#hangman fanfic

[justfandomwritings]

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.”

#hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #who did this to you #top gun #top gun x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic #hangman fic #hangman fanfic #hangman angst #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin angst #jake seresin imagine #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fic

[eternalsams]

Your Woman ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

warning/content: 18+ (dear minors, interact and I'll block you), nudity, fluff, smut (dry wet humping, thigh riding?)

summary: when Jake and you decide to shower together, you realize you also have to share the playlist.

word count: 728 (this is so short i'm ashamed)

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration. Please don't come at me for the mockery of the country music, I love country music and I love Texas (only because they give us men like Glen Powell and Jensen Ackles)

masterlist

"Right... Cause saving water is the only reason you wanna shower with me?" You chuckle as you grab two fresh towels. "Of course! What other reason would I have?" Jake peaks his head from behind the shower curtain with a sly smirk. You huff and start undressing, not having it in you to deny your boyfriend what you both know you want. As you were about to open the curtain and step into the shower with him, he stops you. "Wait, can you put some music on? My phone's on the bed." You roll your eyes and chuckle before leaving the bathroom to grab his phone.

You see a text from Javy, telling Jake to hurry up if he wanted free beer. You chuckle once more and open Jake's music app. You click on the first playlist suggested and lock the phone before stepping into the shower. Jake's arm immediately wraps around your waist and you let out a gasp as you almost slip on the wet tile. "I gotcha', darlin'." He leans in to you and brush his lips against yours. "My hero..." You mutter and he smiles widely before kissing you.

The hand on your waist slides down to your ass and kneads the flesh, making you giggle against his lips. His other hand snakes at the back of your neck as he parts your lips with his tongue, licking deliciously into your mouth. Jake grabs the back of your thigh and pull you more into him, slotting one of his legs between yours. The friction of his muscular thigh against your core has you whimpering but Jake doesn't do anything more than just swaying his hips with yours. You pull away from him, taking a quick breath after he just kissed the air out of your lungs. That's when you hear it, the music. The sounds of the electric guitar playing country has you rolling your eyes and scoffing. "Don't make fun of my music, sweetheart." Jake purrs, looking down at you. "I'm not making fun. I just don't like it." You defend yourself. The swaying of his hips in rhythm has you quietly whining as his leg rubs perfectly against your pussy. "I feel like you're rather enjoying yourself." He chuckles, dipping his head to place a kiss on your lips. "You're not playing fair." You sigh, trying to suppress the shiver that's threatening to make your body tremble.

"I can't believe how much it turns me on..." Jake's low voice sings along the music, making you chuckle. "There's no hurry, don't you worry..." He keeps singing, swaying his hips in rhythm and pecking kisses along your jaw. "We can take our time." You finish the lyrics and Jake pulls away to look at you with a surprised smile. "You do know the lyrics. Come a little closer..." He accompanies his words by pulling you even closer and dragging your clit over his thigh and having you whining for more. You can feel his hardening cock poking at your hip but you don't care, you cannot think of anything else than the delicious feeling of his skin rubbing on your clit. Your lips latch onto his neck and your teeth nibble at his skin as you start to feel the knot in your tummy tightening.

Never in your life you would have thought you could have an orgasm to country music. But here you are, gasping and squeezing Jake's shoulders as you came on his thigh, listening to him singing along some stupid country ballad. "That's it, let go for me sweetheart." He purrs next to your ear, holding you firmly as he kept swaying his hips to help you ride out your orgasm. You let your head fall on his shoulder and he tenderly kisses the back of your head as you're catching your breath. "Such a good girl." He grabs your face and makes you look at him, giving you a soft smile. "So good for me." You return the smile weakly and reach for his face to kiss him. The song finally ends and when you think you can go back to having a normal shower, another country song starts. "Nope, not doing this again." You say as you step out of the shower to change his playlist. Jake only laughs and try to ignore to throbbing ache between his legs.

taglist:

@hardballoonlove

@blue-aconite

@iliketopgun

@callsign-hummingbird

@roosterforme

@jessicab1991

@atarmychick007

@hangmansgbaby

@callsigns-haze

@mamachasesmayhem

@els-marvelvsp

@djs8891

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfic #hangman imagine #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin x imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun x you #top gun imagine #top gun maverick x you #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick imagine #glen powell #glen powell x reader

[purelyfiction]

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NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

Word Count: 5,334 words

Author Note: I know I have two other outstanding Top Gun fics and I swear I'm trying to get those going but I am writing what sparks joy and well.... this certainly does. || Also!! Reader's stage name is 'Celeste' with 'Este' as the nickname. So no one gets confuseddddd

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You'd never anticipated to start the biggest year of your life absolutely gutted, yet here you are. Your boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend, severed what you had thought to be a loving, trusting and safe relationship, rather unexpectedly on New Year's Eve. Then he'd gone to the press to relay that you were a horrible person, a terrible girlfriend, too involved in your work to even bother paying attention to anyone else. The timing couldn't be worse, since you were about to start your first ever stadium tour in the spring. 

The result had been you hiding away in your little oasis that was your condo in California’s southern escape of San Diego. You’d stayed off the internet, binging TV shows that you’d been too busy to pay attention to and immersing yourself in anything you could, to erase the four year relationship you’d been splintered from. The garbage people probably wondered why there were a near dozen empty quarter pints of ice cream in your recycling bin, but that wasn’t for them to care about. At least you’d recycled them. 

Now, three weeks into the new year, with your favorite Chinese on the way, you sit on your couch going over tour visuals. Your lighting engineer is rambling on the line as you hear the gate buzzer go off. You’re quick to collect your dinner as one of the others on the line gasp and quickly mute their mic. “What?” You quip, walking to your expansive kitchen and dropping the large paper bag down. You’re half paying attention when the employee brushes you off, as your hand pulls container after container of food from the magical Mary Poppins-style bag. Getting to the bottom, you grasp for a pair of chopsticks, only to find several sets of them, along with a dozen fortune cookies. You take a moment to look over your four entrees and styrofoam container of sushi. The audacity of them to think you would be sharing any of this. 

Finally, you address the matter of your dramatic tech director. “What’s the deal over there Hollywood?” You chide, before your phone is ringing, leaving you to hang up the video call to answer the phone. It’s your publicist and you know better than to let her calls go unanswered.

“Check your inbox.” Her voice is frigid instead of it’s usually cheery demeanor.   

“Hello to you too?” Begrudgingly, you do as she commands, finding the email she sent to you. 

Jonah Carter agreed to sit down for an interview with UsWeekly, post-breakup to clear the air and to make sure no one else would fall for his ex-girlfriend's (Celeste) playful, girl-next-door-ish facade.

"At first, it felt like a dream come true," Carter, an up-and-coming actor within his own right, said almost sheepishly. "I thought she was talented and kind, but I should've known it was too good to be true."

But there's more to this pop-star than Jonah says meets the eye. In addition to the vanity and self-importance that seems to plague this generation's starlets, Este was a vindictive slob who routinely talked behind the back of even her closest friends. "It makes me wonder what she's saying about me, now, after everything I've heard her say about those who think are closest to her." The concern for others is written very clearly on the actor’s face as he speaks. When I question the songstress’ messages about authenticity, the man adjusts in his seat as he holds back a laugh. 

"She'd like you to believe she writes all her own music, but I'm not sure she could write a full sentence without the help of her team," Jonah chuckled nervously into his coffee. "Sorry, that was rude. I don't want to stoop to her level." Cowed brown eyes made me wonder what else he had endured behind closed doors. It struck a chord within me. 

“Why did you stay as long as you had if this was what you were facing?” I ask him. The expression of his kind features morphs into despair. 

“When we first met, Celeste was someone I admired. Her compassion, her drive and her dedication to the things she valued spoke so deeply to what I did, what I still do-” he fumbles as he attempts to source the proper words, “They just… weren’t her beliefs. They were her team’s.” Jonah lets out a pained sound, “I think when we got toward the end of it, I realized that she has this way of manipulating what she says, how she acts, to make herself look good. She puts on a show, on and off the stage and you pay for it one way or another. So, I knew what she was capable of. I knew she could be that person if she really wanted to and I wanted so badly to help her see that. I eventually learned that people see what they want to see.”

God, what a load of hot garbage this was. It was a particularly rare batch, clearly it had been baking in a dumpster in the scorching sun with the lid closed. All damp, with a horrendous mix of something rotting and old crusty seaweed. 

The tour was supposed to be announced on the first of the month and here your ex was selling stories (horribly narrated and mangled stories) to the press. You might as well have been kicking puppies at this point. 

“Isn’t he just swell? Nothing but peak wisdom from good ol’ Jonah.” Your eyes could’ve strained themselves with how far back they rolled. Probably the only time he’d ever made them do that too.

“I’ve already called a team together to brainstorm. I don't want you to respond. Stay offline, away from all of it and don't entertain any of the discourse. Not until I have something to work with.” 

“None of it is true we both know that-” You begin to laugh but she cuts you off.

“As much as I want to be on your side here, we are working to put out a fire. Your silence the last three weeks has put you at a massive disadvantage and frankly? The public eye doesn’t see you in the greatest space right now.” You know she’s right. She always is, and right now ‘Celeste’ was synonymous with ‘cynical, fake and fraudulent’. You wouldn’t be shocked if the uproar demanded you be canceled based off of this testimony. 

It wasn’t all but two days later that you were called in by your PR team. Into the office in New York for the first time since before Thanksgiving. It had been a busy end of the year and now that the new one was coming in so ferociously you weren’t looking toward any of the things you once had been. This was the first time back into the light and so you had made sure that the inevitable cameras had something to look at. You’d dressed yourself in your favorites, in an effort to boost your confidence as best as you could. Putting on a show, just like you had been when things had been on the rocks with Jonah. 

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Getting to the office, you’re nearly trampled with the amount of people that swarm you. It’s not normally this bad - hell it’s never this bad. It isn’t until you catch sight of a football jersey and an ESPN logo that your brow furrows. Odd. 

Stepping into the building, you’re pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, looking down at your ringing phone and trying to slide your coat off simultaneously. Instead, you crash right into what you think is a wall, but is instead a broad man, looking rather lost. 

“Easy there, Twinkle Toes.” You guffaw and look up at the blonde man before returning your eyes toward your feet. Of course, the bedazzled statement boots on your feet call attention to themselves before the rest of the outfit can balance itself out. 

“Alright, Prince Charming, you first.” You snicker before stepping out of his way and start to the elevator. Unfortunately for you, he’s apparently heading your way as well, needing access to the lift to the next floor. 

“Prince Charming, huh? I mean I’ve been called worse.” His shoulders roll backwards as the elevator dings to one of the other floors. You keep your head trained forward, suddenly remembering the rule you’d been given. Stay quiet, don’t engage. And here you were giving sass to a stranger and showing up in bedazzled booties. You were really digging this grave deeper than necessary. So, instead of giving him another sassy response, you keep your eyes locked to the neon numbers as the elevator passes each floor. “Oh so, now I’m getting a cold shoulder? Darn, I was really ready to ask you all about the boots on your feet, too.” You can’t help but let your eyes move back over to the broad male, just out of the corner of your eye. His face is completely locked on you, shamelessly at that. “They expensive? They got that waxy red paint on the bottoms of ‘em?” Silently, you turn one of your feet up to give him a glimpse at the blue bottom of the shoe. “Huh, blue. That’s fun. That more expensive than the LouButton or whatever they are?” Finally the elevator reaches your floor, hopefully shutting this chatterbox up for the time being. Yet the questions continue like an immature toddler as you rise up the floors - going to the same floor nonetheless. “Hey, you’re that Celeste chick aren’t ya?” 

“Yes.” You finally answer one of his questions, his face lighting up.

“Oh look at that, she cracks.” Another eye roll times well with the sound of the elevator reaching the desired floor. Instead of responding, you quickly find your way through the glass hallways and to the desired room. You are so glad to be in the presence of the familiar group, the stranger in the elevator having rattled your composure somewhat. Your manager comes in with a cup of coffee and a smile, which immediately puts one on yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You cheer, reaching out for it as she sits beside you. 

“When you see what Rachel has come up with, you’re going to need it.” Oh. Reassuring. 

You see her point when Prince Charming steps into the board room, followed by a host of men in dress clothes and suits, all matching the blue soles of your boots. Charming sits directly across from you, a hand wiggling his fingers as he waves at you. Oh good. 

“Thank you everyone for coming. I know this is a very polarizing group, so before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to introduce Celeste, or Este as we all have come to call her over the years.” Awkwardly, you wave at the foreign men. They grunt and nod. You were already having doubts and not a word had been spoken on their end. “I also want to introduce Beau Simpson, public relations coordinator for the San Diego Sea Lions, Coach Natasha Trace, and Sea Lions owner, Tom Kazansky.”

Sea Lions? As in the NFL team that had been built not even three years ago but had made it to all three playoffs in their short time? The one that Jonah had ridiculed immensely when it joined the league because ‘California doesn’t need another group of inflated egos in the league’? 

“I’m really feeling the love here, Rach.” Charming speaks up and the raven haired woman on the other side of the table sighs. 

“This is Jacob Seresin, starting quarterback for the Sea Lions.” The coach speaks, the blonde man brushing off her introduction. 

“No need for full names, Trace. Clearly we only do the stage name around here.” That was a clear jab to you if you’d ever heard it. “Hangman’s what they call me.” His hand juts across the glass, toward you. Your hands stay tucked under your biceps. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” It’s passive, turning to your team leader. “Rachel. I’m not seeing a connection here.” 

“Jacob is in the same pot of hot water you’re in.” Your attention moves to the similarly broad man who stands up, towering over Rachel. “We feel as though we can spin this to both of your advantages. Jake needs to stop sleeping around–”

“Easy now, Simpson.” The eldest in the room stands up and he gives you a kind smile. It’s not a farce though. You’re not entirely sure what makes it so genuine, but you smile in return of seeing him stand, despite it taking a slight bit of effort to do so. “What he means is, Jake’s professional status has changed due to the words of someone else and we’re determined to alter that. Rachel identified this and made quite the proposal.” The young woman seems all too cheery to cut off the old man. 

