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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

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Fucked Up - Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Words: 5.3k+ Type: Smut Summary: Hangman makes a mistake in training that could've cost your safety, and you've had enough of his way of being. Warnings: Fem!Reader [no mentions of race or bodytype]. Mentions of a possible accident in the jet, being a naval aviator, and lack of teamwork. SMUT [sex in communal shower, piv, no protection (she's on the pill), risk of getting caught, hair pulling].

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Jake knows he fucked up. Truly, fucked up bad. He has been called out by people like Phoenix or Maverick about how he’s not exactly a team pilot. He has always begged to differ. He has always been there in the case of emergencies and helped people out when they needed. Yet, his thick skull could never really understand how bad he is in tests or training.

You and him never really became friends in the years that you’ve known each other. You are closer to Phoenix and Fanboy than anyone else, but Jake likes what he has with you. It’s a healthy mixture of playful banter and insults whenever you two fly together.

You tease one other on everything. It has been like this for years and never changes. Jake likes to have someone to annoy. It’s just a little extra something for his ego to have someone that actually fights back.

Yet, even in the middle of all the fights and bantering, he always loved the way you would crack and eventually shine a smile at him. You would always turn your head so he wouldn’t see and think he won something in your discussions. And, even when it’s not as common as he would like it to be, he thrives on every bit of those days.

There are also other days that he swears that you are flirting with him. It may be after a few beers, but he indulges every word.

But, today was different. Whenever Jake screws up with you in the air, he gets an earful in the coms. He's your wingman, he’s supposed to make your flying feel safer by either his coms or his firepower.

Yet, not only is it difficult to keep up with his speed - something Maverick made sure to switch you up with Phoenix since you seemed to have an easier time with it -, he is almost dead silent the whole time.

If doing canyons and pulling 4G’s on each wasn’t bad enough, having to follow a reckless speedy pilot who doesn’t even get to use his coms whenever he needs to is simply a bonus you get to have. Jake is able to communicate, sometimes, but not always. And that is exactly how he messed up today.

He was going too fast because, even though you were constantly telling him in his ear to slow down, you were able to keep up with him, and he likes that. He thrives on that too with absolutely no shame. Yet, speed and tight spaces don’t go too well. The two of you were too close for the speed you were going in and, as soon as Jake noticed how close he was to the side of the mountain, he didn’t have time to say anything and simply decided to pull himself off.

You had good reflexes. You were able to not hit the mountain, but when you pulled off from Jake’s back, he also moved, meaning that you had to pull much farther back. If adrenaline wasn’t already high in your body, it was so much worse now. You almost hit Jake.

The circuit that you had to do is tight. It leaves no space for errors, and you two just so happened to do one.

Right as you were pulling away from Jake, you pulled upwards and directly in range of the missiles. A voice in the coms informed you right after, and your hold on the stick tightened with anger.

Your backseater was the one to explain in the coms what happened to Maverick, and Jake continued on with the course nonetheless.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so angry. You expected that as Jake continued on and you were left in silence on your way back, your anger would cool you down, but it didn’t.

You were annoyed. It was a mistake, sure, but one that could’ve been avoided with communication. If the two of you had reacted at the same time, this would’ve gone well. You probably would’ve finished it. But, no... Now, you have to try it all over again tomorrow.

Minutes later, you are still quiet in the coms, not really finding any strength in you to speak after what happened, but you still speak enough to do your job.

“You alright there, Chaos?” Hangman asks through coms.

You don’t answer, but your backseater does once noticing your silence.

“We’re good.” He said for you.

Jake lands before you, which you're happy with since it means he will be out of your way when you leave your own jet.

You let out a little breath as you wait your turn to land. With the golden sunlight hitting your face, you are silent, still trying to get yourself back to normal.

You’re called in for permission to land after a few minutes, and you easily do so.

It takes everyone some time to get out of the landing strip and then park the F-18, but you only feel relief when you're done.

The canopy hisses open as you calmly unstrap yourself, and the light breeze hits your face. You let your backseater leave first, and, only once he's a few steps back, you make your way off your seat and down the ladder.

Helmet off your head and get ready to leave, you're facing the building where the locker rooms are. You really only need a shower and go to bed. You truly do not want to have to deal with anything else.

No one really says anything to you, knowing it’s better to just leave you to cool off. Yet, not even ten steps after, you already hear a familiar voice in the wind.

“Hey, Chaos!”

You didn’t look over your shoulder, you simply ignore everything. And seeing you walk away without a word to everybody was worse for Jake than your silence in the coms. He was waiting for your lecturing and your disappointed sighs, but neither ever came to his ears.

He watches you walk away, unstrapping some of the things across your chest with a helmet in one hand as you do it. Jake waited with some hope in his heart for you to turn to him and just scream at the top of your lungs. But you never began to think to do such a thing.

Jake walks off from the conversation he was just having, not even remembering to excuse his abandonment in the first place, and starts over to you. You don’t turn to see whose steps are getting close, you only push the door of the building open and walk inside, not caring to hold it for Jake, behind you.

When he is able to get in as well, he takes a look at you. He doesn’t say anything and you don’t ever look at him, not even when you have to turn around the corner. Your eyes don’t ever lift to his, and your mouth doesn’t ever open.

