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mxverick-s · 2 years

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@unordinare thank you 🥹

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍-𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 一 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 ‘𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐀𝐍’ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 → the green-eyed monster of jealousy is actually a drunken, cocksure 6 foot something who couldn’t give less of a shit about fraternization policies.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 → @fandom-life-12 ; could you write a Hangman x pilot!wife!reader where they met when they were at top gun the first time and no one knows they’re married bc they keep their rings with the dog tags under their shirt?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 → jake ‘hangman’ seresin x pilot!wife!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 → swearing, lowkey harassment

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE HAPPY TO SMELL STALE BEER AND CIGARETTES,” Phoenix theatrically exhaled, arm swooped through Y/N’s in a coerced heave towards the doors of the Hard Deck, “Maverick is psychologically torturing us by sticking us in the armpit of some room with guys whose fucking egos are bigger than said room.”

A bout of relentless training had saturated into the breadth of their bones, the presence of psychological exhaustion from being confined to a conference room with some of the Navy’s prodigal assholes, weaved into the anchor cinching their bodies. And the Hard Deck was the favored remedy for those wearied muscles and minds.

“Maybe it’s a test,” Y/N indulged the other woman’s exasperated grouse, squinting against the sun that haloed the bar’s roof. Phoenix raised an eyebrow in an implicit gesture to elaborate. “To see who can keep their cool the longest ー anyone that can emotionally tolerate being in a room with any of those trigger-happy fuckboys has my respect.”

Phoenix half-heartedly scoffed, a lone finger angling her aviators onto the crown of her head as to fix Y/N with an amused swirl in her amber eyes, “I’m surprised you’ve kept yours; Hangman practically eye fucks you or propositions you with innuendos any chance he gets. I’d fail Maverick’s little Freudian experiment.”

The acknowledgement of the six-foot irritation that afflicted Phoenix ー and previously her until a couple years ago ー exacted a finespun stiffening in her shoulders and waver in her eased expression. A six-foot irritation that was her husband. The subtle clang of her wedding ring against the firm steel of her dog tags, both pleated beneath the tan collar of her uniform presently, abruptly fell louder against her ears.

“Unwelcomed, sex-driven comments from men? You basically just described what my entire time in the Navy has been like,” Y/N ventured to dispel any peak of conjecture Phoenix may have gathered from the flounder in her stance and behavior.

The remark braced with discomfort in her throat as she uttered it; in her primitive days at the academy, she would have contently ー eagerly ー rose to the occasion of ridiculing Jake Seresin with a cocksure smile on her face, particularly if there was a blissful moment in which his own face cramped up with offense at the nerve of her comments.

Much to the disgruntle of that brash, zealous girl, that wasn’t her modus operandi anymore.

Yet, to Phoenix, it very much still was. And that would never change.

For the sake of not laying waste to their respective Navy positions, Jake and her had settled that their textbook transgression of the military’s fraternization policies, be tucked within a snug shroud of secrecy.

And, it had worked for two years.

“Fuck, I’ll drink to that,” Phoenix’s smirk fostered into a broad simper as she jostled open the main entrance doors, a cacophony of drunken exclaims and eighties music spilling out into the humid Californian air.

The languid spin of ceiling fans brandished fleeting relief to the heat that crawled against their skin as they walked into the measly crowd that mingled beneath the recumbent lights. From within the swarm of locals adorned in their casual attire, it wasn’t a task to spot the throng of aviators that had colonized one of Penny’s pool tables, a round of Coors Lights stanced on an adjacent table.

By the grace of keen senses or pure coincidence, Jake peered up from meticulously lining up his cue, tilting his head towards her with a gleam of his sharp smirk.

“Hotspur and Phoenix, ‘bout damn time you two showed up,” he beckoned, haphazardly angling himself against the height of his cue stick, “Can stick the tab on one of you now.”

His glance then lingered on her for a drawn moment, Phoenix’s blunt scoff secondary to how Y/N rolled her eyes, a horridly suppressed smile betraying the gesture of irritation.