“You’re both having relationship woes–” The raven haired woman on Jacob’s team speaks under her breath. 

“Wouldn’t call them relationships.”

“And by putting you two together, we feel as though we can put you into a positive light. Let’s face it, putting two very successful, and attractive people who are already in the spotlight allows people to follow the developing love story. Este attends games, plays the WAG card, has an opportunity to be seen in the public eye more frequently and dispels the ill-spoken words that were published about her this week. Jake gets the proof that he isn’t just a love-em-and-leave-em type.” Your eyes spell out the doubt you’re feeling, looking at your team who is just as skeptical. “That’s just the beginning! Celeste is going on tour this year. Stadiums all across the country have her booked and ready for the summer. We have a captive audience already following these games to see Este and Jake together, and we get brand recognition. The conversations that will come as she gets to witness her betrothed play in a stadium she would be performing in that very summer.”

Now you see where the benefit actually is. Clearing your name while simultaneously promoting your tour in the process. Seeing stadiums you’ve booked and would hopefully sell out. 

“So how are you proposing this works? We’ll need a start, an end - a story on how we met–”

“Well,” Beau settles in his seat, twisting in the desk chair as he draws in the attention of the group, “we have the major details hypothesized. Rachel and I will work with one another to get the rest of it together. For now, you two met at a New Years Eve party.” 

Oh joy. Now you get to remember that bitter break-up that led you here, every time you speak about him. 

The man looks like he walked out of a surfing magazine, as it were. Now, the scowl on his features paints him as a devil. Long hair, muscular arms on display as he leans into the table in front of him. 

“If we don’t do this?” Jake leans back in his chair, a hand coming to fiddle with the lingering 5 o’clock shadow that he has omitted in his morning routine. 

“We don’t do this and there will be a lack of support for the Sea Lions. You’ll have painted the entire team as jackasses who can’t focus to save their life, especially if you continue to party and hook up with whomever your dick has the hots for that night-” Beau has gone off the handle and Tom speaks up again. 

“The point is, public favor will stay low and it will not bode well for the team. With a lack of support, we have empty seats. Empty seats translates to less viewers, then to less money and you know the song and dance. Not to mention morale for the upcoming playoffs. We need to keep the team happy, Hangman. It’s time to do something to benefit everyone.” 

Jake’s expression deepens, as though he was a young child just scolded by his father for his poor behavior. Green eyes shift and face you, his hand jutting out toward you. 

“I’m in.” His hand hovers. Waiting for you to join him in this grand scheme. Glancing at your own team, they look rather haunted. At this point, it was this or to hope that a long string of possible good stories and fan interactions can redeem you. 

You want this to pass. And if this would make it go faster… you grab Jake’s hand firmly.

“What’s there to lose?”

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You went back onto social media. Posted some photos you’d taken with friends back at the beginning of the month, from the worst party of your life. The photos at least were cute and you loved the dress you’d gotten to wear. Luckily these photos were all taken prior to midnight. So there were no red eyes. No ruined mascara and glitter across your cheeks. No freezing car rides home and empty beds. 

Mindlessly, you scroll through the comments. 

Flameth: can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

RunTao: phony photos

Romanacent: so glad to see you’re not letting him get to you!

H_ngm_n: you’re still gonna let me borrow those boots right

It’s the last one you’d been keeping an eye out for. Boots? Looking back at the photo, you scroll through the carousel until you spot them. 

The same shiny sparkly rhinestone boots you’d worn to your meeting. 

Celeste: @h_ngm_n I’m a woman of my word, of course 🤗

Not even a week goes by before you’re ‘spontaneously’ at a bar in LA. Jake has been there for the last two hours, as he insisted you both show up alone and then end up leaving together. You eventually found him in the VIP section, drinking with his buddies. 

You made sure to keep your distance for a few minutes - after all, his friends had no idea this was going down. The only people who knew about this little arrangement were your respective PR teams. That was it. No one else from your teams, your friends and family, absolutely no one knew what your little plan was. Maybe you should just leave. It was a verbal contract, you didn’t sign anything, you were just trying to make this work for the two of you-

The bartender pulls you from your deliberations. There is now a drink that you certainly didn’t order sitting in front of you. Well there was no going back now. Jake had likely made a show of sending over the drink and now you had to go through with this. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the jock, legs spread, arms resting on the back of the booth chair. Green eyes lock in your direction and send a cocky wink as a garnish to your drink. 

You are about to win your first Oscar with this performance. Throwing on a grin, you pick up the drink and easily sashay your way over to him and his football buddies. Some flash titanium wedding bands, some platinum. Some aren’t wearing them at all, like your date, mister 83 who leans forward upon your approach. “Well, well, well, long time no see hot shot.”

“Speak for yourself, pop star.” Jake stands to greet you, his arms coming around you, carefully as to not spill either of your drinks. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he does so. It’s rich, familiar in the way it reminds you of summers camping. Bonfire smoke and smores. Yet clean, like when you came home to a clean house, citrus floor cleaner lingering in the halls. Pulling back, you almost move forward again to sit in it. Easy does it. 

“Oh come on, three weeks isn’t that long.” You chide. While most of his body has pulled away from the hug, his free hand still sits on your waist, warm against the AC of the exclusive bar. 

“Technically it was a year ago.” Jake smirks before taking a sip of his drink and you want to groan. So you do. But spin it into something more playful. 

“Observant, are we?” You nearly snarl as you take a sip of your drink, Jake’s colleagues standing up. The one who’d sat right next to him grins and extends a hand. He’s tall, lean but has a stunning smile as he steps your way.

“Not sure we’ve met. Javy Machado, running back, San Diego Sea Lions-” the blonde looks at his friend with an amused scoff. 

“I think she knows who the Sea Lions are, Jav.” The look on the captain’s face is one of skepticism and amusement. You were here to dispel rumors. So, as much as you’d like to smack Jake for being a dick to his friend, you shake his teammate’s hand instead 

“In passing. I don’t follow football closely, but I get by. Celeste.” The smile on your face is genuine as the next player stands. Kind eyes, a domestic bar of hair on his upper lip and the build of a pickup truck, he goes for a quick one armed hug. When he lets go, you have to wipe the temptation of any swooning you were compelled to do. Especially since a gold band glistens on his left hand. 

You’re here for Jake anyways. 

“Name’s Bradley Bradshaw. They call me Rooster.” Your eyebrow furrows as your head twists. Before you can ask, another man on the other side of the room laughs. 

“You should hear him on the field when he’s sacking someone.” This one, curls and meticulously groomed facial hair to boot, leans forward and shakes your hand kindly. “I’m Mickey. That back there is Bob.”  

True to his word, at the end of the bench is a long haired man, tucked into his phone and fiddling with a ring. He doesn’t seem to match the energy of the rest of the group. Curious. “Bob!” He glances up at the sound of his name, blue eyes flitting from face to face before spotting you. When he does he breaks out into a smile. 

“Celeste! Gosh, wow it’s so cool to meet you! My girls adore your music.” This catches Jake’s attention, a brow popping up. 

“Aren’t both of ‘em less than five?” He asks and Bob looks between the two of you. 

“Yeah? It’s never too early to introduce them to great music and influential women.” There’s no faking the smile on your face as you reach over and shake his hand. When you do, you look at Jake with a ‘would you look at that’ coded grin. 

“That’s amazing to hear! I’m glad they have fun with it! That’s why I do it.” You glance back at Jake as he comes behind you, hand shifting to the small of your back. 

“Pay’s in the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime later tonight.” The quarterback gives a nod to his group, before guiding the two of you to a high top table not too far from them. When you sit down he looks at you with a laugh. “Flirt much?” 

“Excuse me?” Jumping to the defense, you watch Jake roll his eyes and then look back at Bradley, before facing you. 

“You were practically eye-fucking him.” 

“Was not.” 

“He’s happily married, leave him be.” The blonde sips at his drink and you can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s giving you a hard time. 

“Right, right, guess I’ll bother you instead.” The tease is off your lips in two seconds. Maybe he was right, you were coming off strong. You huff and sink into yourself briefly. “I don’t know if you realized this, but I haven’t had ‘flirt’,” your fingers mark the quotation marks in the air, “with anyone in a while. Let alone fake it.” 

Jake leans back in his chair, downing the rest of his beverage a smirk making way when he sets the glass down. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t be faking it for long.” 

The two of you sat at that table for probably an hour, bickering over which of the Pirates of The Caribbean movies were the best, and why glitter was a detriment to society. Another round of drinks and the football star return to the table as he laughs when he spills a little of your overflowing drink. 

“No, no I assure you. Glitter originated in some high tech nuclear weapons factory to make the enemy go insane upon introducing it to an environment.” He pushes your drink toward you as you pull your hair back. Not only were you not anticipating for him to be this passionate about it, but you weren’t planning on the night going like this. 

You were enjoying yourself. Jake had told you about his time at UT, six years spent studying communications no less.��

It made sense when you really dissected it. Jake had the ease to hold someone’s attention: he’d held yours this long after all, and he was well spoken. Both were things that were shocking to you. He soon enough revealed the plan had always been football. Communications was for post-retirement, when he got tired out and wanted to be back in the stadiums. 

Stories of his dad commentating his high school games came fondly before he asked about your background. You were a bit hesitant to divulge too much, but what you had was pretty bare-bones. 

Music had always been a hobby but never a career choice. You’d planned to go into school for a degree in education, a masters in English. Go and teach for a bit before getting your PhD in some niche of the world of writing and then become a professor at your alma mater. 

With the rise of social media and the multitudinous connections of the internet, a little original song of yours got popular. Local radio picked it up and then your label signed you. 

“It all was pretty spontaneous, really,” you answer. “My career was in no way by design, but… I wouldn’t change it.” The smile on your face is small, but genuine as your hair falls back around your face. Tracing the rim of your glass, you keep your eyes down before a hand pushes your hair out of your face. Coming eye to eye with him, he grins. 

“Guess it was written in the stars then.” His response catches you. Jake’s eyes are much softer than when you’d approached him earlier. They were dark, focused and possibly a little mischievous. Now? They were gentle. Every shade reassured you that the boisterous man you’d seen in the office and the press was nothing like the man under the helmet. 

It made far more sense to you now. How he’d gotten women hooked on him. The abrasiveness and bold exterior was the casing to the real character. 

How many women had actually made it past the outside?

The rustling of a fabric on leather comes from in front of you, watching as the blonde pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket. 

“Please tell me this isn’t you trying to buy my affection there, Seresin.” As he stands up, pushing his wallet back, the grin carved on his face doesn’t leave when he shakes his head. 

“No, no, princess. This is for the bartender. Turns out you’re not a cheap date.” His knuckles wrap onto the table briefly before he disappears. You blame the blush on your face on the humidity inside the building. 

The two of you bid your goodbyes, before starting to the front of the bar to exit. Reaching the street, it’s expectantly empty. He takes the side closest to the street as the two of you head down the way, toward the row of restaurants and shops that were quiet for the night. 

“Are you hungry?” Jake’s voice breaks through the cold of late January air, looking at him quizzically. 

“If you’re hungry we could go back-” His hand comes to your back again as he shakes his head. 

“Oh-ho, no ma’am I promise, I’ve got something way better.” 

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Unfortunately, he was right. The two of you stand in the glow of food truck lighting, beyond messy tacos in hand. He’s watching you with a smirk on his face, obnoxiously chewing the fish taco in his hand. 

“Is that not the best taco you’ve ever had?” Again, his voice is filled with ardor as he watches you attempt to maneuver the soft corn tortilla that seems to be spilling into your napkin. 

“It’s… a taco.” You shrug, looking down at the brown beef meal in your hands. Jake shakes his head, still chewing. 

“No, no, I will not have you slander Ganso’s Tacos. Absolutely not.” He sets his red basket down on a table, hand in a vice grip around his taco. “Here, open,” he maneuvers closer and you shake your head, backing up. 

“I am not eating your taco!”

“Eat it!!” The two of you laugh. Finally, you concede and take a bite of the hand fed taco. When he finally takes it back to his plate, his expression eagerly waits for your reaction.  One hand covers your mouth as you chew, nodding as Jake looks like he just stole the Mona Lisa without getting caught. 

“You’re right.” One singular fist to the air and he’s back to scarfing down his tacos. 

“I told you. Way better than bar food. This is by far the best taqueria in all of California. And I stand by that.” 

With full stomachs and messy hands, the two of you start back toward the bar, where Jake’s parked. When you do, you finally notice a car has been tailing the two of you since you ordered your meal. 

The crowd in front of the bar proves that your teams were certainly on to something. Flashes of light start in an onslaught, your hand coming to block your eyes. Still, you keep walking toward them, only for Jake to grab your hand and guide you toward his car. 

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Voices shout, questions sail through the air, your name, his name, Jonah’s, more questions about football- it all gets crammed into the cacophony before the passenger door opens under Jake’s hand, guiding you to your escape pod. 

The driver side door causes the car to shake with an unceremonious thud. In seconds, the engine to the sports car is ignited and the two of you are underway. 

It isn’t until you get about two miles out that one of you finally speaks. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take for those to show up online?” White lines on the road disappear as you head further and further from the bars and closer to the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. 

“I give it maybe six hours. Four if we’re lucky.” He laughs, but it doesn’t match the hearty ones he shared with you earlier.

A sports broadcast plays lowly on the radio, both of you overwhelmed by the cameras that stimulating conversation was far from what either of you were concerned with. It isn’t long until you spot your hotel. Jake navigates into the lane closest to the front of the building, pressing down on the brakes. You’re just about to unbuckle when he pulls back out into the other lane, lurching forward and away from your accommodation. 