Deep down he knows you wouldn’t listen to a single word if he spoke. Hangman never apologizes for any of his fuck ups. He simply finds excuses on why he fucks up. Never even comes close to muttering the word "sorry". And, because of it, you do not care.

As you get to the locker room, you expect him to stop following you, but you are very wrong. Jake walks side by side with you and stands there watching as you open your locker and begin to unzip your flight suit.

You unzip it at your thighs, undoing the laces right after, and Jake just stands there, watching you ignore him.

No one really gets in the locker rooms at this time, and you know you two were the last ones in the air today. You're completely alone with him for a good following minutes.

Right as he opens his mouth to speak, words are said by you first.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Jake shuts his mouth and looks at you as if in shock. He feels a little bit of every emotion bubble in his chest, but the fact that he got you to talk just now, it’s still annoyingly a win in his book.

“Come on. Don’t be like that.” He says to you, and you hear the smile on his words. God, as if you could get any angrier. “Can you at least look at me?” He asks.

You slip your arms out of your flight suit, appearing in your white tank top, and continue ignoring him. The suit stays secure on your hips, and Jake begins to think of something else he could do.

He needs to ignore all that is going on in front of him. Ignore the way your skin is shining under the light because of sweat, how tight the tank top is to your chest, and especially how he can very much peek into your shirt on accident from where he stands.

“About what happened-” He tries again.

You stop moving to speak.

“But I do not want to talk.” You speak slowly, “Nor do I want to see your stupid fucking face, right now. So… leave.”

As soon as you had let anger get the best of you as you spoke, even when it was just a slip-up, you regret everything. Insulting someone like Jake was like adding fuel to a fire. It doesn’t make him angry, it excites him.

“My stupid fucking face, uh?” He repeats, and you don’t answer him.

Jake begins to move. In fact, he doesn’t walk away from where he stands, but his arms and hands do the work. Jake Seresin is beginning to undress too.

Your eyes quickly go over to him, but he’s not looking at you, his eyes are focused on every strap he’s undoing and every lace he’s untying. As soon as his hands come back to his chest, you force yourself to speak.

“What are you doing?” You ask him.

Your eyes meet and neither of you tries to look away. You just stare at one another. The looks of both of your eyes clash. Your hardened eyes are filled with anger, and his with nothing but mischief.

“Getting ready to shower.” He answers easily.

“This isn’t your locker room.” You remind him.

“I need to get you to talk to me, don’t I?” He says, pulling at the last strap on his chest as he finishes the sentence. “Nothing like making you have to see my stupid face for a little longer to make you talk.”

You watch him for just a few seconds, and Jake finally unzips and slips his upper body out of the suit. He has a tank top under it as well, but his tan skin shines with the light, and his ridiculously muscular arms and shoulders reach your field of view.

“I’m not talking” You assure him.

“And why not?” He doesn’t stop with the undressing, but he keeps his gaze on you constantly.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed already. I’m fucking mad at you.” You tell him, “Now, leave.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Leave.”

“Just talk to me.” He tells you, a grin appearing as he says that to you, his hands pausing the undressing.

You force yourself to look away and restart your undressing. The message is easily received by Jake as well. It’s entirely weird how neither of you even hesitates on continuing with stripping.

You’re one step ahead with the process as you now stand in the locker room with just your tank top and underwear. Jake swallows dry at the sight of your legs, but he keeps on going strong.

“You-” You begin to speak once more, ready to remind him that he cannot take a shower here and the many reasons why, but something stops you.

Jake’s shirt flies over to the bench beside you, and you swear that you have to hold your head in your hands to not blatantly stare at his naked chest. You slow down your breathing, trying to seem absolutely calm and collected, and, to your every bit of distaste, Jake notices it.

“I what?”

“You can’t shower here.” You tell him while staring forward into your locker. At this point, you’re spitting your words with anger. “Your stuff isn’t here.”

He stays quiet for a little bit and, out of habit, you look at him to find a reason for his silence. He offers you a shrug with a tight lipped grin, dismissing whatever you just said as if that wasn’t a great argument against his decision. As id someone will take a shower without something other than water.

“I’m sure we can share.” He tells you all so seriously.

You look at him for a little longer, forcing your eyes to stay on his face, and finally turn your entire body to face him. You two stand just a few inches away from each other, but neither of you hesitates or thinks of taking a step back.

You carefully look at the door of the room, scared that anyone could very much walk in on both of you, even when, deep down, you know how improbable it is. And then look at him, forcing yourself to remember what he did and how risky today was only because of him, and soon, annoyance covers your face again.

“Leave, Hangman.” You tell him in a low and stern tone.

He lowers his head so that the two of you stand eye-to-eye and he whispers, trying to match the low tone of your voice.

“No.” And his perfect white smile shines on his face.

You grab your towel from the bench, and as you go to grab the rest of your things, you pretend to forget about the man that is standing beside you. The same one that is just now standing in his boxers. You swear that you don’t even order your eyes and head to turn, but they try.

With all of the things you need in your hands, you hold them close to your chest, and you notice him step a little closer, leaning his shoulder onto the metal door of your locker.

You finally are ready move to the showers and slam your locker closed, turning your back to him. Jake is right on your tail yet only after a few seconds of distance due to his sight-seeing. You put down your towel by the last bench, the one closest to the exit, and enter the white room of the communal showers.

You can’t believe he’s still following you.

