#jake hangman seresin fic

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 21: Deployment

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

As sunlight began to fill the room, your eyes slowly fluttered open. Jake's warm body was pressed against yours, his right arm draped over you, and you could feel the gentle rhythm of his breath on your neck, a peaceful and comforting presence as you awakened to the new day.

A smile spread across your face as you thought about the events of last night, the warmth of the memories flooding in, each moment a treasured piece of the joy and love you shared, making the start of this new day even sweeter:

Jake paused at the entrance of his apartment, a tradition in mind.

"Wait, darlin', I have to carry you across the threshold," he insisted, embodying a classic gesture of romance.

"Jake. You really don't have to," you responded, touched by the gesture but feeling it wasn't necessary.

Jake looked at you with a playful twinkle in his eye, a gentle challenge in his gaze. "Who says I have to? I want to. It's not about necessity, it's about celebrating every moment we have," he said, his voice carrying the warmth of his affection for you.

Without waiting for another protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. The surprise and joy of the moment bubbled up inside you, laughter spilling out as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

As he carried you over the threshold, stepping into the quiet of your shared space, the symbolism of the act wasn't lost on you. It was a reminder of the new beginnings, the strength of your partnership, and the promise to support and carry each other through whatever life might bring.

Setting you down gently, Jake looked into your eyes, his own reflecting the deep love he felt. "It's not home, but..."

You placed a finger gently on his lips. "It's okay, Jake."

He paused, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips, accepting your reassurance. The simple gesture of your finger on his lips spoke volumes, reinforcing the unspoken understanding and connection between you two. In that moment, it didn't matter where you were; it was the togetherness that made any place a home.

He tenderly took your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss, a gesture of affection and apology. Slowly, he trailed kisses down your arm, moving with a deliberate tenderness until reaching your shoulder. When you glanced at him, drawn by the intensity of the moment, your eyes locked, and without another word, your lips met in a kiss that spoke volumes, a promise of reconciliation and renewed connection.

As you parted from the kiss, the air between you was charged with a renewed understanding.

"I think it's time you got out of this dress and I got out of this uniform," he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness, suggesting a shift towards a more relaxed and intimate setting away from the formalities of the day.

Your eyes sparkled with amusement and anticipation at his suggestion, the weight of the day's emotions making the prospect of unwinding together all the more appealing. "I think that's the best idea you've had all day," you teased back, the lightheartedness between you a welcome contrast to the depth of emotions experienced earlier.

He offered you his hand, a silent invitation to follow him towards the bedroom, a space that promised comfort and privacy away from the world outside. As you moved together, each step seemed to shed the layers of formality and expectation that had accompanied the day's celebrations.

In the bedroom, Jake guided you to the end of the bed, suggesting you face it. You felt his hands skillfully unhook the eyelet button, a gentle precision in his touch. Then, slowly, he guided the zipper down, each movement deliberate, filled with an unspoken promise of care and affection, as the fabric began to part under his guidance.

As the strap of your dress fell down your left arm, he placed a gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder, a tender gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. He mirrored this action on the right side, kissing your shoulder as the other strap slid down, enveloping you in a moment of warmth and closeness.

You dropped your arms down as the dress slid down your body, leaving you in a pair of white lace panties and white heels.

Jake gently lifted your left foot, sliding the dress off it before repeating with the right. He stepped back to admire you in just underwear and heels as he started unbuttoning his dress white top.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching a momentary view of him as he carefully placed the top of his uniform on his dresser. Now dressed more casually in a white t-shirt, the crisp lines of his dress white pants still on, and the shine of his black dress shoes catching the light, he presented a contrast of formality and ease. With a swift motion, he kicked off his shoes, the sound muted against the floor, leaving him in his black socks. He then approached you from behind, his steps quiet but purposeful, placing his hands gently on your hips as he closed the distance between you.

You felt his breath against the back of your neck, a warm and sensual sensation that sent shivers down your spine.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent more shivers down your spine.

He gently kissed your neck, his lips warm and soft against the sensitive skin. His hands moved up your sides, tracing the curves of your body with a gentle touch that sent tingles down to your toes.

He hooked his thumbs into the sides of your white lace panties and slowly started to pull them down.

You stood there, a mix of anticipation and vulnerability as he slowly pulled your panties down. He then helped you take them off by gently lifting one high heeled foot and then the other.

"Bend over and lean on the bed. Spread your legs," he gently commanded and you did as you were told.

You felt the bed pressing against your stomach as you leaned over, the cool fabric of the comforter providing a sharp contrast to your warm skin. You spread your legs wider, exposing yourself completely.

You listened as you heard a belt, a zipper, and the sound of pants falling to the floor.

He knelt down behind you, his hands gently caressing your ass cheeks. He spread them apart and slowly licked from the bottom of your pussy to your clit with a long slow motion that made you moan in pleasure.

He then repeated the motion, this time with more pressure and a little bit of suction. You felt his tongue delve deeper into your pussy, exploring every crevice and fold. His tongue then danced over your clit, his hands still holding onto the cheeks of your ass. You felt a surge of pleasure course through you as he continued to lick and suck on your most sensitive spot. He then moved his tongue down to your pussy, licking and sucking on the lips. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as he continued to explore every inch of you with his mouth.

You moaned and your hips moved with every flick and suck.

He then moved his tongue back to your clit, sucking on it gently before flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

You felt a surge of pleasure course through you as he continued to lick and suck on you clit.

"Jake," you moaned. You could sense he knew you were close to orgasm.

He stopped and you moaned in disapproval. He stood up and positioned himself behind you, his hard cock pressing up against your ass.

He reached around and gently cupped your breasts, his fingers finding the hard nipples as he kissed the back of your neck. "You're so beautiful," he whispered again as you felt the tip of his cock at the entrance of your pussy.

He slowly pushed forward, the head of his cock stretching you open. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as he continued to push in deeper and deeper until your pussy was completely filled with him.

He held still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. Then he slowly started moving in and out of your pussy with long slow strokes that made you moan in pleasure.

You felt his hands on your hips, guiding you as he continued to fuck you. He then reached around and started playing with your clit while continuing the long slow strokes of his cock in and out of your pussy.

You felt a surge of pleasure surge through you as he continued to fuck and play with your clit.

"Jake," you moaned, feeling the pressure building up inside of you.

He sensed you were close to cumming and he increased the pace of his thrusts, fucking your pussy harder. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as you came hard on his cock, moaning in ecstasy.

He slowed down his thrusts, allowing you to come come back from your orgasm. Then he pulled out of you and had you flip over onto your back on the bed.

He then leaned over you and kissed your lips, his tongue tasting of your juices as he gently explored the inside of your mouth. He spread your legs and positioned himself between them, his hard cock pressing against the entrance of your pussy.

He looked into your eyes. "I love you," he whispered as he slammed himself into you.

You felt a surge of pleasure as he continued to fuck your pussy hard and fast. You locked your heeled feet around his waist. He then slowed down his thrusts, allowing you to feel every inch of him inside you.

He then started to fuck you harder and faster, his cock slamming into your pussy with a force that made the bed shake.

You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as he continued to fuck your pussy harder and faster. "Jake," you moaned, feeling the pressure building up inside of you again.

He sensed you were close to cumming again and he increased his thrusts, faster and harder.

You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as you came hard on his cock, screaming out his name in ecstasy.

Jake thrust harder and faster. Feeling his own orgasm building up inside of him. He thrust harder and faster until he was calling out your name and he came deep inside you, his cock twitching with release.

After a few moments, he collapsed onto you, his breathing heavy and rapid, a testament to the intensity of your connection. You reached up, your fingers gently brushing away some of the hair from his forehead, a tender gesture amidst the shared exhaustion and satisfaction, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy of the aftermath.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with a sense of contentment. "And I always will."

You smiled at him, your eyes full of the same sentiment as yours were for each other in that moment. "I love you too, Jake Seresin, and I always will too."

As the memory started to fade, you smiled. God, the way this man could make you feel.

You then felt his hand gently trace down your thigh, a familiar and cherished touch, followed by a tender kiss on your shoulder.

"Morning, darlin'," he whispered, his voice a soothing melody that welcomed you into the new day, enveloped in the love and comfort of each other's presence.

You shifted to roll onto your back, granting you a full view of his face, catching the morning light that highlighted the green in his eyes. His hand, warm and comforting, continued its gentle journey, now caressing your stomach in a soothing rhythm.

"Morning," you replied, your voice soft, filled with the warmth of waking up next to him, a simple exchange that held the weight of all your shared mornings and the promise of many more to come.

You shared a brief kiss, and then it dawned on you. It was Friday. The day he was set to deploy. The sudden realization washed over you with a mix of emotions, a jolt that brought the world into sharp, painful focus. For a moment, everything around you seemed to freeze.

Jake noticed the change in your demeanor immediately, his expression shifting from contentment to concern. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft, already dreading the answer he suspected.

"It's Friday," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder would make it all the more real. "You're leaving today."

Jake's face fell, the weight of the day suddenly pressing down on him, a stark contrast to the lightness of the previous night's vow renewal and celebration. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before he responded.

"Yeah, it is," he acknowledged, his tone somber. He reached out, taking your hands in his, seeking to bridge the physical space between you with his touch. "I wish… I wish we had more time."

The room fell silent, save for the soft sounds of the morning outside, a stark reminder of the world moving forward, indifferent to the personal heartache unfolding within. Jake looked into your eyes, the depth of his love and the pain of impending separation mingling in his gaze.

"I know this is hard," he continued, squeezing your hands gently. "And I'd give anything to stay here with you, but I have to go. Remember, no matter where I am, I'll always be with you." His voice was steady, but you could hear the underlying emotion threatening to break through.

You nodded, struggling to hold back tears. "You know, it almost felt easier when I could just think of my husband out there, doing his job. But these past few days... they've really opened my eyes to the reality of what you do, Jake. And I'm so incredibly proud of you. But that doesn't make this goodbye any less difficult."

He pulled you into a tight embrace, a silent promise of return, a moment of connection to sustain you both through the months ahead. "I'll be back before you know it," he whispered. "I love you, more than anything."

"I love you too," you whispered back, holding onto him, wishing you could stop time, if only for a little while longer.

"I need to be at the base by one, but until then, we can just stay here together," he suggested.

The offer to stay wrapped up in each other's arms, even for just a few more hours, was a small comfort but a cherished one. You nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment, and settled more deeply into his embrace. The world outside the boundaries of this embrace seemed distant, as if the reality of his departure was suspended in the safety of this moment.

After parking the rental car in a spot at the base, both you and Jake exited the vehicle, picked up his bag, and made your way towards the building where the rest of the family was waiting.

As you observed Jake sharing embraces with family members, a female voice beside you caught your attention.

"I still can't figure out how he managed to land you," the voice remarked, prompting you to turn and see Phoenix standing there.

You responded with a smile and shared an embrace with her.

"Oh, Phoenix, I just wish we had more time to get to know each other," you expressed.

"That would be nice. Maybe then I could start to make some sense of your husband's mind."

You laughed in response. "Good luck with that!"

Glancing around her, you inquired, "Phoenix, don't you have any family here?"

"No, my family's back in Maryland. I visit home now and then, but I didn't make the trip this time."

Taking her hands in yours, you offered, "Well, you have my number now. If there's anything you need, just let me know, okay?" Your eyes briefly met Jake's, who was cradling his nephew. "And keep an eye on that knucklehead for me, will ya?"

Phoenix's smile broadened. "It's the least I can do."

After another warm embrace between you two, Jake approached with his nephew in tow. He extended his hand, gently taking yours. "And what are you two talking about over here?"

With a smile, you responded, "Phoenix and I are planning to keep in touch during the deployment."

Jake's eyebrow lifted in intrigue as he glanced between the two of you. "Oh, really?"

"Really," you affirmed, then draped your free arm over Phoenix's shoulders, both of you sharing a smile.

Jake gave Phoenix a mischievous look. "You better not be warping my wife's mind," he teased.

Phoenix returned his look, a playful glint in her eye. "She did marry you, remember?"

"Five minutes!" came a shout from nearby.

Turning to Phoenix one last time, you reiterated, "I meant what I said. Anything you need."

"Thanks," she responded, gratitude evident in her voice. The two of you shared one more embrace.

Audrey approached, taking Wyatt into her care. "Momma said it's time to give you two the last few minutes." She scooped up Wyatt and retreated back to the family.

"Talk to you later," Phoenix called out, making her way toward the building.

Jake took your hands in his, and together, you leaned in until your foreheads gently touched.

"I'm glad we got through this," you said, your gaze locked with his, conveying a depth of emotion. "It brought back a lot of memories of when we first met," you continued, the reminiscence of your early days together adding a layer of sweetness to the present, but then you remembered and it showed on your face.

"Y/N. I'm not going to do what I did before. I swear," he said earnestly.

"I didn't think you would do what you did before either, but you did," you replied, the hurt still lingering in your voice.

He gently tightened the grip of your hands, seeking to reassure you. "It's different this time, Y/N. I swear," he insisted, hoping to convey the sincerity of his intentions and the depth of his commitment. "Please, don't end this on a sad note."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the earnest plea for trust despite the shadows of past mistakes. It was a moment of vulnerability, of two hearts laid bare with the complexities of love and the fear of loss intermingling.

"I don't want to end on a sad note either," you admitted, allowing a small, hopeful smile to form on your lips.

The air between you felt charged with a renewed sense of commitment, a mutual recognition of the hurdles you've overcome the last couple of weeks and the hurdles that lie ahead.

"Let's make a promise," you suggested softly, a glimmer of hope threading through your voice. "To always find our way back to each other, no matter what happens. To remember this moment, and why we're fighting for this."

Jake's response was immediate, a reflection of his own hopes and fears. "I promise, Y/N. With everything I am. We'll make it through. And I'll be counting down the days until I can hold you again."

Before you realized it, his lips met yours in a kiss that was passionate, gentle, and filled with love. His hands found their way to your waist, while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling each other closer.

In that kiss, all the words that couldn't be spoken, all the fears, hopes, and dreams you both held, seemed to dissolve, leaving only the raw, undeniable connection you shared. It was a reminder, a seal on the promise just made, speaking volumes of the love that had weathered storms and would continue to do so.

As you finally parted, breathless and with hearts pounding, you rested your forehead against his, eyes closed, savoring the lingering warmth of the moment.

"Remember this," Jake whispered, as if reading your thoughts. "Whenever it gets tough, remember this feeling, this promise. We're stronger than the distance, stronger than the time apart."

You nodded, opening your eyes to meet his gaze once more. In them, you saw not just the love he felt for you but a determination, a resolve that matched your own. It was a look that said, no matter the miles, no matter the days, the bond you shared would not just endure; it would thrive.

"I will," you assured him, voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overcome you. "I'll remember, and I'll be waiting here, stronger for it, the moment you return."

With one last embrace, one last kiss, you committed the moment to memory, a beacon for the both of you in the days to come. As Jake finally had to pull away, heading towards his deployment, you stood watching, a mix of pride and longing in your heart.

The family gathered around, and Cindy draped an arm around your shoulders. "You okay?"

Reflecting for a moment, you replied, "You know, it was somehow easier four years ago, even though it broke my heart. But this time, it's even more heart-wrenching."

Cindy pulled you in tighter, and you rested your head on her shoulder, seeking comfort.

Jake turned for one final look, sending you a kiss through the air. Playing along, you mimed catching it and pressed it to your lips, then sent one back to him. He mimicked catching it, placing it tenderly on his lips. Then, with a heavy heart, you watched him turn away and disappear into the building, the door sealing shut behind him.

A single tear traced a path down your cheek.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891

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[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

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader

pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake

word count: 3.2k

The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene. 

Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion. 

Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.

“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”

“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”

“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.

“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”

“I think she might hit him.”

“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”

Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there. 

As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night. 

You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers. 

An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme. 

“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”

“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”

“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.

“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”

“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?” 

“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”

“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”

“Got it, thanks!”

You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.

“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you. 

“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass. 

“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you. 

“You’re Jake?”

“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.

“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”

“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”

“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”

“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”

You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job. 

“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.” 

“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”

“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”

“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.

“You’re funny, I like that.”

“I bet you do.” 

Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round. 

“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.

It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.

“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”

“Only the ones worth following.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”

“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”

“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”

“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”

Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting. 