“Um. Hello?” You question. The car whips around a turn, green eyes fixated to the rear view. Shifting in your seat, you glance behind you. 

“We’re being followed.” Jake just barely makes the light before it turns red, leaving the tailing SUV behind. 

“It’s probably just paparazzi, no big deal.” It’s easy to shrug off for you, but Jake huffs. 

“Yeah. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel alone with vultures circling.” Navigating the CarPlay in the vehicle, he quickly moves to messages and asks his phone to send someone to your hotel to gather your things. 

“Jake, I’m-”

“You’re staying with me.”

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#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #hangman fanfic #hangman x reader #hangman

[kryptonitejelly]

once again, some (domestic) flyboy!jake because i miss them. can be read as a standalone but from the flyboy!universe.

-

“Can I sleep with you tonight, pleaseeeee,” your daughter ends her request with a loud whine as she tunnels her way into your side, body burrowing further under the covers until only a mop of hair remains peeking out from the top.

You open your mouth to respond, but Jake beats you to it, his head peeking out from behind the sliding door separating your bathroom from your bedroom.

“You know the rules princess,” he says, voice slightly muffled but the toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

It makes your 6 year old sigh, as she springs up from hiding place.

“Just once,” she wails, her bottom lip sticking out, arms folded across her chest.

“No,” Jake calls out as you hear him rinse his mouth.

“That’s mean Dad,” she huffs out as she begins to scramble. You watch, an amused tilt on your lips as she frowns, body both scrambling and flailing around in anger as she manages to lower herself, feet first from your bed to the ground before running out of your room and into the hallway.

“Where’s she?” Jake asks as he emerges from the bathroom, shirtless, with only a pair of sweatpants on, the tips of his hair still damp from his shower.

“Ran back to her room,” you say, amusement painting your features as you tilt your head towards the bedroom door, “you know you could indulge her for once.”

“No,” Jake says as he walks over to your side of the bed. He shakes his head lightly, causing droplets of water to fall on your face. It makes you swat him lightly, the back of your hand coming into contact with his hip, “we let one in and it’ll never stop.”

Jake loved his children, but it was one of his hard rules. Fell asleep in your bed? He was happy to carry a child or two back to their room. Had a nightmare? He was happy to squeeze himself into the child bed until said child fell back asleep, but his bed - that was off limits, a sacred space of sorts if you would.

Jake bends at the waist to place his palms flat against the surface of the mattress, effectively confining you to the space between his arms. He kisses you on the lips; you can feel the dampness of his hair brushing against his forehead.

“I’ll put her to bed,” he says against your lips before pulling away.

“She has your attitude,” you say to which he makes a face.

“We’ll leave her with one of my sisters, can’t have two of us now can we?” He grins at you as he straightens up again.

It makes you chuckle and you roll your eyes at his humour. Jake winks at you before turning to make his way towards the door.

“You’re MEAN,” you hear the little holler from down the hallway and it makes you laugh.

“She does have my attitude,” Jake sighs, shaking his head with a glance back at you, “no, you’re mean,” he hollers back, tone light and amusement heavy in his voice as he makes his way into the hallway

Life was never boring in a house of Seresins.

#flyboy!drabble #flyboy!universe #flyboy!jake #flyboy #jake seresin #flyboy universe #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin imagine #hangman jake seresin #hangman jake seresin x reader #hamgman jake seresin x you #hangman fic #hangman imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman fanfic #not cm

[aemondvelaryon]

rare and sweet as cherry wine

summary: you've been teasing jake all night and he's finally at his breaking point.

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexual content, explicit language, dry humping, clothed sex, allusions to d/s relationship, mostly heavy petting, some praise kink cuz why not, what if dog tags were like a leash for me to pull, teasing, references to reader's callsign, unintentionally soft af, bottom jake seresin rights.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: maybe i just want to hear jake whimper okay??

"Christ, baby, you're killing me here." Jake lets out a pained grunt as you settle into his lap. Your red dress pools over his thighs and his hardness, already evident and straining against the fabric of his jeans, is pressed warmly by your inner thigh.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Seresin." You hum softly as you play with the dog tags around his neck and he shivers at the contact; tracing your fingertips down the column of his throat and resting them on the light hairs on his chest.

"Don't act dumb. You knew exactly what you were doing when you put on that dress." He grits through his teeth and breathes quickly through them when you wiggle around a bit. "And no panties?" Jake's hands lay at his sides in clenched fists; worried that if he finally touches you that he'll break. "C'mon, are you trying to make me pitch a tent in front of the entire squad?"

You grin wolfishly at him. "Maybe...did it work?" It's impossible not to lick your lips at the sight of him. All worked up and blushing, trying his hardest not to surrender under your ministrations.

"Shit, stop touching me before I cum in my pants like a high schooler." You only look at him through your lashes and start unbuttoning his shirt, only enough so you can see more of that lovely chest hair.

You only grin at him as he hisses when you slightly graze the side of his nipple with your thumb. "I think I'd like to see that. Do you think I could make that happen, Jake? Make you come without even letting you fuck me?"

"I mean, it's kind of already happening." He almost thrusts up at you when you lean in close and breathe on his lips; so close and yet so far.

You giggle and lick your lips again before giving a tentative roll of your hips.

This finally kicks him into gear and his hands fly to your waist, digging into the skin above your hips. "Cher..."

"I want you to cum just like this. Okay?" You bite your lip. "For me?"

Jake groans as you rock lightly. "Yeah, shit, okay."

You smile at him and scoot yourself higher on his lap so your unclothed cunt is directly above the bulge in his pants and he grunts at the pressure. "Stay with me, baby. Gonna get you off. I promise. Then it's my turn." You grab his dog tags again and yank them forward quickly so Jake follows along with them. "Sound good?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." His voice is low and gravelly and the heat goes straight to your core at the sound and though you're trying to stay collected, you can feel the damp spot on his pants starting to form. You almost moan at the sensation but settle into a quiet hum again.

You finally offer him a kiss and he bucks up into you when your lips meet. One hand wrapped around the back of his head and grabbed the soft hair, and the other situated itself around his neck. Jake envelopes his arms around you and he curls his fingers into the fabric of your dress; rucking it up just enough that your bare thighs are now showing and if he just pulled up slightly more then your cunt would be on full display for him.

You know you're being kind of a tease to him but you just can't help it. Something about watching arrogant Jake Seresin unravel in front of you and turn to putty in your hands made you unbelievably wet. The thought of getting him alone and making him whimper under you blurred your vision more than any tequila short or high G's could.

The kiss you're sharing is sloppy, unbelievably so, all tongue and no finesse, but it's good, so good, and it just shows how desperate Jake is for you.

You can feel the humidity of the room building enough that sweat prickles the back of your neck and lower back and all you feel is your own wetness and perspiration in the humid room.

You roll your hips experimentally again and you can feel the tremble that comes out of Jake and he jerks away a little, grabbing you for purchase.

"Shit, shit, shit."

"You close, honey?" You love egging him on, wanna know how quick it takes for you to get him there. The idea of him always near the edge just for you makes you salivate. You wonder how often you could do this, how much would it take of you tugging at your dress, bending over, and showing him your tits in public before he has to go to the bathroom and jerk off so he doesn't get on some sort of list. It makes you vibrate that you can have that much of an effect on him when he's usually Mr. Easy-Breezy and too cool to show any emotions.

Jake doesn't answer instead he just swallows and puts his hands on the front of your dress; questioning. "Can I please? I wanna see you." He lightly tugs on the strings of your wrap dress.

You can't help but smile as you look at his puppy dog eyes. "Yeah, but only 'cuz you've been so good."

He wastes no time pulling the knot loose and pushing the fabric off your shoulders, it pooling at the waist. The black bralette you put on earlier that night is now your only scrap of clothing. "God, you're perfect."

Despite your dominant role tonight, you full body blush at his words. It was impressive how Jake could say a simple sentence and make you want to giggle and kick your legs like a schoolgirl.

You bat your hand at his chest. "Back to it." He was making you feel shy and you had a fake persona to protect.

"Slave driver." A grin covers your face despite yourself and you lean back in to kiss him, placing your palms around the curve of his cheeks. It's soft, much too soft, but you're a little overcome with emotion so you'll let this one kiss break the façade. "Back to the grind."

You finally laugh and snap your neck back and Jake takes the opportunity to latch onto the skin near your collarbone. Moaning as he sucks a bruise on you, you rub yourself onto his lap in revenge. He hisses again and you fight for control of the situation.

Wanting to finally get to the good stuff, you run your hands up his head and curl your fingers into the hair directly at the middle of his scalp and tug sharply backward.

Jake lets out the most choked moan you've ever heard from him; as if someone hit him straight in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. You're helpless to stop the absolutely filthy grin that covers your face at the reaction he has.

It was a low blow but you knew that it would help get going in the right direction again. You make fun of him sometimes by calling that your finisher move like some cheesy arcade game just because it always got Jake right at the edge really quickly.

"Oh, baby, you're just too easy sometimes." You laugh and fiddle with the buttons of his shirt again, finally opening it up to the bottom and revealing his whole bare chest.

"Christ," Jake's breath is coming out in quick pants. "That was mean."

"I can be meaner." You smirk and palm him through the fabric of his jeans. "You wanna see?"

"No." You grind against him again. "Yes." He trembles under you.

Jake's been good. So good. He deserves this. You want to see the look on his face when he finally comes apart.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna take care of you." You sweep your hands softly down his pecs to his stomach and eventually the trail of dark blond hair leading down.

Jake lets out what you can only describe as a whine as you hook your fingers into the top of his pants, grabbing for security, and start slowly but steadily rocking yourself back and forth, the hot wet heat of your cunt soaking his pants and quickly getting him off.

"Holy shit," Jake leaned up suddenly, grabbing your waist reflexively with both hands, digging his thumbs into the meat of your hips, gripping firmly and holding on to you while simultaneously pushing you subtly to meet his thrusts.

Every rock of your hips sends a shock of pleasure up your spine as your clit rubs against the hard length of his cock over and over. You keen a little as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. He's not even inside of you but the clothed friction sets you alight and makes you impossibly hot under the collar. But you have to see him come before you can; need to.

"Come on, baby, for me, wanna see it, please." It comes out more as a breathy whine than a command but in the moment you want it so bad you can barely think straight.

The begging in your voice must set him off because that's the last sound you make before Jake's shuddering and groaning underneath you, clutching at the last remnants of your dress bunched at your thighs.

There's a moment, a pause, where all you can hear is Jake's heavy breathing, but his staccato rhythm is cut off by him surging up to kiss you. It's full of satisfaction and warmth and a hint of gratefulness that turns your brain into mush.

"Mmm, good boy." You whisper against his lips and he exhales shakily into your mouth.

"Well, these pants are ruined now." Jake laughs a bit awkwardly, you think it's more at his reactions to your words and praises than at what you've done.

"Worth it." You press your lips to his soundly then grab your dress around your waist and fling the fabric backward onto the ground behind you. "Now, you got me all worked up, baby, time to show me what you can do."

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin fanfic #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin #hangman #my writing #this has been stuck in my drafts for 3 months just take it #cherry wine

[topguncortez]

Opposites Attract- J. Seresin

pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader word count: 3.7k warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of child birth, top gun things synopsis: how can Hangman, cocky, arrogant Hangman fall in love with a girl who is so different than him and raise a family completely opposite of him. based on these requests:

He must’ve gotten it from his mother. She was a shy person. Usually choosing situations where she didn’t need to talk to anyone new, where she could just smile and nod and look to her husband to do all the talking. His fellow pilots were confused by them: how could loud, obnoxious, bragging, douchebag Lt Jake “Hangman” Seresin, find someone as sweet and quiet as Y/N. It was one of life’s great mysteries. Her very first interaction with the group of Top Gun aviators had them all puzzled on how Hangman had secured her as his wife and hid her from them all.

“Who’s the babe at the bar?” Payback said, eyeing her from across the pool table. Hangman looked at his line of sight and smirked. 

Sauntering over to where one of the pool balls was at, he leaned over, “That” he said, lining up his shot, “Is my wife.” He rammed the cue stick into Payback's gut making him double over in pain. 

“Her? The quiet little thing over there?” Phoenix said, looking at her. Y/N waited patiently for Penny to get around to her, not yelling and trying to catch her attention like the other patrons at the bar, “What did you do? Hypnosis? Stockholm Syndrome?” 

“Why is it so shocking that I'd be married to her?” 

“Cause you’re nothing alike! She’s nice and you’re an ass. She’s pretty and you’re an ass. She’s quiet and you’re-“ 

“An ass?” 

“Precisely,” Phoenix said as Hangman’s wife made her way back over to him. She walked directly to him, her head down not making eye contact with the other pilots. Hangman put his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss, making her cheeks go red. 

“Penny is busy, i’ll go back up-“ 

“I got it, love,” Hangman said, kissing her again. 

“You sure? Cause I can-“ 

“It’s all good,” Hangman smiled at her. She nodded as he stepped past her, but not before giving her ass a light smack. She all but squealed at his action, turning even redder if that was possible. She turned her head slowly, looking at the eyes of his fellow aviators who were all looking at her. She gave them a shy smile, before turning her head and moving out of the way, and back towards Hangman. 

“There’s no fucking way,” Phoenix muttered. 

Everyone was enthralled with watching Hangman and his wife interact the whole night. It was a completely different side to him than any of his classmates had ever seen. His smile wasn’t a cocky arrogant one, it was bright and full of love as he twirled her around the makeshift dance floor in the Hard Deck. She giggled as he pressed kisses to her neck, singing the words of a song back to her. 

“How did we not know about this?” Rooster said, looking at his enemy. 

“This had to have happened recently,” Coyote said, taking a sip of his beer, “The whole aviator world woulda been talking about it.” 

“Or he never told anyone until now,” Bob said with a shrug causing them all to look at him, “What?” 

“It’s Hangman. He brags about everything. We would’ve known,” Phoenix said. 

“Never know,” Bob said again. 