You put some things down on the ground by the shower head you’re going to use, and look over at Jake. The two of you standing in minimal clothing, looking at each other as if to see who will be the first one to pull out. It's a bad plan since the start because the two of you are the most stubborn people on the entire base.

You bring your hands over to your tank top and pull it up, throwing it over to the bench - right on top of your towel. Next up is your bra, and even Jake turns his head just in time to give you privacy.

It’s unbelievable how the two of you actually finish getting undressed and, without any hesitation, turn on the water.

If the two of you weren’t already tense, the cold water didn’t really help your case.

As the water turns automatically off (navy showers), you grab your soap and casually just lather yourself with it, acting as if everything is totally normal.

Your stomach turns and twists, yet also bubbles with some sort of anxiety as you stand near Jake. Jake eventually needs the soap too, and it doesn’t help that he takes it from your hands right as you’re done with it. The feeling of his larger hand against yours made some sort of heat run through you. His hand is larger, more calloused, strong, and with surely longer digits. Okay. You need to calm down.

“Let me know if you need help washing your back.” His voice echoes in the open room.

You pathetically aren't able to hold back a grin with his words.

“I’m sure you’d love that.” You tell him, trying to sound bitter.

He doesn’t answer, and you find yourself looking at him. Your grin is already gone. Jake is looking at you in the eyes, but your staring ends as you move to turn back on the water.

It’s difficult to have to keep looking at him in the eyes when his body is right there. When his hands are moving over his muscular arms, his hairy chest, or his abs.

The cold water shuts off your mind right away, calming down the heat of your own body. Jake doesn’t look away as quickly, but he finally has to force himself to do such a thing. He needs to stop thinking about how the water is washing and running down your skin, the way the soap must have looked all throughout your body, or the way your hands could feel on him.

Jake turns the cold water as well and looks at the ground as it hits his warming skin. You look at him for just a second as you finish up with the rinsing off the soap. You watch him as he closes his eyes under the water, and you shake your head while looking away again. Your staring will get you in trouble.

Your water is cut off shortly after, and you look over at Jake. He’s already looking at you. You don’t look as mad anymore, but he knows that as soon as he mentions the training again, which he will have to eventually, all of it will go down the drain.

“Can I have my soap back?” You ask him, seriously.

Jake smiles at you and right as he’s about to hand you the soap, his water cuts out, leaving you two to stand in silence. You bring your hand closer to his, and you carefully grab the soap from his palm. Your fingers touch, even with so much effort.

All of the warmth the two of you were able to wash away with the cold water has now come back, stronger than ever, right as the two of you stand completely naked before each other and try keep your eyes on each other’s faces.

“Still mad at me?” He asks over the overbearing silence.

You expected his words to reawaken your anger, but they don't. You still have some deep-rooted anger bubbling down when you remember the exact moment of your error as a team, but not as strongly as before. You look at him for just a little longer and shrug.

“Wouldn’t you?” You ask him fairly, “If I were the one that screwed up?”

“Maybe.” He nods, voice still low, “But not for too long.”

You almost laugh at his words. Jake Seresin is one of the biggest perfectionists of all time. Any pilot is, yet he takes the cake. He hates every time someone screws up his perfect timing, his perfect mission, his literally anything. You know he's lying, through and through.

“Is that so?” You ask him, tilting your head attentively.

His eyes quickly look over at your collarbones as he stares at you. Your words are enough to pull at his full smile, and, soon, his eyes are back on your face.

“Always.”

You hum at him, obviously doubting everything, and he is only more amused by it. You two stare at one another for a little bit in the same silence as before.

“Am I your favorite, Seresin?” You ask him. “Must be. With how quick I’m able to be forgiven.”

He chuckles at you, and you smile.

“Depends... Who’s your favorite wingman?”

The real answer floats in your mind, but you definitely have other plans.

“Rooster.” You nod as you speak, but your smile is your biggest enemy. It makes it obvious to the blonde that you never lied so hard in your life. “He’s the safest.”

Jake takes a step closer with your words and his perfect smile still shines on his face. You look up at him, noticing how the two of you have totally grown more than natural about your lack of clothing, and force your own entertainment to not seem so apparent.

“Is that so?” He asks, and you nod, “Safest.” He repeats as if he’s testing the word out loud.

He leans his head down closer to yours, worsening the heat spreading over your body, and you stare back at him.

“He never put me in danger.” You recall back at him, “Whereas for my second favorite…”

“Second favorite?” He smiles at that too.

“Coyote.” You smile back, “He's less safe, but still up there as one of my faves... And then, there's you. The worst of them all.”

He chuckles in your face at your choices and then nods.

“That’s fair.” He comments, “I actually had Phoenix as my favorite this whole time.”

You smack the side of his head for that and it makes the two of you laugh. Your eyes fall on the skin of his chest, and you take in the view. When you look back up, Jake catches you red-handed. Two complete seconds of silence and both of you with only one idea in mind.

Your lips touch and your heart practically jumps out of your chest. Jake was the one to close the space between you two. Your hands slide over to his neck, and you don't hesitate to kiss him back. Jake’s hands lay across the skin of your sides, and he pulls you closer.

Your naked bodies brush against each other, and Jake is the one to move you two around, while still in the kiss, and lean you against the wall.