“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.

“But you love it, don’t you?” 

Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires. 

Fuck it. 

Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you. 

“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”

“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”

Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second. 

“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.

“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin. 

It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.

“Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”

“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”

“Now, that any way to ask for it?”

A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more. 

“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”

“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.

You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.

“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”

“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.

“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”

Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.

“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”

You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake. 

Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours. 

“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.

“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.

“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up. 

“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”

“Mhmm? What’s that?”

“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.” 

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin fic #hangman #top gun: maverick fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #lt. jake seresin x reader #lt. jake seresin x you #lt. jake seresin #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin smut #lt jake seresin smut #hangman smut #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you

[seresinhangmanjake]

Rather Be With You

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

Warnings: cursing. I think that's it.

Notes: this was inspired by an ask (💐) from a bit ago. Sorry it took so long. So much happened in the last week and a half, some good some bad, and it just got on top of me. Writing had to come second. I have probably written better in my life haha, but I tried.

Words: 1972

---

“You know he's only messing with you, right?���

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands together. Surely it had been a while. For the entirety of the morning, perhaps? Rooster had made his teasing comments at seven a.m. sharp and they were due to dock at noon. Had it been that long? Or had he really managed to shove many hours worth of painful thoughts into just a few short minutes? Somehow, he figured, it was one or the other. No in-between.

When his eyes flicked up, Nat’s face seemed to hint at the former. 

It made sense, he supposed. Spending hours thinking about you wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually, though, those thoughts were a bit nicer, with you naked and smiling, laughing, or whispering sweet words to him. He liked those better than the ones that had plagued him for…well, however long he’d been sitting there.

“He knows what he said isn’t true,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have had the balls to make jokes like that if he thought they would hold any weight. Trust me, no one particularly enjoys pissing you off.”

He wasn’t pissed off, though. He was devastated at the seeds of doubt planted in his head; at the pain and insecurity that came with the twisted knife to his gut. He hated the images forced into his mind at his friend’s words; the ones of you with other men; the ones that made it terribly clear how little you considered or missed him in his absence. 

“Jake, she waited for you. I know she did.”

“Yea? How?” he asked. 

Phoenix opened her mouth quickly, just as he would have had someone asked him a few hours ago if you loved him like he loved you—ready to confirm with a smile on his face. But if made to think of the answer for more than a half-second, without the hope and giddiness fueling his enthusiasm, he realized he couldn’t actually say for sure if you loved him, just as Nat now could not say with certainty that you had waited for him. 

Her mouth closed. 

"Exactly. You don't know," he said. "It’s not like I was smart enough to ask her to be my girlfriend before we left. She has no obligation to me, so why would she have bothered to wait six months to have me when she could have anyone?"

The brunette shook her head. “I don’t believe she's like that."

Leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms, Jake just barely held himself back from a scoff. "Like what, Nat? That wouldn't make her anything other than a woman who found someone new to sleep with after the guy she was sleeping with disappeared for half a year.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I know I didn't disappear. But I’ve been gone longer than we’d been together," he said, his voice drifting as he imagined what he hadn't stopped to consider before; a nightmare that, if proven true, would cleanly snap his heart in half. "Joke or not, Rooster could very well be right.”

—

"You're overthinking,” Penny’s voice snuck in from your left. 

She reached out to take the beer glass from your hand, polished almost too clean after the twenty minutes you spent absentmindedly running a rag over it. Your mind had been too occupied with troubled thoughts to notice your unceasing drag of the dishtowel around the cylindrical shape of the glass. 

It came free from your hand with ease, and as Penny placed it back on its shelf, you spewed, "What if he hooked up with someone? What if he decided six months was too long to wait for a woman that isn't his girlfriend?” You finally faced her just to find her rolling her eyes. “He likes sex, Penny. A lot. There are plenty of willing women and he's practically insatiable."

"When it comes to you, maybe."

The tenseness in your shoulders from well-formed stress was heavy with your exhale, forcing your shoulders to fall forward and your posture to take a hit. "Penny…" you groaned.

"I'm telling you, there's no way he messed around with anyone,” she swore, leaning back against the bar. "Besides, it's frowned upon to get involved with your coworkers."

"You think that's ever stopped Jake?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side as she considered. "Ok, fair enough,” she agreed. “Once upon a time, that definitely wouldn't have stopped him. But after meeting you, he hasn't looked at another woman."

You couldn’t say that provided you with any relief. Jake had always presented as an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type of man. He wasn’t a worrier. Once something exited his periphery, it promptly left his brain, discarded with all past challenges or predicaments. And wasn’t that what you were? An obstacle? He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend for a reason. Holding on to you for more than just the night didn’t necessarily make you more special than any of the other women. Perhaps it simply made you convenient.  

"You don’t know, Penny. You’re not with him 24/7."

Penny muttered something under her breath. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple and when they dropped back to her side, the stare she shot you was imbued with determination. "Look, my bar is where Seresin used to do his "best work," as he liked to say,” she said, and you made a face. "But the only work he's been putting in since he met you has involved getting you to like him and making you happy after you two started your little…thing." 

"You may not pay attention, but I do," she practically scolded. "Now, a month ago you were excited to meet him when he got back, and then you let your thoughts get away from you and it’s fucking everything up." 

To your own shame, you couldn't deny that. So you didn't bother, rather opting to nibble on your thumbnail.

"They'll be back soon, so are you coming with me or not?"

—

He didn’t know what he was doing, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. But he felt like a heavy weight, an anchor in a sea of levity. Looking around, the men and women he’d been packed in with for the last six months were thrilled, the room sprinkled with smiles and laughs of giddiness in anticipation of having their families in their arms again. 

He didn’t have that. 

He wanted to have it, but that was fully reliant on you. Your feelings. Your wants and desires. Your plan for your future. Jake could imagine a world where he had the strength to beg to be a part of your life—to plead as desperately as if fighting for enough air to fill his lungs—but reality made that entirely out of his will and control. So he didn't shove his way forward when they made it home. He couldn't bring himself to jump in front of the others who had people waiting for them upon their return. Instead, he let them file out, his team included, until he was one of the final few to step back on dry, solid land. 

As he walked by couple after couple, family after family, his already weak composure began to crumble at its edges. The people milling around him felt like a mocking montage of the life he didn’t have. Men and women kissing their partners or spouses, hugging their children with no intent of letting go, their tears coating the ground with joy. 

Jake's chest constricted. He needed to get himself on the other side of it, but weaving through the mass of bodies proved harder than he expected. 

His shoulders bumped into theirs, his chest skimming across backs and limbs when he turned to his side to sneak through narrow openings. Little kids ran into his legs like spinning tops on the loose from their wound-up energy finally releasing, though each one quickly recovered and returned to their parents, maintaining the same level of enthusiasm they had prior to smacking face-first into a muscled calf. 

With each unintentional nudge, he apologized, but no one so much as noticed, too engrossed in their relief at making it home unscathed or in seeing their loved ones still intact. Somewhere, his teammates were doing the same. They’d found their partners, and he thought he’d found his, but his overconfidence in your feelings kept him from ensuring you were actually together. And maybe it was too late. Maybe he would have no choice but to watch you move on from him.  

Finally breaking through the edge of the crowd, Jake took his first deep breath. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his truck. He didn’t turn when rushed footsteps grew closer until they sounded as if right on his tail. 

“Jake.”

He paused and sighed. He should’ve known he would imagine your voice. Six months without that lovely sound, his only chance at hearing it being within his dreams, took its toll. It haunted him like a ghost on that ship. Of course it wouldn’t cease just because he was home.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t hear me.” There was a soft chuckle, then, “Well, at least I hope you didn’t hear me.”

He spun on his heel and was greeted with your smile. It lacked its carefree nature, instead just barely failing to conceal a twinge of nerves, but beautiful nonetheless. He couldn’t help but smile back. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps closer. 

“I came with Penny.” The roundness of your cheeks turned pink from your blush. You lightly shrugged. “I missed you.”

With those words, Jake knew Rooster was deserving of a swift smack upside the head, one he very well may deliver. You cared. You missed him, even. 

Fucking Rooster.

“Oh, I, um,” you continued, your eyes falling down to your hand. “I got you these. It feels silly now, but at the time I thought they would be nice, I guess.”

He followed your line of sight to the small bundle in your hand. Five long stems were tight in your grip, the bulbs on their ends made up of layers of silky red petals. 

"I was thinking," you swallowed hard and met his gaze, "I don't actually know if you like flowers. And if you do, I didn't know your favorite. I just picked mine." The sweet grin that returned to your face practically demanded he kiss you. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. All of you. Every little bit. 

And you weren't wrong. He hadn't had a favorite. 

He did now. 

Jake swallowed through the tightness in his throat, fighting back the stinging in the corners of his eyes. 

He didn't get gifts, and certainly not from the women he was with. But then again, with the exception of you, he hadn't chosen to be with a woman for more than a night or two in the last decade. 

"I like the yellow ones but they symbolize friendship and that wasn't really what I was going for, so I—"

"I love you.”

Your smile, your jaw, your hand, fell. "You…what?"

He let out a chuckle and reached for you. "Come here."

You didn't hesitate sliding your hand into his and he quickly pulled you to him, your chests hitting, lips meeting with an intensity that he hoped expressed even just a lick of how much he missed you. You draped your arms around his shoulders and the petals of the flowers tickled the nape of his neck. 

"Six months was too long," you whispered when you separated. 

He nudged his nose against yours. "Way too long."

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #tgm fic #tgm

[thatlovinfeelin]

Swan Song | Jake Hangman Seresin |

Carole Bradshaw was pregnant when Goose died. Newly pregnant, too early to even know. The pregnancy was hard, not just emotionally but physically. The birth was even harder, but in the end Carole was left with a beautiful baby girl. She had Goose’s eyes from the start, big and brown, just like her big brother Bradley. Her smile was contagious from the very beginning and soon she was growing into a beautiful young woman. 

Y/N was very close with her big brother Bradley. They were nearly inseparable. So when Bradley joined the Navy, it took everything to convince Y/N that she shouldn’t follow in his footsteps. She went to college nearby, and got her degree slowly but surely. And once it was all said and done, and Bradley had a permanent position at Miramar, Y/N joined him there. 

“C’mon! Just take me for one drink!” You begged your older brother, “You never let me meet any of your friends! Even Penny said you should let me come!”

“Penny needs to mind her own business,” Bradley grumbled, throwing on one of your dad’s old Hawaiian shirts. 

“No, Penny definitely needs to butt in more,” You argued, “She wants me to actually make friends here. Outside of the studio!” 

“You’re the one who decided to move here,” Bradley pointed out. 

“And you’re the one who keeps me virtually locked up here!” 

“It’s my job to protect you. None of the people I work with are worth knowing, anyway, aside from Phoenix maybe.”

“Great, so introduce me to Phoenix!” You begged. 

“One drink,” He held up one finger, eyebrows pinched tight. He wasn’t joking. You were his baby sister, it was his job to look after you and protect you from everyone and everything. Including everyone he worked with. 

He wasn’t even sure if the Daggers knew he had a little sister. Phoenix and Bob knew, because they were Phoenix and Bob. But the others had no idea, and Bradley planned on keeping it that way if he could help it. He wanted you to stay as far away from military men as you possibly could 

“Two,” You bargained. 

“Fine, then you’re coming home.”

“You have to play me one song too,” You said firmly, “One round of Great Balls and I’ll be happy.”

“You have yourself a deal,” He sighed, “Now c’mon. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

You threw your arms up in victory and ran to go change quickly out of your leotard. Twenty minutes later, you were pulling into the parking lot of the famous Hard Deck. Another five minutes after that and you had a cocktail in your hands as you watched Brad mingle with various people in uniform. He hated wearing his uniform to the Hard Deck, he always came home to change first. 

“Penny, my dear, can I get another one?” A blonde asked, “Thanks darlin!” 

You rolled your eyes and took another sip. Once the blonde had his new bottle of beer he turned his attention to you, which you were hoping to avoid. You had watched him watching just about every girl in this bar. He seemed to know everyone, and know all of the girls. It made you want to be sick. 

“Now who might you be, sweetheart?” 

You eyed Penny, who not so casually eyed the bell by the corner of the bar top. You wanted to laugh knowing she’d ring this guy in an instant for you. All you had to do was say the word. 

“Not your type,” You replied, taking another sip, “Try the leggy blonde at the other end. She’s drooling over all of you patches.”

“I don’t think I want a tag chaser,” He replied, southern draw on full display, “What’s your name?”

You huffed before setting your cocktail down on the bar in front of you and turning slightly to face the man, “They call me Swan.”

“You a pilot?” He questioned, eyebrows raised. 

“No, just related to one. My uncles gave me my own callsign when I was a kid,” you weren’t sure why you were even telling him any of this. You really wanted to tell him to fuck off back to whatever backwoods hovel he came from. 

But there was something about the way he was looking at you that made you want to see a little more of him. His green eyes were intoxicating, and you were certain he used that to his advantage with all of the ladies. You didn’t want to be another notch on his bedpost. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as he brought the bottle to his lips. You did a quick survey of the bar to see if Brad was anywhere around, but he was engrossed in a game of pool with several other uniforms. Maybe you could have a bit of fun tonight. Just for this one time. 

“What do they call you?” You asked, leaning in a little further. 

“Hangman.”

Fuck. You knew that name. He worked directly with Bradley, and obviously he had no idea who you were, otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you. If he knew he would probably be fending off the guy at the other end of the bar who wouldn’t stop eyeing you. 

“Well, Hangman,” You said leaning in a little closer, “Why don’t you buy me another drink?”

He smiled slowly and waved over one of the other bar tenders, Grace you think her name was, and then there was another drink in your hand. 

“So, what brings you here? Never seen you before,” Hangman asks over the music. 

“My brother and I live nearby, finally convinced him to bring me along with him tonight,” You replied simply. 

“Do you need your brother’s permission?” He playfully questioned. 

“I think you’ll find, Hangman, that I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

You drank the rest of your cocktail and slid off of the barstool, “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes and find out.”

And that was the first time you fucked Jake Hangman Seresin. In the bathroom of the Hard Deck, while your brother and all of his friends were just feet away. Brad never found out though. Instead he marched his way over to the piano and started playing Great Balls the second you reappeared from the bathroom. You laughed and skipped over, sliding onto the bench next to him. 

Jake was a little confused, watching you cozy up to Bradley when he’d been balls deep inside of you just minutes before. He was seething when you leaned over and kissed Rooster’s cheek. He didn’t think you were one to be fast and loose with everyone. But maybe he was wrong. After all, he didn’t even know your real name. 

“Who’s that with Rooster?” He asked Phoenix through gritted teeth. 

“Uh, I think that’s his little sister,” She replied, “Y/N, but everyone calls her Swan.”

Fuck. Jake Hangman Seresin was fucked. Because he’d just fucked Bradshaw’s baby sister. The baby sister that he only mentioned in passing because he had a picture of her in his locker and in his plane. Jake joked one day  that she had to be a hell of a girl and Rooster let it slip, as if he didn’t even realize he’d said it. Maybe he didn’t. But Jake felt like he was going to be sick. 

Did you know who he was? 

When the music stopped Rooster came over to the Dagger group, you following closely behind him. You had a soft smile on your face as Bradley went around the group and introduced you. But when he got to Hangman you smile turned almost innocent, so much so it made Jake hard again just looking at you. You were smiling like you didn’t have his dick in your mouth, or so deep in your pussy that you kept saying you could feel him in your stomach. 

“Hangman, this is my baby sister,” Bradley grumbled, “Y/N, this is Jake. But we all call him Hangman.”

You smiled again and stuck out your hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Swan.” 

You were both very much fucked. Because all either one of you wanted to do was grab the other and continue what you started in the bathroom. All you wanted to do was kiss him silly in front of everyone, and then drag him to his no doubt, big pickup truck, and fuck him in it. Truth be told, that’s all Jake wanted to do too. 

“Nice to meet you, Swan.”

#jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #Jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman imagine #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine

[kryptonitejelly]

you can't tell me this is not flyboy!jake coded because look at his confident eyes?? and the smirk??

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cv2GNRUq_Ql/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

ugh, i’ve seen this and its sooooo fucking cute 🥹 100% flyboy!jake. i mean that look after, cmonnnnnnnnnn. i really struggled at which era to put this in, but i’m going to say flyboy!era - some time post part 6.