“I’ll grab us our usuals, you should go over and save Bob,” she murmured to Phoenix with a lax cadence of amusement for the bespectacled young man that sat at a booth behind the pool table, pinched expression conceding that he’d rather be anywhere but here whilst tinkering with the straw in his soda.

“From them or his own world of misery?” Phoenix quipped in the midst of shifting her arm out from the crook of her own before moving to trek the meager distance to the cluster of pilots.

Y/N adjusted her aviators into the rear pocket of her trousers whilst she then traipsed up to the counter, the concave edge jabbing into her rib cage as she poised her elbows unto the sleek, cold surface.

“You, my dear, were very much missed,” Penny stated as she maneuvered the corner behind the counter with Phoenix’s and hers beverages of choice, supple, oval droplets of condensation dribbling onto Y/N’s hands as she accepted them. The older woman gestured with her chin towards the ashen-blonde and sun-kissed man that observed her while easing his beer against the curl of his lips, “Practically ogling the door every time the bell went off, waiting to see if it was you that came through. He’s whipped.”

Penny’s awareness of their marriage was a consequence of a series of unfortunate events; an evening where Y/N 一 a relentless chatterbox when drunk, at least in the beliefs of the entire squadron 一 had wobbled up to Penny, asking through a string of hiccuped giggles for another Coors Light for her husband.

“Your husband?” the tawny-haired woman indulged the younger woman’s drunken musings.

“Yeah,” Y/N professed with a hiccup, dredging her hand beneath the tailored collar of her uniform, and in a rather crude motion, presenting a silver chain necklace with a diamond ring swaying from it. Before the single-syllable question of “who” could leave Penny’s thoughts, Y/N supplied the answer with a finger pointing dazedly at Hangman.

“Seems like you were entertained, though,” Y/N chided, a tiny smirk pulling on her face as Penny tweaked off the caps of their drinks with an opener.

“Entertained? But I just got here,” the two women begrudgingly turned their heads towards the drawled voice, some churn of vexation already festering within their expressions as the conceited man bolstered himself against the counter.

“Drinking all by yourself, beautiful?” he delved further into the inescapable pit of shitty wisecrackers, projecting a stifling ambience that proclaimed superiority by virtue of his birth.

“Maybe you should so you can work on some better one liners,” Y/N deadpanned, partly gesturing the neck of one of the bottles towards him whilst steadying a step further of distance between them.

“Sharp-tongued,” the man tsked, essentially smacking his own tongue against the arch of the top of his mouth. The aforementioned step of security was forsaken as he ventured forward, “Bet that tongue gets you far in the Navy.”

Her face flushed remarkably in the faint light brought on by the window littering in daylight, a tick of a clench in her jaw. Though there was an absence of an explicit remark, his words suggested enough as to what he was implying.

“Farther than you,” in her cruel attempt to inflict a good cut into this man’s esteemed ego, something — his hand — heaved her abruptly forward by the wrist, the drinks sloshing forth from its glass confines in her own clasp.

“Hey!” Penny struck an effort to dissuade the man, extending a hand to his shoulder in vain as he fluidly stepped out from the length of her grasp.

Y/N’s gaze was alike in sharpness, nearly a knife, and challenged his own. She then attempted to twist around furiously so she could push him away for the security of distance, a thwarted endeavor as his fingers acutely pressed into the flesh of her forearm.

“You should be glad that it’s as busy as it is right now — that people are watching,” he essentially growled in nearness to her face, the caustic aroma of vodka fanning across the frustrated crimson of her cheeks.

“Nah, you should be,” Jake’s voice was uncannily composed as he was, in a moment, closer to him, albeit dimly intoxicated. He sternly shoved the man away from Y/N, who hastily wrenched her wrist from his grasp, lightly recoiling when Phoenix’s hand then eased onto her shoulder in consolation.

Jake was an ample extent taller than this other man, yet the stark contrast in height inflicted nominal restraint in his harassment as he ineptly bustled Jake’s hands from his shoulders.