Jake’s tongue touches your bottom lip and, as soon as you open your mouth and your tongues touch, the whole demeanor of the kiss and your touch changes. Your grip on the back of his neck, pulling him down harsher and closer to you; and Jake’s rough hands running through your body, touching every bit of skin he can reach.

Your fingers run through his wet hair, pulling at the strands when the kiss roughens exactly how you want it to. You sigh when Jake pulls away from the kiss and his lips begin to move down your neck. He bites onto the skin that he notices you to be more sensitive.

One of your hands comes down from his shoulders to his chest, running through his perfectly sculpted body, feeling every hilt of muscle as your other hand still grips onto the strands of his soft hair. Jake comes back up to kiss your lips, and you let out a soft moan. One that makes Jake’s whole body react as the vibrates against his lips.

He pulls away from the kiss and, for a split second, the two of you look into each other’s eyes.

Jake grabs your hips and turns you around.

“You’re on the pill, right?” He asks, and you sigh your answer.

“Yes.”

You lay one of your hands on the tiled wall and take a discreet deep breath, trying to hold yourself together.

Jake never really leaves your body untouched. His lips come back to kiss your shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he moves up to your neck and jaw. You lay your hand on the back of his head as he’s close enough, and his hands continue to grip your hips.

You arch your back, leaning closer to him as Jake continues to kiss your neck. His hands on your hips slide across your skin and feel one of them move in between your legs. His palm lays over your pussy, never trying to not do anything further, and you lean your forehead on your outstretched arm.

His fingers slide in between your folds, and you cling to his hair all over again. His middle and ring finger slide down to meet your entrance and he groans on your neck at the feeling of your juices covering his fingertips.

His other arm wraps around your torso and pulls you flush against him, letting you feel his cock, already hard, behind your back.

Jake’s fingers slide slowly inside of you, and you gasp. They're a severe difference from your soft hands, but that only worsens your ability to stay quiet and still. His fingers are much bigger and rougher than yours.

He begins to move them inside of you, letting all of your juices wet his skin, and then you feel his thumb over your clit.

You lean your head back, biting down at your bottom lip to stay quiet, and your head lays against Jake’s shoulder, exposing your neck further to his mouth. His fingers move inside you, curving and sliding into you. All in ways that make you have to fight the urge to close your legs, and that is soon abandoned, as Jake notices.

“You want to cum on my fingers first, sweetheart, or-” He asks against the skin of your neck.

“Just fuck me, Jake.”

He smiles at your words and before pulling his head back, he makes sure to nip at your abused skin one last time. His fingers are pulled out of you, and you groan ever so slightly at the fast action.

Jake maneuvers you with such ease that you almost don’t notice the way he pulls you away from him ever so lightly, lifts your hips, and just aligns the tip of his cock with your cunt. The arm he had around your torso stays tight, and slowly, you feel him slide inside of you.

Jake’s hand flies and covers your mouth faster than you expect him to and you cannot keep yourself quiet for much longer.

Any noise in the showers echoes. Anything. Any noise seems louder than it really is in the room. And when you have to control the sounds that leave your mouth as Jake slides his cock inside of you, it's harder to keep quiet. Much harder. He’s bigger than you thought, a lot bigger, and you swear that you feel like being slowly ripped in half.

The hand you have on his head comes to hold onto his wrist, feeling his soft skin against your palm. Jake gives you time, leaning his cheek on the side of your head, trying to control his breathing too as he feels your smooth wet walls squeeze him with anything he does.

After some time, Jake begins to move his hips and you hold onto him tighter. His thrusts into you make you close your eyes and lean your head back further, feeling and loving the way he stretches you and already fucks you so well.

His movements gain speed and remaining quiet gets harder for Jake too. He holds back any grunts or groans, he closes his eyes tightly and holds you closer to him to fight the urge of letting anything past his lips. Soon, the sound of his thrusts is also audible in the room and no matter how much you two try to hide it, they’re there. Everything is so silent, you can hear the sound of your skin slapping loudly and both of your heavy breathing.

A little moan escapes both your lips and Jake’s hand as you feel his dick directly hit your g-spot. It sounds like a little scream, even though muffled, it still echoes and makes Jake almost feel himself go entirely crazy. He leans his head back against yours, and repeats what he just did, secretly wanting you to slip up again. And he accomplishes exactly that.

Your hold on his arm gets tighter and soon your hips move against his as he drills into you. You continue to let out soft little noises, all of them echoing through the room and possibly ruining your plan to stay secret to everyone that could be outside of the locker room. The walls of your pussy have grown impossibly wetter and tighter around Jake, and he knows that you’re already close.

It’s all a mixture of the pleasure from the sex with the risk of getting caught. It all makes another type of adrenaline course through your blood. Your every action can be risky as you can be very much caught by anyone that could either need something from the room or simply clean it. Any of your superiors can walk in on you two too.

You sob out a moan against Jake’s palm, and he forces you closer to him. He uncovers your mouth for just a second and uses his hand on your chin to turn you to him. Your lips and tongues touch into a messy and sloppy kiss. The two of you almost can’t even concentrate enough to do it. You force yourselves to stay quiet, and you feel like you’re going to explode already.

Jake covers your mouth again and feels you grind your hips against his every time you connect. Your walls squeeze him tighter and tighter, and your small moans become louder underneath his hand. Jake never falters on his thrusts, sliding his dick back and forth inside of you just like before, and, with just one harsher thrust, you come undone around him.