-

“Babe, does my shirt smell weird to you?” You hear Jake’s voice cut across the conversation you are having with Yale and Payback.

“No,” you throw back your response absent-mindedly, not breaking the series of small nods which you are giving in response to the words coming from Yale’s mouth.

“It does,” you hear Jake’s statement come across, more firmly this time and it makes you shoot Yale an apologetic look as you turn your body back towards your fiancé who is holding the collar of his shirt out towards you.

“It smells like detergent,” you say as you lean forward, the scent hitting your nostrils still centimetres from Jake’s collar. He doesn’t respond and you lean further into Jake, when you feel it, his lips against your forehead. You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips which causes the lips against your forehead to tick upwards into a smile.

“You sneak,” you laugh as you pull away, amusement tinged with a slight touch of exasperation as you find yourself staring into a pair of smug greens.

“Your sneak,” Jake corrects, throwing you a sly wink.

“Again, you guys make me sick,” you hear Fanboy comment from across the table.

“This is your fault,” Phoenix points towards Yale, shooting him an accusatory glance.

“What did I do?” Yale defends, both hands raised.

“Rule no. 1, we don’t fight with Seresin for her attention,” Rooster supplements gleefully, “he gets needy,” he adds in a stage whisper.

“I do,” Jake affirms, the ghost of a smug smile still on his lips a she slides a hand onto your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

#flyboy #flyboy!universe #flyboy!jake #flyboy ideas #flyboy drabbles #jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin imagine #hangman #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader #tgm #tgm fic #tgm imagine #top gun #top gun imagine #not cm

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 2.7 | Jake Seresin x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents, grief and manipulation, lying, mentions of pregnancy (rumours), tabloids, media, Jake’s feelings, Apollo making bad decisions <3, wc: 5.8k

…

Jake has been having weird dreams recently. No, weird isn’t the word. Downright unnerving. The kind of dreams that have you waking up breathless, and drenched in sweat, and alone. He has been here before. Not in this particular hotel room is SoCal, but in this position. Alone, and having weird dreams.

The sheet under him is damp, and he can feel one bead of sweat in particular following the length of his spine. It’s a sick kind of feeling, like waiting for a fever to break. He swallows thickly before he even begins to stir. His throat is sore and dry. His legs ache before he even attempts to stretch them

Without opening his eyes, he knows that his bed is empty.

But, even in this empty bed, filled with that sick kind of feeling, Jake would rather be here. Being awake, left with the sobriety of conscious thought, is a far milder form of torture than letting himself drift off again. Here, awake, you’re alive.

You aren’t in danger, screaming out his name and begging for his help. Even here, even awake, the sound of your voice rings in his ears and his forearms tingle like your fingertips are still digging into them.

He can barely sleep now, not until the exhaustion finally comes for him and he knocks out. Even then, even when he finally manages to sleep, he doesn’t rest. He’s met with the same dreams over and over.

This hotel room in San Diego is far from feeling like home. It doesn’t smell right. It smells like air freshener and laundry. He can hear traffic and voices in the hall. The room feels too still. Jake misses that familiar feeling of your restless sleep, your limbs all over him and your face pressing into the crook of his neck, your heart beating against his skin. He misses the smell of you, the soft perfume of your body wash that always lingers from showering with him the night before.

He parts his dry lips and lets out a long exhale. His fingers twitch at his side before he manages to lift his arm and rub at his eyes.

As much as real rest would probably heal the aches in his body — he’s not in his twenties anymore, nature keeps reminding him of that — Jake won’t let himself stay in bed. An hour after sunrise, he’s jogging along the viewpoint by Ocean Beach. He’s listening to his country running playlist that you make fun of him for.

He thinks of all the mornings he let you coax him into staying in bed. Those mischievous little smiles and your legs stretching out across the fabric, tangling between his, your hands adventuring across his muscles. He has always been an early riser, but he misses those lazy mornings. He hates himself for wasting so many — arguing with you or beating himself up for what he was keeping from you. None of it seems worth it now.

This beautiful day, this soaring sun. Clear sky, ocean air, salt on his skin. He would give it all up in an instant.

He’d give anything to come home and find you sprawled out along the couch, a straw between your lips and another one of those mischievous little smiles toying on them too, asking him, “How was the run, cowboy?”

His feet hit the pavement to the beat playing through his ears, his heartbeat starting to quicken through his chest. Faster than normal. He’s a pretty fit guy, he works out regularly. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Or eating great. Sweat beads along his hairline as he pushes himself harder anyway. A simple 5k hasn’t ever stunted him before, and he won’t let it now.

The shore passes him by in his peripheral, traffic on his other side. He wonders if you’re up yet, if this is hitting you as hard as it’s hitting him. There are a hundred and twelve days left of your father’s term, three-sixty-five after that where you’ll still have a service detail. Jake read those papers from back to front twice. Four hundred more days of this is going to kill him.

Twenty minutes into his 5k, something snaps him out of his pity party. Something to his right, barely there in the corner of his vision. He turns his head, brows drawing together. Harvard. Brigham fucking Lennox, a kid who was brought up to be just as pretentious as the people who named him that had hoped.

The Weapons Systems Officer is leaning out of the driver’s side window of a black Jeep Wrangler. Shirtless and wearing sunglasses, probably on his way to some party on the beach that Jake would have been throwing if things had gone down differently. He’s yelling something.

“What?” Jake pants out, plucking the earbud from his ear, squinting through the sun at the ghost of a friend, leaning out of the driver’s side window. Harvard’s smile practically doubles, stretching ear to ear.

“I said congratulations, Hangman!” Harvard’s East-Coast accent booms across the street. Jake’s brows draw together, his mouth pulling into a contradictory frown.

Just like that, the light turns green and Harvard lifts one of those stupid bear paws he’s got for hands and waves, then the Jeep pulls off down the street. Congratulations, Hangman. Jake stares after the car, catching his breath.

It speeds away from him with the flow of traffic, while Jake himself can’t fathom moving from this spot. There’s a twisting, tightening knot in his stomach that threatens to have him heaving on this sidewalk like a hungover teenager.

Straightening up a little, Jake inhales all the sea salt and humidity that this little patch of earth has to offer. It weighs down throat sick feeling just enough for it to sink back to the pit of his stomach. If there’s one thing that Jake will remember about his career in the Navy, it’s how those guys tick. That Cheshire Cat smile doesn’t ever mean anything good.

He stretches his neck side to side and pushes his right hand into his pocket. Jake has to lift his left hand to shield his eyes as he looks down at his phone and finally turns off the do not disturb feature. He hadn’t wanted to listen to his mother’s pity for the second time in a five year period — he loves her, but he won’t ever let her see him with a broken heart again.

Blinking, he pulls the phone closer to his face. He’s got almost nine hundred notifications pending on his Home Screen. He swipes briefly into them and reads the top text message.

Hey, man, it’s Rooster. Hope you’re doing okay. Just saw the news.

Jake squints. He didn’t even know that Bradshaw still had his phone number. Jake’s mind instantly thinks of the worst. She’s dead. He’s been gone for a week, and now she’s dead. Swallowing, he continues. His thumb pushes the notification away and unlocks the phone all together.

He opens an internet browser and moves to click on the search bar, but he doesn’t have to. It’s right there staring back at him. Headline news, highlighted on the browser. First Daughter’s illicit affair with bodyguard. Your name plastered across the front page. Then, his eyes land on it. Knocked up.

It’s a picture of you with your hand extending backwards towards Jake in a crowd. It was from before anything had even happened with you. He remembers that dress, and the way your palm fit into his. It’s got emojis edited over it, tabloid-style, babies and bottles.

“Sorry, excuse me.” Jake flinches. His head whips around and finds a woman with a stroller staring at him apologetically. It’s double-wide, and there are two twin girls sitting in the pink and white thing, staring at him too. Twins.

His eyes widen. They aren’t very old. One of them is drooling all over their fist and the other is happily making some kind of cookie turn to mush in their hand. They’re watching him intently.

He’s blocking the sidewalk. That’s all it is. That’s why all three of them are staring at him. He’s just standing like an idiot in the middle of the path.

“Yeah. Sorry. Sorry.” Jake mutters, stumbling back out of her way, turning his attention back to the phone and clicking on a link. He’s zoned out again just as quickly, brows furrowed as he studies the webpage.

Insider source. Going on for months. Fired. Cover-up. Uncovered images. He sits on the wall bordering the beach and gawks.

The leaked security feeds had nothing to do with you, even though you had figured it would all come spilling out eventually. Once the media gets a whiff of a scandal, it’s impressive what they can find. Oddly, you’re okay with the evidence that they found. You know that there must be worse out there.

The worst that they’ve got is you and Jake pictured leaving the same bathroom minutes apart in the White House. Couple of kissing pictures. Old photos of Jake guiding you through busy crowds with his fingertips brushing yours are suddenly front page news.

You might be okay with what the internet has discovered — after all, you were prepared for it. Jake, however, suddenly starts to understand why that sick, twisting feeling won’t leave him alone.

He studies these images for longer than he’ll ever admit, all of these photos of the two of you together, grainy and from a bird’s eye angle. All it does is make that feeling in his chest grow. A simmer spilling over into a full blown boil. His ears hot, his throat thick, his fingers trembling. All of these reminders of how many times he got to touch you, and he sits there by the beach not knowing if he’ll ever get to do it again. Not after this.

It’s far too nice of a day for this. Mid-morning down by the San Diego River Bikeway. Blue skies and a soft, salty breeze cutting through the warming day. Everyone carries on around him.

He stares at the image left on his phone now. It’s a picture of you as a kid, standing next to your father and looking up at him with a big smile on your face. Even then, it’s at a campaign event. He isn’t even looking at you. Right next to that, a stark comparison, is a picture of you at the party you had snuck out to in the hills. You’re wearing a cap sleeve mini dress that hugs your body like a second skin, and Jake’s standing right behind you, smiling, pointing to a table of liquor.

That’s the narrative they’re spinning, and Jake is glad.

He’s panicking, he’s sick and his head feels like it’s going to roll right off of his shoulders, but he’s so glad that it isn’t your name being dragged through the mud. Suddenly, his biggest concern is no longer whether you’re awake and missing him. You’re all alone, probably scared out of your mind.

All those mornings with you keeping him in bed, sure, they were the focus a few minutes ago. Now he’s thinking of the evenings he had spent with you wrapped tight in his arms, calming your worries, soothing you to sleep. He hadn’t once dreamt of leaving you alone with those worries ever again, much less of being the cause of them.

The two of you hadn’t exactly been careful. Jake hadn’t touched you much since the two of you had been here together, four or so weeks ago now. Not since he had gotten that phone call in the Hard Deck. But before that — there were points where the two of you had slept together four times in one day.

Jake’s feet stumble as he goes for his first step, almost tripping over himself. He picks at straws in his mind, finally starting to move, wracking his brain for answers. The downstairs bathroom near the garden in the White House — fuck, Jake hopes he didn’t make a baby in that place.

He’s still thinking about it once he’s stepping out of his car and slamming the door shut. Truthfully, he drove this route on autopilot. If Bradley Bradshaw still has Jake’s number, he probably still lives in the same place. That old bird always had a thing for the sentimental.

Speaking of sentimental, Jake’s got a bad taste in his mouth thinking about this whole thing. It’s not like, if you have this kid, it’s ever going to experience a normal life. Family Christmases seem far from possible after your dad just threatened to send Jake to jail.

He swallows softly, walking up the steps and knocking against the glass pane in the door. This place had seemed weird and old back then. A fifties style bungalow with awkward links to the city and far too much peace and quiet; it paled in comparison to Jake’s bachelor pad near base.

Now, it looks the exact same. Nothing has changed but Jake. Now, he looks at the six foot fence around the backyard and the slightly longer driveway so that it’s quiet and off the road, and it all makes sense. It’s practically perfect.

Jake blinks as the door pulls open. There he is again, for the second time in just over a month after four years of no contact. Bradley stares, eyes wide for a second as he processes who is standing in front of him. It takes a moment to register. He stiffens and grips the door handle tighter.

“Jake.” Bradley realizes, frowning slightly as he bumps the door against his shoulder, blocking the entryway with his body. He gives his old friend a quick look up and down. If there’s one person he hadn’t been expecting to see on his porch, shirtless and looking like hell, today it was Jake. “What’s up?”

“Can I use your phone? I need to make a call.”

“They didn’t have one in your… hotel room?” Bradley frowns. He nudges closer and pulls the door with him. Jake’s expression changes. So, Bradley’s got some girl inside. Jake couldn’t care less. There were times when they were deployed that Jake has heard and seen Bradley do things he’d rather not remember.

Now, he’s standing on Bradley’s front porch and ready to name each and every one of them in alphabetical order if the dumb bird doesn’t get a lot more compliant, quickly.

“I was closer to here. Look, I don’t care who you’ve got in there — can I please just make a call from your phone?” Jake rushes. Bradley sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek and turns his head to glance through into the hallway of his apartment.

Rooster has seen the articles. He knows why Jake’s standing at his front door drenched in sweat right now. He also knows that if he was in Jake’s shoes, he would be going out of his mind right now. Hell, if Rooster was in Jake’s shoes, he’s not sure he would have survived the past four years.

“Yeah. Sure. Come in, I’ll grab my phone.” He decides finally, already feeling that this is a bad idea from the second that Jake’s foot crosses the threshold. Bradley’s back is turned for exactly six paces.

“Babe—“

Jake’s head turns as Bradley picks his phone up from the couch. His brows knit together at the sound of a familiar voice — a masculine voice. They both turn their heads to stare at the man standing in Bradley’s hallway.

Javy swallows. He shifts uncomfortably on his weight and crosses his wrists like that will hide the fact that he’s wearing nothing but a charcoal coloured pair of Calvin Klein briefs.

Jake turns his head again, and this time finds Rooster turning beet red. If he wasn’t freaking out so badly, he might have cracked a joke.

“I mean… Rooster.” Javy corrects.

“Bradshaw, phone.” Jake reminds. Rooster blinks, tossing his phone across to Jake. Jake catches it in one hand and heads back out onto the front porch silently.

These people used to be his best friends. Once upon a time, this news would have been ground breaking to him. Rooster and Coyote. This would have taken him weeks to get over. Today, he doesn’t give a shit. Truthfully, from the deepest part of him, he doesn’t care about those people in the slightest.

All he cares about is you, going through exactly what he’s going through, alone.

He taps the number in to Bradley’s phone and it rings once before it is answered.

“Sir, I told you, she won’t speak to y—“

“Allen.” Jake breathed out and the other man stops speaking instantly. This isn’t allowed. This conversation shouldn’t be happening. No one really tried that hard to prevent it though, not really. Not when it was this easy. “Put her on the phone.”

Allen swallows softly as he turns his head and looks into the living room at the furious girl on the couch. Your father has been calling you all day, and now you’re being grilled by a California press representative. You just won’t talk.

“I can’t, sir. She’s in the middle of something right now.” Allen carries on like he’s still speaking to Mr. Head of State himself.

Jake opens his mouth but then quickly decides that he has to sit down before he can say something like this outside. He stumbles forwards and drops down onto Bradley Bradshaw’s porch step. He threw up here once in his twenties. Bradley didn’t invite him back much after that. “Is she pregnant?”

“I’m not sure. Sir.” Allen answers quietly. He presses his lips together in a tight line. With how fragile you’ve been recently, you’re going to lose it if you find out he spoke with Jake today. Currently, you appear to have taken a vow of silence. You’ve been tapping away at a laptop for hours. The entire staff has tried to put you on the phone with your father several times each. You just won’t talk to him.

Allen knows why you’re doing it. You want that selfish old bastard to panic. He can’t say he blames you.

“What do you mean you don’t fucking know? — She is or she isn’t. Allen, put her on the phone, I need to speak to her.” Jake bites. He rubs at his eyes, his head is pounding.

“I can’t do that. I would if I could.” Allen answers softly. Jake could continue to argue, but he knows this old jerk isn’t going to change his mind. His fist clenches around the chipped wooden step.

His throat strains. “Is — Is she okay?”

“No.” Allen answers calmly, leaning his back slightly against the wall behind him. Shooting a quick look in each direction, he lowers his voice again. “I… I think she might have let this get leaked on purpose.

