#nobody reads the tags but next chapter is the final chapter( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[poetryinsilence]

Noughts and Crosses - Jake “Hangman” Seresin x childhood friend!reader (part III)

A/n: Yo! PTSD and TRAUMA talk. Just beware. And Strong languages. But also he kinda went to therapy cuz he clearly needs it. Jake's raw emotions are what I need if I ever go see a therapist. No beta read, still going raw :)))

Summary: What you've learnt from years of absence of Jake runs much deeper than you think. From his line of work, he had witnessed a lot, but that doesn't mean it won't cost him.

Wc: 2,873

part I | part II part IV

Saturday rolls around as you kept yourself busy cleaning up the mess Jake made around your house, while he lounges and becomes one with your sofa, softly chuckling at the tv. The back of his skull bore into your gaze, and your brow knitted its way together as you watched his shabby blonde streaks woven and interlocked at the ends.

"Jackal...when was the last time you took a shower?" your words tread carefully.

Jake's head leans over the back of the couch with a shit-eating grin falls upside down, bemused by the nickname he hadn't heard in a long while.

"Well," he starts "How long has it been since my discharge from the hospital?"

Oh no. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I've tried, honestly. But you should try manoeuvring with one hand and two bricks attached to you."

You squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose to keep the internal scream blockade from deafening the outside world. The physical stress weighs evermore on your shoulders as you nod slowly to psych yourself up for this next part.

Generating a black, flimsy plastic bag from your back pocket, you handed it to Jake. "Waterproof your leg, you're getting a bath. Now."

He smirks, wetting his lower lip. "If you wanted to get intimate, all yo—"

"Don't." 

Hands threw up to surrender, lips pout like a puppy after he got scolded. No retort, only to do as he's told.

This isn't how you imagined you would spend your day. Filling a bathtub with whatever scraps of bath products you have left that could clean every single pup at the shelter. Except you're cleaning Jake. And it is as weird as it sounds. But for whatever reason, the sympathetic sentiment in you couldn't leave him like this, half of which was maybe, unintentionally, your neglect of not taking care of him. The guilt quietly seeps in.

Jake limps in, a plastic bag wraps just below his knee like a shitty Christmas present and manages to stage a twirl to his fashion statement. You gesture him towards the tub.

"Get in the tub with your back towards me. You can keep your clothes on—" 

"Nope. I'm not doing that" Before you could finish your sentence, he shimmied his way out of his pants which made your gaze snap up to the ceiling with a growl of frustration. The flash of heat rises at the tip of your ears.

"You can look if you want." he beams, towering over and eyes connected with yours as he strides across to the bathtub and slinks himself in.

Is it okay to back out of this? No. You're not one to back away from a challenge. You can't let him think he's besting you in this situation. Tightening the iron grip of your jaw, you fix yourself onto the stool and get to work.

Jake hums to himself merrily, with his legs propped up against the tiles, and you at his service. You’re thankful that the excessive amount of bath products you dumped in this water is covering the explicit parts of him. The floral fragrance of jasmine loiters midair in the bathroom. That sweet scent doesn't fit Jake's personality, but he doesn't mind it. In fact, he likes the idea of smelling like you. He wonders what his mother would think if she saw the two of you now, grinning from ear to ear and saying 'I told you so'. The length she would go to prove his younger self wrong.

A happy memory transition to the next, the one he was hoping you wouldn't ask. One that has your fingertip tracing over the patterns over his shoulder, or what remains of it. The weight of the scar sustained from a trivial injury, but the cost of it leaves a heavy mark on his heart.

"Jake..."

"You remember when I told you not to call my mother?" he blurts out.

You hum.

"A while back, I had...a highlight to my career— achievement would be an overstatement, but everyone seems to think so. For a while, I thought so too. Being the only pilot with an active combat kill amongst my teammates."

There's a pause, unease and tension gnawed at the back of your throat. The silence of Jake treading on unfamiliar territories, a face of him that you briefly saw back at the hospital, one that you couldn't quite put the finger on it. But it’s clear to you now— fear.

"The celebrations led me to think what I did was right. And, in a way, it was. Protecting millions of lives is what I do. Then, when the dark kicks in, so do my past actions."

Your thumb encircles his tensed-up shoulder offering comfort, as his hand reaches up and cups yours, there's a mild tremor. Seeing his bravado crumble down to reveal his raw emotions made your heart break into pieces. But you could never understand what he's been through.

He dryly chuckles, "I called mom after that mission. I thought she would do the same and congratulate me, but it's like she knew. Her sobbing on the other line...all she did was ask if I was okay."