Jake covers your mouth, trying to make you stay as quiet as humanly possible, but your moans do spill. A hand can only muffle so much, and Jake is secretly praying to hear every single one of them, fighting his urges to just uncover your mouth entirely.

Your walls squeeze him so tight, and you move against his body in tiny spasms in a way that it doesn’t take Jake much longer to cum as well. He brings the arm he has around your torso over to your hips to hold you in place. You let moans spill out due to the overstimulation, and Jake’s thrusts get faster yet sloppier with each one going into you.

His head comes to the crook of your neck once more, and your hand comes back to cling to his hair. The small pain of the pulling at the strands drives Jake to his last needed stimulation, and he finally feels his muscles contract much tighter than before. You grind your hips against him, and Jake finally reaches his climax as well.

Your movements never pause, no matter how tightly he holds onto your hips, and the ropes of his cum fill your insides. He groans onto your neck and you turn your head to pull him into a kiss. The kiss is softer than before and you’re the one that dominates it, this time. Jakes kisses you back and even chases your lips whenever you try to pull back.

Jake loosens his hold on you and you two finally pull away from your kiss. He disconnects your hips, and you gasp out loud at the feeling. Jake eyes you down as he does it, watching his cum slowly slide out of you, and the image alone makes him close his eyes to stay sane.

You turn back around slowly as Jake still holds onto you, and your chests are held flush together. The two of you are breathing heavily while looking at one another, and he’s the one to break the silence.

“I better be your favorite wingman, now.” He whispers, his tone never so serious.

As if he wasn't already.

Hope you enjoyed this!

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hangmanssunnies · 1 year

Text

Double Tap

House We Share: Double Tap, Sfumato, Good Comes In 3

Summary: You were hesitant when your friends told you about their other friend who needed a roommate. Living with a man, let alone a Naval aviator, isn't your ideal living situation. However, you are desperate to get out of your current house. So, you will have to suck it up and make a deal with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Now you just wish he would stop doing things that make you fall in love with him.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman Seresin x Fem! Civilian! Reader, minor Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC

Word count: 19k

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Abuse (Implied and mentioned), confrontation with Abuser, Child abuse (mentioned), Slow burn, Implied calorie counting, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, taxes, Neurodivergent coded! Hangman, Fiscally responsible!Hangman, Protective!Hangman. Please let me know if I missed any for this part, I know it is a long one.

Authors Note: This got so completely out of hand. It started as one scene and then grew a mind of its own. Part two is written, just not edited, I'm planning on having that done later this week. Hangman Coyote BFF supremacy. I apologize for writing the most hyper-specific!Jake you have probably ever read. 85% of his personality is just things I find attractive in men.

Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had been at your friend Marlee's house for almost an hour before she couldn't stop herself from confronting you. She had at least let you get settled and offered you a drink while pretending to be distracted by the lasagna she was making. She had spun towards you expectantly when it was in the oven, having reached her limit on waiting.

"What happened?" Marlee asks.

"It's nothing." You respond.

"It is something. I don't want to reread your texts back to you, babes."

"Marls," you sigh, briefly closing your eyes, trying to fight the exhaustion you feel.

"You can't live there anymore. We need to get you out."

"Yeah, let me just move and find a place to live. It's not that easy, Marlee."

She sighs heavily. "I know, babes, but at least stay here with Javy and me. If he touches you like that again."

"It was just a one-time thing," you quickly cut her off. But, from the pitying look in her eyes, she knows it hasn't been just this one time.

"If something happened."

"Nothing is going to happen." Marlee was too bright and too good of a friend. She knew something had already happened, and she knew things had been happening. Her frown and eyebrow raise say it all.

"I can't just crash here," you say.

"You are always, always welcome."

"You are," a voice pops up, and you both look over to the couch. You thought Marlee's husband, Javy, was thoroughly invested in the game he was playing on his Xbox, but it turns out he had an ear on your conversation.

It wasn't something that bothered you. You loved Javy, he had been an excellent partner to Marlee, and you considered him a friend. He was fun and easygoing, something you hadn't expected from a Navy man. You also weren't bothered because everyone knew they were the type of couple that told each other absolutely everything. So, Javy would have found out one way or another.

"I know that. Thanks, you two." You tell them, trying to get them off your back.

"Marlee is right. We can't have anything happening to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Javy," you say, now trying to reassure them and stop this unnecessary worrying.

"You know. I have a friend who has actually been looking for a roommate." Javy says.

"You do?" you ask, surprised you hadn't heard about this sooner.

"Yeah, I mean, he can be a lot. But he is a good guy and a great roommate."

"Who ?" Marlee cuts in.

"Jake."

"Hangman?"

"Yeah, Hangman." The two of them stare at each other, and you can see that they are having one of those conversations of glances and small expressions you weren't entirely privy to understanding.

Marlee then shrugs, nodding, and looks back at you, "It would be a nice safe place."

"I mean, it's an option and would be a nicer place to stay than anything else you'll find. Plus, someone who is not a total stranger as a roommate." Javy tells you. He pulls off his headset and makes his way to the kitchen. He sets his hand on your shoulder and gives you a kind smile.

"I'm not sure about living with a man."

