the tow line up to it, getting good at it now, before towing everything in, “Looks like you caught me at a bad time.” You felt him chuckle as he pressed his chest into your back. Taking full advantage of being the passenger. You were thankful you couldn’t see his shirtless chest, that’d surely send you over the edge now.

“At least it’s you this time.” You laughed along with him. You felt as his arms tightened around your waist. Pulling him all that much closer to you.

Much to your chagrin you reached the beach before you knew it. Jake waited around as you got the family off on their adventure. Approaching him with a grin on your face you sat next to him at the picnic table by the shack, “Have fun at least?” You asked.

“Absolutely. Any time I get to spend with you is a good time.”

Pushing his side lightly you hid your gaze away from him, “Cheesy.”

“Only for you.” He snaked his arm around your waist. Not forcing you to look up to him but letting you know he had you.

Another goofy grin graced your features. He always knew what to say, “You’re sweet to me Jake.”

He nodded, “Because I like you. A lot. You know that right?” He admitted straight out. He let you go at your own pace, but he wanted you to know now. He knew. He adored you. He’d never felt this type of way with anybody before you. He thought he had but he realized he hadn’t. This was something special.

“You do?” Confusion then joy broke out from your face

“I do.” His smile turned up even further seeing the recognition cross your face. Had you really not known? Or were you in your own head like he had been so many times before?

“Like more than friends like?” You asked to confirm.

“Way more than friends.”

“Oh, wow.” You turned away heart racing. Sure, your face was as bright as a cherry tomato it was now or never. He’d laid it all out on the line for you. You could do it.

“Hopefully that’s a good wow.” Smirking he leaned a little closer to you.

It felt like your heart stopped for a moment, “It’s a very good wow.”

“Yeah? Then you’ll let me take you on a date?” Jake didn’t often look nervous, but he looked terrified now. He hadn’t expected this. Not even in the slightest. But he’d roll with it.

“You’d want to?” You returned your eyes back to his.

“Oh darling, I’d love to.” He reassured you taking your hand in his.

“Then I say yes.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You that excited?” You teased him.

“Sweetheart, I’m more than excited. Whatever that is.” Tossing you a wink he stood from his seat, “I’ll pick you up at six. Can’t wait to see you pretty.”

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whohasthecards · 9 months

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Hangman, like Mav, was always sent on suicide missions. However, unlike Mav, Hangman didn't have a guardian angel like Iceman or the other Flyboys who would have his back after Top Gun. And unlike Mav who had the Flyboys, Carole, and Bradley, Hangman didn't have anyone to look forward to after his deployment. He had Javy, but Javy would move on.

It would be better if he was the one who died. No one would mourn him. No one would miss him.

That changed with the dagger squad

Hangman got sent on a last minute mission where the Dagger Squad, and even Iceman were not informed until he was already flying in the air.

Once Maverick and Iceman reviews the details of the mission, their blood went cold once they both realized that the mission was unnecessary reckless, and dangerous. It was bad enough to be considered a suicide mission.

But it was too late to call off the mission, it was all up to Jake and his team now.

Mav and Ice spend their days worrying, especially with Ice burying himself in paperwork trying to figure out how this flew under his radar. The Dagger Squad notice their tenseness, but they weren't told what was going on because Mav and Ice didn't want to worry them.

During the mission, Hangman broke several rules and direct orders to save his colleagues and by extension, his life, and he got a dressing down immediately after landing his jet. He wasn't brought to the sick bay, he was immediately brought to the office for an extensive debrief, where all of Hangman's actions were scrutinized and judged. Hangman stayed calm.

Maverick and Iceman arrive because they were keeping tabs and come in while Hangman was getting yelled at. Maverick looks at Jake, taking note of his disheveled looks and tense jaw, and how behind his steely gaze was an undercurrent of deep exhaustion. Iceman noticed how the commanders were reaming into Jake for every single, little, thing, when it was a miracle that there was no casualties on their side. Jake's actions saved the mission that was destined to fail, and saved the lives of the other aviators.

Maverick and Iceman loses their shit.

How dare they not care about their aviator? How dare they recklessly send them to unnecessary suicide missions? How dare they act pissed at the aviator that save the mission and their lives?

---

Mav felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping his tirade at the Admiral in front of him. He turned and his glare softened once he realized it was Jake, unsteady on his feet, but gently holding him back.

"What is it, buddy? You can sit down, you don't have to keep on standing," Mav fretted as he tried to get Jake to sit down on the chair.

"It's okay, pops," Jake said giving a small smile. "I was the best choice for the mission, especially missions like this, it's better that they send me, instead of someone that has a family."

"No." Iceman simply said. "Don't say shit like that Lieutenant Jacob Seresin."

"But it's true--"

"Enough, Jacob, it is not true, and we will be discussing this later," Ice sternly said as he turned back towards the admirals. "No one should have been sent to a mission without enough preparation and analysis, and you shitheads barely did any. You made my aviator fly, blind. Your careers are done for."

"Come on Jake, let's get you to the sick bay, let Ice take care of this, okay?" Mav said forcefully leading Jake out of the room to get the care he needs.

---

(Once Jake gets back stateside and the rest of the Dagger Squad finds out what happened, he gets showered by affection from all of them proving that he has been missed and he will be missed.)

#fanfic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun #top gun fandom #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #mavdad #tom iceman kazansky #ice pops #icemav #icepops #mavdad is the best dad #the dagger squad #im not really happy abt this one but whatever #hangman angst #angst #dadmiral

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hangmanbrainrot · 1 year

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more than this

a/n: HI. Me again! After talking with @rosiahills22, I simply HAD to give this idea a whirl. I hope y’all enjoy! Reader’s callsign is Van Gogh (to be explained) and I don’t use Y/N. :) special thanks to @bradshawsbitch for the encouragement. :’)

warnings: so much mutual pining, dash of angst toward the end. Generally, all my posts are 18+ because I don’t want minors interacting with my page! Probably naval inaccuracies.

word count: 3975

summary: You and Jake have been best friends for years now… Why mess with a good thing?