But Bob was right, as much as Hangman wanted to show her off, and brag about her, he knew that she wouldn’t want that. She was quiet, and kept to herself and that’s what drew him to her. She was the shy girl at the bar in San Diego, his very first duty station, and Hangman knew the second he saw her, she was going to be his. She played hard to get at first, partially because she didn’t really trust him. She had heard the things the other girls around base had said about him. That he was just another pilot with a good smile, only there for a couple weeks before jetting off to the next place. He had a lot to prove, and he would be damned if he left without you by his side. 

So he worked his charm over the three weeks he was there. He managed to break down her walls completely, wooing her the old fashioned way. Hangman proved the chivalry wasn’t dead, as he opened doors for her, always greeted her with a kiss on her hand, bringing her flowers for every date and at random times during the day, texting or calling her goodnight, walking her to the door after dates or waiting in his car to make sure she got all the way in the house and turned her bedroom lamp on to let him know she was safe. 

When those three weeks came to an end, their goodbye was tearful and painful. Y/N stood in the airplane hangar with the rest of the aviator and naval wives, husbands, partners, kids, families, and hugged Hangman (or Jake as he had become to her) as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. He pulled away from the hug, holding her face in his hands and wiping the tears away. 

“Don’t forget about me when you find yourself surrounded by beautiful women overseas.” She said, sniffling. 

“Sweetheart, it would take a whole army and then some to make me forget about you,” Jake said, which made her blush. Any sort of pet name he called her had a red hue climbing up the back of her neck, “Just don’t forget about me.” 

“I could never, would never!” She smiled. Jake looked at her, her soft eyes looking into his. And for some reason, some spell was cast and Jake didn’t hesitate but to lean in and kiss her for the first time. 

That kiss had sealed the deal for both of them. The second Jake had landed back stateside, he went running to her house, finding her out in her garden, dirt and sweat on her face. Jake ran right to her, not having a care in the world, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her. 

“Marry me.” 

“What?” She said, looking at him like he had grown a second head, “Did you hit your head? Is this from the lack of oxygen? I know what they say about that, what is it, g. . . g-loc? Yeah, g-” 

“No, my brain is working just fine, sweetheart,” Jake smiled, “I mean it, marry me.” 

“This isn’t world war two, you aren’t going to-” 

“Y/N.” He cut off your rambling once again, seeing that glint in your eye was enough to get his answer. 

“Yes!” 

It was like a fairy tale come true for the both of them. They didn’t even tell their families when they ran off to city hall, getting married in a whirlwind, partially due to the fact that Jake had been selected for the Top Gun program. He had shared the news with her that morning, and he could hardly register when she told them “well we better go get married then.” And they did exactly that. Jake threw on his khaki uniform, and she dug out a white sundress that had been buried in the back of her closet. Once the papers were signed, Jake drove up the coast, finding a small hideaway he had discovered one night while driving around. 

That night she had given herself to him fully. She had never been touched the way Jake touched her, and he loved it. He was gentle with her, which was unusual for him. He took his time, letting her know every single thing he loved about her. The way her back arched when he kissed a certain spot, the way his name fell like a prayer from her lips, the way she dug her nails into his shoulders, the way she looked like a complete goddess in the backseat of his 1974 monte carlo. Jake held her tightly as her chest heaved up and down, coming down from the bliss. They didn’t mean for it to happen, but they fell asleep in the back of the small car, waking up to the sounds of seagulls above them. 

It was less than a year after they were married that Y/N found out she was pregnant. She was alone, sitting on the bathtub ledge, her head in her hands as she cried. Hangman was out on a mission, something short, and he promised to be home soon. But it didn’t make things any better. She was terrified. They had moved to the middle of nowhere, Lemoore California. The tiny naval base was nice and quiet, but far from the only family Y/N had in the whole state. She was used to being on her own, and being independent. Growing up shy, she had to learn to do things for herself. But raising a whole other human on her own was going to be hard. 

The second Jake came through the door, she told him. He stood there frozen in the doorway, duffle back still in his hand as his brain tried to process what she had just said. It scared her even more seeing his face go blank, but the second his duffle bag hit the floor with a loud bang and he was pulling her into his arms again, she felt relaxed. The two of them had spent all night getting reacquainted with each other, and then laying in bed naked, feeling each other’s bare bodies as they talked about their future child. Jake had promised to do the best he could to be there for every single appointment. 

The day that Alexander Miles Seresin was born, was the second happiest day of Jake’s life. Y/N had handled the past nine months like champ, and Jake had fallen in love with her more and more every day. Seeing her glowing and growing the child had set something off inside of him, something primal. The sex they had while she was pregnant was some of the best sex he had ever had. He could hardly keep his hands off of her. When her water broke, he went into a near panic, forgetting every single thing they had ever talked about. Jake, the cool, calm and collected naval fighter pilot, who had shot down a plane, felt like he was going to pass out watching Y/N deliver their child. He hated seeing her in pain, but the second their son was placed on his chest, he felt nothing but pure love. 

From the day Alex was born, he looked just like his father. Blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, naturally sunkissed skin. Jake loved every minute he got to spend at home with his wife and son. It made it harder to have to go on missions. He had missed birthdays, christmases, and big milestones. Y/N did a good job at recording everything and sending it to him so he could watch them out in the middle of the ocean. Y/N would call Jake almost every night, letting him read a bedtime story to Alex, watching over facetime as the little boy would stare intently at her phone screen at his dad. 

“Where dada?” Alex asked one night, his voice thick with sleep. 

“I’m on the ship, buddy,” Hangman said, his voice sounding faraway and sad. 

“The big ship?” Alex asked, his eyes growing wide with excitement. One of Alex’s favorite things was planes, which was a no brainer considering who his dad was. 

“The big ship,” Hangman smiled, “I promise I’ll be home when you wake up.” 

“Okay dada,” Alex said, and curled into his mother. Y/N patted his back and said goodnight to her husband before tucking her son in, “Dada flies planes?” 

“He does buddy,” Y/N said, making sure he was secure in his bed. 

“I fly planes too.” Alex said, clutching onto his stuffed F/A-18 that Hangman had gotten him. 

Alex had just turned three when Hangman got the call that he was needed back at Top Gun. Y/N looked at him, and all but ran to start packing. She had missed San Diego and was looking for any reason to go back and visit. But hearing that Jake would be going back to Top Gun made her nervous. She had all sorts of questions, which he couldn’t answer simply because he didn’t know. What he did know was that he was allowed to bring his family, which was his main concern. So, he packed the three of you up, packing his ford explorer (which he got after much grumbling from Y/N when she got pregnant with Alex) and drove his family the eight hours to San Diego. 

— — — 

The following week, after getting reunited with everyone at the Hard Deck, Jake had come home from training almost every day upset. He would sigh, and flop down on the shitty couch, and watch Alex play with his toy planes in front of him. The training was hard enough as it was but with his counterparts constantly teasing him about his wife that was the total opposite of him, he had had enough. The second Fanboy had seen the polaroid of Y/N tapped to Jake's dash in his plane, the teasing commenced. 

“Why don’t we invite everyone over?” Y/N asked one day softly, as she wiped her hands on her apron, “I would like to meet your friends.” 

“You would?” Jake said, turning to look at you, “But you met them the other night?” 

“More like they just stared at me like I’m some mythical creature,” She giggled. Jake stood up from the couch, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her. 

“You are a goddess and they couldn’t take their eyes off of how perfect you are,” Jake said to her, making her blush and hide her face. He gently grabbed her chin, making her head turn back to him, “Don’t hide that smile from me, gorgeous.” Jake flashed her his perfect, beautiful white smile and then leaned down to kiss her cheek. 

“Daddy!” Alex called. 

“Yes, my man?” Jake said, and picked him up, groaning loudly as he did so. Alex let out a bunch of giggles as Jake held him upside down in his arms, “What did you do today?” 

“Went to the ship!” Alex exclaimed and Jake looked at her confused. 

“We went to the Midway museum.” 

“Babe, if you want to see some real ships and planes, just come in tomorrow.” Jake said, causing her to shrug, “You won’t get in trouble.” 

“Let’s start with dinner first, and then consider sneaking me on to base.” She said, walking back into the kitchen to finish cooking. 

By the time the weekend rolled around, Y/N was a nervous wreck. Everything had to be perfect, this was very important after all. She was meeting Jake’s friends, his coworkers, the best Naval fighter pilots in the US Navy. She woke up around six in the morning to start preparing and cleaning their small rental house. She had vacuumed, scrubbed the floors, and washed the windows, restocked the fridge, bought enough food to feed an army (literally), and hopefully enough beer (though she had seen the way these sailors think and was questioning if she should make another beer run). 

Jake had tried to help Y/N during the day, but she pushed him away, telling him she would let him know when he was needed. Around five in the evening, she had finally asked him to do something, while he was up off the couch running to her beck and call. He had fired up the grill, and started getting things ready to grill as she was getting dressed in a floral sundress. Alex was in navy blue shorts, a white button up and his birks. 

“Do we look okay?” She asked Jake, stepping out into the backyard. She held Alex’s hand and Jake smiled at them. He was wearing almost the same thing as Alex, except he had on a pair of white vans instead. 

“You both look great,” Jake said walking over to you. He picked Alex up, setting him on his hip, “You need to stop stressing.” 

“I want things to be perfect. These are your coworkers and your boss and-” 

“Everything is perfect, they already love you and they just stared at you from afar the other night,” Jake said, taking her hand in his free one, “You are easy to love, which is why I fell for you so fast.” 

“Stop it,” She blushed, and looked down at her feet. The doorbell rang, making her snap her head up. Jake saw the look in her eye, the anxiety of having to meet and talk to strangers. Jake kissed her cheek and set Alex down. 

“I got it, watch the burgers for me, please,” Jake said, and she nodded, as he ran to the front door. 

“Damn Hangman, took you long enough,” Phoenix said as he opened the door, “So how did you get the good shit off base while we are stuck breathing in the scent of black mold?” 

Jake just smirked, letting in Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote, “Sometimes, you gotta know people.” 

Y/N peeked her head to look inside the house to see who was here, when she felt a tug on her dress. She looked down to see her little boy with the same blue eyes as her lover. He too was full of anxiety about having to meet new people, and it was obvious in the way he held on to her leg and tried to hide behind her. Y/N felt her heart break and knelt down to his level. 

“Are you ready to meet some new people?” Y/N asked her son. 

“Are they nice?” Alex whispered. 

Y/N smiled, “The nicest, come on.” Y/N took her son’s hand and walked into the house, which was already full of loud aviators, cracking open beers and having a laugh. But all eyes seemed to fall on her the second she walked through the sliding glass door, the little boy’s hand in hers squeezed her tighter, “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Jake said, and then walked over to them. He picked up Alex, and side by side, they looked like twins, “This is my wife, Y/N, which you guys already know from the other night,” Y/N waved at the group of aviators, who waved back, but their eyes were on the little boy who was burying his head into his father’s neck, “And this is Alex, my son.” 

“You have a kid?” Rooster asked, completely shocked by the news, “Since when?” 

“Since about four years ago, keep up Rooster, shut your jaw you’ll catch flies,” Jake said and Rooster rolled his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell any of us this? She must’ve had him when-” 

“When you two were both stationed in Korea,” Y/N said, cutting Phoenix off, “You’re Phoenix, right?” 

“Yeah. . . Hangman, have you told her all about us?” Phoenix said with a smile, “You let me drown in the testosterone fest in Lemoore and didn’t tell me I could’ve had another female to hang out with!” 

She felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders once the initial introduction of the family was over. Everyone fell into natural conversation. The boys gathered around the grill, as Y/N, Phoenix and Halo sat at the table in the backyard. Jake couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife looked in the setting summer sun. The gentle golden hour glow made her look like a goddess, her tan skin literally looked like there were gold flakes in it, her hair looked shiny. He paused for a second as he watched her laugh at something Phoenix said, he noticed her hand, the hand her wedding ring sat on, resting on her stomach. 

“Is she-” Jake asked himself. 

“Yo! You're gonna burn this shit!” Payback yelled, snapping Jake out of his trance. Jake shook his head and turned back to the grill, making note to ask her a question later. 

It brought joy to Y/N’s heart seeing her little shy boy grow comfortable around the group of aviators. He slowly warmed up to them, still clinging to Jake as he cooked the hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill for the group. But the second Bob had rambled off some facts about the toy F-22 raptor in the little boy’s hand, he had made a new best friend. 

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle as Bob and Payback chased Alex around the backyard with toy fighter jets in their hands. Rooster and Hangman seemed to put whatever beef they had aside and were civil to one another. Rooster had easily made friends with the little boy, making him giggle as he walked around the backyard with Alex on his shoulders so his plane could have a proper lift off and landing. 

“It must be hard when he is gone,” Phoenix said, as she helped you clean up from dinner. The guys were now sitting in the backyard by the fire pit, breaking into the bottle of scotch Rooster had once been gifted from Maverick. Alex was fast asleep on Jake’s chest as he rocked him slowly in one of the outdoor rocking chairs. 

“It was when Alex was first born and he had to jet off to Korea. Those six months were hell, it felt like Jake had missed everything,” Y/N said, drying a plate. She paused a second after putting it away, choosing her next words very carefully. She placed a hand on her stomach, taking a deep breath. The small action didn’t go unnoticed by the female aviator, “He won’t tell me about it,” She looked over at Phoenix, who froze, “It means one of two things, he’s not really doing anything, just sitting in classes and it’s boring, or. . . there’s a chance we could lose him.” 

Phoenix sighed and hung her head, looking down at her shoes. She thought to herself a second, closing her eyes. She turned around and leaned against the counter, facing Y/N. Phoenix didn’t have to say anything, Y/N could tell that it was the later option of her statement. Y/N felt tears in her eyes as she looked back into the backyard, seeing Jake’s bright smile as he laughed at some story Fanboy had told. Alex hadn’t even moved an inch, but cuddled deeper into Jake’s chest. Jake bent his head down and placed a kiss on the top of the boy's blonde head of hair.  