“What?” Jake gawks. For the second time today, his world is turned on his axis and he has to reevaluate all of the information he has seen before. He rubs his knuckle into the socket of his eye, shaking his head like that will unscramble his train of thought.

“She told someone. I don’t see why she would, unless—“

You’re not pregnant. If you were, you wouldn’t tell a stranger. Unless this is the same girl you told before, about you and him. Fuck, he’s not sure what you would do anymore. He doesn’t have a clue.

“Fuck. Fuck. I need to see her. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—“ Jake pushes his fingers into his head and shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t pretend he hadn’t ever thought of what it would be like to have a family with you. Far in the future, he had hopes for plenty of things.

This wasn’t ever how he dreamed of finding out he was going to be a dad, he’s terrified. He can’t imagine how you’re feeling.

He needs to see your face.

“Jake. Don’t.” Allen whispers angrily, making Manny’s head shoot up. The older man turns on his heel and heads for the back door. This conversation can’t continue here, when Jake’s being this ridiculous. “What phone is this? — The house is full of staff right now, you can’t do this now. I could get her to call you. Later.”

“Yeah. I can keep the phone. Get her to call me back on this number. I swear, Allen, if I don’t hear from her today then I’m going to drive up there.”

“Alright!” Allen hisses into the phone, checking over his shoulder. He could be tanking his thirty year career just by having this conversation, much less by aiding and abetting your little affair. “I’ll figure it out. Just calm down. She’s… in a weird place right now and I don’t need you making it worse. This is going to blow over.”

“Making it— are you fucking kidding?”

The line clicks dead. Jake almost throws the phone across the front yard, but he doesn’t. For two reasons. The first, he needs to speak to you — if he doesn’t hear your voice today, he might actually go insane. The second, he knows that Rooster is watching and would be upset if Jake obliterated his phone.

Jake swallows dryly, then pushes himself to stand. Rooster and Coyote spring into action, trying to make it look like they hadn’t been eavesdropping, as Jake walks back into the living room. Javy is wearing sweatpants now. Jake doesn’t take notice of either one of them, not really.

“I need to keep your phone for today.” Jake says, offering no explanation to accompany the statement. They were listening, he doesn’t need to elaborate.

“Uh… alright. Can l… see something on there first?” Rooster asks, shooting an awkward glance across at Javy. Javy’s eyes widen as he turns to look at the phone in Jake’s hand. Jake passes it over compliantly.

Rooster perches on the arm of the couch and gets to work hiding all of the naked photos of Jake’s best friend in a secret album. Silence falls across the three of them. This is especially rough because anyone who knows Javy, knows that he’s a chatterbox. He loves to talk. He could talk to anyone about everything.

But he doesn’t know how to talk to Jake now.

The feeling isn’t good. Jake is the one who left. The one who couldn’t bare to see their faces, or hear their voices, or even think about the Hard Deck. He shut them out on purpose and most days, after he had first lost Dani, Jake had hoped he wouldn’t ever see a single one of them again.

He guesses now that maybe if he wasn’t seeing them, he could pretend that she wasn’t dead. That she was still sitting in that bar, playing pool with her friends, growing older like she was meant to.

Jake and Javy are thinking of the same thing. Dani. What things would be like if she hadn’t died. If Jake might have stayed — that’s not much of a question; he would have. He loved his life back then. But that’s all an if. Jake hates playing the ‘What If’ game. His counselor told him it isn’t healthy.

He could love his life now, maybe even more than he had back then. He doesn’t like to thing about you in the same vein as Danielle — it doesn’t seem right to compare you when you each were so different, and he was so different when he loved you and her.

He can’t keep thinking about it, it still makes him angry. So, he swallows and crosses his arms over his chest, turning his head towards Coyote. “So… you’re fucking Rooster.”

“Actually, I’m the one—“ Bradley stops talking as Jake and Javy turn to look at him together. He just smiles sheepishly, then turns his attention back to the phone.

“Actually, we’ve been dating for four months.” Javy explains, his lips tugging at a smile. He won’t quite let himself give into it. They’re both pretending that he isn’t standing there barely dressed.

Jake raises his brows. “Wow. Dating… you didn’t say anything when I was here last.”

“You didn’t tell us that you were sleeping with the President’s daughter.” Javy retaliates, this time giving into the amusement and letting a smirk plaster itself across his angled features.

Rooster looks up quickly and shoots a stern look across at his boyfriend. When they had discussed what they would say to Jake if they saw him during all of this, they had specifically agreed not to come at him head on.

Jake makes himself smile. “Dating. I guess. More than fucking, anyway.”

Doesn’t feel right to say that he might have found the love of his life, not when they all thought he had found it before.

Javy smiles back at him, arms folded across his bare chest. He gives a small nod. “So… are you really going to be a dad?”

Rooster looks up again, this time handing the phone back to Jake. Both of them stare at him now. The Hangman they knew back then would be taking this news a lot worse.

“I don’t know. I hope not.” The hope isn’t that there’s no baby because he doesn’t want one with you. That’s clear. He just can’t let you go through that without him right by your side. He wants more for you right now. He wants independence, and privacy. He wants whatever you want, and you’ve never once signaled to him that that would be a baby.

“Well… we were just going to watch the game later. If you wanted to hang out here, take your mind off things.” Bradley offers, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. Jake glances over towards Javy, then back. Then, down at the phone in his hand. It’s probably not cool to steal Rooster’s phone.

“Yeah, okay.” Jake decides quietly.

There’re a small clock in the corner of the TV screen. Jake sinks into Bradley’s couch, his arms crossed over his chest, and watches the minutes tick by. Bradley and Javy sit either side of him trying to prompt the conversation onward.

If this was a couple of years ago, Jake would be cracking jokes and this would feel as natural as breathing. Now, even breathing doesn’t feel all that natural. Each inhale feels like winding clock hands into place. Every exhale feels like he’s in flight school feeling that G-Force nausea again for the first time.

He wishes he hadn’t let it get this bad. That he hadn’t let these guys become strangers. He wishes he would have been there when Rooster and Coyote started dating, so he could figure it out before everyone else and bet Phoenix out of twenty dollars. He wonders if she knows yet.

“So, is my phone number gonna get put on a CIA watch list or something?” Rooster asks, one arm tucked behind his head and a beer in his hand. Jake almost scoffs at the idea, then stops to consider it. Maybe, actually. He turns his head to look at Rooster.

“Worried they’re going to hear all those voicemails Mav leaves you reminding you to water your plants?” Javy taunts from the other side of Jake. Jake snorts, looking between the two of them.

“You’re a farmer now, too, huh?” Jake chimes in.

“Oh yeah. Chillies, herbs, tomatoes, zucchini. He’s even got little gloves he wears when he gardens.” Javy spills, making Jake laugh for the first time. This next inhale feels softer, a little more natural. Making fun of Rooster will always feel natural.

Four hours away, your vow of silence still hasn’t let up. For the first time all day, you’ve moved from the couch. Allen had watched you stand up, slamming the laptop lid shut and tucking the thing under your arm. It hasn’t left your side in a day and a half.

If he’s right, and you’ve orchestrated this entire thing so far, he knows that it doesn’t stop with a scandal. No, you’re going right for the jugular with this thing. He trails behind you, footsteps quiet on the rug. And yet, you hear him anyway.

He stumbles as you round on him, doing his best to slow down and not completely mow you over in his stride. Those crows feet and sun-aged freckles aren’t fooling you, that stern-looking old man hasn’t ever been able to stop you doing anything.

“Why are you following me, Allen?”

He narrows those grey eyes at you and leans closer, “What the hell are you up to? — Don’t lie to me.”

Briefly, he’s met with silence. As much silence as is possible in your life. Downstairs is still buzzing with life, with phone calls. The entire house is trying to clean up the mess you made, all at once. Just like you wanted them to. Now, they’re all busy.

“I’m keeping a promise that I made to my dad.” You shrug. It’s the truth, in simple terms. You promised him you were going to ruin him, and that man raised you not to quit.

Allen looks heavenward, resting his hands on his hips. He remembers the day he met you, and how angry you were back then. Far too often since that day, he has found himself thinking of what he would say to you if you were one of his daughters. He sniffs, then exhales, dropping his neck and studying the carpet.

“I spoke to Jake today. He saw the news and he called me.” This time, when he lifts his gaze and looks at you, his jaw sets and his brows knit together. You might not be one of his daughters, but he knows you like you are. “I’m gonna let you speak to him, and you’re going to promise me something, kid.”

For the first time all day, that indifferent, angry look drops from your face and Allen sees you for what you are. Devastated. You nod your head furiously, blinking at him. “Anything.”

His expression dullens, eyes growing stormy. “You’ll drop this. Whatever you’re planning, whatever you’re doing — you’ll let it go.”

Your face blanks in front of him, then calms. You’re poker-facing him, he knows that look. He has known how to recognise it since you were young. Still, he waits for your answer.

“Okay.” You tell him, straightening out your mouth, giving him a curt nod.

Swiftly, he takes one step forwards and invades your space. He has let you get away with too much for too long. He acknowledges now, after he had retired, you would probably be dead if it wasn’t for Jake. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

“No. I’m serious. Swear to me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

If his definition of anything stupid is even remotely similar to Jake’s, you’re confident that you will have already disappointed the both of them. They would never approve. It’s not safe. But you’re not made of glass, and the things you have found could change everything.

It’s scary, really, the way you’re able to relax your face so solemnly. Allen’s been looking at that face almost every day for the last seven years, and you still manage to fool him.

“I swear. I swear that I’ll leave it alone, if you let me speak to him.”

Jake gets the call just after seven. He practically throws Coyote out of the way heading for the door. He staggers out onto the back porch and rests his hand against the stair railing, bracing his weight.

“Jake?”

For the past four nights straight, Jake’s subconscious has subjected him to nothing but your voice, strained in terror and pain, calling out for help. To hear it now, soft and calm — it feels like Jake’s lungs untwist and he can inhale deeper.

“Fuck, honey, I missed you.” He breathes out all at once, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Faintly, he can hear the soft whimper you make on the other end. The slight sniffle. He can’t see you, and he doesn’t ask to confirm, but he knows that you’re laying in his bed. It’s not just wishful thinking. He just knows that if he got in his car and drove there now, that’s where he would find you.

He likes the idea. If he has to wake up alone, at least he knows you’re still waking up in his bed somehow.

“I miss you so much.” You tell him quietly, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, his comforter hugged to your chest. With your eyes closed, it’s easier to pretend that he’s here with you.

“I have to ask. You’re not… — You aren’t—?”

“No, shit. I’m sorry. No.” You remember, giving a quick shake of your head. “I’m not. I’m not.”

Jake exhales and takes two steps down from the porch, shuffling down, settling onto his back on the grass. “I’ve been thinking all day about it. We haven’t talked about kids.”

“No, but it’s fine. I only said—“

“I want that,” Jake tells the sky, the phone pressed so close to his ear that he can listen to you breathing. “One day, I want to hear that news and I want us to be happy. And I want it to be our news, just ours. At least for a while.”

You press your face into the cold fabric of his pillow, letting it soak up the tears on your cheeks. He listens to you breathe a little while longer. It’s not what he’s used to. If you were really here, you’d be closer. Each of your exhales would fan out across his chest.

“I…” You almost tell him that you want that too, and it’s ridiculous but in that split-second, it just sounds too daunting. After all you’ve been through. All that the two of you have faced together. You’re just too scared to tell him. “I’m so sick of living like this.”

“I know, sweet girl, I know.” Jake murmurs. He’s so close to the phone that your mind fills in that blanks and you swear you feel the rumble in his chest that you only hear when you’re laying on him.

If you ever want any semblance of the life that Jake wants to give you, something has to give. You’ve got to be brave about it. It was never going to be easy.

“I really love you.” You tell him quietly, pulling his pillow close against your body. Jake blinks up at the sky and just for a moment wishes he was back home. At least there, the sky’s dark enough for him to pick out constellations. There, he would have something to focus on other than how empty he feels without you.

“I love you too, so much. I - I can’t stop thinking about you. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me what you’ve been doing.” He’s rambling a little. Salty tears spill onto your lips as they twist into a sad smile. If he wants to hear that you’re okay, that’s what you’ll tell him. The lie comes just as easily to Jake as it had in the promise you had made to Allen.

If you’re brave now, you’ve got the chance to make things right.

…

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

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[hangmansgbaby]

CONGRATS CASS!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU! 300 followers!

I’m requesting Jake with dealers choice of fluff prompts 1, 3, and/or 4!

Enjoy a celebratory Jake or two!

Dealers choice said 3!

Sweater Weather

Summary: Jake is about to leave on a year long deployment and you aren’t prepared for your boyfriend’s departure.

Prompt: “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Reader

Word count: <400

Masterlist | 300 Cele Masterlist

“What time do you ship out again?” You call from the kitchen of Jake’s apartment, cleaning the last of dishes from dinner

Tomorrow, your boyfriend of 6 months leaves on a year long deployment. The first you have seen and you are not ready for it.

“10, sweetheart.” Jake calls from the living room, gathering his things and making sure they are in order.

“And you’re gone for a whole year?” You ask moving to the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

“One year is gonna go by so fast sweetheart, you have no idea.” Jake smiles up at you as he makes his way across the room.

“I’m just gonna miss you.” You sigh as Jake pulls you close into a hug. You breathe in his scent, sandalwood, jet fuel, and 100% your Jake. “And the way you smell.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Jake chuckles out. “I’ll call, write emails, and I’ll even send letters.”

“I know.” You snuggle closer to his chest, trying to savor every last moment you can hold him this close. Suddenly you get an idea. “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater?”

“Why sweetheart?” Jake questions.

“It smells like you.” You admit, face still buried in his torso.

“Sweetheart you can have anything you want. In fact, just stay here or hell, move in!” Jake suggests.

“Really?”

“I was gonna ask you anyways before the deployment came up but yea, sweetheart. “ Jake smiles, turning your head to face him. “You’re lease ends in 2 months. Go ahead and start moving in here. Make it our place, okay?”

“But if your not here for the move how is it our place?” You ask, sweetly.

“I will be around for every future memory we make here, you surprise me by adding a little of you to every room in this apartment okay? That’ll keep you so busy you wont even know I’m gone.”

“I’ll know. I’ll always notice.” You reply, moving your face down again.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Jake replies softly, kissing the top of your head. “Come on, lets get some sleep.”

#gbaby 300 celebration #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman #hangman imagine #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin #hangman top gun #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #hangman fanfiction #hangman x you #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction

[ofstoriesandstardust]

like real people do (j.h.s.)

a/n: i watched set it up for the first time last night and got so inspired to write more for these two. please enjoy.

summary: A camping trip means secrets come a-tumbling out.

second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex

word count: 1.7k

“we could just kiss like real people do”

Jake huffs, letting his hands fall to his hips as he stares at his closet. 

“I don’t own anything to go camping.” You peer over the top of your phone to your boyfriend whose frown is growing by the second. 

“It’s one night Jake.” 

“Who’s stupid idea was this anyways?” He grumbles, pulling a sweatshirt out of his closet before tossing it on the ground. 

You don’t dare remind him camping had been Bradley’s idea, knowing it will only set him off further. 

California offered relatively warm winters, but Bradley had found a campsite up north in Julian that was still open, offering the possibility of snow as an incentive to the group to go. Jake had been less than pleased by the idea but had caved to the enthusiasm of his friends, as long as you had promised to go with. 

As the frustration grows in Jake's shoulders, you sigh. 

“Jake, just come sit down for a second.” 

He does, sliding across the bed. He positions himself to lay on top of you, in between your legs. His head meets your stomach as you reach down to curl your fingers in his hair.

With the season finally being over, he was letting it grow out a bit more than he normally did and you’d be lying to say you weren’t enjoying getting to curl your fingers in it at all moments. 

“How is this gonna work Jake?” You mutter as his eyes flutter close. “You can barely keep your hands to yourself as it is.” He grunts, the vibrations settling against your stomach. “Are you gonna be able to manage while we’re out of town?” 

He shrugs as his arms sneak under your body, wrapping around your stomach. “No.” He says petulantly. “Which is why I think we shouldn’t go. I can think of much better ways to spend our time than shivering our asses off in a sleeping bag on dirt for a night.” 

He grins up at you through his eyelashes as you give him a displeased look. “We’re going.” 