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader, Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader — callsign: Van Gogh

“Vee, you aren’t seriously wearing that to Family Day.”

You glanced down at your striped sleep pants and faded Navy t-shirt, then whirled around to look up at the oh so familiar source of the question. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, in the flesh. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans, and black leather-banded watch on his wrist. His signature toothpick was missing from its usual post between his lips.

“You clean up nice,” you retorted, ignoring his initial remark. “And I thought we agreed, no call signs today.”

You ‘tsk’ed at him and turned back toward your laundry basket, then bending to pick it up and hold it at your hip.

“You have one of the coolest callsigns, besides mine, of course. What’s wrong with Van Gogh?”

“I got it because I dropped my books and everyone saw all the doodles in the margins of my notes. And it doesn’t even make sense, because Van Gogh was a painter. At least yours has a cool story, I mean—”

He said your name, low and sweet, to cut you off. The two of you weren’t about to rehash that story again.

“Better.” This earned you a smile. “I told you, I’m not going this year. I’m just gonna hang out here, take advantage of the empty lounge, and chill.”

“And I told you, my mother demanded to see you. In fact, I’d dare say she’s more excited to see you than she is to see me.”

“Can you blame Mrs. Seresin for having taste?” you replied easily, the teasing lilt to your voice unmistakable as you flashed Jake a megawatt smile.

“I’m absolutely telling on you, when I see her. ‘Mrs. Seresin’ instead of Sandy, as requested.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you shot back, mock horror covering your features.

“Can, could, and would. Get dressed, Vee. Families will be here before you know it!”

The way that Jake departed after speaking let you know it wasn’t up for debate.

———————————————————————————————————

You heard Jamie and Courtney before you saw them, their familiar, slightly shrill voices carrying over the crowd of people all waiting for their own aviator to make an appearance. Jake’s older and younger sisters had always treated you like the additional sibling they’d never had, but on a day like today, it made your heart ache. You knew, of course, not everyone was lucky enough to find a kind family to adopt them the way the Seresins had adopted you. Even Robert Seresin himself — gruff as he was, he had a you-sized soft spot, much like his son. Though good luck getting either of the Seresin men to admit it.

You smiled as you spun on your heel, ready to retreat. Content to revel in the knowledge that you were loved, but too heavy-hearted to witness it today. You’d beat Jake here, somehow, so maybe you could slip out without his notice, either. Come up with some feeble story about suddenly coming down with a migraine, and nurse your ache alone, with your mounds of freshly laundered clothing, once you were sure he and his family had departed for the day.

But instead of proceeding forward, you collided with navy cotton and ginger and leather and… Jake. Had he always smelled this good?

“Hi, I was just,” you pushed out, before being interrupted. Why were you so nervous, all of a sudden? It was just Jake.

“Trying to ditch me. Darlin’, my feelings are hurt.” The tips of your ears burned red with embarrassment, even as your stomach did backflips over the way his accent thickened on the word ‘darlin’.’

“Sorry, Jake.” You didn’t even have the wherewithal to hide the giggle leaking into your words. But you were smart enough to play it off. “I was just going to get a jacket.”

“Vee, it’s July.”

“Yes, I do have a calendar and I can read!” Your eye roll was practically involuntary. “I just get cold sometimes in the AC.”

A lopsided grin slid onto his features while he aimed a pointer finger at himself. “Human furnace. Let’s go!”

Before you could protest, he was slinging an arm around your shoulders and all but crushing you into his side. “I think this outfit is much more appropriate for a trip off base.” It sounded like he was testing the compliment. And, truthfully, you liked this particular combination of white cap-sleeve blouse and jeans quite a bit yourself, too. But it was nice of him to notice. Then again, you couldn’t recall a time when Jake hadn’t noticed you, not since the beginning of your friendship. He was just always so checked in with you. Always so present. If you squinted, you could call it attentiveness.

“Jacob Michael Seresin, it is rude to keep your mother waiting! And where is — there she is, there’s my girl.”

Before either of you could inhale, a head of blond hair identical to Jake’s came bounding toward you, Sandra Seresin bundling you up in her arms like she hadn’t seen you in years, rather than the months it had been since the last time she had seen you via FaceTime.

You hugged Sandy a little tighter, as if you were afraid you would disappear if you let go. If it weren't for this woman and her family, holding onto you — in more ways than one — you often feared no one would remember you at all. No one to be on the receiving end of a phone call or a folded flag, if you didn't make it home one day. You would just… cease to exist. Quietly. Perhaps that was fitting, considering that was exactly how you lived your life.

You were your parents' only child, and they were gone. Well, your father was, anyway. Your mother never recovered after his sudden death, and had taken to self-medicating to ease the pain of his loss. Which, sure, you got, once you were old enough, but you were still small and new to the world, when the light that was your father went out. No one is ready to lose a parent they're close to, but certainly not when they're five. And it felt like you'd lost her, too, by the time you were 10. Moved out by the time you were 16. So, she wasn't gone, but there was no relationship to be had. You knew, of course, that if something did happen to you, they'd find her. But who would she be mourning? You had lived a whole life she knew nothing about; you had become an entirely new person. Someone she knew nothing about, but that the Seresins knew like the backs of their hands. Courtney was filling your hands with your favorite candy on the walk to the parking lot, and Jamie's kids were telling you about how they were doing in school.

Maybe someone, maybe a few someones would remember you. And fondly, you hoped.

At the height of the day, the sun was relentless, but as you walked beside Jake in the parking lot, you couldn't help noticing it made his hair the perfect shade of blond, and rendered his eyes the color of sea-glass.

"You know they just missed you," he chirped, misreading your expression and mistaking your melancholy for annoyance.

"No, no," you said softly. "It's nice to be missed. I just.."