Y/N bit her lip and looked at Phoenix, “Make sure he comes home.” 

“I will,” She said to Y/N.

 “Make sure you all, come home,”

--- --- ---

inbox/requests are open! also lmk if you want to be added to my taglist:)

#top gun #top gun fic #top gun fanfic #top gun imagine #hangman #hangman seresin #hangman fic #hangman fanfic #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman seresin fic #hangman seresin fanfic #hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin x reader #Jake hangman seresin #Jake hangman seresin imagine #Jake hangman seresin x reader #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin fic #Jake seresin imagine #rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Natasha trace #natasha phoenix trace #bob floyd

[siempre-bucky]

Silk

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jakes comes to your door after a night of drinking, his brain goes haywire after seeing you in a silk nightgown.

wc: 1.7k

a/n: i love old silk nightgowns and i wanted to create something soft and delicate bc soft!jake just does it for me...enjoy!!

You turned off the last light in your little housing unit, kicking aside bubble wrap from the few boxes you’d brought with you to Top Gun. You hummed to the tune of the romantic oldies music playing from your record player, softly swaying side to side as you grabbed the decorative bottle that was on your bar cart. Your long silk nightgown flowed as your rotating fan hit the cream-colored material. 

A drink in one hand, your midnight snack in the other, you made your way to the dark hallway with your bedroom light being your only guide. There was a gruff tap on the door, the knocker dragging their knuckles down the door. You stilled at the knocking, it was almost eerie. Placing your items on the side table you grabbed your matching silk robe off the arm of the couch. 

The knocking happened three more times as your bare feet padded along the cold wood flooring, your hands nervously fiddling with the tie. You took in a cautious deep breath before peaking into the peephole. It wasn’t a man dressed in black with a ribbed ski mask over his face or the little old man from down the street. It was Jake. 

You opened the door and his slumped figure stood up straight, the vertebrae of his spine cracking with each inch he rose. “Jake,” you breathed out, looking out at the dark street. There wasn’t a car in sight, then you caught a whiff of the pungent smell of beer. “You’ve been drinking,” you noted out loud, “how’d you get here?” 

“Phoenix,” he slurred, trying to hold himself up. 

“She didn’t take you home?” 

“You were closer.” Your eyebrows lowered at his softly spoken words. It made sense, God only knows if Hangman would be able to get himself into bed after that much to drink. 

His green eyes looked you up and down, the beautiful silk glowed in your porch light. Heat rose to his already warm cheeks, and a peony pink dusted his cheekbones. Have you always worn things like that? Was he interrupting a romantic evening with a stranger just beyond the front door. It was a good five seconds of both of your brains trying to come up with solutions to their unspoken questions. His mind only put you into focus, your soft features, and that dress. Jake’s green eyes were the first to break eye contact, his chin dipped and his eyes shifted to the delicate lace around the hem that hit just above your ankle. He didn’t dare to look back up, following the high slit up your thigh. “Come inside,” you told him, standing to the side and allowing him in. 

The blond entered the house, his blurry eyes not seeing the small step and instantly making him crash into you. His hand found the small of your back while your hands gripped his black t-shirt to prevent yourself from falling over. “S-sorry,” he stuttered. Your eyes didn’t leave his face, he’d never been this close before. Well, not in a way that wasn’t the two of you getting in each other's faces in the heat of an argument after training or missions. The different shades of green in his eyes seemed impossible to count. 

Jake felt the palm of his hand begin to tingle as he held you up. His fingers grazed your back, the soft material combined with his mildly calloused hand felt—right. How many men have gotten to touch you wearing this? He thought as he stopped his movement. “S’alright,” you responded through a bated breath. You shifted around, draping his arm over your shoulder and leading him over to the couch. There was a small problem with the little government-issued loveseat. Your eyes swiveled from Jake’s tall frame to the blue couch—there was no way Seresin was fitting on that. “You can take the bed,” you whispered, turning towards the hallway. 

The two of you walked in silence. It was odd how it wasn’t an awkward silence; Jake was plastered and you were well, dressed like that. Jake did his best to walk by himself, every so often he’d crash into you. His bodyweight made you grunt, your hand placed on his stomach to help brace him. 

He stumbled into your room, reluctantly freeing himself and stumbling to the foot of your bed. He plopped down and rested his hands on his knees, a soft groan escaping his lips. You stood against the doorway just observing how slowly he moved and how all of his muscles tensed. 

He looked up at you once more to take it all in. His foggy brain was trying to string along coherent sentences, his eyebrows lowered as he stared. In return, you folded your arms over your chest, trumpet sleeves of your robe falling in front of you. “Do ya always wear that to bed?” he asked, his thick accent perking your ears. 

You bashfully looked down at the floor. “When I’m home I do—reminds me that I’m still a girl,” you said, a small smile forming as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

Jake’s face fell. It was easy to get lost in a sea of green flight suits and khaki uniforms in their profession. He’d seen you in formal dresses and casual sundresses when you went out with the team, this was much more, delicate—feminine. Turned his brain to a pool of pink heart shaped goo. He recalled a ball just after graduating from flight school, you and Phoenix for one of the first times got to dress up. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget y’all are still girls under those flight suits and helmets,” he teased. You got in his face that evening, telling him you could outfly him in heels. He fell in love with you that night. 

“I shouldn't have said that to you that night,” he admitted, sitting up a little straighter. 

“I didn’t take it personally,” you assured him. You held your tongue between your teeth, preventing yourself from saying that you did all this for your benefit, and not a mans, but you’d be more than happy for him to take it off of you. You bit down harder when you recalled the fantasies you’d fall asleep to time and time again of him, with his hand running up your thigh, pushing the silk closer to your waist—

“Still…” he managed, cutting off your thoughts. 

There was a long pause, the trumpet from the record player in the other room provided distant background noise. He stood as the music swelled, a whole band joining in as he sauntered to you. Every step he took was careful as if he was afraid to startle you. “Widow,” he spoke, the mention of your callsign making your chin rise to meet his longing stare. “Y/N.” Your name on his tongue was what did you in. 

“Y-yes,” you breathed. 

“You’re—” he paused again. You managed to look at the small movements his captivating face made: hesitant, searching. “Pretty.” 

Pretty. 

Jake Seresin was a man that had a way with words when it came to seduction. After a drink and a prospective date located, he turned into a thesaurus in an effort to woo her. Yet here he was, drunk and calling you pretty. The word still had its effect on your soul; a family of butterflies aggressively swarmed your stomach, your heart skipped a beat and sent a wave of warmth through you while your ears and brain worked together, committing the way he called you that to memory. He wasn’t trying to pick you up and take you home—he was just being honest. 

You smiled. 

“It’s the nightgown,” you justify, slinking away from him. 

Jake caught your wrist, gently pulling you back towards him. “You’re always pretty,” he told you. 

“You say that to all the girls,” you chuckle, suddenly slipping into the same old banter. 

The pilot released your hand and saw how your robe was coming undone from your movement. He shook his head and looked at you for approval. Your lips parted but you managed to nod shyly. His strong hands pushed aside your robe and a breath hitched in his throat as it fell off your shoulders. The cream spaghetti straps of your nightgown barely clung to your shoulders. A fuse blew in his brain as he looked at your chest, barely covered by delicate lace and dotted with pearls. “No,” he spoke, putting his hands on your waist. “Just you. It’s always been you.” 

“I-I don't live closer to the bar,” you said, suddenly recalling his excuse from earlier. 

“I know,” he said, pressing his lips against yours. 

He kissed as flawlessly as he looked. His lips were soft and tasted of faint cherry Chapstick, they glided along yours like they were meant to be there. Perhaps they were. You drop your hands, your robe pooling around you before you wrap your hands around his strong neck. 

Lips gently smacked as he deepened the kiss, guiding you back to the foot of the bed. You removed your hands as he sat down, you hiked up your gown and straddled him, sitting back on your knees. Jake gently held the sides of your face while he kissed you, his teeth dragging along your lower lip. You dipped your hands under his shirt, rock hard abs ridden with nerve induced goosebumps. 

Jake pulled back and took your hands, bringing them up to his gaze. “I’m still drunk,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to each of your palms, his green eyes never leaving your peaceful face. You nodded in response and let your tongue swipe your lips, tasting the remains of his kiss. Ever the gentleman. 

“Will I still look pretty in my flight suit tomorrow?” you questioned him as you traced his features with your fingertips while his fingers traced the lace on your back. 

Jake chuckled, “No one can fill out that shapeless uniform like you can, darlin’, no one in the world can look as pretty as you. No matter what you wear.” 

Leaning forward, you gently lowered him on the bed, your arm extending to turn off the light. The last thing Jake saw was you hovering over him, your nose scrunching as you smiled approvingly. He rolled you over, placing loving kisses on your jawline leaving a trail of complements in his lips wake.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x fem!reader #hangman x reader #hangman x fem!reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfic #hangman imagine #hangman fanfic #jake seresin fluff #top gun #top gun maverick

[spiderispunk]

Insatiable

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k 

Warnings: Smut (18+). Oral Sex (f!receiving). So Many Pet Names. Praise Kink. Dirty Talk. A little smidge of domesticity. 

A/N: I blame this one completely on @ussgallifrey​ reblogging that stupid gif of Glen Powell flipping that goddamn toothpick over and over again until I combusted. Thanks for all the inspiration, my friend. This one’s for you! 

If it were up to Hangman, he’d stay between your legs forever. 

It was no secret he loved going down on you. Jake loved the way you tasted. Loved the way you felt under his tongue, and all the pretty, wanton sounds you made when he got his mouth on you. He lived for the shake and sigh of your body, and how you pressed your thighs against the sides of his head to hold him in place (not that he was going anywhere anyways).  

You were his favorite meal. He wanted you anytime, anywhere. 

On the kitchen counter in the morning, when you were still bleary eyed and moved like warm syrup. On the couch during a particularly lazy afternoon, while an innocuous TV show or movie played in the background, long forgotten. After a long day or an operation– though nowadays it was getting harder and harder to tell the difference between the two. 

Once he’d even pushed you up against the door of the Hard Deck’s bathroom and hastily shoved your dress up your legs. That was fun. You think back on that night often. 

His whispered apologies: I know. I know you’re working, honey, and it’s a bad time. But you look so damn good in that dress and I just have to have you now. Think you can forgive me? The way his green eyes glimmered in the dim light, lips pulled into a smirk, because he knew there was no way you’d tell him no. Not by then, when you could feel the warmth of his breaths against your damp panties. He’d drawn your attention, and your desire, the moment he walked into the door with his friends.

Yeah, Jake “Hangman” Seresin was an insatiable man, but really, you weren’t complaining.  

So you’re not surprised to find yourself tossed haphazardly onto the bed, with Jake worming his way between your legs the moment he gets home. 

“Jake,” you giggle. “Slow down.” 

He grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “Can’t, honey. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” 

“It’s been 9 days,” you gasp, sliding down the bed. 

Jake lifts your leg and kisses your calf. “It’s been too long,” he repeats, a smirk on his face, and a hunger in his eyes. 

“You’re so dramatic.” You roll your eyes.

Mischievous eyes lock with yours, lips still dragging up the skin of your leg. “You wound me, baby.” He bites the bend of your inner knee.  “Can’t a man miss his wife?” 

“Miss his wife, or miss something else?” You lift your eyebrows.

Jake chuckles. “Little bit of both.” He rubs his hands down your thighs. “That a bad thing?” 

“‘M not complaining.” You let your legs fall open. 

Jake’s gaze darkens. He trails his hand up your inner thigh, fingers hooking into the front of your small sleep shorts. 

“Y’know how much I love these things,” he mumbles, his voice all gravel. “Did you wear them for me?” 

“Maybe,” you say coyly. 

You had. It was quite a gamble on the timing though. You had a ballpark range for how long the operation was supposed to take, but not an exact return date. Thankfully he had come back tonight, because you’d nearly gone through your entire wardrobe of shorts.

Jake runs his fingers up your calf, fingers rubbing circles on your bare skin. “God, I missed ya,” he mumbles under his breath. 

Jake looks at you like he’s trying to decide where to start. Slowly, meticulously taking his time. You imagine it was how he got when planning out an operation. 

A thousand scenarios play out in his head, and they all end the same, with you coming apart on his cock. Sometimes you’re on your stomach, sometimes you’re on your side. Sometimes you’re a drooling mess, sometimes you come with a whimper. It all ends the same. But how he gets to that point, well, there lies the fun of it all. 

He takes you in, gaze roaming your body like fire. His eyes slide down your body, snagging on your shirt bunched up under your breasts, dragged there when he tugged you towards the edge of the bed. His mouth waters at the bare skin of your stomach and hips. With a little luck, in a few minutes you’ll sport twin bruises on your hip bones from his teeth. 

His lust-blown gaze lingers on your shorts, and the prize that lies beneath them. He tugs at the waistband of your shorts again, with a thoughtful expression that makes something hot twist inside your core. 

“You just gonna stare at me all day?” You bite your bottom lip. 

Jake chuckles. “Oh no, honey. I’m just trying to figure out where to start.” 

“How about like this?” You twist your fingers into the bottom of his shirt and pull him down on top of you. 

He leans over you, supporting his weight on his elbows. “Like this?” His fingertips stroke your cheek. 

Your eyes flit down to his lips, mouth going dry. “Uh huh.” 

Jake closes the distance, brushing his lips over yours. What starts as an innocent kiss quickly turns hungry when he slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. You can taste the faintest hint of the spearmint gum he chews, and the coffee he must have drunk to stay awake on the drive home. 

He gently lays the rest of his weight on top of you, molding his body to yours. You arch into the solid mass of his warm chest, feeling anchored there when his arms snake around you. On instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, using the leverage to grind your hips against his. 