He groans, face falling into your stomach. 

“You know, we could just tell them.” 

After kissing Jake at Thanksgiving, he’d taken you out on date after date all the while asking you to keep it a secret from your friends. While he’d said at the time that it’s because they had all been so invested in the two of you getting together that they wouldn’t have let the two of you learn each other in private, you couldn’t help the pit in your stomach that it was because a guy like Jake didn’t want to be seen with a girl like you. 

“No, because then they’re all gonna be up my ass.” His voice is muffled by the cotton of Jake’s t-shirt you’re wearing. “And I like having you all to myself.” 

You sigh, beginning to push back his hair again. “We’re gonna have to tell them eventually.” 

“Yeah, eventually. Right now, you’re all mine.” 

-

Having to keep his hands to himself is killing him, you can tell. 

Jake hadn’t gotten to sit next to you in the car, which had already started the trip off poorly. Javy had been riding shotgun with Natasha driving, Bradley in the middle of you and Jake. 

It had been fine, until Mickey and Reuben had bickered too much and Bob had pulled their car over and made Mickey switch cars with Jake. 

You’d gotten to the campsite later than anticipated, which had made things worse. In the way sleeping arrangements played out, he was with Reuben and Bradley (both notorious for snoring and snoring loudly), Mickey and Bob in a tent together, and Nat and Javy in another. You’d managed to end up by yourself as Bradley’s girlfriend hadn’t been able to make it at the last minute due to a work emergency. 

And now, you’re sitting with Nat and Bob and Mickey, playing cards as the rest of the guys stand around the grill, chatting about the upcoming baseball season at school. 

Except for Jake who’s sitting by the firepit, looking decidedly irritated. 

Apparently, having to keep his hands to himself meant that Jake had decided he couldn’t talk to you at all, which was now irritating you. 

As you sit down with your food, you sit next to Jake, tugging his shirt. You want to appreciate the way it brings out his eyes but you can’t as you drop your voice. All your friends were still by the picnic table, but Jake had apparently decided he wasn’t eating. 

“You need to chill.” You whisper. “This is supposed to be fun.” 

“Well, I’m not having any fun.” 

“And whose fault is that?” 

Jake crosses his arms as his nostrils flare. He turns away from you, kicking his feet up on the edge of the fireplace. 

“Jake.” You say firmly. “You need to go get food and breathe. You’re being a downer. I understand you don’t want to be camping but try to be a good sport about it. It’s one night; you don’t need to drag your way through it by starving and isolating yourself.” 

He lets out a lengthy breath, his shoulders relaxing as he does. “Don’t let Bradshaw take my spot.” He grumbles, standing up. 

“Never.” 

-

He’s gonna walk into the creek near their campsite and find a way to drown himself in it because he can not fucking take any more of this. 

He glances at his watch, seeing that it's past 3. 

The group had been up late, sharing stories and playing games but after you’d called it a night just past midnight, he’d lost interest. Unfortunately for him, Reuben had already crashed an hour prior and Bradley had called it when you did. 

Meaning, he was trapped between two of the world’s most obnoxious snorers. He’s sure the two men can sleep through an earthquake and he’s not sure how they wake up to their alarms for early morning practice. 

He’d hardly gotten to hang out with you tonight and not in the way he wanted. He wanted to be able to have you sit in his lap, a blanket on top for warmth as you slowly started to drift off on his chest. He wanted to be able to rub circles into your thighs and run his fingers through your hair. He wanted to kiss you and hold you and laugh with you. 

He knew that he couldn’t because of his own stupid rule. 

A particularly loud snore from Bradley sends him rocketing up from his sleeping bag, exhaustion and irritation driving him as he tugs the tent close before walking the ten paces or so to your tent. He doesn’t even think as he slides in, tugging at the zipper of your sleeping bag. 

“Jake? What’re you doing?” You ask, more awake than he thinks you should be for the hour. 

“Scoot.” He says and you accommodate him, moving over in the two-person sleeping bag you’d borrowed from Nick and Carole. “I can’t fucking sleep with those two.” 

He feels his body instantaneously relax at your warmth, arms sliding around you to bring you into his chest. “Can’t say it’s much better in here.” 

“Don’t care.” He says, tucking his head into your shoulder, finally feeling himself breath. “I just want to be with you.” 

-

You wake up next morning to the sounds of your friends, the chittering of birds, and the sunlight streaming through your tent. 

“-haven’t seen Jake.” 

“Maybe he went to piss in the middle of the night and got lost and eaten by a bear.” You can hear Bradley say. 

Horrors dawns on you as you realize they’re looking for Jake, who obviously isn’t in his own tent as he’s clinging to you, deep in sleep and tucked into your shoulder. 

“Shit.” You whisper. “Shit shit shit. Fuck, Jake, wake up.” You push his shoulder but all he does is groan, tugging you closer to him. “No, no, fuck Jake, wake up. They’re looking for you. Fuck, our friends are gonna find out. Jake-” 

A shadow appears in front of the opening of your tent as they bend down to unzip it. You feel like you can’t breathe as it reveals Javy, the boy already talking. 

“Hey, sorry to wake you. We can’t find Jake and I’m starting to- oh.” You grimace as a grin grows on his face. He turns, shouting behind him. “Never mind, I found him!” 

A full-belly laugh sounds as Bradley peaks over Javy’s shoulder. “Oh, you’re kidding. Oh my God, fucking finally!” He shouts, laughing as he talks. Jake finally stirs at that, letting one hand go of you as he reaches behind you for one of your shoes. Once he finds it, he chucks it behind him, wildly missing. 

Nat snorts. “Nice aim, Seresin.” 

“Fuck off!” He groans, finally turning to face the group crowded around. “You people-” He says, pointing between Reuben and Bradley, “-kept me up all goddamn night so the least you can do is let me enjoy the morning in peace with my girl.” 

“His girl.” Bob repeats, an amused smile on his face. 

“Yes, Bobby. My girl. We’ve been dating since Thanksgiving and we can talk about it later but please go away.” 

Javy throws his hands up in mock defeat before tugging the zipper close. 

Jake tucks himself back into you, hiding his face in your shoulder. 

“You’re not usually so grumpy in the mornings.” You whisper. 

Jake likes slow mornings. He likes getting to spend hours in bed with you, cuddling and taking you apart over and over again before pulling you from bed and making breakfast with you in the kitchen, a full spread. He likes the slowness, the quiet, a luxury he’s not usually afforded during the season. He’s sweet and sleepy and you think that you could love him most in those morning moments. 

He doesn’t respond, already falling back asleep against you. You wish you could sleep too, but you’re too awake and have never slept well on the floor of a tent, the ground lumpy beneath you. 

It does mean, however, that you get to hear Bob smugly announce to the group that they all owe him money.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

[topguncortez]

Hotshot- J. Seresin

pairing: J. "Hangman" Seresin x pilot female!reader (callsign: Hotshot) word count: 3.8k warnings: SMUT, PIV, dumbifcation, unprotected sex, hair pulling, spanking, public sex based on this request (i apologize in advance, i had to change it up a bit to fit the idea. so sorry, but still hope you like it!)

Hangman knew the rule. Hell, the rule had been established because of him. No fraternizing with other top gun cadets. It made for messy times while flying through the sky. Too many feelings were involved as they argued about who slept with who and who did what with who and who didn’t text who back. There was no room for all of that when they were flying at supersonic speed and fighting for their lives. Some of the pilots found it dumb, when they sat in the briefing talking about the new rules and regulations. 

One of them in particular was Y/N Y/L/N, call sign Hotshot. She didn’t think it was necessary to have to sit in a class about fraternizing and safe sex when the one person the class was directed at was sleeping. She hated Jake Hangman Seresin. She hated everything about him. And He hated her. 

Both of them had been born to Top Gun graduates, and the rivalry between them had started from birth. Their dads had gone back and forth fighting for who was top of the class (ultimately it was Y/N’s dad), and the fight spewed over into Y/N and Jake. Y/N had a lot to prove during her year at Top Gun, she was one of only five females in the program. By the time graduation rolled around, she was one of two (the other being Phoenix). 

She didn’t have time to worry about feelings or sex when she was fighting to be one of the best. Hangman had tried to get to her, flashing that ridiculous smile, or taking his shirt off when it wasn’t necessary, or buying her a drink. But she wouldn’t budge. She had earned her nickname when in one of her dogfights with Hangman, she had pulled a cobra move, and flipped over him to take him down. Hangman hated it, and she never let him live it down. 

Hangman had thought when they graduated Top Gun that would be the last time he saw Hotshot, until he got called back. The hard deck was the last place he’d ever thought he’d see her. But the second she walked in with Rooster, he felt his mood sour. She looked great, and he hated to admit it. The shorts on her body showed off her tan legs and the tank top on her body showed off her toned arms. Hangman clenched his jaw as she walked towards them, gaining the attention of the other male counterparts. 

“Guess they just let anybody back,” Hangman said. 

“Clearly, you’re here,” She fired back as she greeted the group. 

“Where have you been?” Phoenix said, hugging her friend. 

“Here, there, everywhere. When you graduate top of the class,” Y/N said, looking over at Hangman, “You get to pick where you want to be.” 

“And yet you chose to stay here, in fighter town,” Hangman smirked, “You finally let a man into that cold dead thing between your legs?” 

“You finally treat that raging case of chlamydia?” 

Hangman rolled his eyes as the group broke out in cheers for the comeback. Everyone crowded around Y/N, leaving Hangman to seethe in his spot, glaring at her. She had a way of getting under his skin and making him irritated. He knew better than to let a rival bother him this much, but there was just something about her that he couldn’t shake. Normally, if it was a male counterpart he would just box them or go in rounds until they couldn’t offend each other anymore. But with Y/N he always stopped himself from saying anything too far. He did respect her, he would never admit it out loud, but he did. 

“I see you and Bradshaw came together…” Phoenix looked over at the brown haired man. Y/N rolled her eyes. Ever since Top Gun, Rooster and Hotshot had been friends. They bonded over the shared trauma of losing a parent in the service, only thing was, Hotshot was old enough to vividly remember that day and Rooster was not, “Oh come on! Four years and nothing!?“ 

“Zilch.” Hotshot answered. 

“It’s cause Rooster’s too pussy and Hotshot’s too bitchy,” Hangman added in, “Ya know what… Hotshot’s probably still a virgin.” 

“Why are you so obsessed with my sex life? Is yours so boring that you have to fantasize about mine?” Y/N asked him, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Sorry babe, not my type,” Hangman smirked and took the pool stick from Bob, “But i’m sure i can make arrangements if you need to let off a lil steam, cause I’m good, Hotshot,” He spoke lowly as he lined up his shot, and without breaking eye contact sunk in the pool ball, “Very good.” 

“I think i just vomited in my mouth,” Y/N responded and walked away from Hangman, leaving him to get teased by the other males. Hangman clenched his jaw, his eyes following her as she disappeared and saddled right up next to Rooster on the piano bench. 

— — — 

Hangman was pissed as he walked on the tarmac. His body felt hot, and it didn’t help that the hot California sun was beating down on him as he marched up to where Hotshot was climbing down from her plane. Phoenix gave her a high five and congratulated her on being the first in their class to actually defeat Maverick in the dogfight. Hangman unbuckled his helmet and threw it, making Hotshot jump in surprise. 

“What the hell was that!?” He yelled, the muscles in his neck straining, “You fucking left me!” 

“It’s called a dogfight, Bagman, don’t you know how this shit works?” Y/N said, taking off her own helmet. 

“You left me fucking hanging!” Hangman had been pissed the second that Maverick broke through them, flying side by side. Hangman was shouting different orders on which way to go, not even bothering to check and see if Hotshot was following. He had checked over his left when Maverick had done a cobra move over him, and at the same time, Hotshot got behind them to shoot both of them down. 

“Sounds familiar. . .” 

“You fucking bitch,” Hangman seethed and squared up next to her. Their bodies were so close they could feel each other’s breaths. Y/N had to look up slightly as Hangman towered over her, “This is the reason you’re alone and you're dried up. No one that fucking fiance of yours cheated-” 

“Enough!” Phoenix yelled, stepping in between the two, “You guys have been nonstop with this petty shit the whole time! It’s fucking annoying. Get over yourselves.” 

Y/N scoffed and turned away, walking towards the hangar. Hangman grinded his back teeth as he watched her walk. Bob gingerly held Hangman’s helmet towards him and Hangman rolled his eyes, snatching it back from him. 

“Are they ever going to stop?” Bob asked. Their petty fights had been happening all week and everyone was growing tired of it. It was worse in the classroom when they’d go sit after a dogfight or pathway run and Maverick would ask what they did wrong to get the other one or their team killed. They both had a hard time admitting defeat. 

“No,” Phoenix said, shaking her head and walking in the same direction of Y/N. 

— — — 

The hard deck was packed when Hotshot, Phoenix and Bob walked in. Phoenix walked right to the bar ordering her and Hotshot drinks, while Bob made his way to the pool table, spotting Rooster and Fanboy. Phoenix knew exactly what Hotshot needed, ordering them both three shots of vodka each. Hotshot didn’t hesitate as she threw them back in a row and then sucked on the lime Penny had given her. 

“Fuck I needed that,” She said, closing her eyes at the bitter taste of the lime, “Where the fuck does Hangman get off thinking he can say shit like that? Bringing up my douche bag of a fiancé.” 

“Ex!” Phoenix said, taking a sip of the beer she ordered, “Ex fiancé, meaning you are single, meaning. . . we are getting you laid tonight.” 

“What? No, no no no,” Y/N shook her head, “You know the rule!” 

“The rule is no banging each other, and it’s not even an actual rule,” 

“Just frowned upon,” 

“Exactly!” Phoenix exclaimed, “Why not him?” 

Y/N looked where Phoenix was pointing, a tall handsome man with brown curly hair, and perfectly sun kissed tan skin. He had a nice smile, Hotshot could give him that, his arms looked toned as he laughed with some of his buddies. Y/N shrugged, she needed the release. She had tried to get herself off but no matter what she did or used or watched, she couldn’t bring herself to the tipping point and it was driving her crazy. It didn’t help that she was sexually frustrated and was constantly fighting with Hangman.

It made her blood boil when he’d even open his mouth and start talking or the simple smirk he’d give her with that stupid toothpick between his perfectly white teeth. Hotshot let out a huff, and grabbed her beer, clinking it with Phoenix’s before walking over to the group. Phoenix bit back a smile as she watched her friend walk over and the guy’s eyes light up. Lt Trace wasn’t the only person who noticed Lt Y/L/N walk over to the group of civilian men. 

“Damn, get it Hotshot,” Rooster smirked, watching as she stood in front of the brunette man, him placing his hands on her hip as he guided her hand to throw a dart. 

“She can’t throw darts on her own?” Hangman rolled his eyes. 

“She’s trying to get laid, lighten up,” Phoenix said, joining the group. 

“With him!? What is he? Seventeen?” Hangman said, pointing at the guy. 

“Are you jealous?” 

“Oh Hotshot? Fuck no, I could bang any woman in this bar-“ 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the bell across the bar rang. Hangman rolled his eyes as the bar cheered and Penny pointed at him. Hangman kept his mouth shut for the most part the rest of the night, but decided to fight fire with fire and choose a girl of his own to try and sweet talk into being brought home. 

Y/N looked over at the group and found Hangman chatting up a girl, giving her that panty dropping smile of his and Hotshot rolled her eyes. She grabbed the guy’s hand, who’s name she found out was Tony, and moved it from his lap so she could stake her claim. Tony smirked, loving the idea of having her pretty self sitting on his lap. Hangman clenched his jaw and pulled the girl he was talking to in between his legs as he sat on a barstool, waiting for his turn in pool. 

Hangman had enough the second he saw Tony starting to place kisses on Y/N’s neck and move his hand up her bare thigh. Before he could even really think, he pushed the girl away between his legs and walked over to Y/N. He didn’t even say anything as he grabbed her arm and lifted her away from Tony. Tony stood up to protest, but Hangman gave him a look and Tony sat back down in his seat, knowing better than to try and fight the angry pilot. Y/N tried to rip her arm away, which only made Hangman tighten his grip as he dragged her to the closest bathroom. 

“What the fuck,” Hotshot yelled, ripping her arm away. She hardly had time to think, as Hangman slammed her up against the closed door, being chest to chest with her. Their chests fell in sync. 