"Today is hard," he finished your sentence matter-of-factly, and without any sort of air of pity. You heard, in its place, respect. He had no idea how you felt, but he'd always left space in your friendship for you to feel it. And, in true Jake fashion, he'd tried to fix it, by introducing you to his family, all those years ago, now. You'd only known each other a few months, then. But he didn't want you to be alone. And, the truth was, you hadn't been. Not since the moment you met him. All you ever felt when you were with Jake was ease. Comfort.

Your hand found Jake’s without thinking, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re my best friend, Jake. And I will not hesitate to kick your ass if you tell anyone how soft I got.”

You glanced over at Jake just in time to watch an unreadable emotion cloud his expression. Before you had time to think it over, he was squeezing your hand. “I’ll always keep all your secrets, Vee. Including that you prefer green Jolly Ranchers, even though blue are clearly superior.”

—————

The Seresins took you and Jake to a small diner off base, and it was today that you learned it was Jake’s favorite. You all sat in a booth toward the back, bunched up together in the cushioned semi-circle bench. Jake’s warm thigh brushed against yours, and you’d be lying if you didn’t notice the jolt that went through you, every time those thick cords of muscle pressed against you when he laughed, or when he reached forward to grasp one of the menus wedged between the matching salt and pepper shakers on the table.

With an arm lazily draped on the booth behind you, fingers loosely grazing your shoulder every so soften, Jake opened a menu for you to share.

“Well, what do you think, darlin’?”

“How did I not know this was your favorite place?” You asked, ignoring the question he was obviously asking you.

But he indulged you. “This was the first year I actually convinced you to come with us.”

“Convinced? I felt slightly bullied, Seresin.” You grinned, in spite of yourself.

“Forgive me for wanting to spend a little time with you, darlin’.” He sounded almost coy. You glanced up at him, at the same time he looked over at you, and found that ‘butterflies’ were an understatement for what that look was currently doing to your insides. It felt like a cross between adoration and desire, but what was even wilder was that Jake’s expression seemed to mirror your own — which was absurd because it was Jake. Jake, who always made sure you never got left behind; Jake, who sometimes pulled his punches with you when he was ragging on you over the comms. Yeah, that Jake, your Jake was looking at you like… that?

But then you heard Jake’s dad clear his throat from across the table and you and Jake glanced up like you’d been caught doing something far less innocuous. Your mind worked overtime trying to decipher what just happened here but the moment flickered and burnt out before you, and the conversation moved on like a film unpaused.

Despite the fact that his entire family was here, it felt like Jake couldn’t bear to take his eyes off you for a moment, not that you were complaining. And it was something his mother noticed, too.

“So, between the two of you, who do you think is the better pilot?” Courtney teased, a mischievous glint visible in the hazel of her irises.

But then Jake said your name at the same time you said his, causing you both to turn to each other in surprise, mouths agape.

“Stop being modest,” he accused, almost immediately. Part of you wanted to make special note of this moment, record it somehow. So that the next time Jake decided to have a pissing contest with some other pilot, you could chime in and remind him it didn’t matter, since he thought you were the best anyway. You went to shove at his chest, but your hand — and your heart — stuttered with you made contact. He was so solid. Just firm muscle and warm skin. When your gaze dared drift upward, he was blushing. Your comment, voicing the observation, would die on your lips, as your server returned to the table with a tray full of milkshakes. Leave it to Jamie to secure dessert when you weren’t looking.

—————

When the meal had run its course and everyone was preparing for the trip back to base, you couldn’t help but hang back a little bit, just to take it all in. Jake was indulging Courtney in one of those rare, long bear hugs, while Jamie and his mother ran off to the bathroom, and his dad made small talk with another patron seated at the diner’s counter. In spite of your resistance, this family had yanked you, kicking and screaming, into their lives. Whether you’d found them or they’d found you didn’t matter, what mattered was the moment unfolding before you. You wished you could wrap it around you and let it warm you from the inside out.

You weren’t sure when Jake had released Courtney to return to your side, or when the rest of his family had filtered out the diner’s front doors, so you jumped when you heard his voice from beside you.

“You okay, sugar?” He was close enough that you could smell the tang of his cologne — softer than before, but still present — and feel the body heat rolling off of him in waves. You practically ached with the desire to move, to be touching him in some way, and the ferocious way this feeling roared to life within you startled you. Instead of giving in to that yearning to touch, you spun around and put some distance between you, eyes trained on him. You were desperate to find out what had changed, but when you gazed into Jake’s eyes. You just saw him, you just felt him. Nothing else had changed. But maybe nothing had needed to. High stakes situations meant you were constantly filtering out your emotions: keep, alter, discard; keep, alter, discard. You rifled through feelings often before you took a breath. It felt silly to question whether or not you’d simply overlooked or ignored your feelings for your best friend all along, but what else could be true? It wasn’t the way you felt about him that was new; no, it was the sudden impulse to do something about it that felt like an unscratchable itch.

You took a nearly imperceptible step closer, and Jake mirrored your actions. He said your name softly, cautiously.

But then, from behind: “Hey, is everybody else outside?”

Jamie’s voice was like cold water to the face. Still, you nodded, regaining the distance between yourself and Jake. You blinked a few times, as if you were hitting some sort of invisible reset button in your mind.

Keep, alter, discard.

You were silent, the entire ride back to base. You went through the motions of ‘see-you-next-time’’s and ‘take-care’’s, and stood in the parking lot until Robert’s truck was completely out of view.

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled, without looking up at Jake, then spinning on your heels to head back inside. There was still enough of the day that you could get your laundry done if you headed straight in and got to work, you just had to —

Jake’s hand on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Your skin was tingling where his fingers were wrapped around you. Jaw set, you clenched, mouth forming a straight line. You were back on base now; you were back to being naval aviators. There wasn’t any room for these silly little schoolgirl feelings Jake inspired in you. You didn’t get to twirl your hair and bat your eyelashes and fall head over heels for your best friend. Instead, you got to linger somewhere painfully between ‘duty bound’ and ‘already in over your head.��

“What is it, Jake?” You hadn’t yet turned to face him, and that was an offense he didn’t take lightly to; though instead of waiting for you to rectify the situation, he does so himself. It was so very like him.