Molecules of water pool from the faucet and break the surface tension, sending ripples of waves through the bath foams. The droplets resonated in the room, even after it stopped, you could still hear the slow dripping hitting the water. You dare not to call his name, to face him at his most vulnerable, nor would he want you to see him like this.

Jake took a breath, suppressing his tremble to the best he could. "For months, I had the same dream about the mission. Sometimes I see myself in the other carrier, just waiting for that inevitable moment. I tried everything, but nothing changed. Eventually, I became numb, detached, and act like everything was fine. Knowing fully well this is what happens in this line of work. But, fuck...these are lives. And it could've been..." He trails off.

The hot, stinging tears roll down your cheeks. All you could do was hold him close to you, tightening and tightening your grip, wishing that the pain he experienced could be transferred onto you through an embrace. But, alas, nothing is ever that simple. You can only keep living with that grievance, hoping that someday you could ask for forgiveness.

The evening draws with a heavy blue, and the underglow of the tv lit up a fraction of the room. With you resting on the crook of his neck and him pressed onto the crown of your head, surrounded by cushions and blankets, you let The Good Place run on screen to fill in the emptiness. Jake's hand never left your grasp since the bathroom. But, neither did the overwhelming information that swirls your mind afterwards. Paralysing yourself to live day to day, without missing a beat. Constantly riding shotgun in your own vehicle, with one hand on the steering wheel, not knowing if you might swerve out one day, and that would be the end of it all.

*

The aching soreness in your lower back grows dull as you try to shift to lessen the pain, and groggy eyes flutter open with a few blinks to focus and expose the creme walls of your living room. You don't remember dosing off on the couch or turning off the tv. The blankets have been pulled up to your chin and a comforting heat still radiates in the palm of your hand. You gave his hand a quick squeeze and gently nudged him.

"Hey, Jakey. Wake up!" you softly called.

A weary grunted and whined in response, returning himself to dreamland again.

You called, again. "C'mon, Jake! Wake up!"

"What?" he groaned, drowsy olive eyes now just peering at you. "What do you want?"

You sat up, beaming brighter than the sun that was beginning to rise through the horizon. "Do you trust me?"

He frowns, brows knitted tightly together and fear what you are going to say next. "I do. But, you asking me that first thing in the morning makes it seem more suspicious."

"Good." You nodded once, "Then, get up and get changed. We're going out."

*

Windows rolled down to let the summer air into your matchbox car, and the fabric of your cotton t-shirt clings to your body in this sticky humidity. Wild strands of hair fly freely from your loosely tied bun, reflecting a golden hue from the chromatic sunrise. But, not everyone is enjoying a brief moment of ethereal bliss. The battered blonde pilot; in his ever-so-dark sunglasses, masking his fatigue, annoyance, and everything in between— force captured in the passenger seat.

The car shrieked as you pulled into the parking lot, just facing a brick red duplex that's more like a mansion. The place is adorned with wildflowers and ample bushes, and fancy, vintage roof trimmings that you could probably never afford. You smile gleefully to yourself, admiring the building that you consider to be your second home.

"Where are we?" Jake finally spoke.

Your face radiated, the edges of your eyes creased and holding that smile for seconds too long made anybody fear their life.

"This is my workplace." Your singsong voice answered.

He scoffs. "So you took me to work? The one thing I can't do right now? If I wanna work I would just go back to Top Gun, but, newsflash! I can't!"

"It's less about work and more about helping around here. Plus, today is something like 'Take your son or daughter to work' Day, and it just so happens that I have an overgrown toddler living with me. And I can't leave them alone at home."

The mocking pout on your face made Jake hiss in unsatisfactory, biting back what he had to say and just going with the flow.

"It's going to be alright! We have something that could make your movement easier," you reassured him.

When you stated something along the lines of assisting his movement, Jake was imagining something more like a wheelchair that's practical and you could possibly push him around the block. But, what was waiting for him was less of a wheelchair, and more like a chair with wheels attached to it. Talk about surprises.

Jake stood his ground for a solid 10 minutes, initiating a stare-off with you, not uttering a word but clearly infuriated with the choice of option— the only one— displayed in front of him. And you, wearing a cocky grin that looks a tad too good on you, arm resting against the back of the black mesh office chair with one upraised brow.

What choice does he have? Drive back to your place? He doesn't have the keys, nor can he drive at the moment. Sulk his way through the day by just standing in the lobby? The cast around his leg is uncomfortable as it is, can't even scratch an itch, not to mention the crutch is barely any help at all.

The deadpan expression is carved permanently on his face, but the giddy excitement bubbles as you witness him excuse himself on the chair, surrendering off his mighty high horse.

"Doesn't feel good to be on the receiving end now does it, Seresin?"

"Shut up."