“Do you think it’s okay to just. . . slut it up out there?” 

“Me? Slutting it up? How about you and that poor girl who probably confuses her left and-“ 

“Says the one who was sitting on a man’s lap, basically letting him finger you in a crowded bar,” Hotshot was almost too aware of the way Hangman’s hand skidded along the bottom hem of her dress, “I bet you’d like that, having all eyes on you, that’s why they call you Hotshot.” She clenched her jaw as Hangman dropped his head to speak into her ear. He ghosted his lips on her jaw, making her tilt her head back giving him more access to her neck, “About to give in so fucking easily. God you must really need it.” 

“I can go ask Rooster if you won’t. He’d be willing, or maybe even Coyote, or better yet Bob-“ 

Her words were cut off by Hangman smashing his lips against hers. There was nothing soft about the kissing, it was hot and bruising, as she tangled her fingers in his perfect blonde locks. His hands trailed to the back of her thighs, tapping on them, signaling for her to jump. Her legs wrapped perfectly around his toned torso as he walked them over to the counter. He set her down and his lips went to her jaw and trailed down her neck, sucking and kissing lightly. 

“God, you’re such a bitch,” He mumbled against her skin. 

“You’re an ass,” She said, pulling on his blond hair, making him look up at her, “I fucking hate you.” 

“Likewise,” Hangman smirked and kissed her again. His fingers trailed under her skirt, which had ridden up her tan thighs. Goosebumps rose on her skin as he lazily dragged his middle finger over her clothed slit, “But I make you wet don’t you. Your little pussy is just begging for someone to touch it.” He said in her ear, his breath hot as she arched her back at the feeling. Her nipples were straining through the thin bra she wore underneath her tank top. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, I could go home and fix this problem myself,” She said. 

“Nothing can ever make you feel as good as I can, babe,” Hangman said, and pushed her panties to the side, his middle finger coming in contact with her clit. She let out a shaky moan at the feeling, and fisted his shirt in her hands, “God now this is a fucking site,” With his free hand, he pushed her skit up, putting her on display, as he ran his finger through her glistening folds, “Look at you, all quiet for once. Tell me what you want,” 

“I’ll kill you,” Y/N said breathlessly as Hangman’s finger tapped at her entrance. She shamelessly clenched at the feeling. She closed her eyes; was she really going to beg for this? Pushing her pride aside she opened her eyes and looked at him, “Touch me.” 

Hangman smirked and pushed his finger into her. She let out a moan, dropping her head back at the sensation, a slight burn at being stretched out. She hadn’t had anything more than her own fingers in so long, that she felt her walls being stretched. He started slowly, and watched her face as he moved his digit in and out of her. She closed her eyes, her hands on his shoulders, her jaw open in complete bliss, soft moans leaving her pink lips. It was a sight to see, and Hangman wished he could take a picture. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Hangman moaned, feeling the blood rush to his already hard cock, “Fuck I bet you taste sweet.” He moved his finger in and out, making sure to curl against that sweet spot that had her curling her toes. 

“Why don’t you put your mouth to good use then,” 

“Another day, sweetheart, right now, I wanna be inside you.” Hangman said, taking his hand away from her. She whined at the loss of the feeling and Hangman chuckled, “You whining?” 

“It’s not too late for me to go ask Rooster,” 

“Yeah, no,” Hangman said, and grabbed her body off the counter, and spun her around. He hiked her skirt up enough that her ass was on display. He grabbed the flimsy thong she was wearing and pulled it down her legs. He put them in his pocket and then grabbed her ass, giving it a squeeze before laying a harsh smack to the skin. 

“Fuck!” Y/N moaned, and looked over her shoulder at him, “Again.” 

“Kinky,” He smirked and laid another smack to the skin. She moaned, rolling her eyes back, “If this was what I needed to do to shut you up, I would’ve done it years ago,” He said as he undid his belt, and pulled his pants down enough to get his cock out. Y/N looked down, and felt herself clench at the sight of his cock. It was perfectly hard as it rested against his stomach, the tip red and leaking, “You like it, this what you want? If I give you my cock, will you stop being a bitch?” 

“No fucking promises,” Y/N said, and pushed her ass back towards him, “Fuck me, or I’ll leave.” 

“Shut up,” Hangman groaned, fisting his cock. Y/N shuddered at the feeling as he took his cock and rubbed over her folds, spreading the slick wetness from her cunt around. He lined himself, pushing in her slowly. She closed her eyes at the slight sting of pain as he placed one hand on the counter and the other on her hip. Her pussy took him completely in, as he pushed in and bottomed out, his hips flush with her ass. He began to pull back slightly, feeling her clench around him. 

“Don’t-” She said, letting out a shaky breath, “Just-” 

“If I don’t move, I’m going to cum,” 

“Already?” She smirked looking at him in the mirror. 

“Shut up. Your pussy is like heaven. Warm, tight, squeezing me,” His voice seemed to have dropped an octave as he very carefully pulled his hips back and thrusted into her. The moan that left her lips was almost pornographic as she dropped her head forward. 

“God, fuck me,” She moaned. 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Hangman said and sped up his thrusts. 

The feeling was almost too much, as Jake’s cock brushed that spot over and over again. The slight stinging pain she felt moments before had faded away and all she felt was pure pleasure. The hand Jake had on the counter had found its way to her hair, tangling itself in it and pulling. She gasped at the feeling of both pain and pleasure as Jake’s hips went at a relentless speed. His thrusts were fast and deep, the soft pants and curse words leaving his lips. 

“Fuck,” He cursed, pulling out of her completely. He turned her around once again so she was facing him, and set her on the edge of the counter, and slipped back into her, “Oh god, you feel so fucking good.” 

Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He thrusted deep into her, and it felt like he was grazing her cervix. He smirked as she dropped her head onto his shoulder and thrusted deep and hard again. He could feel her pussy clench around him, and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. 

“You like when I do this,” Jake said, thrusting deep again. The only thing she could muster up was a nod, her senses being completely taken over by pleasure, “Look at you, so cock dumb you can’t even use your words.” He picked up his pace, hitting the same spot over and over, deep and hard. 

Y/N let out something short of a scream as she fisted locks of his blonde hair in her hands. He took one hand and brought it down between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing at it softly. The most beautiful sound left her lips as she closed her eyes, seeing white spots in her vision. Jake could feel her starting to let go and grabbed her throat. 

“Ask,” He said, his lips barely touching hers. 

“Please-” 

“Please what?” 

“Can I cum, please oh, fuck please.” 

Jake smirked, “You’re such a cockslut, yes you can cum.” 

Y/N’s body convulsed as Jake held her and continued to fuck her through her orgasm. The waves of pleasure that rolled through her body was enough to make her lose all sense of thought that she had. Her mind was blank except for the feeling of his cock against her g-spot. The sight of her orgasm, watching her soul basically leave her body was enough to bring Jake to the tipping point. He pulled his hips back to pull out, but Y/N shook her head, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

“In me. . . please,” She panted out and Jake nodded, thrusting as deep as he possibly could. They both moaned at the feeling as Jake released himself, shooting white hot cum into her. Jake milked his orgasm and Y/N moaned at the overstimulation. Jake stopped and leaned his head against her shoulder, completely spent. He took a couple seconds to catch his breath before lifting his head up to look at her. 

“Your place or mine?” 

“Mine,” Y/N said and Jake nodded. 

“I’m gonna pull out,” Jake said and Y/N nodded. He grabbed her hips and pulled out, he let out a curse at the way she once again clenched around him, “God it was like your pussy was made for me.” He fixed himself back into his jeans and zipped them up. 

“Shut up,” Y/N said, “Hand me my underwear.” 

“You mean. . . these,” Hangman smirked, holding up her thong. 

“Yes,” Y/N reached out to snatch them back but Hangman moved his hand quickly. Her jaw dropped in complete shock as Hangman brought them to his nose and sniffed them, “You sick fuck. . .” 

“Says the one about to walk out with my cum running down her leg.” Hangman smirked, “Hurry up, I’ll meet you in the car.” He kissed her cheek, before opening the door and quickly leaving her to do her thing. 

Y/N, very carefully jumped off the counter, hoping to not drip cum on the ground and rushed to the toilet to pee. Once she was done and cleaned herself up and washed her hands, she walked back out to the busy bar and over to her friends. Phoenix had a smirk on her face that Hotshot wanted so badly to smack off her face. 

“I’m leaving,” Hotshot said, grabbing her purse. 

“I bet you are, and lemme guess,” Phoenix said and whispered in your ear, “Hangman has your underwear.” Y/N’s eyes widened, “Walked over here saying he was leaving, turned around and had a bright red thong hanging out of his back pocket.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Y/N seethed and walked towards the door. 

“Use protection!” Phoenix yelled after her, earning herself the finger. She laughed and sat back down on her barstool, “You fuckers owe me, pay up!” The boys groaned as they fished their wallets out of their pockets and paid Phoenix for the bet they placed.

--- --- ---

authors note: thanks for 300!:) here's a lil celebration post. I normally don't write smut, so I hope this wasn't horrible. please be honest and tell me if it was

taglist: @ellabellabus07 @sugarmelonwater @chaoticassidy @persondoingstuff @blindedbyyourgrace17 @n3ssm0nique @ateliefloresdaprimavera @nessamc

taglist form

#top gun #top gun imagine #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #top gun smut #hangman seresin x reader #hangman top gun #hangman seresin fic #hangman seresin imagine #hangman sersin smut #jake hangman seresin #hangman imagine #hangman seresin #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin smut #Jake seresin fic #Jake hangman seresin fic #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha trace #natasha phoenix trace

[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

[harringtonswriting]

the one with the mutual pining | j.h.s.

summary: it's always been fun to flirt with jake, though you'd never cross the line to take you from friends to something more because while he flirts back, does he really mean it? well, bradley bradshaw decides this is something they're gonna rectify, and it definitely ends in your favour pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x fem!reader warning(s): language; references to alcohol word count: 4.2k notes: here is my very first attempt at writing tgm, and at writing hangman. this is all completely thanks to @katsu28 who has entertained all my tgm thoughts. this one's for you kait!! <3 also, there are a couple alternate endings for this one too 👀 if anyone wants to read them when they're finished or maybe have them turned into other fics, let me know!

...

Friday nights always seem to be the busiest nights at the Hard Deck. Or, well, they have been since you started working there.

It always seems to start getting packed not long after dinner time, usually by a good mix of civilians and members of the Navy who were stationed in Fightertown. A lot of them seemed to know Penny, especially the aviators. Penny had warned you about them when she gave you the bartending job; about their flashy smiles, their nicely styled yet somehow perpetually windswept looking hair, and all the trouble that comes with them. There’d been a fond smile on her face when she said that, so you were sure there was a story (or maybe many) behind her warnings.

It was on your very first Friday that you’d met Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Well, you’d actually met most of the Dagger Squad (which you’d been told was what they were called by Mickey after a few Fridays together), but it was Jake who stuck out to you the most. You’d be a liar if you said his sparkling green eyes and dimples weren’t attractive, and he absolutely had the confidence you’d expect from someone who flew million dollar planes for a living. The way he leant on the bartop, grinning at you as he ordered a beer and introduced himself was full of charm, and the slight southern drawl that curled his words drew you in immediately. But you didn’t let him know that; no, you pointed him to the back of the line of people waiting to order, and handed Bradley Bradshaw his drink instead.

That was the start of your friendship with Jake, and your infatuation with him. That part you keep to yourself, though. At first it was because you didn’t think it was anything other than a tiny crush, but then when that didn’t go away no matter what you did (or what Jake did). And then it was because he’d become a friend by that point, a familiar face and someone you enjoyed seeing and talking to, just like the rest of his squad of aviators, and you didn’t want to risk losing him like that. That’s what you told yourself, at least. Plus, the two of you had built up quite a fun back and forth with each other, all witty jokes and subtle flirting (on your end; Jake tends to flirt heavily with just about anyone) and you looked forward to it whenever you see the squad of aviators walk in the door.

This Friday night is no exception; they’ve been here for about an hour already, drinking and laughing and unwinding from the stress of the week. Bradley had told you earlier that one of the Admirals had a particularly large stick up his ass lately, and their squad in particular had been feeling the heat. Which meant they were keeping you busy, because Pete and some of the older aviators had commandeered Penny’s attention. Not that you were complaining, because you enjoyed talking to all of them and getting paid to do so.

Jake approaches the bar top on his own for the first time since arriving; he’s got a grin on his face as he leans his arm on the polished wooden surface closest to you. It’s early enough in the evening, not long after the bar had opened for the day, that it’s not very busy yet so you can give him your full attention while Penny chats with Pete and the patrons at the other end.

He’s wearing a soft-looking green button down shirt, with the top few buttons undone. The colour brings out his eyes,  His sleeves are rolled up just above his elbows, and you can see the silver chain that holds his dog tags disappear further down past where his shirt buttons are undone. And while you can’t see it from where you’re standing, you’re sure he’s also wearing those jeans you know work absolute wonders for his ass—not that you’d ever tell him that, of course, because his ego is inflated enough already. But you might sneak a look later on.

“Hey darlin’, another beer for me on the sore loser,” he says by way of greeting, grin curling his lips up and showing off his dimples. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, and you peer over it to see Bradley standing back at the pool table the aviators had claimed. He’s wearing a bright blue Hawaiian shirt you’ve never seen before, and he’s got a defeated smile on his face. His shoulders are slumped and he’s leaning against the pool table as he catches you looking and waves. You wave back, smiling and winking at him before your attention turns back to the blond in front of you.

“You got it. The usual?” you ask, and he nods. You reach under the bar top to grab a bottle of Jake’s preferred beer, popping the cap off for him before you place it on the counter in front of him. “You won a game already? You haven’t been here that long.”

“I’m just that good at pool, darlin’.” Which is true; you know he’s beaten just about all of his fellow aviators, and you’d bet he’s hustled others at the Hard Deck too. Maybe even at other bars. Jake’s cocky, but unfortunately he’s got the skills to back up all his talk.

“Or maybe Bradley’s just that bad and you’re taking advantage of him.”

Jake doesn’t answer but he laughs as he reaches for his beer. His hand brushes yours as you hand him the bottle of beer, the pads of his fingers gliding over your knuckles and the back of your hand. His touch tingles, and you find your cheeks growing warm as those fingers trail electricity that fades all too quickly when he takes his beer. He holds eye contact with you for a beat too long before he’s winking and turning back towards Bradley and the others.

It was basically routine at this point. On Friday nights, the aviators would show up after they’ve finished for the day. Pete would find Penny, the two of them taking over one end of the bartop to flirt like they’re not in a bar full of people. The rest of them would come over to greet you, order their first round, and then either commandeer an open pool table, or grab a few tables to themselves to wait for one to open up. As soon as it did, they’d all take turns playing, with the losers buying the winners drinks. Jake tended to win more than he lost; and lately, he seemed to be winning against Bradley much more than he had before. Not that you kept track of that (except, of course, that you did).

The night goes on as the Hard Deck fills up, and you’re kept busy with the steady flow of customers that come your way. The aviators definitely keep you on your toes, and Bradley’s tab just keeps getting bigger as he continues to lose against Jake (and Natasha and Javy, you notice), and others keep buying rounds. You’re definitely happy with the tips you’re getting, though, and between you and Penny you manage to keep up with all the orders that just keep coming. Thankfully, though, it starts to get more steady than busy, and you’re thankful to start getting lulls between customers ordering drinks so you can do some cleaning. You begin wiping down the bar with a clean, wet rag from the bucket by your feet.

Bradley approaches the bartop, and up close you notice that his bright blue Hawaiian shirt is covered in magenta flowers, the colours almost too loud to look at. His cheeks are a little ruddy, and the top half of his shirt is unbuttoned and showing off the dogtags he’s wearing against his bare chest. His sunglasses are poking out of his shirt pocket, and he’s got a wide smile on his face as he places his hands in front of him on the slightly wet polished wooden surface. You stop wiping down the bar in case he’s here to get something from you, or maybe to close out his tab–though it’s a little early in the night for that.

He looks back over his shoulder towards where the others are, and you also look in that direction to see Jake staring at the two of you, a pool cue held in his hands and his brow furrowed. Mickey hoots, and sends you a thumbs up. You’re not sure what for, but his enthusiasm is sweet and you shoot him a thumbs up in return. Bradley looks back to you.