“Look at me, please.” The raw edge to his voice startled you into compliance.

You turned and regretted it immediately.

“What did I do?” His eyes were so soft, so entirely unguarded. A fear you didn’t recognize was plain on his face. “How can I fix it?”

“It’s nothing, Jake.”

But he was not convinced by your sighed syllables. “That’s bullshit.” Even the way he spoke was gentle, like he was afraid you’d evaporate from the sheer force of his words if he spoke too loudly.

“Something changed, after lunch, something… Something happened,” he continued. “Did Jamie say something to you? Court?”

A short burst of laughter punched out of you, but it sounded colder than you imagined, and Jake stepped back like you’d slapped him. Fear was replaced by irritation. You recognized that particular crease in his brow, but you resolved that this was good. Maybe he needed to hate you a little, so you could get over whatever was most definitely not happening here.

“What?” You laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced than before. “Did you expect me to go all weak-kneed because you saved me, Jake? Showed me what a real family was like? Would you like me to grovel with gratitude now, or can I save that for later?”

And you regretted the words the moment you said them, instantly spiraling. It was vicious and careless, but a low enough blow that it would end things — it would fix things, once and for all. But then that feeling from earlier returned, that burning at the back of your throat and the sting in your eyes. You understood now that what you were feeling was loss; you were preparing for the loss of your best friend. Prematurely, perhaps, but if you knew Jake at all, you knew it wasn’t that premature. He let the others think he was a jerk and a blowhard but, to you, he admitted to the real softness of his heart. The purity of it. It was you he sat beside, shaking with worry after Phoenix and Bob went down after a bird strike. You, he called when his niece got a case of the flu so bad she was hospitalized and he couldn’t see her. You, he pleaded with for help when he’d mouthed off too much in class and was pretty sure everyone hated him now. You knew everything he did was so startlingly fucking earnest. To question how genuine he was, to question his integrity, was the kind of wound that could only be delivered intimately. And you had done it so very well. A real stab and twist.

You mumbled an apology, just desperate to escape Jake and that angry, but somehow still pleading look in his eyes. It was when your back was turned that Jake finally spoke.

“God, I have to be so fucking stupid.”

“Jake, don’t,” you said, stilled but not turning back around. Your pride wouldn’t let him see you cry.

“No, I must be. I must be a complete fucking idiot to have misread all the signs that you… That we want the same thing.”

You didn’t dare speak at first; you couldn’t. And then, when you did, the ragged nature of your breathing startled even you. “And what is it that you think we both want?”

“More than this, Vee!” He sounded exasperated, and you didn’t need to face him to know that Jake had run a frustrated hand through his hair. “More than tiptoeing around each other and how we feel about each other, and trying to pretend like, like…”

“Trying to pretend like what?” The words ripped out of you like a sob and you couldn’t will yourself to be still anymore. Your body angled toward his like you were fucking magnetized.

“Trying to pretend like I am not in love with you.”

The words landed like lead around you, and you had to bite back a sob. When that wasn’t enough to muffle the sound, you slapped a palm to your mouth.

He had done it. He had taken that big thing, wrestled it into submission, and then laid it bare in front of you. But, more than that, he’d laid himself bare in front of you. He was more naked now than he’d ever been in any locker room. This was Jake at his most honest.

And you could feel yourself teetering so dangerously on the edge of giving in. Your breaths heaved in and out of you with great effort.

What if you ruined this? What if he left you? What if, what if, what if…

God, but what if you didn’t? What if, for once, something just fucking worked out, and someone just stayed? If there was anyone in your life who was capable of staying, wouldn’t it be Jake? Who else could it be?

Your resolve was so thin, so fragile; when you finally spoke, it was: “Jake, I’m scared.”

He took a step toward you. He could’ve closed the gap between your bodies in a singular stride, but he was giving you an out. One last chance to walk away. You remained anchored to your spot on the pavement. When he took the final step toward you, he had a palm raised to frame your face — he was shaking, but he rested his forehead against yours, too. And that was Jake, in a nutshell. Scared, but pushing forward. It was one of the things you admired, one of the things you loved most about him.

“Don’t be scared, Vee.” The plea was soft, softer than a prayer. “Don’t be scared. Whatever there is to figure out, we’ll figure it out together. We can make this work.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We’ll figure that out together, too.”

Even as your every survival instinct was telling you not to, even as all you wanted to do was run, you leaned in. The kiss was a little clumsy — he hadn’t been ready, you were too nervous. But then your hand found purchase against his chest, and one of his at your hip. And then you were practically tugging each other closer; your lips fitting together more seamlessly. How had you held out this long? How had you deprived yourself of this?

Jake retracted, eyes wild and bright when he looked at you. As his lips sloped into a grin, you knew something was coming.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if you heard me, but…”

“Oh, you mean your little love confession?” you reveled in the flush that crept up his neck and the laugh that fled your now kiss-swollen lips as a result.

Though realization seemed to darken his expression, and his eyes left yours. The loss was one you felt immediately.

“What?”

Jake must have felt the tension begin to seep into your body, because his thumb began to press slow, soothing circles against your hip.

“Vee, I know you don’t need me to save you. You have never needed to be saved by anyone.” His brow furrowed a moment, and the hand still cradling your face dropped to meet the other at your hips. “But if you want to be… If you want someone else to help you carry all that weight on your shoulders. Well, that would be okay, too, alright?”