“Just because you got your fancy, tailored uniform with all your awards and shit, ain’t mean you can waltz up and interfere with my business,” his response was clear of his razor blade patience and the pair of men were simultaneously now a clusterfuck of pissed off emotions.

“I can when I’m her husband,” Jake was glowering at him now, eyes searing holes into his soul, upending the collar of his polo within his fist.

“I’m sorry, her what?” Phoenix murmured with incredulity, and Y/N promptly decided then that she’d rather imagine that the calamitous duo of alcohol and pride hadn’t just doomed their military careers, thus she disregarded the other woman’s bewildered whisper from behind her.

“You let your wife mingle out here all on her lonesome?” the man mustered out from the taut grip that was fastened onto his shirt.

Y/N eyed the frustrated clench of Jake’s stern jaw, damn near prepared to give this man the beating of his life.

In the thin-ice silence that then sheathed bitterly over them, Jake’s shallow breaths were shards of glass and she spoke to the man before he could throttle the spindly twenty-something.

“If I wasn’t here, you’d be a bloody pulp on the ground, asshole. You’re not even worth the effort of a fight,” she lowly uttered with taunting underlies of smug, shrugging off the dainty clasp on her shoulder from Phoenix as to level her glance with that of the man’s inferno glare. She then shifted her weight to solely face her husband, “Just let him go, Jake.”

The dirty blonde’s fury rolled off him in tidal waves, a furnace in the midst of a rather enthralled ensemble of patrons, knuckles flushed with a potent white against the navy cloth of the man’s shirt, “You should be fucking glad that she’s a better person than you are 一 then both of us 一 because I’d otherwise gladly break your nose against this counter for touching her.”

With evident reluctance, he relinquished the cinch on the polo’s collar and spared no delicacy with propelling him more or less onto his ass in the direction of the exit. A paper-like pressure on his clenched fist roused him to reality, away from his mind that gnawed with too many emotions and too much alcohol, and away from the man that essentially scrambled out through the oak doors.

A dense proximity was between them now, a sensory overload kindled by the fluster of the circumstances, and an intense stare bridged between their eyes. She heeded the blush that crept up her neck whilst she beckoned for them to go outside. Anything to staunchly elude the questioning and confounded glimpses of their entire squadron that had poised themselves against the counter, thoroughly engrossed.

Yet, as she promptly shifted to pursue a curt exit, he leaned forward and pressed his lips onto hers with tenacity bred from his stupor of alcohol. His chest heaved against the other’s, a hand touching her blush-stricken cheek. Her breath almost instantaneously steadied with the delicate contact against the flush of her skin, even as it was fleeting as he pulled away with a few moments spared to the kiss.

“We can go outside but there won’t be much talking,” Jake mumbled against the shell of her ear, a tentative shiver pouring over her spine at the warm breath flittering across her hairline, it vanishing just as abruptly as it manifested as he then nearly collapsed against her shorter stature with a muffled grouse.

“Because you’ll be too occupied with emptying your stomach on the floor of the truck,” Y/N tantalized as he absentmindedly tinkered with the kink of a ringlet brushing her forehead teasingly from her tailored bun.

“You need help with your big drunk baby?” Phoenix joined Y/N at her side with her arms nonchalantly posed against her chest, casting a sidelong, indifferent glimpse towards the giddily murmuring blonde that subtly swayed about.

“Yeah or he’ll faceplant in the parking lot,” she hummed, easing an arm around a half of his midsection whilst Phoenix reluctantly mimicked the action for the remaining half.

“Can’t go ruining his pretty boy face,” Phoenix bantered softly as they clumsily started towards the exit, their lopsided steps eluding the others’ feet by some fortune.

“That’s the closest you’ve ever come to complimenting me….maybe you aren’t such a priss,” Jake tsked with a curl of a smirk, hazily tilting his head towards her as she rolled her eyes.

“This is who you chose to marry?”

“You and I both know that there’s fucking worse men I could have chosen, Nix.”

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