“You here for another round?” you ask, and his smile drops momentarily.

“No, I don’t think I want to add to my tab.” You pull it up, and then shake your head because no, he really doesn’t. Bradley grimaces and sighs, leaning forward towards you. “Actually, I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m not ringing the bell on Jake just because he’s beating you at pool,” you warn him. “He’s got to earn it. Trick him into dropping his phone on the bar like a normal person.” Which Reuben had done with Bob last week, and you’d felt a bit bad for the bespectacled aviator but the rules are the rules. Bradley chuckles, and leans closer to you over the bartop.

“No, actually, Mav’s birthday is coming up and we wanted to do something for him and Penny. A surprise for the two of them” He looks behind you, seeing Penny and Pete where you know they’re decently close, and he gestures for you to lean forward. He moves his head next to yours, and starts whispering to you, wanting to keep this a secret. “We’re thinking about all chipping in and getting the two of them some kinda weekend away, maybe something fun in the city. D’you think you’d wanna get in on that?”

That’s definitely not what you were expecting, but your heart melts at the idea of being able to give your boss and her boyfriend a nice little vacation together. Penny’s been an amazing boss since you’ve started working for her, and you know how hard she works. She deserves this, for sure. “That is actually really sweet. Yeah, I’d be happy to do that for them.”

That’s when you hear Penny’s voice from behind you, startling you a bit. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you bothering my bartender?”

With a smile he probably thinks makes him look completely innocent, he moves away from your ear and answers her with a “No, ma’am!” and then wiggles his eyebrows at you before he turns and heads back towards the pool table. You watch him as you go, and you see when he gets back that Reuben slaps him on the shoulder while Natasha hands him her pool cue. Your eyes drift towards Jake, and you see him with a deep frown on his face, his pool cue leaning against the table as his arms are crossed over his chest. You can’t tell what he’s saying from this far away, but he’s moving up to get in Bradley’s face. Maybe the older aviator was actually supposed to get a round? You don’t know, but they’ll eventually work it out. They know if they start a fight in the bar that Penny will squash that real quick. Not that it wouldn’t be entertaining.

You resume your cleaning, gathering up some glasses that have been left on one side of the bar to put in the dirty dish bin to be washed later. An older man approaches the bar and asks for a whiskey neat, which you pour him, and he pays for it and thanks you before leaving. You put the bottle back in its place, and then all of a sudden Jake is standing in front of you.

“Hey, sailor. What can I get you?” you ask. You notice he’s not smiling like he normally would; his forehead is wrinkled and his eyebrows are furrowed as his green eyes look at you. His normally neatly coiffed blond hair is looking just a bit dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it and moving it out of its usual style. You start to worry when he doesn’t answer you; Jake is usually completely unbothered by anything, never being fazed and always taking things in stride. He’s always in control of every situation and every interaction he’s in. But that’s not how he’s looking now. Something’s got him looking almost frazzled, and it has you worried for him. You bite that worry down, though, as you watch him run a hand through his hair now.

“I need–” He sighs, shaking his head slightly. He takes in a deep breath before he starts again with, “Look, I need to talk to you. It’s important. Can we go somewhere private?” This is one of those nights you really wish that Jimmy was working, or that Penny had another bartender besides you because you really couldn’t just leave her alone before your shift was over. You pull your phone out of your pocket, checking the time.

“Uh, not right now, but I’m done in about an hour. Is that okay?” you ask, sliding your phone back in your pocket and looking at the aviator in front of you. He sighs, but not in an unkind way, and he nods. But there’s no wink, no smile, and no sign of his adorable dimples. You didn’t think you’d miss them as much as you did, but seeing him like this, with something bothering him, makes you realize that you’re kind of in over your head with him. “Are you okay, Jake?”

Jake nods again, letting his lips turn up slightly at the corners in a closed mouth smile. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” You’re stopped from answering when Mr Whiskey Neat comes back up for another drink and you reach down to grab the bottle. Jake nods at you, moving away from the bar top and heading in the direction of the bathrooms. “I’ll talk to you in an hour. Meet me outside, my truck’s farthest from the door.”

And then he’s gone and you’re pouring a drink, and you’re feeling confused, worried, and a little annoyed that your conversation had been cut short. What could Jake Seresin possibly need to talk to you about privately? And what exactly is bothering him? You only have the next hour to worry about it in your head, and you already know that’s not going to be fun.

The last hour of your shift goes by much too slowly for your liking, but as the minutes creep closer, you wish you had just a bit more time. You’re more than a little nervous to talk to Jake when it’s over; he’d closed out his tab with Penny while you’d been busy getting another round for some other customers, including Natasha and Bob, who were sharing secretive smiles as they chatted with you. Maybe there was something in the water at the naval base, or maybe all the stress of the week had really gotten in their heads. You weren’t sure which was worse.

But then you’re done, and it’s time to go talk to Jake, and you find yourself stalling on your way out. Penny must notice the change in your demeanor, because she stops you to ask if everything is okay before she lets you go.

“Was someone giving you a hard time?” she asks, keeping her voice low as you clock out. Your bag and coat are in the back room, which she gives you the key to, and you shake your head. “Pete can walk you out of here, if you need. Or I’m sure one of his squad would be more than happy to do that too.”

“I’m okay, Penny, I promise,” you assure her. You leave quickly to grab your things, and return to give her the key back.

“Text me when you get home!” You wave your hand to her, and then you’re leaving the Hard Deck and walking out into the cool night air. You pull your coat a little tighter around your body, walking towards the end of the parking lot. It takes a minute to see him in the dark, but Jake is leaning against the front of his truck when you spot him. He’s all the way at the far end of the parking lot just like he’d told you.

There aren’t too many cars left, and no one else is out and walking around so it’s just the two of you that you can see. He must see you coming because he pushes himself off of his truck and waits for you to get close enough before he greets you. The set of his shoulders is tense, and they’re up close to his ears. The smile on his face looks a little forced and you shift your weight between your feet as you look at him.

“What did you want to talk about? Seemed pretty important.”

He sighs, one hand coming up to tug at his hair. It shines even in the dingy, yellowed lights coming from the street lights set up in the parking lot, and you briefly wonder if it would feel as soft as it looks now, or if maybe it was crunchy with gel. You hoped it was soft. But that was not the point, and you push that thought away for now. “Look, whatever Rooster told you… just ignore him, okay? He’s drunk. I didn’t even drink half the beers I won off him, he did. He didn’t mean anything he said.”

Okay, now you’re confused. What did Bradley being drunk have to do with Pete’s birthday present? The mustachioed aviator hadn’t seemed that drunk when he spoke to you; you’d seen him absolutely shitfaced before, just once, and tonight was definitely anywhere close to that. You still mourned the t-shirt you’d been wearing that night, it had been one of your favourites. “Really? But I thought it was pretty sweet.”

That seems to irritate Jake, and he rolls his eyes. “But it’s not his business telling you that, he was just being an idiot. He’s a lightweight, and he’s probably puking on Bob’s shoes right now.” Now that was a funny image, and you hoped for Bob’s sake that Bradley throws up somewhere else and not on Bob’s shoes. You’d ask Natasha about that the next time you see her. “Rooster just thought he was being funny, is all. I wanted to make sure you knew that and make sure it didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“It seems like it made you uncomfortable. Don’t even deny that you’re not! I can tell. I’m good like that.” He doesn’t take the opportunity to make a joke, or grin and wink at you like he normally would, which just served to bring your point home. You know he and Bradley can get under each other’s skin like no one else can, but this was a whole new level of grump.

But that’s when Jake comes out with it. “Of course it made me uncomfortable, him telling you that I like you like that! It wasn’t his business to do that.”

You’re not sure you heard him right. You blink, taking a moment to process his words. There’s no way you heard him correctly. He thinks Bradley Bradshaw told you, completely seriously, that Jake likes you. And that’s why he’s been acting so weird. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together now.

“Like me? What?” you ask, but you don’t give him time to answer. “Bradley didn’t say anything about you, he was telling me about Mav’s birthday present, asking if I wanted to pitch in for a trip for him and Penny.” Even in the dim light in the parking lot, you can see the colour drain from Jake’s face. His jaw even drops, just a little, as he stares at you. If you were thinking properly, you’d want to take your phone out and snap a photo of Jake Seresin, lost for words. You’d never seen it before. It was kind of cute. “You like me? As more than a friend?”

“No!” It comes out quickly, much too quickly, and you can hear the crack in Jake’s voice. It kicks your brain back into gear, and you feel a tingly warmth spread through your chest not unlike what you’d felt earlier when Jake’s fingers had brushed the back of your hand. It makes you almost giddy, the thought of Jake liking you like you like him. That you haven’t been pining over him and agonizing over whether it was worth ruining your friendship for nothing, and that his flirting had actually meant something. But you can’t resist teasing him about it, just a bit.

“Wait… so you don’t like me?” you ask, feigning disappointment–it’s hard, though, keeping the grin off your face as you do so. Jake shakes his head, taking a step closer and his hands coming out to hover in front of you, close but not actually touching you yet.

“No! No, I do like you!” Jake is so quick to backtrack, and you have to bring a hand up to cover your mouth to hide the smile and the laughter that’s threatening to come out. You think maybe that part of it is some sort of hysterical relief and joy at hearing Jake Seresin, Hangman, the most confident man you’d ever met, blurt out that he likes you like a child on a playground. God, you’ll never get over this, and this will absolutely be the story you’ll love to tell people when they ask how the two of you start dating. Which you know he’ll hate. But that’s something you’ll worry about later. Right now, you think Jake looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm and that would probably be counter productive. So you decide to throw him a bone.

“Well that’s good, seeing as I like you too,” you tell him, moving your hand away from your mouth to smile at him. That’s when you see his shoulders sag and the colour starts to come back to his face as he processes your words. And if you take that opportunity to confirm that yes, he is wearing those jeans that do wonders for his ass, well, that’s something you’ll keep to yourself.

“You do?” he asks when he finds his voice, and you nod. That’s when you see a smile break out across his face, and his dimples are back in full force.

“What, you think I flirt with just any aviator who comes into the Hard Deck?” That gets a laugh out of him, and you love the sound. It’s a real laugh, a rumble from deep in his chest, and you definitely want to hear that again. You hope you will.

“Well, I’m not just any aviator,” he confirms, walking just a bit closer. His hands are still out, and you reach out with one of yours to take his. They’re big, and warm, and the callouses rub against your skin in the best way. More tingles shoot up your arm, and you squeeze his hand with yours. “Then I guess it’s about time I ask you out, darlin’.”

“It’s not nice to leave someone hanging, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Here, gimme your phone. We’ll trade numbers.” He digs his out of his pocket while you grab yours, and you unlock it and bring up your contacts for him. He does the same, and you enter your name and number before you hand it back. You see his name and number in yours. “I should get going so I can get home and text Penny before she sends out a search team. Call me!”

You get about five steps away before you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out, and see Jake’s name across your screen. You answer the call.

“So I was thinking I could take you out sometime. Does tomorrow night work for you?” he asks, his voice coming over the speaker and also from behind you. You laugh, nodding as you hold the phone to your ear.

“Tomorrow works just fine. What do you have planned?” you ask. You don’t turn around, but you can imagine him leaning back against his truck as he talks, watching you walk away. You hope he enjoys the view.

“Gotta leave some things a surprise. Just make it home safe, and we’ll talk more tomorrow.” You assure him that you will, because you really do want to get home because you know Penny really will send someone out to check on you if she’s worried. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

You hang up the phone, waving back over your shoulder as you leave the parking lot. You hear Jake’s laugh behind you, and it puts a spring in your step all the way home.

Yeah, you’re absolutely sure he’s gonna kick Bradley’s ass for forcing his hand, but you got a date with Jake Seresin out of this. You can’t wait for Saturday night.

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#hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin fic #hangman fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Got My Mind Set On You - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: I know I said fluff, but somehow I got to spicy stuff instead. Oops.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

content/warnings: suggested smut.

word count: 1.7k

Jake Seresin leaned casually against the rustic exposed wooden beam of the dimly lit bar, his gaze fixed on you as you shared a moment of laughter with your friends across the room. With the air of someone who knew they were being watched, he flicked another dart effortlessly towards the board, the satisfying thud of it hitting the bullseye punctuating the room. He took a slow sip of his beer, the corner of his lips curling into a self-assured smirk as his friends marveled at his accuracy.

Javy couldn't help but prod at Jake's seemingly supernatural dart-throwing abilities. "How do you do it, man? You never even look at the board."

Jake chuckled, tapping the side of his temple with his index finger. "Photographic memory, my friend. I've got every angle mapped out up here," he said with a grin, never once breaking his gaze from you.

Bradley, ever the skeptic, scoffed from the sidelines. "Oh, please. Anyone can get lucky tossing darts at a board."

A challenge hung heavy in the air as Jake raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Care to put that theory to the test, Bradshaw?"

Bradley, never one to back down, accepted with a lazy smirk. "Fine. But don't blame me if your girl decides she wants a more skilled pilot."

"Bring it on," Jake replied, his confidence unwavering.

With practiced ease, Bradley sent his first dart flying, hitting the bullseye just as he predicted. Jake's expression remained cool, but there was a flicker of admiration in his eyes as Bradley repeated the feat with his second shot. Bullseye again.

Jake's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, raising his pint glass towards the dartboard. "You can't do it a third time."

Bradley's competitive spirit flared as he confidently launched his final dart, only to miss the mark by a fraction of an inch. He turned to Jake, a hint of defiance in his eyes as he admitted defeat.

Jake couldn't resist a playful jab. "Not quite perfect, Bradley."

But any teasing was forgotten as you appeared beside him, your touch warm on his shoulder. "Hey there, sugar," Jake greeted you with a smile. "See me get a perfect streak?" Jake purposefully drawled out the word ‘perfect’, resulting in a dramatic eyeroll from Bradley. 

Jake's smile softened as he wrapped an arm around you, his gaze never straying far from yours. You grinned as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, nodding your head as you spoke. “Sure did, honey. You did great!”, you gushed.

“I am great, darlin’, you know that.”

Bradley groaned and rolled his eyes before downing the rest of his beer. With an exaggerated sigh, he shook his head, holding his empty glass up to you and the others before speaking.

“Anyone down for another round? I’ll buy.”

You chuckled at Bradley's offer, exchanging knowing glances with Jake before nodding in agreement. "I could go for another," you said with a grin, feeling Jake's arm tighten slightly around your waist.

“Sure, thanks man,” Jake started, handing Bradley his empty glass, “After, why don’t we rematch? We can switch to the pool table, if you guys would rather, that way you might actually have a chance at beating me.”

Bradley scoffed and shook his head. “Fine, you’re on.”

Javy, always up for a good time, eagerly agreed. "I'm in. Let's see if lightning strikes twice for old Bradshaw here."

Bradley shot Javy a mock glare before laughing, his competitive streak undeterred. "We'll see about that," he retorted, already heading towards the bar to order everyone’s drinks.

As Bradley disappeared into the crowd, you leaned into Jake's side, relishing in the warmth of his presence. The soft buzz of conversation and clinking glasses enveloped you, creating a comforting backdrop to the evening.

"You know, I think Bradley's just jealous," you whispered teasingly, tilting your head up to meet Jake's gaze.

Jake chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you. "Can you blame him?" he replied, his voice low and playful. "After all, he's got to compete with the best."

You rolled your eyes affectionately, swatting his chest playfully. "Smooth talker," you teased, but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Besides all that, I’ve got the best girl, so really, poor Bradley didn’t stand a chance, did he?” Jake whispered as he leaned into your ear, his green eyes fixed on yours as he planted a soft kiss on your lips. 

“The best girl, huh?” You mused, raising an eyebrow, “That’s a new one for me.”

“Mhmm,” Jake hummed as he gave you a playful tap on the nose with his index finger. “You better get used to it, honey.”

As you all rounded the pool table, gathering into your teams, Bradley furrowed his brow as he gestured to you and Jake as Jake kept you close to him for his team.

“Oh no you don’t loverboy.” Bradley chided, shaking his head, “She’s on my team. Together you two’ll just end up getting handsy on the pool table and make us all lose our lunch.”

“He’s got a point there, don’t he?” Jake shrugged as he conceded, letting go of his protective, loving grip on your waist.