You weren’t certain, but when Jake met your gaze once again, you were almost positive there were tears welling in his eyes. The sight of his vulnerability rendered you speechless, so you nodded mutely, then managed a small ‘okay.’ It was instinctive for you to rest your forehead against Jake’s chest and allow his arms to envelope you in his embrace. More so than ever before.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been standing there when you finally spoke up again. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. Instead, he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, and tightened his arms around you. And maybe, just maybe, you thought… this wouldn’t be so bad. Whether it was 20 minutes or 20 years, you wanted as much of Jake as he was willing and able to give.

Keep, alter, discard? You were definitely keeping this feeling.

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman angst #hangman fluff

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tongue-like-a-razor · 4 months

Text

Less Talk | Part IX

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

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

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

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

Masterlist | Part I

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

But Jake doesn’t stop. He can’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake snorts.

“Have another croissant,” you urge.

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

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

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

“Bradshaw?” he calls, just in case.

No answer.

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

“What the fuck, Seresin!” you scream.

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

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

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

“You called for Bradley!”

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

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

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

“Uh, sometimes, I guess,” you admit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp. “I wanted to talk to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s my problem?” you screech.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth falls agape again. “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why what?” you scream as he approaches.

“Why make up with me?” he presses.

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

Jake shrugs. “We weren’t close.”

You scoff. “You’re a fucking liar.”

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

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

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

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

Jake nods with a slight smirk. “Likewise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake raises his eyebrows. “You listened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You comfortable?” he asks after repositioning you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Jake is suddenly making love.

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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856 notes · View notes

roosterbruiser · 10 months

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

A piercing cry slices through the dark--your eyelids are too heavy to wrench open, especially when you’re cocooned under the heavy duvet like you are right now.

From behind you, molded against your body like he always is when you sleep, Jake’s muscles tense. Rigidly, he sighs into the warm curve of your throat and blinks through the dark. And, yes, there on the baby monitor is your six-month-old baby boy in his silly-looking sleep sack. He’s about to wail, Jake can tell. His little bottom lip’s wobbling and his eyes are shut tight and even though Jake can’t see his hands, he knows his fists are clenched.

“Your son is so dramatic,” you whisper, muffled from the pillow.

“I thought we decided on theatrical,” Jake whispers back, his voice thin and worn. He peppers a few sloppy kisses to your throat and starts to sit up. “I’ve got ‘im.”

“You’re my hero,” you mutter, yawning.

He stretches and then swings his legs over the bed.

“Kinda my thing,” he says as he stands.

“I love you so much,” you reply. Any other time, with more sleep, you would’ve scoffed at him and given him your best eye roll. But you’re too tired to feel anything but grateful for your husband right now. “Like, so much.”

Jake laughs lightly, tiredly.

“I know,” he says cockily, teasingly.

You don’t respond, already drifting off to sleep again. You’re so tired that you can feel it in your bones--a deep, deep ache that is only exacerbated by frequent diaper changes and excessive feedings and tumultuous tummy times and gas and formula and binkies and board books and burp cloths and baths.

And even though the baby is definitely about to start screaming, Jake can’t help but pause for a moment in repose as he stands in the doorway in his slouchy sweatpants. You’re sprawled across the bed already--you always say it’s to keep his spot warm but he knows that it’s because you’d sleep in star-formation if you had the choice--and breathing deeply. Your hair is a mess on the pillow and your cheek is smushed. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re exhausted from parenting a very particular, theatrical Seresin baby boy.

He wants to cross the room again and tuck your hair back from your forehead. He wants to kiss your aching temples and your heavy eyelids. He wants to pull you in his arms, gather all those limbs, and hold you close.

But he doesn’t want to wake you up.

So, he just smiles gently.

“I love you so much,” he responds finally. “So, so, so stupid much.”

And then he’s padding down the hallway, yawning again, but with a smile tugging on his lips. He can hear his son’s whimpers from outside the door and honestly, he’s shocked the screaming hasn’t started yet.

The sound of artificial rain floods Jake’s ears when he comes into the room, the little sound machine in the corner lulling your son to sleep each day and night. He doesn’t bother turning it off or turning the light on--Jake’s fairly certain he’s adapted to the dark by now anyway.

There in his crib, the one Jake had to finally ask Javy to help build, is a wriggling and fussy baby boy. His gummy mouth on display as he thrashes his head back and forth and his cheeks ruddy from upset.

Jake’s heart swells as he strokes his cheek. Sometimes he still can't believe that this sweet little creature--the one with your eyes and his nose and your cheeks and his chin--is all his and all yours. You made him, every bit of him, and he is the most precious thing to ever grace this earth. Jake's sure of it.

“Hey there, cowboy,” he says softly. His son doesn’t let up yet, kicking his legs as Jake unzips the sleep sack. “S’alright, darlin’, daddy’s here.”

All the tired floods his body and slips out under the door when Jake’s not looking. He holds his son against his bare chest, his body still so small and so soft. But then Jake is kissing the feathery hair on his head and bouncing lightly in his spot, heels digging into the rug.

“What’s got you so upset?” Jake whispers, lips pressed against his son’s forehead. “Bad dream, baby?”

Your son doesn’t respond. He just burrows into his fathers neck, his breaths stuttering and his mouth open and drooling. Jake pats his back a few times, kissing his cheek. He inhales his sweet, sweet scent and sighs.

He loves the way your son smells--he just smells warm. He isn’t sure if it’s the body wash or the lotion or the sheets that does it. But he somehow just always smells good, like home, like you.

“Let’s take a seat, huh? A little rock and roll never hurt nobody, huh?” He asks quietly as he sits in the rocking chair.

If you were awake to hear his pun, you would’ve never let him hear the end of it. Jake makes a mental note to tell it to you over breakfast.

Your son’s whimpers are fading fast, especially when Jake starts to softly rock him, tucking his chin on his head and patting his back softly.

“Mama thinks you’re theatrical,” he tells your son, eyes fluttering shut. “And you definitely are. Mama also thinks you get it from me--and you absolutely do. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, cowboy. You gonna be a little actor? Or a little lawyer?”