"If you don't want to live with Jake or you aren't interested, we will find somewhere else. Or you stay here with us, but you can't stay there anymore." The seriousness behind Javy's smile isn't lost on you. So you start to slowly nod.

"I guess I could at least chat with your friend if y'all think it's a decent option."

"Yeah, for sure," Javy said with a grin. "I'll ask him about it, then maybe y'all can meet this weekend. We are still having a big bonfire on the beach. I'm sure he will be there."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on going to the bonfire." You start to say, which makes both Javy and Marlee frown.

"Why aren't you coming to the bonfire?"

You tried to think of a valid excuse beyond that being in open public spaces was terrifying to you right now. An excuse past the fact that you knew your bruises wouldn't be gone by Saturday.

"I've just been stressed about finding a place to live, you know." You gave them both a weak smile, but neither of your friends seemed appeased.

"Well, now you have a reason to come," Marlee says.

"Yeah, exactly, and I'll talk to Jake." Javy presses a kiss to your forehead and then a lingering one to Marlee's lips. He returns to the couch, but not before looking at you seriously. "You know if you ever need anything, you call us?"

"Sir, yes sir," you tell him with a laugh, making Marlee giggle too.

Even with Javy's reassurances, you are unsure about this whole idea. However, whoever this friend Jake is, you know he had to be better than your current living situation. After dinner, Marlee and Javy both reiterate their feelings on the whole issue before you leave their house. You did your best to wave them off and tell them you would see them in a few days.

When Saturday rolls around, you head to the pin Marlee sent you for the bonfire. You are thankful it is a cooler day and will only be colder once the sun sets. It allows you to not look so out of place in your conservative clothes, ensuring all your bruises are covered.

You arrive purposefully late and park far from the beach. By the time you make it to the group of people, you have sufficiently hyped yourself up to interact with the others. You decide to ease yourself into the party. You walk around the different coolers, opening them and investigating the available drink options.

You are in the middle of shuffling through one when you hear a voice behind you.

"Anything specific I can help you find, sweetheart?" You turn around and are met with one of the most attractive men you have ever met. He is tall, with dirty blonde hair and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose.

"I'm just browsing," You tell the man with a shrug, proud of yourself for being able to put together a sentence.

"I think I know what would be perfect for you, sweetheart.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He says, flashing you a grin. His smile makes something in your stomach swoop a tiny bit.

"And, what would that be?" you say, raising an eyebrow.

"Me, of course."

You can't help the shocked laugh that falls out of your throat. Which just makes his handsome smile widen.

"I was thinking something a bit stronger, actually."

"I know I look like a tall glass of water but let me tell you, I won't disappoint you."

"Well, looks certainly can be deceptive."

"That's true. Are you really as sweet as you look?"

Before you can answer, you hear Javy's voice to your right. "Oh good, you two already met."

You turn your head to see Javy jogging over. He stops next to you with a smile on his face. You process his words and feel your stomach drop. The incredibly handsome man you were trying to flirt with was Javy's friend. Javy's friend he thought you could live with.

"There haven't been any formal introductions," you say.

"Jake Seresin," he says. He sticks out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. You take his hand, give it a firm shake, and share your name. He repeated it softly, giving your hand an extra squeeze before letting go.

"Javy said you are looking to move," Jake says casually. Your voice seems stuck in your throat. You examine Jake's handsome face again and know you can't do this.

"Yeah, she is. Soon, too." Javy says after you haven't said anything leaving an awkward pause.

"I have lots of space."

"Oh well, you know." You say, trying to figure out what to say by saying nothing at all. Jake nods along with you, but his eyebrows pull close together while his eyes narrow.

"Plus, Jake is really clean," Javy adds.

"That is good to know. Maybe Jake and I can talk about it later?" You say, giving both of them a smile. You turn back to the coolers and grab the first drink you see.

"Yeah, we can talk about it later. Javy owes me a spike ball game anyways," Jake says. He flashes you another smile while grabbing a High Noon out of the cooler, gesturing for Javy to do the same. You leave them to find Marlee and chat with some other people at the party.

You are considering how to best say goodbye and leave the party while sitting next to the fire later. You stare into the flames hoping they might provide you answers.

"You would actually be doing me a huge favor by moving in, "Jake says to you casually. You are startled by his sudden presence, and you look over at him, quirking an eyebrow in response.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I haven't had a roommate for a while, and I would prefer someone who isn't in the military. I don't want to bring work and ranks home. You know?"

"Oh yeah, sure, that makes sense," you say, following his line of logic.

"Also, rent these days is," Jake doesn't finish the sentence, instead just whistling quietly.

"Yeah, rent is expensive," you laugh. You find it much easier to talk to Jake if you don't have to look directly out at him.

"You don't have to let me know right now, but I don't have any issues with it."

"We haven't talked about it much," you tell him, surprised he had decided so quickly.

"There is this saying that beggars can't be choosers."

"I would want a roommate contract. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that would be fine by me, Sugar."

"Okay, cool, but we should think about it."

"Tonight is a party, and we are supposed to be having fun. Not doing business. So, why don't you text me, and we will hash out the details this week. Plus you can see the place, which you would probably want. Maybe you could move in next weekend if we can work it all out?"

Part of you thought you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so you decided to text Jake throughout the week to hash out the details. And the next thing you know, Javy, Marlee, and Jake are helping you move your stuff.