The plastic wheels rumbled along the hardwood floors, with occasional bumps that earned a grunt from Jake when running over the door sills. Your manager is kind enough to understand the sudden addition but is still grateful for the extra help they could get around the place. There, through the double barn doors, reside rows of cages as a temporary home for these helpless creatures. Some yaps at the sight of you, and some whine to procure any attention.

At the end of the long hallway, here you stopped and unbolted the lock with a clunk to the transparent door that's housing a german shepherd. Fur shining in beautiful sandy hues and shawled with a coat of black. Its sullen eyes soften the moment it sees you, tail wagging like a metronome.

"This baby boy here is Captain." you scritch the floof between those perked-up ears. "He was found with his hind legs broken and fending off another stray dog. The vet informed us that there were low chances that he could run again, ever.

He leans further into your touch, licking the hand that's patting his head. "In the beginning, he was defensive and wouldn't let anyone go near him. Even in therapy, he refuses to move or gives himself the chance to run again. But, I never gave up on him. I stuck with him through it all, and he did take it. He took that chance through me." You turn to face Jake, gaze gleaming with assurance and hope.

"Is that what I'm supposed to do? Go ask for help?" He swallows, voice filled with uncertainty.

You solemnly return a smile. "That's up to you, Jackal. You don't have to do this alone. There are people that are willing to listen. I'm willing to listen if you're ready to talk."

Jake's eyes flicker to the floor for a fleeting moment, contemplating. Then peers up to observe the dog, mouth muttering something too quiet for you to perceive.

"But! This isn't the point of me bringing you here today," you exclaim. "Your mission today, Lieutenant, is to take the dogs out for their field day. And this little baby right here is your wingman for the day." You squint your eyes, catching a glimpse of something. "You guys look quite similar when you're side by side."

The pilot and his temporary wingman frown.

Field day is a special day for pets. It’s one of the grand activities arranged for the pets to have fun, as well as dressing them up for their new adoption pictures. The noises of barking and panting are scattered around the luscious green yard, as various sizes of pups are excited to interact with one another. 

However, your eyes tether towards the other side of the field. There are currently two being just blandly observing the situation. A Lieutenant and his Captain. Awkwardly hiding underneath the shades of the blooming oak tree. You shake your head. Maybe if you give them a little more time, they’ll warm up to each other.

Jake crossed his arms in his best effort, brooding in the cool shadows cast by the leaves that slowly merged with him. He cared not for this field day thing, but he cared enough about you to know this was important to you. If he participates in some way that could make you happy, that's the least he can do.

He sighs and whips his head around to find Captain immersed himself gnawing on a lime green, worn-out ball. Enjoying the fact there isn't a single intrusive thought inside that little head of his.

"Look at you, it must be nice being you. Not a care in the world and having somebody that loves you."

Jake's gaze draws back to you, frolicking around with dogs following your trail, laughing as brightly as a shining star and he can't help but be infected by your smile. He knows he has a bad habit of making you mad, but he always finds you cute when you're angry. With your deadly glares and the crease in your brows, he knows he got your full attention. But your smile also takes up an entirely new feeling. Like walking down a sunny country path, hand grazing along the overgrown grass. He noticed. How your lips were drawn to a thin line when you smile, cheeks pinched together and made way for a dimple, eyes always glimmer with a bright shine when you're interested in something.

"And yet, she doesn't know. Probably never will," he mutters.

Captain whines and pitifully looks at him.

"Don't give me that look."

Captains tamper the soil a few times before dropping the ball in Jake's lap, waiting expectantly.

"Oh, I don't need your pity party."

He launches the ball across the field which sets Captain bolting, eyes locked on to the acquired target and retrieving the object back to the Lieutenant. Dropping the ball on his lap once more, excitement coursing through his tiny, furry brain, fanning his own tail.

The green ball gripped tightly in his hand as he shakes his head. "I'm not doing this."

The poor pup’s ears droop and the tail comes to a halt, pleading with his puppy dog eyes.

“The answer is no.” He casually tossed the ball aside, but the littlest commotion still sends Captain to a running sprint after his favourite toy. “Ah, fuck.”

You look up just in time to witness Jake rowing away with his crutch as a paddle on land. His action sends Captain into a delighted frenzy as his large doggy paws hop after Jake attempts to escape. You chuckled, reaching a hand to your back pocket and fishing out your phone. The screen encapsulates the playful scenery, and with a touch of a button, the shutter freeze frame of this beautiful memory. A memento that holds dear to you as your new phone screen.

A/n: If Jake was a dog, what type of dog would he be?

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #tg fic #tgm fic #⭐️.doc #nobody reads the tags but next chapter is the final chapter( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)