Your son babbles quietly, fingers tangled in Jake’s hair as a form of self-soothing. Jake kisses his face a few more times.

“Or you could just stay here with me and mama forever,” he whispers.

And he knows that having a son has made him soft--like crying at that one Honda commercial kind of soft--because his eyes grow wet when he thinks of your son getting any bigger than he is now. He never wants a day to come where he can’t pull his son to his chest, sit down in the rocking chair, and make the tears stop.

"I love you," he whispers. "Me and mama love you so, so much. More love than can fit in this whole world."

When you pad down the hallway, eyes full of sand and sleep from your very few hours slumbering, you don’t even have to touch the walls anymore to orient yourself. You know where you’re going even in the pitch-black hallway.

Jake’s sleeping when you come into the nursery, the sound machine quiet in the corner of the room. Your son is still in his arms, sleeping against his chest. And God do they look alike right now in the light of the moon--both of them sleeping with their heads resting on each other’s, their mouths open, their fists clenched.

You came in here to bring Jake back to the bedroom. But watching him hold your son, your sweet boy, in that rocking chair that he built in this room he put together--you decide that a few more hours of comfortable sleep isn’t worth it. Tempurpedic mattress be damned.

So, you just carefully cross the floor. The rug is soft beneath your bare feet when you lean forward and stroke your son’s head, careful to have a soft touch that will not wake him. And then you’re kissing Jake’s warm cheeks, stroking his blonde locks, too.

Jake stirs slightly, eyes twitching. Your heart swells.

You sink onto the floor before the rocking chair, leaning against Jake’s legs. The rain is lulling you already and you yawn as you rest your cheek on his thighs. The rug is comfortable--you’re glad you went for this one. Your son is happy and sleeping and your husband is holding him and everything is right in the world.

And just as you’re about to fall asleep again, Jake’s thighs cushioning you, Jake’s hand falls into your hair. He strokes a few times in welcome--hi, baby.

“Missed you,” you mutter.

“Missed you,” he returns. His hand glides through your hair. “All’s right in the world now, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It is.”

happy Father's Day to those who celebrate <3

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jupitercomet · 8 months

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summary - Jake broke your heart when he left you behind. All that remained of him were the memories of when you were in love—and the phone number he never picks up. Now he's back, ready to claim his title. And you think that that's all he wants, that he's completely forgotten about everything you were together, until he tries to fight for you too. But, this time, will you finally be worth more to him than the glory?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex and suggestive themes, my limited knowledge of boxing, no use of y/n, Jake is 6'5" because I said so

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 3.2k

okay, here's the start of under the hard deck: rewritten! obviously some parts of it are going to be the same, I don't plan on scrapping all the chapters I've written. it's just that some of the characterizations/pacing/plot points are going to be different. anyway I hope you enjoy (for the second time)! - bugs

one new voicemail masterlist

“Hey, Jake. It’s, um, it’s me again. I know I usually call later, but, I don’t know, today was just so long and I’m so tired and it’s only 6:00. I don’t even know what happened, it just feels like everything went wrong. A customer yelled at me this morning because his iced coffee had too many ice cubes in it— I mean who even cares about something like that? And then he refused to pay for his entire meal, even though I made him another coffee, because he was unhappy with the service and didn’t think he should have to pay for my mistakes, so Freddie got pissed and told me that if I messed up like that again, he’d fire me.

My feet were hurting the entire day too. I still wear those flats you always told me to just dump because they’re too small, and I think they really are too small now because my heels are covered in blisters. Luckily, one of the older waitresses—you remember Marlene, right? She had the big red hair that made you think she looked like Winnie from Hocus Pocus. Well anyway, she had some band-aids in her purse because my feet had started bleeding. I guess it’s probably time I got new shoes, but... But you got me these shoes—that’s why I kept them, I never told you that—and so if I throw them away—

Sorry, I’m not gonna cry. I’m still walking home, people will look at me weird. But it’s just been a really long day and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it and I just— I feel like such a failure, Jake. Nothing I do is good enough and I’m so sick of— God, sorry, I said I wouldn’t cry.

I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this, I guess it’s comforting to imagine that you still care, but that’s not— You don’t have to, it’s not your job anymore so I won’t be mad if you don’t, I promise. My therapist said it’s good though. Talking about my feelings. Granted, I didn’t tell her it was through my ex boyfriend’s voicemail but, I don’t know, it helps I guess.

Anyway, I’ll stop bothering you, but say ‘hi’ to Harley for me and… And I— I hope you had a better day than me, that’s all.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise for tonight’s champ… JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN!”

The crowd is deafening, cheering at an eardrum bursting volume, and Jake craves it. The stark white lights above him, the men beneath him, still in their work clothes, trading money amongst themselves. Someone’s rubbing out his shoulders, attempting to tell him something over the noise of the crowd, but Jake’s not even trying to listen.

His opponent is, quite literally, on the ropes, leaning his entire weight on them as someone shines a flashlight in both his eyes. Jake smirks, licking the blood that dripped down from his nose onto his lips. The taste of rust fills his mouth and, though people are trying to usher him out of the ring, he waits. He watches as his opponent looks around the ring hazily, trying to piece together all the noises penetrating his ears through all the blunt force he’d taken to the head. Inevitably, the other boxer meets his eye, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his towering frame, and Jake’s face morphs into a bloody grin. His tongue traces his teeth cockily and he winks.

“Alright, showoff,” Javy shoves his shoulder, finally getting the blond to move. “You already won.”

Jake doesn’t say anything as they walk through the cheering crowd, letting his eyes rake over the ring girls who wave at him flirtatiously. One of the girls seems nervous, not meeting his eye with a deep blush on her face, and Jake smirks. He always did have a thing for the quiet ones.

“Keep walking, hotshot. I know what you’re thinking.” Javy’s voice is back near his ear and it’s clear the man is intent on making sure they both make a beeline straight for the locker room.