Living with Jake wasn't as hard as you worried it would be. In fact, it was much easier than you were anticipating. Jake led his life with strict regiment and routine. It was something that stretched beyond that he was in the military.

Jake would wake up in the mornings and go on a run before coming home, making breakfast, showering, and going to work. Then he would come home, change and go to the gym, come home, shower again because he needed to, and then eat dinner. Every night if you were home while he was cooking, Jake would always offer you some. That leads you to find out he is a phenomenal chef.

Then Jake would read in the large armchair in the living room and half-watch whatever you put on the TV to watch yourself. He only requested to use the TV when one of his sports teams was playing or on Wednesday nights, where he would spend an hour and a half playing Animal Crossing with his niece while they facetime.

You had told Jake that the TV was his, and he didn't have to ask you to use it. Jake just laughed and shrugged before telling you he wasn't the biggest TV guy. Jake had been telling the truth when he said that. You realized that Jake was more interested in his books. If he wasn't reading a book, he sat silently with one of his sudoku puzzles and country music playing on vinyl. Then Jake would go to bed after whatever chores he deemed he should do.

It was a strictly followed pattern, only differing on Fridays when he would sometimes go out to a bar with the guys or sometimes Saturdays. However, even on the weekends, he would follow the schedule closely. Regardless if he had gone to the bar, he would still wake up outrageously early in the morning, work out, do chores, and then go to the gym again. Sometimes Jake would venture out of the house to see his friends, but more often than not, he was reading or in the workshop in the garage with some project.

Marlee had not prepared you for how amazingly hot Jake was. When you moved in, he had been very polite, if a bit curt. Never venturing to flirt with you again like when you first met. As the weeks living with Jake passed, though, he definitely warmed up to you. But still never pushed the roommate line between you.

You worked hard to push your attraction for Jake to the side or shove it into a safe in the back of your mind. That was a challenging task to accomplish because, just like Javy said, Jake was very clean. It wasn't that he was a clean freak per se, but he was definitely an orderly and well-kept person. Everything in the house had a place it belonged.

Jake always did his dishes and tidied up after himself in your common areas. He also never leaves any of his laundry waiting around. You had watched in a mix of awe and horror the first time he pulled out clothes from the dryer within five minutes of the machine going off. Then Jake started folding, halfway through the laundry, stoping to pull out an iron and ironing board.

The sight was all so attractive that you had to excuse yourself upstairs. That was something that you often had to do. Anytime you felt heat build in you towards your roommate, you would quickly excuse yourself. You knew giving into your attraction for Jake in any shape or form would not lead anywhere good. You needed a place to live, and this place you had with Jake was way too good to risk anything.

Given his career choice, it was not entirely surprising how regimented Jake is. However, what did surprise you was when he started to incorporate you into his routines in small ways. Jake would automatically set out an extra plate for you when cooking, and picks up snacks you like from the store. One day you come home and find a second shoe rack by the door just for you. On the days you had to be up for work, you would find that Jake had already put your morning drink together for you when he returned from the gym and was making his own breakfast. You like the steady rhythm and consistency that living with Hangman provides you. It's seamless and easy to fall into step with him.

You had been living with Jake for a few months, and things were going really well, almost too well you sometimes felt like it was too good to be true. Your nightmares weren't as frequent. You get full nights sleep and feel comfortable here with Jake. The only times you don't feel content are the times that you think about how hot Jake is. Or when Jake does something that makes it hard not to try and smash your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss.

Then one day, you get home from work, and worry suddenly sweeps over you as you glance at your phone and realize what time it is. The house is completely dark and quiet. Jake should have been home several hours ago and on his way to the gym already. In fact, right about now was when he should have been getting home from the gym.

You resist the urge to call Jake and check that he is okay. You know that action would be overstepping the roommate boundaries that exist clearly between you. You tell yourself it's silly to worry all because he wasn't following the schedule you made up for him in your head. It's not like Jake had ever written down his routine and given it to you. Maybe today was a special anniversary, or maybe he had after-work plans you didn't know about.

Your worry is eased about twenty minutes later when you hear Jake's truck pull into the driveway, followed by the garage door rumbling open. You find yourself easing further into the couch, some of the tension you weren't wholly conscious of easing out of your body.

Jake comes in, and you cut your eyes over to see him still in his flight suit. He doesn't say anything to you as he unlaces and kicks off his shoes. He passes you while walking to the stairs and manages a short but gruff hello. Then, without another word, he is gone. You stare after his back in shock. Something is definitely not right with Jake.

He left his shoes sprawled on the ground by the door. It was not a sight you had ever seen in the house, not even the times Jake had stumbled home drunk and giggly. Jake always pulled off his boots, neatly tucking the laces in and then setting them up on his small shoe rack by the door.

You get up from the couch and walk over to fix his shoes, tucking in the laces. You tell yourself it is so no one will trip over them, not for any other reason. Then you hear Jake's shower turn on, and the water runs much longer than the twenty-minute showers you are used to him taking. It all feels so odd and out of place. You decide to make some pasta for dinner, convinced Jake is planning on not eating at all with how far he is off his schedule.

You are just finishing dinner when the water in his bathroom finally shuts off. Then fifteen more minutes later, Jake comes downstairs in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thread-bare Annapolis shirt. He appears to be looking around downstairs, almost a bit dazed and lost.