Jake sucks in a breath. One of his hands slides down your back to grasp at your ass, sealing you to him as you slide into a clumsy rhythm. Your lips part, and your warm, dewy breaths fan over Jake’s face. Your soft whimpers, and Jake’s hungry grunts fill the room. It’s desperate and messy, and Jake thinks he might come in his pants then and there like a goddamn teenager. 

With great effort, he unlocks your thighs from his waist, and puts a little space between the two of you. 

Your kiss-swollen lips twist into a pout. 

“Sorry, baby.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Wouldn’t want this to be over too soon, now would we?”  

Before you can dwell on the loss of friction, Jake’s lips are on the move, tracing a searing path across your jaw and down your neck. His teeth nip at your pulse, tongue laving afterwards to soothe the sting. A breathy whine falls from your lips when he stretches the collar of your shirt to kiss your chest. 

He continues his downward trek, pausing only for a moment to leave wet kisses on each of your peaked nipples. Your stomach receives his attention next– gentle kisses and bites that make it flutter. Hangman reaches your hips, and makes good on his mental promise to leave marks. By the time he pulls away to survey his handiwork, you’re a whimpering, sticky mess. 

Two perfect bruises in the crescent shape of his teeth. He kisses them gently, and tugs down your shorts. 

You are embarrassingly aware of how turned on you are. Your panties stick to the damp folds of your cunt. They literally peel away under his touch. 

“Goddamn,” Jake mutters, total reverence in his voice. “All this for me?” He asks, running the tip of his finger over your dripping cunt. 

“Y-yes.” You nod. 

He sucks his finger into his mouth. “Attagirl.” His eyes flutter shut, and when they open again, they’re nearly black. 

The way he watches you is obscene. It makes your skin hot, and your cunt somehow wetter. It’s too much, this desire that grows within you. And all Jake is doing is watching, as if he wants to goad you into action. 

You close your legs, rubbing your thighs together for some friction, and Jake shakes his head sharply. 

“No.” He clicks his tongue. “None of that.” He kneels in front of you and throws your legs over his shoulder. “Let me look at ya, honey. Just wanna appreciate ya, is all. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you just dripping for me.” There’s an edge of admiration in his tone. 

Jake keeps you on edge with teasing touches. The skate of his fingertips up your inner thigh. The brush of his lips against the bend of your knee. Over and over again, until you can’t take it anymore.

“What do you want, baby?” He asks, with a shiteating smirk on his face. “Talk to me.” 

“You know.” 

“I do.” Jake tips you a wink. “I just wanna hear you say it.”

You glare at him petulantly. 

“C’mon, baby. Use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me what you want.” He leans forward and kisses the crux of your inner thigh. 

“Iwantyourmouth.” You whisper, the words running together until they’re barely recognizable. 

Jake tilts his head to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that.” 

You roll your eyes. “You heard me.” 

“I’m afraid not, pretty girl. Must be all the time I spend around those jet engines.” 

“I said–” The words nearly come out in a whine. “I want your mouth.” 

“There we go. That wasn’t so bad,” Jake praises. His lips resume their pilgrimage up your inner thigh, tongue sweeping out to taste your skin. 

When his mouth finally touches your clit, you jump. It’s heaven. The warmth of his lips wrap around you. He slurps at you messily, spit and slick mixing in a shine that covers his chin. He savors the taste of you, the one that drives him wild, the one he dreams about when he’s away. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue swirls over you feverishly, hungrily, determined not to let a bit of you go to waste.

Above him, you shudder and shake. Hips lifting to meet his frenzied mouth. His name, among other expletives, falls from your lips. You’re really just babbling at this point, speaking just to speak. Mixing praises with pleas. The sensations feel too good to put into words. 

Jake pushes your legs back, nearly folding you in half. Holding you still as his mouth works you over. One of his hands travels up your body, and two fingers prod at your lips. You suck them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. 

His lips pop off your clit just for a moment to say “Good girl.” You clench around nothing and gush all over his chin. 

You don’t stay empty for long. Those two long fingers leave your lips and fill your cunt. Slowly at first, and then build into a steady rhythm. The curl of his fingers inside you has you seeing stars, reaching places you can’t even hope to find on your own. Each thrust brings another wave of pleasure, throwing you closer and closer to the edge. Your toes curl, your heart hammers your breath stutters, and Jake continues consistent through it all. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart.” Jake groans. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers. Squeezing ‘em so tight. Can’t wait to fuck you.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut. That bright beautiful thing builds inside you, and you lurch towards it hungrily, eagerly. Pleading for it to overtake you in its all-consuming glory. 

He knows you’re close. Call it intuition, call it the knowledge that comes with prolonged intimacy. Whatever it is, he knows, and he wants it. 

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, drunk on you. 

You nod. “Uh huh.” 

“That’s it. Come, baby. Whenever you’re ready,” he coaxes. “Wanna taste you. Want to so bad.”

Jake doubles down on his efforts. Fingers and tongue never stopping their glorious assault. Your body seizes under his touch, ratcheting tighter and tighter until you break. You gasp for air, chest heaving as the dam breaks. 

You’re vaguely aware that you’re sobbing Jake’s name. At least you think you are– you’re so far gone that you could be saying anything. The broken syllables shatter off of the walls, each one going straight to Jake’s cock. 

“There’s my girl, there she is.” 

“Jake.” 

“I know, baby, I know. Give it to me. That’s a good girl. Fuck you’re so beautiful.” 

Though your body goes limp, Jake stays in place. That insatiable urge within him driving him to lick you clean. He gladly takes everything you offer and then some. Even after your consciousness finally slams back into your body, and you’re able to suck down a lungful of sweet air. Even after you try to wiggle away from him. Even after you whimper with sensitivity. Even after he somehow manages to pull a second, albeit smaller, orgasm from you.  

A last sharp tug to his hair and a shudder has him pulling away with a sated smile. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. You notice his eyes are back to their usual green. The beast must have finally been tamed. 

Jake crawls his way up your body, settling on top of you once more. 

You roll your head to the side and fix him with a grin. 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired on me,” he mumbles, kissing the sensitive skin of your throat. “We’re just getting started.”

“Whose fault is it for wearing me out?” You twist your fingers through his hair and scratch at his scalp. 

Jake hums, leaning into your touch. “Gotta build up your endurance again.”

“How are you planning to do that?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Jake meets your eyes, that signature glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he mumbles, kissing along your jaw. 

“Yeah?” 

“Uh-huh.” His lips tickle your skin as he whispers his salacious plan in your ear. 

Let’s just say you were in for a very long, very pleasurable, night. 

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #jake seresin fanfic #hangman fanfic #top gun maverick #i literally wrote this like a person possessed holy shit

[zablife]

Here For You 

Jake x girlfriend reader

Summary: Jake worries when you suddenly begin to push him away and he struggles to understand why. He doesn't realize his girlfriend is suffering a bout of depression.

Author’s Note: This was requested by the lovely @dreamlandcreations.

Warnings: language, depression, angst with fluffy ending

Jake’s jaw tightened and his head dropped as he listened to your recorded message. Normally he loved the sound of your voice. In fact, he often told you it was one of the things he loved most about you because it was so gentle and calming, but today your voice was anything but soothing. Every day this week his calls had gone straight to voicemail and he couldn’t help but worry.

“Baby, it’s me. Is everything alright? I know you said this was a busy week with classes, but I’m starting to get worried about you. Would you please call me back?” he said, the concern seeping into his voice by the end. Then he glanced up at your picture in his locker and added, “I love you, darlin,” before ending the call. His hand dropped to his side, still clutching the phone as his head came to rest on his opposite forearm in despair. 

Just then Bradley entered the locker room and called to Jake’s back, “Just finishing up with your girl, Hangman?” Jake jumped at the sound of his voice and Bradley chuckled. “Ok, I got it. It was one of those calls.” Casting his eyes to the ground he asked with amusement, “Wanna put your dick away and come up for our briefing?”

Jake spun around with a red face, not from embarrassment but anger. “Shut the fuck up, Bradshaw,” he said pushing past him. Bradley stood stunned. Hangman was usually easy going and never minded a little joking.

Later in the day, Maverick attempted to talk to Jake. During their meeting he had quickly recognized the chatty Texan had been replaced by a quiet, sullen man. The distracted look in his eye had Maverick wondering if it had something to do with you. Penny mentioned you missed work twice this week which wasn’t like you. “Is y/n feeling ok?” Maverick ventured after the meeting concluded. 

“What?” Jake said absently, shaking his head as though he hadn’t heard correctly. 

“Penny said y/n missed a couple of shifts. She thought she might be sick,” Maverick explained. 

“I haven't been able to talk to her much, but I’m going to see her tonight,” Jake answered honestly as his mind whirled with possibilities. Maybe that’s why you hadn’t called him back. If you were sick he felt terrible he wasn’t able to be there for you due to his training. Now that his day was wrapping up, he grabbed his bag and headed for the exit. He thought for a moment if he should stop and buy your favorite flowers, but he wanted to check on you first. 

When he arrived at your apartment, he shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side waiting for you to answer the door. It took a long time, but you finally appeared. You didn’t open the door fully, staring at him through a narrow crack as he confronted you.

“Y/n, honey, I’ve been trying to call you for days. Did something happen? Are you feeling ok?” he asked, words coming out more quickly than he anticipated as he felt his heart rate climb. Without meaning to he pressed on the door a bit too harshly and it opened wider allowing him a view of the chaos inside your home. It was messier than he'd ever seen it and you looked just as disheveled, standing in front of him in baggy pajamas and unwashed hair. 

You shrunk from him and tightened your arms around yourself, feeling ashamed he was seeing you at your worst. You felt like crying, but you didn’t have the energy. All you wanted him to do was leave so you could crawl back into bed. “I’m fine so you can go,” you said in a dead voice. Jake searched your face to see if you had meant what you said. You weren’t the same bubbly, caring woman he had left and he felt confused. 

“Baby, did I do something wrong? If I did, tell me and I'll make it up to you,” he said in a soft, pleading voice. In that moment part of you desperately wanted him to stay. You wished he wasn’t being so sweet. That wasn’t what you were expecting as you had already resigned yourself to the outcome of him storming off like all the others in your past.

“No, it’s just…I’m busy. I’ve got a paper to write,” you lied, rubbing your hand over your forehead anxiously. You hated yourself more as you thought of the class you were failing. Your stomach churned and your chest tightened uncomfortably at the thought of everything closing in on you—the late schoolwork, your missed shifts, a dirty apartment, the unanswered calls from friends. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe and you cried out, “Please go!” Slamming the door, you slid down against the cool wood and sobbed, chest heaving from the force. It was just too much, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that.

————————————————————-

On the other side of the door, Jake stood in stunned silence as he tried to process what had just happened. Although you had told him you were fine, he knew better.  Years of living with his mother and sisters had taught him “fine” usually meant far from it. That’s when he decided if you wouldn’t talk to him, he would go to Phoenix. She’d known you long before you started dating him and he hoped she would know what was wrong. 

When he arrived at Phoenix’s house, she welcomed him in, offering a cold beer and a kind smile. While she wanted to help, she also knew it wasn’t her place to divulge any sensitive information without your consent. Trying to be a good friend to both of you, she listened to Jake’s fears, then gave the best advice she could under the circumstances. “She’ll open up in her own time, Jake. Just be there for her and listen to her when she's ready to talk,” Phoenix said.

“Yeah, ok. I can do that,” Jake said nodding in agreement. Looking Phoenix in the eye he admitted, “I love this woman, Phoenix. Tell me I’ve still got a shot with her.”

Her lip curled up in a half smile as she realized he was completely smitten. It was nice to see her cocky friend humbled by love. As she sat enjoying that privileged information, she was interrupted by Jake clearing his throat, reminding her he was waiting for an answer.  She rolled her eyes as she realized she was about to stroke his ego. “Yeah, she loves you too, Bagman,” she answered. 

—————————————————————-

Jake went home to rest and tried again the next morning, coming back to your house with breakfast in one hand and a large, fragrant bouquet of flowers in the other. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he genuinely wanted to hear what you had to say. He felt his heart thud against his ribcage as he waited for you to answer the door, wondering if you would slam it in his face again. When you appeared in the doorway, he noticed you still seemed tired, but less tense. 

“Jake, what are you doing here?” you asked in a weary voice.

“Came to bring my favorite girl breakfast in bed,” he said with a big smile. “Can I come in…please?” He added the last words hesitantly and you couldn’t help but soften at his easy tone. He’d already seen the disastrous state of your apartment so you decided to let him in. You nodded slowly and opened the door to him, glancing the beautiful bouquet of flowers for the first time. The sight of the pinks and greens made your heart stir and you leaned forward to smell them. A tear gathered at the corner of your eye as you whispered, “thank you.” 

Jake looked at you, slightly taken aback at the show of gratitude and replied, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He placed the items on the counter before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He looked at you, trying to determine what you were thinking as he watched you pick at your cuticles. He'd noticed it was a nervous habit of yours, but recently it had gotten much worse. “I’d really like to understand what you’re going through, but I don’t want to push you. I’m here if you want to talk or eat. Hell, I’ll just sit here and stare at the wall with you if you want,” he chuckled nervously, picking up your hand to hold it in his larger one. His palm was rough, but warm and you closed your eyes at the feeling of it radiating through you. You squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. “I just want to be close to you,” he admitted, leaning his forehead into yours. 

You inhaled a shaky breath, feeling the tears hot and heavy against your eyelids. You didn’t want them to fall, but they were already forcing their way out and running down your cheeks. For the first time in weeks you felt safe and you let go. You collapsed into Jake’s arms and cried as he stroked your back. The gentle touch of his fingertips running over you, rubbing patterns into the aching muscles of your back and arms released a torrent of emotion you feared would scare him away, but he continued to hold you tightly. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like this, but when you pulled away to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt you heard the thoughts come together in your mind. You guided him to sit next to you on the sofa and the words fell from your lips easily, explaining how you’d suffered depression since you were a teenager. Despite medication, infrequent episodes like this one came and went like a summer storm, leaving you paralyzed by anxiety and fear.