Ultimately, Jake’s not too hung up about it, he’d find another girl to pique his interest later in the night, but he never wastes an opportunity to tease his best friend. “No gloating or girls? You got a stick up your ass or somethin’, man?”

Javy scoffs, pushing him into the locker room with more force than necessary. “Please, if I had a stick up my ass, I’d never have put up with your narcissistic ass in the first place.”

“Ouch,” Jake grins, catching the water bottle Javy throws at him with, again, more force than necessary.

He takes a swig and Javy looks at him with crossed arms, contemplating for a moment, before finally letting out a sigh. Jake knows that look. The tongue tracing his molars. The slight tilt of his head and squint of his eyes. It’s Javy’s “I’m about to say something and I don’t know how you’ll take it” look. And, given that Javy can read Jake like a book, that look isn’t always common. He swallows another gulp of water, looking at Javy expectantly.

“Mav’s offering you a spot at the Hard Deck.”

Jake’s brows furrow, his lips stilling around the nozzle of his Gatorade water bottle, and he pulls it away from his mouth slowly. “What?”

“He wants you to come back,” Javy continues unsurely. “It’s a lot of money, dude.”

“What’s the catch?”

Javy shrugs. “Nothing that I can see. He’s offering a bigger cut of earnings, higher priority with fights. You’ve made a name here Jake, I’m not that surprised he wants you back.”

That was true enough. Since moving to Texas, Jake had reached a level of notoriety that was unattainable in California—not when he was competing with guys like Rooster and Razor just to get the time of day. It took him all of two months to make it big in Texas.

“What makes him think I’ll come back then?” Jake sits, dropping the gloves he was holding to the floor. “He knows how good I’ve made it here.”

“You and I both know the fighting scene’s bigger in Cali. I guess he thinks you’d make your way back there eventually. And that a guaranteed spot in the big leagues might incentivize you.”

Jake nods offhandedly, spurting more water into his mouth and ignoring the way his knuckles ache at the squeeze.

“You know as well as I do what this means, man.”

And Jake does. If Maverick’s reaching out to him, especially now, it could only mean one thing. He thinks Jake has a shot at winning a belt.

He purses his lips. “Did he say when he wanted an answer?”

Javy shakes his head.

The Hard Deck. It’s a good deal, Jake knows that. It’ll make winning a belt a very attainable goal, Jake knows that. If he were anyone else, it might be hard to just uproot his life and move to a different state so suddenly, but nothing was tying Jake down here. There wasn’t a single, logical reason Jake had to not accept Maverick’s offer.

He had some illogical reasons though.

Like the diner on Keller street he’d have to avoid if he ever goes out for lunch. Or the apartment complex he’d pass every day on his way to the gym. Or Charlotte’s—Jake had yet to find a restaurant on the entire West coast that could make better Chicken Alfredo. But he’d have to avoid Charlotte’s too. Those were reasons—as stupid as they are.

But they are stupid reasons, Jake reminds himself. Jake has never been one to tuck tail and run, especially when it comes to boxing. And why should he start now? Just because there’s a couple places that make him uncomfortable? Maverick was offering something big—something Jake has always wanted. Something Jake gave up everything for just to get.

“You don’t have to decide now—”

“Tell him I’ll do it.”

Javy’s mouth snaps closed and he looks at his friend. “Jake…”

“You said it yourself,” Jake shrugs, getting up to open his locker. “This could be my chance. I’d be a fucking moron not to take it.”

Javy still seems somewhat unconvinced, saying nothing as Jake speeds through his combination lock. It’s a bit of a stalemate between the two and Jake ignores the feelings of uncertainty creeping up his spine as he pulls a hoodie over his head. His obliques burn at the stretch and he winces.

“Alright,” Javy relents finally. “If this is what you wanna do, I’ll back you. But I’m giving it a day or two before I get back to Mav, in case you change your mind.”

Jake reaches for his bag, stuffing his gloves inside, before sliding on his sweatpants. “Sure, man. I’ll start house hunting. You wanna share a one bedroom or two?”

Javy laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, and gathers his own belongings, shouldering on a jacket.

“You’re dangerously impulsive, you know that?”

“I do. I like to think it’s one of my best qualities.” Jake grins, pivoting on his heel as he heads for the exit of the locker room. He can already taste the victory champagne on his tongue and he thinks that he has a few hours before he crashes. Maybe he could find that shy ring girl again.

“Hey.” Javy’s voice stops Jake, his hand freezing on the door, and he turns. Javy’s got that look again. “You gonna tell her you’re coming back?”

It’s silent for several seconds.

“...Who?”

Javy studies him for a moment, almost like he’s looking right through him, before shaking his head. “Never mind, man. Have a good night.”

Jake nods, pushing through the door of the locker room and out of the building, not stopping until he reaches his parked motorcycle. He secures his helmet with a heavy breath. Jake knows damn well who.

Without sparing it another thought—having to forcibly remove the memories from his brain—Jake starts up his motorcycle, revving the engine a few times before he pulls away from the empty looking warehouse that served as his arena for the night. The cool wind feels good against his aching muscles and Jake loses himself in the feeling of weaving in and out of traffic. It doesn’t take him long to find the club that everyone goes to after a fight—the party limos littering the curb are very telling. Jake finds a spot to park his bike quickly, pulling off his helmet as he takes in the line of people that’s almost wrapped around the building.

He’s hardly dressed for a night out, just in a pair of shorts and a hoodie. But Jake has found that people don’t really care what he’s dressed like when they all just watched him beat another man to a pulp. This belief is affirmed when the bouncer gives him one look before shooting him a nod and letting him skip the line into the club.

The bass of the music vibrates underneath Jake’s feet, making the words of the song almost unintelligible as he surveys the packed interior of the club. Scantily clad women sway seductively from poles lining a large stage in the middle of the room. They’re all dressed in various kinds of lingerie that Jake assumes is in line with the theme of the club. What theme Jake has no idea, but whatever it is, it certainly has men lining up, bills scattered across the floor of the stage.