You watched as Bradley lined up to take his shot. Observing his form carefully, you tried to make mental notes so you could match his game - you weren’t the greatest at pool, Jake usually used teaching you as an excuse to put his hands all over you, not that you complained. It just resulted in some incredibly short lessons in pool, and some playful sessions in the bed of his Ford F-150. 

Bradley leaned in close to your ear, whispering softly as he came up with a game strategy. “How well can you accidentally distract Jake?”

“Oh, easy,” you responded with confidence, nodding your head slightly as your gaze fixated on Jake, who was lining his pool cue up for his turn.

“Perfect, do your thing.”

You sipped your cocktail and fiddled with the straw, your lips encircling the tip in a way that you knew Jake would interpret as suggestive. Sure enough, as soon as Jake looked up at you, sea-green eyes locked in a gaze at your mouth as it played with the end of your straw, he missed his shot, causing the cue ball to bounce off the edge of the table, not striking anything in its path. Jake straightened his posture, raising an eyebrow at you as you set your glass down to take your own shot. Bradley smirked from behind his beer bottle, admiring your technique for riling Jake up better than any amount of trash talk ever could.

During Jake’s next turn, you shoved your glass into Bradley’s open hand, before fiddling and unbuttoning the top two buttons of your plaid shirt, exposing just enough cleavage to have Jake’s mind wandering. Once again, as soon as Jake caught a glimpse of you, he missed his shot, shaking his head and grumbling to himself as Javy joked about him being off his game.

“I’m not off my game. Everyone has one off game.”

“Just admit it, Jake, you’re not as good at pool as they are. Bradley’s got you beat.”

Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes again, before leaning over to take his next shot, trying to follow up after you sink one of the balls into the pocket, eliciting a high-five and a cheer from Bradley. As the game progressed, Jake caught on to your little game. His cheeks blushed when you whispered what you wanted him to do to you later that evening, he had to clear his throat to cover the involuntary moan that threatened to escape his mouth when your hand caressed his bicep, and he had to position himself carefully behind the pool table while he tried to focus his mind on anything other than the mental image you put in his head when you described what kind of underwear you were wearing under your skirt. 

After losing another round, Jake felt a simmering frustration bubbling beneath his skin, an insistent urge gnawing at him with every passing moment. He clenched his jaw, struggling to rein in the primal desires coursing through him. All he could think about was laying you down on the smooth surface of the pool table, indulging in the raw passion that pulsed between you. But he knew he couldn't act on those impulses, not here, not now.

Instead, he tossed the pool cue down with an uncharacteristic huff, the weight of his competitive nature hanging heavy in the air. His typically composed demeanor faltered, a rare glimpse of vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he turned away. You exchanged a knowing glance with Bradley, silently acknowledging the tension that hung between you all, before following Jake's retreating figure outside.

The night air enveloped you like a thick blanket as you stepped out of the dimly lit bar, the humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. Concern etched across your features, you approached Jake cautiously, your footsteps echoing in the quiet night.

"Jake?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as you closed the distance between you.

"Mhmm?" His response was gruff, his body tense as he leaned against the side of his truck, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Are you alright?" you asked softly, furrowing your brow with worry. "I wasn’t trying to be a dick—Bradley and I just thought it’d be funny if I, you know, distracted you a little."

Jake chuckled, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes as he turned to face you. "I'm not mad."

"You aren’t?" Relief flooded through you, easing the tension in your shoulders.

"Of course not," he reassured you, his gaze softening as he reached out to pull you into his embrace. "I mean, you got me good, I’ll give you that."

"I did?" A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, grateful for his understanding.

"Sure did, Sugar." Jake's smirk was equal parts wicked and enticing, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But now it’s my turn to get you back." His words hung in the air like a promise, igniting a fire in your veins as you met his gaze with a playful challenge of your own.

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin fic #hangman #top gun: maverick fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #lt. jake seresin x reader #lt. jake seresin x you #lt. jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Favorite

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Summary: The Daggers meet your and Jake's baby girl for the first time and arguments over who will be her favorite aunt or uncle quickly follow.

Notes/Warnings: part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can be read alone. Based on a suggestion from @tgmreader

Words: 1288

Between the ‘She’s like your clone, Jake,” from Nat, the ‘Is anyone else surprised Hangman beat us to the baby train?’ from Bob, and the offended ‘Wait, you two were hooking up and you didn’t tell me?’ from Javy, Jake is clearly exhausted. Not that he didn’t anticipate being worn out after introducing his daughter to his team, you both did, but the last forty-five minutes have far surpassed expectations.

Being confined in a room with the Daggers historically proves to have its drama—whether in the form of unnecessary argument or playful teasing—but with your new baby girl at the center of everyone's attention, drama has started to take on new meaning in the form of obsessively watching Eve as if she might start doing tricks or giving you both grief for not spilling every detail of your ‘sneaky, secret relationship’ before this moment. To your relief, though, they’ve steered clear of asking questions about your absence over the majority of the past year. They don’t push, knowing that information will be revealed with time.

“It’s just…” Mickey begins as his eyes snap back and forth from the baby to Jake, “...so weird.”

When you chuckle, Jake rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird,” he counters. 

“It’s pretty weird, man. You’re, like, a dad.”

“Lots of people are dads,” Jake says as he runs his knuckle down the cheek of the infant in your arms—his new little love. 

“Yea, but you’re the dad of Y/N’s baby.”

As Bradley snorts at the obvious, you look to Jake to check on the effect of Mickey’s unfiltered words. His eyes are on your face and you smile to soften the sudden twinge of uneasiness speckled amongst the various green flecks in his irises. 

Though Jake has expressed mental security in his place within the lives of you and your child, you fear what might occasionally be running through his mind. The last thing you want infecting his confidence is the consideration that maybe this situation is weird, that maybe he isn’t meant to be the father of your baby because he wasn’t intentionally chosen for that role. 

Eve wasn’t planned. You can’t change that. And the choices you made when you discovered your pregnancy are enough to have any man reasonably questioning himself. But there is no other man you want as your baby’s father. Jake is it. You’re pretty positive he was always meant to be it, because your brain refuses to picture another in his place. 

Jake’s stare breaks when Bradley starts to speak. “We all knew how these two felt about each other, even though they were doing nothing about it,” he says, shooting you and Jake a smirk so quick it’s barely acknowledged before he looks back to the group of pilots. “I promise you guys, once it fully sinks in, it won’t feel so wild that they accidentally made a tiny human.”

Nat’s head snaps up from Eve, but her finger remains wrapped in the infant’s smaller ones. “When, exactly, were you given enough time for it to sink in?” There is suspicion in her tone. Then her eyes go wide. “Did you already meet the baby?” she asks before turning to you and Jake. “Did Rooster meet her before the rest of us?”

As if sensing the shift in the room, Eve lets out a little whine and starts to wiggle in your hold. 

“Yes, Nat,” Bradley answers for you. You can feel the sass bubbling around him as his arms cross over his chest. “By a whole three days.”

“Three days matters,” she retorts. “It could be the difference that makes you Eve's favorite. The earlier the interaction, the better.”

“She’s only a few months old. You might still have a chance, Nat,” Reuben chimes from the sideline.

“Don’t bet on it,” Bradley snorts. His sass is so expertly conveyed you’re shocked his tongue doesn’t stick out to accompany his words. 

You’d scold him if not for the fact that these two often enjoy ruffling each other’s feathers when the opportunity arises. It’s all in good fun, but sometimes, depending on the topic, the teasing aspect goes over their heads. 

You suppose it’s flattering that being your child’s favorite is enough to cause a bit of an upset, but it’s wasted energy. Jake will be Eve’s favorite. The Father and The Favorite are not mutually exclusive, and you know in a room full of the people she loves most in the world, Eve will never fail to run straight into her father’s arms.

Nat, however, does not consider that inevitability as she carefully slips her finger from Eve’s to face the six-foot-tall brunet head-on. 

Jake mutters a curse, fingers rubbing across his forehead.

With his hands raised, Javy takes a step forward as if to prevent a physical altercation. “Alright, everybody take a breath,” he says. The winning, cocky grin that has tempted a woman or two or thirty is spread across his face. Then he points to himself. “I'm going to be the favorite. I'm her father's best friend.”

“I don't think that guarantees anything,” Bob says, only to receive a scowl in return.

It’s then that Mickey throws his own name onto the ballot. “You know, if we base this on entertainment value, she’ll obviously like me best. I’m the funniest.”

“Also the most irresponsible,” Reuben adds.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Um, everything,” Nat clarifies as Bob nods in agreement. “For one, you’ll never be the babysitter.”

“If you were the babysitter you’d need a babysitter,” Bradley chuckles, patting Mickey on the back. 

Bob clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is very true; it would be chaos. What baby Eve here could use is a calming presence, and that’s me, so–”

“I’m calm,” Reuben interjects, pulling a scoff out of Javy.

“You also come up with insane ideas that make everyone miserable,” Javy says. “What are you going to do, have the baby compete in challenges only to suffer through two hundred push-ups if she loses?” he asks. “I think that’s grounds for immediate disqualification.”

Reuben’s response is drowned out by the additions of each pilot arguing their case for favorite aunt or uncle, and you’re too drained from the last hour to attempt untangling voices.

Jake sighs and shakes his head before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the living room, up the stairs to where Eve sleeps. You’re thankful that, at some point, despite the noise filling the room where your friends remain, your little girl managed to fall asleep. As you place her in her crib, you glance at Jake. 

He’s sitting on the loveseat on the opposite side of the room, one hand running down his face, the other reaching out for you. When you take that hand, he pulls you onto his lap, shifting around until you’re comfortable with your back leaning against the armrest. A palm draws a lazy line of warmth up and down your leg.

“You’re a trouper, Honey,” he says, eyes unmoving from your knee.

You chuckle. “It could’ve been worse.”

“We should’ve done it one at a time; single-file line. The last thing I wanted was for you to be overwhelmed.”

Sitting a little straighter, you reach up to cup Jake’s cheek and guide his face toward yours. “Jake, I wasn’t overwhelmed. I’m fine and so is Eve,” you promise him. “Besides, they’re my friends, too. I knew what we were getting into.”

Jake leans into your touch before turning his head to kiss your palm. “They’re all crazy,” he says.

“Yes, but they’re ours,” you reply. Then you nudge your head in the direction of the crib. “And now hers.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun hangman #dad!jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #tgm #tgm fic #dagger squad

[bobfloydsbabe]

never really cared (until i met you) | jake seresin x oc

a turning tables fic

SUMMARY: While saying goodbye before he leaves on a mission, Jas realizes there may be more to her relationship with Jake than she thought.

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of a dangerous mission, mild fluff. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

TURNING TABLES MASTERLIST

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A/N: It's my birthday (29, yikes), and my gift to you is this fic. It was supposed to be longer, but alas, it is not. Thank you for your support of me and my writing. This is also my very late submission for @roosterforme's rocktober writing challenge where I picked the song Alone by Heart. Enjoy!

She watches Jake sitting on the edge of her bed getting ready to leave not just her house, but the city. Taken away by an aircraft carrier at sea for a mission he might not survive. He’s not allowed to tell her, but she knows. 

The room is dark save for the lamp on the nightstand, soft yellow light bouncing off Jake’s perfectly tan skin, making him appear almost golden. He stands, his shoulder muscles moving fluidly underneath the skin, and they tense as he reaches for his jeans on the floor. He pulls them on and does the button up.

Next, he looks for his t-shirt while Jas sits up in the bed, letting the sheet fall into her lap. She watches him pull the black cotton over his head, and his golden hair looks even more unruly than it did before. The shirt stretches across his chest and fits narrowly around his biceps, and he almost looks like a god. Not that Jas would ever tell him that. She’d never hear the end of it.

His gaze holds hers as he tries to tame his hair, then he places a knee on the mattress, making it dip as he leans in and kisses her. She used to never allow this intimacy. They’d get each other off and he would go, vowing to not speak a word of it. Now she allows him to kiss her because it may be one of the last.

She may not know the details of the mission, but you could cut the tension on base with a knife for weeks. When Floyd and Trace went down, Jake came to her with a distraught look on his face. She’d never seen him like that, and any jabs she’d wanted to make died on her tongue. 

Since then, she’s seen more of him. He stayed the night, and she would let him kiss her in the kitchen in the morning. She even let him come to her office to vent and let him buy her an old-fashioned at The Hard Deck a few times. Now, she’s letting him kiss her before he leaves on a suicide mission.

Jake gets off the bed and pulls on his boots. He reaches for the sheet on his side of the bed to make it, but stops at the look Jas sends him. “Leave it, Seresin.”

He nods, straightening his back again. “I’m gonna head back.”

Jas stands from the bed, contemplates walking him to the door in the nude, but decides against. She grabs clean panties and a t-shirt from the dresser and puts them on while Jake watches her every move.

She follows him to the front door, trailing behind him on bare feet. Uncertainty hangs in the air, rendering them both unusually quiet. Jas doesn’t know what to do with the silence.

Jake pulls the front door open. A light breeze flows through, making Jas shiver in the thin t-shirt she put on. Hugging herself, she runs her palms up and down her arms, trying to stay warm.

Jake turns to face her, expression uncommonly serious. He looks like he wants to say something by the way his mouth hangs slightly ajar, and his eyes search for something in hers. She’s not sure what.

“Doc,” he says, voice clear and bright in the faded glow from the porch light.

She steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kisses him. His mouth moves against hers in slow, languid motions and she revels in his taste. She clings to him, and his strong arms tighten around her waist, keeping her close. Some part of her never wants to let him go, wants him to stay here with her where he’s safe.

But he has orders and a mission to complete, so Jas pulls back, leaning her forehead against his. Their heavy breaths mix and she wonders if he can hear how hard her heart pounds in her chest.

“I gotta go,” he says and untangles himself from Jas, but she senses hesitation in him. He doesn’t want to go anymore than Jas wants him to.

She doesn’t say any of it, though. She simply nods and steps back. You’d think after years in the Navy, she’d be better at goodbyes like this, but she’s not. Something about seeing Jake walk down those front porch steps makes her stomach churn.

He’s halfway down the path to his car parked on the street when she steps onto the porch and calls for him. “Jake.” 

He stops in his tracks. In the rapidly approaching dawn, she can tell he takes a deep breath before turning back around. He walks back toward her, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

He’s quiet, waits for her to do the talking. “Give me your phone,” Jas finally says and walks down the steps, holding her hand out towards him.

A furrow appears between his brows, but he complies, handing it over.

Typing in her number, she saves it under the name Doc, even though she hates when he calls her that. At first. Now she’s grown used to it, and hearing him call her anything else feels wrong.

“Here,” she mutters and hands it back to him. “Text me when you get back.”

He looks down that the phone that now sits in his hand, the furrow between his brows having deepened in confusion. Jas has refused to give him her number for weeks, but now that she’s done it, it looks as if he can’t fathom why.

“Doc, I–”

She cuts him off with a kiss. It’s the only way she knows how to express that letting him leave is one of the hardest things she’s ever done. She doesn’t have the energy to unpack exactly what that says about her situation with Jake.

Breaking the kiss, she plays with the short hair at his nape. “Let me know you’re alive,” she mumbles and pecks his lips again.

His hands rest on her waist, setting her skin on fire, and if he didn’t have to be back on base soon, she’d be ready to go again. It’d be the third time in the past 24 hours, which isn’t their record, but close.

“I gotta go,” he whispers.

She takes a deep breath, allowing the scent of him–leather and jet fuel–to fill her nostrils. She commits it to memory and hopes the pillow on his side of the bed smells like him.

Then she takes a step back and straightens her spine. Composes herself and reminds herself that Jake is just some guy she’s fucking. They’re not serious, and she ignores the hurt that crosses his face for a split second. He’s expecting her to say something, but the words that threaten to pass her lips are stuck in her throat.

He says nothing as he turns around and walks down the path to his car. He doesn’t wave as he drives off towards base, leaving Jas standing at the foot of the porch stairs in just a t-shirt and panties.

She watches him drive into the sunrise and out of her reach.

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TAGLIST: @blue-aconite, @kmc1989, @callsign-magnolia, @cherrycola27, @thedroneranger, @bluezraven, @desert-fern, @dizzydisaster, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @jessicab1991, @mamachasesmayhem, @hookslove1592, @joaquinwhorres

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[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.

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