It was especially bad when you had a boyfriend because they were never able to understand it. Men liked to fix things and when they realized there was no quick fix for you, they were out the door. It left you feeling worse than before because you were convinced something inside you was irretrievably broken. With a harsh gulp, you told him how worried you were of disappointing him now by confiding all this in him, letting him see the real you. When you ran out of things to say, you hugged a cushion, anxiously biting your lower lip and wondering how he might respond.

“Sweetheart, thank you for trusting me enough to tell me all of this. I’m really sorry to hear you were treated that way," he said running a hand along your cheek and wiping a tear away with the pad of his thumb. "But I'm glad I get to be your man now because I think you're an amazing, intelligent, kind, brave woman. The more I get to know about you, the more I fall in love with you." He leaned in and you felt him brush his lips across yours in a soft, gentle kiss that was meant as much for affection as reassurance. As he pulled away, he looked deeply into your eyes as he said, "I’m going to be here for you whenever you need me, alright?” You searched his handsome face, etched with concern, and settled back on the warmth of his green eyes, drawing you in and holding you there in a silent promise of protection from the storm. 

------------------------

Tag list:

@floraroselaughter

@rikki-b-lake

@alanadetigy

@writeroutoftime

@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

@peakyrogers

@justalonelyslytherin

@lovemissyhoneybee

@wandawiccan60

@l1-l4

@luckyladycreator2

@kmhappybunny240

@shanimallina87

@hey-its-kayla-claire

@can-this-be-a-fanfic

@amysteryspot

@dreamlandcreations 

@blue-aconite

@littlebadariell

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@cycbaby

@sweetlittlegingy

#Top Gun Maverick fanfic #Top Gun Maverick imagine #Jake Seresin fanfic #Jake Seresin imagine #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman fanfic #Hangman imagine #Hangman x you #Hangman x y/n #Hangman x reader

[50calmadeuce]

Yowzers!!

Glen Powell in a white t-shirt and cowboy hat getting wet in the rain...don't mind if I do!

#glen powell #twisters #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #hangman top gun #hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun maverick hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin fic

[inklore]

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜ with the one and only Mister Jake Seresin pretty please??

Hope you’re doing well!! 🖤

THE BAD ONES HAVE MORE FUN.

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x (f)reader

contents: threats of smut, cocky flirty jake aka the best kind.

note: i miss writing for this little shit, i need to write more!

“You’re not as bad as everyone says you are.” 

Maybe it’s the amount of fruity drinks in your system; maybe it’s the cheesy love ballad playing on the jukebox. Or maybe it’s that one hundred watt smile that Jake has been giving you all night. 

The way he leans his body against the table, slowly inching closer into you—his cologne mixed with the beer on his tongue making your head all cloudy with him—until your eyes keep flashing down to his mouth, and it would barely take you leaning in for you to press your lips against his.

And it’s definitely making you resolve wash away to driftwood in the sand—useless, overlooked, stepped over. 

The countless things you’ve heard about The Jake Seresin—the warnings, the rumors that he’s someone you either love or loathe—turn you into a moth to a flame rather than a moth who turns and heads for safety. 

The more he talked, the less the warnings and rumors held up. 

But maybe that was his play all along—how he sweet talked the best of them out of their panties and into his bed—caught you off your guard when he was the exact opposite of bad people said he was. 

Saving that for when he finally had you in his bed, or after the fact. 

You can’t seem to find an ounce of worry in your bloodstream. It too busy pumping to the throb in your legs to an annoying ache from his proximity, from the heady scent of him, that smirk, the underlining cockiness in his sentences. 

You don’t care. With a mouth as smooth and inviting as his, he could fill you full of lies as long as you were coming on that pretty face of his.

“Oh yeah?” He says, smiling around the rim of his beer as he takes a sip. “And how bad do they say I am?” 

“Irredeemable,” you joke. Give him your own smile that his eyes trace. 

He makes a face of agreement, like he’s not denying anything anyone has said or could have said about him. Instead, he removes the little space that had been between you and his body. His frame touching yours now, leaning down so there’s a shadow over your face from how close his is to yours as he says, “if it’s a bad boy you want, sweetheart, you’re in for a long night.” 

#jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x you #top gun fic #hangman fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #top gun x reader #ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪ blurb night

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Peach rings and broken things masterlist

These are all individual blurbs that can be read in order, or separately.

Synopsis: You’ve been best friends with Jake since birth and he even introduced you to your now long time boyfriend, Nathan. But when your relationship starts to get rocky, Jake decides it is time to step in.

Warnings: cursing, protective Jake, verbal and physical abuse, and you will hate Nathan by the end of this. There also may be smut, so please 18+ only

Her protector

Ticking time bomb

Time for a change

The mess I made

I’m not jealous

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fanfic #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin one shot #jake seresin x you #jake seresin oneshot #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman angst #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin imagines #hangman x reader #hangman fanfic #hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #tgm one shot #tgm imagine #tgm imagines #tgm angst #jake seresin angst #tgm fanfiction

[eternalsams]

Cherry Pie ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

content/warning: 18+, smut, fwb situation, swearing, alcohol consumption, boys will be boys, 'love' confession, just a bit of angst, no use of Y/N, pet names like "honey" or "sweets", COMMUNICATION IS KEY.

summary: You just moved in San Diego and you needed help with all the boxes and furniture. Naturally, you called Jake to give you a hand and that's it, right?

words count: 2.0k

notes: this is my contribution to @roosterforme's Rocktober playlist, just as asked, the fic is inspired by the song but you don't need to know it to read this, obviously... Also, English isn't my first language so please take that into your consideration. (I've spent the whole day writing this because I knew I'd never get it done before the end of October)

ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS

masterlist

"Oh, by the way, didn't you tell us one of your friends just moved here?" Rooster said as his eyes were fixed on the pool table where they were playing. Jake scoffed and sighed, trying to suppress the smile creeping up on his lips. "Oh yeah, you said that! What was her name again?" Fanboy pointed out with a light smirk. Jake was about to answer him when Payback clapped his hand on his shoulder, stopping him on his track. "Bagman's got a female friend? I don't believe it!" He laughed loudly. "I do have a female friend, I'm not that big of an jerk." Jake got up and slapped his hand flat on the table.

"We're still friends, huh?" You asked as his lips made their way down the column of your neck. Another moan escaped your lips as you felt his teeth nibble at the sensitive skin. "Yeah, yeah... Still friends." He muttered before slipping his hands under your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips found yours once again and he didn't wait another second before slipping his tongue between your lips and tasting you. "I called you so you could help me unpack." You scolded him as your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and in one movement, the garment was on the floor of your new kitchen. "Oh, sure, sure... Let me just...unwrap this first." He said as he unzipped your jeans and slid them down your thighs, revealing your lace panties. You chuckled and he put you up the counter before kneeling down in front of you, between your parted legs. He started kissing your left ankle, then your calf and he pecked kisses up your thigh until he reached your soaking underwear. "You're so pretty, why did I wait this long?" He murmured, mouthing at your clothed core. "Fuck..." You moaned as you hooked your legs around his head. Your fingers gripped his hair tight as he slipped your panties to the side and he licked your wet folds before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, hard.

Everyone looked at Jake with raised eyebrows, not believing a single one of his words. Rooster was the first one to crack up and laugh. "Yeah, right. And I'm the frickin' Queen of England." Jake groaned and looked away, trying to hold himself back from punching his wingman in the face. "Excuse us for not believing you, but we only know you as a ladies' man. In front of 'womanizer' in a dictionary, there's your picture, man." Javy chuckled before taking a sip of his drink and adding something. "Also, shouldn't I know about her if she's as dear as you say?" Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing at the front doors another time, checking if you've arrived. "She's from my home town, we met in college and she just accepted a very nice job here. She's not here for me, she's here for work, we're just lucky we're in the same area for once since college." He cleared his throat and checked his phone for any signs of you. "Sounds like a romantic tragedy." Phoenix commented, noticing the longing look on his face as he checked his texts. "No, we're not like that. We're friends, remember? Just friends."

"To friends. And to a new life in California." You said as you held your glass of champagne high. "To all of that." Jake chuckled before taking a sip of the alcohol, not breaking the eye contact with you. You just finished unpacking everything for your living room. You still needed to finish your room and the bathroom but the biggest part was done. "Oh, wait!" You put down your glass and went to the kitchen, getting a little basket of fresh cherries. You took two peers and gently put them in both your glasses, turning the simple champagne into fancy home-made cocktails. "Champagne with cherries? That's weird." Jake laughed and grabbed his cherries before putting one in his mouth, pulling on the stem to detach it. "Maybe, but it's really good." You chuckled and did the same, staring into his eyes. "It shouldn't surprise me that the first things you have in your fridge are cherries. You've always loved them." He spat back the cherry stone and took a sip of his drink.

"You wanna see something cool?" You asked and he simply nodded, eating his second cherry. You grabbed his stem and pulled on it before putting it on your tongue and closing your mouth. Jake watched you carefully, mesmerized by you. You then grinned and pushed the, now knotted, stem between your teeth. "Holy shit..." Jake scoffed, grabbing the stem but you bit down on it to keep it in your mouth. His gaze went up to your eyes and he saw that special spark in them. He delicately removed the stem from your mouth and traced your lips with his thumb before slowly pushing it between them. Your tongue gently licked his finger and you took a bit more of it in your mouth, sucking softly. "Shit, honey..." Jake rasped. He then felt your tongue circle his thumb before you sucked a bit more and he could feel his cock harden in his pants. He adjusted himself in his seat and you chuckled, releasing his thumb and gently kissing the pulp of it. Jake moistened his lips and wrapped his hand around your neck to draw you closer to him. He crashed his lips on yours and immediately parted your lips to slide his tongue in your mouth. He could taste the cherry on your tongue and swore he could never get tired of your taste.

"Hey Penny Dear, could you get a Cherry Bomb ready for my friend. She's gonna be there soon. Put it on my tab." He softly tapped the counter before turning to the front doors. He couldn't wait to see you walk past those doors, as if he didn't see you the night before. As if he didn't feel your walls flutter around him as he brought you to your fourth climax of the night. He snapped back to reality when a hand landed on his shoulder. Javy sighed next to him and followed his gaze to the doors. "So... You're gonna tell me when you're gonna ask that girl out?" He then took a sip of his beer. "Never, it's not like that." Jake grumbled as his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Oh, I can see that it is". He chuckled without noticing Jake wasn't listening anymore. The blond pilot was frenetically typing on his phone, answering your text and telling you where to find him in the bar. The next thing he heard was the front door opening and your heels clicking on the floor. He raised his head and grinned when he caught your gaze through the crowd. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and made his way to you. "Not like that, my ass." Javy scoffed and gave back his empty beer to Penny who thanked him and went to another patron.

"You made it!" Jake exclaimed as he approached you. "I made it!" You laughed and hugged him tight. "Come on, I ordered your favorite already." He kissed the top of your head and led you to the counter where Penny introduced herself and gave you your drink with a wink. Not so far, Phoenix and Rooster were watching you both with frowns. "Are they dating? They look like they're dating." The woman asked her friend. "I don't know if they're official but they definitely like each other." They both straightened up when they saw you walking to them, Jake's arm around you and leading you. The pilot introduced you and you shook hands with all of them. "We've heard a lot about you." The man called Payback smiled at you and you grinned widely. "Jake talks about me?" You chuckled and turned to your friend who winced. "But we didn't believe him when he said he had a female friend." Fanboy chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck. "A bit of a ladies' man, isn't he?" You laughed, giving a light slap to Jake's ass who then glared down at you. You chuckled a bit more and took a sip of your drink, the cherry flavor invading your taste buds. You grabbed the cherry on top and bit it, detaching the stem and keeping it in your hand.

The conversation went on and when you stood up, calling for a bathroom break, Jake only noticed now the knotted stem in your empty glass. He picked it up and made it twirl between his fingers. "She did that?" Javy scoffed, looking at the stem in his friend's hand. "Yup. With her tongue." Jake chuckled slightly before dropping the stem back in your glass. "Come on, man. I know you said you're not dating but the tension between you is too strong for friends. Are you hooking up with her?" Rooster leaned over the table as he lowered his voice a bit. "I am not. We're friends and that's it. She's just like that, all clingy and shit. Always have been." Jake gave his friends a little smile before he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I'm a bit tired from work, I'm going home sooner than expected." Your voice surprised him and he hoped you hadn't heard what he said just before. Because if one of you was clingy, it was certainly him. "Do you want me to walk you back to your car?" He asked, standing up. "I'd love to." You smiled at him and said bye to everyone before you waited for Jake to pay his tab and join you outside.

When he passed the doors, you wrapped your arm around his and you two walked silently. "Can I ask you a question?" You asked hesitantly. "Always. Tell me." Jake's other hand stroked your arm soothingly. "Are you ashamed of our...relationship? I heard what you said and I didn't really like it." Jake slightly winced at your words and as he thought you would let his arm go, you didn't do such. You kept him as close as before. "I'm not...ashamed. They just... They spent the whole afternoon teasing me about you, asking if we were dating and talking badly of me. I just wanted to shut them up." He tried to explain and you stayed silent, that wasn't really you. "Are you mad?" He then asked when he saw your car in the parking lot, scared you might leave without giving him a second glance. "I'm not. They're your friends, you know how to handle them. I believe you when you say you're not ashamed of me." You squeezed yourself against his arm. "How could I ever be ashamed of you, Sweets? You're amazing, honestly you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." You laughed at his words and dug into your purse to grab your car key. "The best thing, huh?" You smirked and looked up at him. "The best of the best." He nodded, sliding his hands on your waist. "Then you wouldn't mind picking me up tomorrow at seven? I saw a nice restaurant I wanted to try with you." He was surprised of your boldness but didn't complain. "Like...like a date?" He asked for confirmation and you smiled a bit more. "Like a date." He quickly looked away to hide his excitement but you noticed his blushing cheeks. "I wouldn't mind at all picking you up and taking you on a date. Would you allow me to kiss you before I let you go home?" He lowered his voice, as if he was scared someone else might hear how sweet and loving he was for you. You nodded eagerly and grabbed him by the neck before colliding your lips with his and swiping your tongue over his lips. And just as always, he could taste the cherry on your tongue and he loved every bit of it.