A loud cheer interrupts his thoughts, a group of patrons lighting up upon seeing him. They’re already drunk, even though his fight just ended, but Jake doesn’t mind as he signals the bartender for a shot of his own. He likes it better this way.

He nods in acknowledgement when one of the guys praises him on his fight—”I’m gonna buy a fucking boat with all the money you won me!”—throwing back several shots in rapid succession. He knows Javy will be on his ass for it tomorrow, but he also knows Javy won’t be the least bit surprised when Jake comes in with a hangover. He may be impulsive, but it’s predictably so.

“Hey, handsome.” Sensual giggles draw Jake’s attention and he turns to find two women dressed in skimpy tank tops and frayed jean shorts standing in front of him.

One of them is holding a bottle of tequila and a shot of her own and the other is looking at him through long, mascara coated lashes. She bites her lip as if to hold in a smile, drawing Jake’s attention to the deep red painting them.

“Wanna take a body shot, champ?”

Jake grins.

The room’s too packed for the girl to lay on any sort of table, but she already seemed to have thought of that, plucking the shot from her friend’s hand and situating it between the valley of her breasts. She looks up at Jake with a challenging smile, but Jake can’t even count the amount of times he’s found himself in this exact position, so he’s hardly thrown.

Dropping to his knees, Jake meets her eye with a smirk, grabbing each side of her chest before pulling her down to his waiting lips. The liquor sloshes around in the shot glass, some landing on his chin when it finally falls into his waiting mouth. Before the girl can say something teasing, Jake’s standing up quickly, hand wrapping around the back of her neck as he confidently tilts her head up, holding her gaze for a second before spitting the tequila back through her parted lips.

She swallows it—her friend giggling manically behind her—blinking up at Jake in a dazed surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him swiftly. Jake’s hands fall to her hips, squeezing and kneading the skin as his lips chase hers. The taste of tequila is heavy on both of their tongues, only fueling Jake’s exploration of her mouth, and when he pulls away a string of saliva still connects them.

The woman’s chest is heaving, but Jake only wets his lips hungrily. “You ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”

And just like that, he finds himself pinning her up against his front door, keeping her thighs wrapped around his hips despite the fact that every one of his muscles ache. He fumbles with the key, swinging the door open and closing it with his foot quickly. The twinkling of dog tags make a brief appearance in his ears as he carries the woman into his living room—still exploring her mouth with his own—but Jake loses track of them as he takes her up the stairs.

Their clothes litter the floor, leaving a trail of a hoodie, shorts, and a tight tank top and denim shorts combination that Jake was more than happy to take off all the way to his bedroom. He keeps his eyes closed as his fingers make quick work of her bra, moving down to bite and suck the delicate skin of her neck. His fingers fumble when she lets out a loud noise of pleasure, not expecting the volume when he’s so used to—

Her hands fist in his hair, dragging Jake back to her waiting lips as he lays her down on his bed. “You gonna fuck me, Hangman?” She breathes against his mouth. It’s supposed to be sexy, Jake knows it’s supposed to be sexy. She’s hot, and she wants him, and he took her home. She wants him to fuck her.

So Jake does.

It’s enjoyable enough. He is genuinely attracted to her physically and she was more than happy to pleasure him anyway he asked. She got him off, and she didn’t care that he hid his head in the crook of her neck the whole time, or that he could only seem to call her “angel”.

Jake cranes his neck to check that she’s still asleep. She is, body stretched out on his bed as she bunches up most of his duvet under her arm. Her cheek is squished against the pillow, flakes of mascara dusting her cheeks. Jake watches her for another moment before getting up slowly. He grabs his phone from the nightstand, sliding on a pair of sweatpants quietly before sneaking out of the room without another glance.

Harley’s laying on the couch when he pads into the living room—something the doberman knows he isn’t allowed to do—but Jake just scratches him behind the ears as he sits down next to him, too tired to reprimand him.

“Hey, buddy.” Remote in hand, Jake flicks through channels, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He turns to the dog. “You wanna watch F1?”

Harley lets out a breath through his nose, resting his head on his paws, and Jake takes that as a “yes”. The two sit in silence, watching the cars race around the track as British commentators talk about tire quality and team tensions and other things Jake currently doesn’t have the energy to pay attention to.

Normally, he does. But after an hour too many at the club and a couple rounds in the sheets with a woman whose name he still hasn’t learned, Jake can only rub at his eyes tiredly, focusing on the brightly colored screen before him through slow, tired blinks.

“What do you think about going back to California, Harley?”

The dog perks up slightly at the sound of his name, moving just his eyes to look at Jake, and his tail thumps briefly against the couch cushion.

“Yeah?” Jake chuckles, scratching Harley’s head again. “Me too.”

A tire screech sounds through the speakers of his TV set up and he turns the volume down slightly, holding his breath to hear if there’s any stirring coming from the upstairs bedroom. Maybe he should have gone for Shark Week instead.

Jake knows he should get up, ice a few things, maybe have a bite to eat, go back to that pretty brunette in his bed. But he doesn’t quite feel up to it yet. One of the cars collides with a barrier, the crackling voice of the driver almost unintelligible through the broadcast. He could just sleep on the couch maybe, though his back would pay for it tomorrow and it would only leave questions with the woman he brought home. A car slows at the pit stop and the pit crew move like lightning to switch the tires. He could… Well, he could—

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck it,” he breathes, already reaching for his phone in his sweatpants pocket.

His fingers fumble with the passcode and he scrolls through his apps quickly. The F1 he’d put on is forgotten, serving as white noise instead. Not even Harley is paying attention to it—the dog opting to snooze lightly instead. Jake knows that he should ice his side, that he should turn the TV off, and go back to the woman in his bed, and sleep. He knows that he should do all those things. Instead he bites his lip as his thumb makes its last press on his phone screen.

“Hey, Jake. It’s, um, it’s me again…”

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