#top gun rocktober #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman fanfic #hangman imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun imagine #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick x you #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfic #glen powell #glen powell x you #glen powell x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin imagine #glen powell imagine

[purelyfiction]

So It Goes...

NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #coming soooooooon #i've been so excited about this and ?? no one knew??? so heyyyy #hangman x reader #hangman fanfic #hangman fanfiction #hangman #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic

[kryptonitejelly]

continuation to this - because Jake’s baby government naming him is too good (flyboy universe ideally, but can be read alone).

peek the bradley x natasha as well

-

"Hey pup," you hear Bradley's voice ring out from across the long table set out in the back patio of your house. You feel your youngest daughter's head shoot up, the crown of it bumping against your chin lightly. She drops your hand, her fingers letting go of your bracelet which she had been fiddling with as she leans forward, head titled slightly to look at Bradley in question.

You see Bradley grin as he leans forward, but not before darting a gaze back towards the small rectangle of a pool which sat on the edge of your backyard, just beyond a stretch of grass.

"What is your mom's name?" He asks, almost too cheekily for a now father of three, and you sigh lightly, knowing just where this is going; you had shared the anecdote of your youngest government-naming Jake with Natasha to see if she and Bradley had ever come across a similar situation - but keeping in tradition with the war-like (now friendly) competition that perpetually existed between Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin, anything that could became ammunition.

"Moooommy," your youngest answers proudly, as she wiggles on your lap back into you. You can't help but smile down at her, planting a kiss on her head, before you take a glance out towards the pool where a mix of Seresin and Bradshaw children are splashing around in the water, your husband in the middle of it all with Natasha standing at the edge, yelling out something to one of the boys.

"And do you know what your dad's name is?" Bradley asks, leaning just another, slight inch forward while you brace for the response.

"JAKE," she roars, having taken to shouting her father's name out loud when asked in recent days. The small bellow is loud enough that there is a temporary hush across the pool, which is quickly broken by Bradley's loud, deep, laughter. You hear your daughter's own soon follow, the youngest clearly pleased with herself as she claps her hands together. Nat's chuckle floats towards you with the wind, as the giggle of children resume along with the splashing sounds of water.

"BRADSHAW," you hear a flurry of movement, the sounds of water sloshing across the edge of the pool and into the drainage system that surrounds it as you watch Jake push himself out of the pool in a singular, swift motion, grabbing his towel from one of the deck chairs nearby. Jake makes fast work of towelling himself off without a break in the series of quick strides that is taking him towards you.

"You're a chump," he glowers at Bradley as he reaches the three of you - being a parent meant having to improvise with words. Jake is beside you in a flash, hands picking your daughter off your lap, holding onto her with a single hand as he looks into her face. She squirms as Jake shakes his head slightly, causing droplets of water to hit her lightly in the face.

"D A D, Dad," he reminds her, face and voice deadly serious.

"JAKEEE," she yells again, clearly pleased with himself as she reaches forward with bonds hands, pressing each tiny palm against Jake's cheeks.

Bradley loses it.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin imagine #flyboy #flyboy universe #flyboy drabble #jake seresin fanfic #hangman #hangman fic #hangman fanfic #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman seresin #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #tgm #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fic #tgm fic #not cm

[aemondvelaryon]

love grows (where the mustache goes)

summary: as the squad is giving jake as much shit as possible for the new offensive hair growing on his lip, you are frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language, realization of feelings, alcohol consumption to combat dirty thoughts.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: based on this lovely gifset by unicornships

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you always kind of had a thing about Hangman.

Look, you didn't hate him, per se, but he definitely stirred some feelings in you that were less than normal. He made you feel totally feral, if you will, unrestrained and vicious. The sort of anger that made you want to scratch your skin off, vibrating and seething, screaming at the top of your lungs.

It took barely a look, less than a glance, not even a word before you were fuming just by being in his presence. He had some sort of grip on you.

So, you tended to stay as far away from him as possible. Leaving when he arrived, staying home when his attendance was announced, and sticking close to people that either didn't like him or didn't know him. It was easier that way.

Easier than thinking about why he really made you so angry.

But the worst part was, the cherry on top, was that he just loved being around you. Loved seeing how worked up he could get you, making you squirm under his gaze, and making you turn bright red from his flirting.

He had to know. There was no way he didn't. The squad must have told him how much you didn't want to be near him which is why he made it his mission always to find you in every room.

He had to know how much he rattled you.

On this particular night, he had yet to make an appearance. But wherever Rooster was Hangman usually followed, and the tall, mustached, Hawaiian-shirted pilot had already made his way over to the piano tonight and the rest of Dagger had slowly trickled in.

You didn't know why you came out tonight especially since their shore leave had just ended and all of the pilots had started making their way back to base and the surrounding area which always included the Hard Deck.

But it was the only fun place around and Penny was so nice to you and going out in a dress on a Friday night and nursing a drink for a couple of hours just to be seen and known instead of rotting in your little apartment after work was worth the possibility you might see him.

Your eyes lock on the little crowd surrounding Rooster, as charismatic as ever, singing another 80s hit. You smile despite yourself.

God, how you wished Bradshaw was the one that made your brain go fuzzy. He was sure of himself, not arrogant, teasing, not antagonistic, handsome, not drop-dead gorgeous.

Sometimes you looked at Hangman and wondered why God would make him so fucking hot and then let him open his mouth.

It honestly wasn't fair.

Eventually, you hear his voice, and your back goes ramrod straight, awareness prickling at the back of your neck, and your hands instantly sweaty.

"Bradshaw, you started without me? I'm heartbroken. After I went through all this trouble to do this just for you? Absolutely devasted."

You don't look. Because if you look it will just cement how much you want to look, and don't want to stop looking.

A choked laugh sputters, as if they're surprised and then Phoenix's voice pierces through the crowd. "You didn't. Please tell me that's not real."

"No way! Someone go pull on it! Probably glued on." Fanboy shouts and you hear the sound of someone falling out of their chair.

"You got to be kidding me. What the fuck is that! Did something die on your face?" Javy yells in disbelief and disgust.

You want to look so bad. Just their reactions almost make you turn. Did he get a bad haircut or something? You're just close enough that you can hear every word but not enough that anyone's noticed you.

"Pay up, now, I called it! I can't believe you guys doubted me. I said he would do something like this." Reuben sounds like he's smiling triumphantly.

Bob's voice is quietly astounded, "He looks like 70s Porn Star Ken."

You sit up even straighter. Oh god.

He grew a mustache.

Rooster finally acknowledges him. "Man, Hangman, I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is another level."

You can't ever look over there now. Just the visual has your skin feeling too tight.

"You like it? Took me a whole month to grow this bad boy just 'cause I wanted to see the looks on all your faces, but I gotta say, now that I'm here, totally worth it." He's grinning, he has to be, shit-eating and ear-to-ear, you can feel it, can practically see his smile in your head. You've stared at it long enough.

"That's great. When are you shaving it?" Natasha sounds disgusted and it almost makes you laugh if you weren't so fucking frozen like a deer in headlights.

"I can't believe none of you are appreciating the effort I went through to do this. Unbelievable."

"You look like someone from the cast of Boogie Nights."

"Well that's a great movie, so thank you." He sounds closer now and the hand around your glass threatens to break it. "Y'know if I can't get you guys to recognize my dedication, I know someone who will."

Oh god, oh no.

"Hangman, don't--" But before another voice can dissuade him, he's already sidling up to you at the bar. You feel the heat of him before you hear his voice.

"Hi, sweetheart, did you miss me? I know I missed you." You grab your drink and finish it off quickly, eyes not looking over at him.

"What do you want, Hangman?" You hope to come off as annoyed, not rattled to the fucking core.

"Well, I know you love Rooster so much so I thought I'd do something to make me look a little bit more like him. Maybe get you to not run out of the room every time you see me, yeah?"

Goddammit, he can't know that you do that. Unless he pays attention to you as much as you do him.

"I don't love Rooster, okay, I just don't like you." You grit your teeth and call the other bartender on duty for another drink.

"Will you at least look at it, before making your judgment, babe? You're hurting my feelings." The faux hurt in his voice almost makes you turn.

"Don't call me that."

"What should I call you then, huh?"

Your drink gets refilled and emptied just as quickly. "Woah, slow down there. Don't need you passing out on me." You have to get the hell out of here, quickly.

Your name, for starters, maybe. "Nothing. I don't even want you to talk to me."

You turn and make your way off the bar stool and it rushes over you all too fast. An empty stomach and tequila do not a wise girl make.

You nearly fall off the seat and onto your ass but a warm hand finds its way around your waist and catches you just as quick. "Easy there." You shiver and turn in his grasp trying to get away but it just makes you meet his eyes.

Shit, shit, shit.

"You good?"

No, you are very much not good. He looks--fuck.

You don't see Hangman out of uniform often. You weren't a pilot or even in the military. Just a casual acquaintance that sometimes had a few chats with his squadron. So, you'd seen him in what he usually hangs out in, his tan jumpsuit, his swimsuit, you've even seen him in his dress whites before. But this Hangman just got back and hasn't even been to the base yet so this is Jake Seresin, Texas born and bred, raised on a farm, rides horses in his spare time, mama sweeter than apple pie, probably owns a fucking cowboy hat.

So, of course, he's got a plaid shirt on. Over that is a bomber jacket, like one you've seen Mav sporting before, only it looks like something you'd wear to go ranching in the winter not fly a plane. He's got jeans on, they’re all beaten up and used, and a leather belt, and he looks like he stepped out of some country romance Hallmark movie.

The mustache is the icing on the cake.

It's not that you had a thing for mustaches. You didn't because you had no feelings for Rooster whatsoever, but you didn't think they were unattractive or creepy like most of the population seemed to.

Did you have a big crush on Tom Selleck in Magnum P.I. when you were younger? Yes. But who didn't? And liking Bella's dad in Twilight didn't make it a pattern, okay! Everyone liked him.

"Uh." You finally gracefully spit out.

He smiles teasingly. "Didn't hit your head, did you?" He knows you didn't. He's playing with you. Riling you up as he always does. Because it's funny to him. Not because he likes you--wants you.

You sober up slightly and push at him. "No, get off."

Jake--God, no, when did he become Jake in your head--just smiles more but it seems softer. "I knew you'd fallen for me, but I didn't think you'd also do it literally."

You turn even redder if possible. "Shut up."

Christ, how was it you had reverted to playground comebacks at just the sight of him? Were you really so weak?

"You didn't answer my question." Was he still talking? You felt fuzzy.

"I need another drink." You can still feel his hand on your waist because despite pushing him away he hadn't let you go.

"Did I finally break you?" He laughs and shit, he knows.

"Why are you still talking to me?" You finally snap at him and his face falls a little, just slightly, that if you didn't have every inch of his face memorized you wouldn't have noticed it at all.

"Because I care what you think." It's a confession. It has to be. You don't know what else it could be.

"Why?" You squint at him. Dumbfounded is the only word that comes to mind.

"Why? What--you don't, you seriously don't know?" He still holding onto you, and his hand flexes, fingers slightly digging into your hip and you feel yourself inch towards him, always stuck in his orbit, gravity pulling you closer.

"Don't know what?" You lick your lips in anticipation and he glances, once, up, twice, down, and then looks away and swallows.

"Why the hell do you think I talk to you all the time? Come find you in a room? Grew this fucking thing on my face?" He laughs, bewildered, and shakes his head.

"Why?" You ask again, if he doesn't say it, you won't. Too goddamn scared that you're making it all up, reading too much into it. "I thought you just liked to tease me. Get a rise out of me. I thought you were making fun of me."

"C'mon, you know me, I do the same shit I do to you that I do to Rooster. That's just what I do when I like someone."

You punch him in the arm.

"Ow! What the hell was that for!" He whines and grabs his arm, taken aback and pretending as if it actually hurt him.

"Why didn't you just tell me that, you ass!" You screech a little, desperately, feeling way too many emotions at once. He tends to do that to you.

He scoffs. "Have you met me? Do you really think I'm emotionally mature enough to do that?"

"That whole time you were just, what, flirting with me?" You question incredulously.

He laughs, a little bashfully. "I mean, come on, I thought it was obvious. I mean it was to everyone else."

You pale a little. "The others know?"

"Yeah, 'course they do. They're the ones that pointed it out in the first place. I didn't even realize I was doing it at first either." He scratches his neck, almost nervously.

"So why the mustache?"

"I don't know. I was just trying to get you to pay attention to me. Thought this might help." And god help you, Jake blushes, actually reddens a bit.

"How'd you know?"

"Hm, know what?" He smirks at you.

You cough. "You know, that I'd--that I'd like it."

Jake grins. "I didn't but you just told me you did."

You hit him again, a slap on the shoulder, almost playful, and you can't believe it, you're flirting with him, you're really this close to him, doing this. "Fuck off."

He smiles again but this one is different. His eyes are incredibly soft and he's looking at you and--did he always look at you like this? Were you really this blind?

"I need you to answer another question for me." His hand on your hips snakes around you and you stumble into him, putting your hands on his chest to brace yourself, and, Christ, he smells good. “Do you think I could take you out sometime?”

"Um." You're throat suddenly feels incredibly dry and you're heart feels like it about to beat right out of your chest. "I mean, if you want to."

"Yeah, baby. I want to."

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman fanfic #jake seresin fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #my writing #idk what this is but i hope u enjoy it #just something a little sweet for the kids #love grows