"I made dinner. How about you have some?" You call out to him from the kitchen. Jake follows your voice to the kitchen and looks at the food you have made and dishes up. Hesitantly he sits down at the table.

"If you don't mind."

"Of course not. I know this may shock you since you normally cook, but I can do it too."

"I've never thought that you couldn't cook." Jake quickly responds.

"I know, Jake. I'm just teasing you. Now eat up."

Jake follows orders and takes a bite of the pasta, letting out a small groan. "So good," he mumbles before taking another bite.

"Do you want the macros?" You ask him conversationally after eating in silence for a few minutes.

"Oh. No, thank you. I appreciate you making something and sharing. No need for you to put in extra work. I will be fine not tracking my macros for one meal," Jake says.

"Okay," you say and give him the kindest smile you can think of. You don't want to push him on why he isn't okay. However, you can't stop yourself from sliding the piece of paper you wrote the macros on across the table to him anyways.

Jake stares at the note card for a long moment and then looks up at you. It's not a look you have ever seen on your roommate's face before. You aren't entirely sure how to decipher the way his green sea-glass eyes are gleaming back at you. He folds the paper once before putting it in his pocket.

Jake clears his throat, and the edges of his lips quirk up. "Thank you."

"Of course, anytime, Jake," you say back. He puts away his plate a few minutes later after finishing his food. Then packs up the leftovers into some tupperware.

"I'm going to bed," Jake tells you. Jake doesn't even stop to grab the current book he is in the middle of from where it is placed next to his chair in the living room.

The moment Jake disappears up the stairs, you are frowning again, considering his behavior. It bugged you, something clearly was off, but you weren't in the position to ask him what it was. As you start to settle down for the evening, you notice that Jake had put it in the laundry basket next to the washer that morning. Seeing that you knew he originally had every intention of starting it before going to the gym that night something that never happened.

You briefly considered that maybe it isn't normal how you have memorized his routine, but also maybe that was just part of living with Jake. You didn't even think before you were throwing his laundry in the washer for him. You stay up to put the clothes in the dryer. Then you find yourself folding items and hanging some of them, not confident that you could iron them correctly. About halfway through the chore, you stop realizing just what you are doing but finish it out, imagining the look on Jake's face when he sees his laundry done. You are in too deep to back out at this point.

🏡🧩🏡

You knew it wasn't the best idea that morning when you had left to go pick up some of your remaining stuff and random mail from where you used to live. However, you didn't expect it to go as badly as it had. You were still shaking from the interaction you had when you got home. Every moment of the interaction repeats over and over in your head. You hazardously throw your keys into your little key bowl, not caring to notice Jake's there as well.

You were still trying to take calming breaths and push away the tears streaming down your face. Standing at the entrance to the living room frozen, you aren't sure if you are actually at home or back there with him.

You startle and jump, letting out a small shriek, hearing a sound in the kitchen. You turn slowly, shocked to see Jake staring at you dressed in his NWUs instead of his flight suit. You are equally surprised by the sight of him home in the middle of the day, in a uniform you rarely see him wear.

The adrenaline of being scared forces your brain into letting go of the nerves and panic you had barely been keeping in check. Tears spring freely from your eyes as you take gasping breaths. J ake sets down the knife he is holding and takes long strides across the room to quickly reach your side. His hands hover near you but don't actually touch.

"What's wrong?" Jake asks in a deep voice.

You just shake your head at him, unable to respond, instead focusing on getting air into your lungs.

"Can I touch you?" Jake asks then, and that does seem okay, so you jerkily nod your head yes.

First, his hands settle lightly on your shoulders. Once it seems like you are okay and comfortable with that. Jake goes a step further and wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You press your face into the material of his shirt. Your hands come up to bunch it slightly on his chest as you find purchase to clutch him closer.

He makes gentle shushing noises but otherwise doesn't say anything while holding you. He is so warm, and his arms feel strong around you. Jake's hold on you doesn't waiver once while you cry. Only relaxing slightly when your sniffles and crying start to level out and you let go of his shirt.

You take one more deep breath of him. Jake smells of a pleasant mix of his body wash, y'all's fabric softener, and his cologne. Letting the calming effect of the smell flood your system before letting go of your hold on him completely, only then does Jake let his arms slip away.

Pulling away from the hug, you shyly look to see Jake's face. You find that he is already looking at you. For one of the first times since you met him, you don't like how Jake's face looks. There is a soft and sad demeanor that you see in his eyes. His eyebrows crease and his lips are pressed into a flat line. You feel embarrassment and shame flood you. The way that you just broke down and cried on your roommate, fully processing in your muddled tired head.

"You're home," you eventually say, trying to break the ice and put a brave face back on.

"Yeah, I'm not flying today. So, I had the time to come home for lunch."

"Sorry to interrupt." You say, looking down to examine your feet.

"You didn't interrupt anything," Jake reassures you. He goes back to the kitchen, and you watch as he continues to cut ingredients for his salad.

"Do you want me to make you anything?" He asks.

"No, thank you. "You say not feeling even a little hungry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asks next.

"No, thank you," you say again and settle at the kitchen island to watch Jake cut the veggies and toss them in a big bowl.

"Okay," he says. You like that Jake doesn't push you for things. He respects the boundaries you set and doesn't even try to toe up against them.

"Am I allowed to know why you aren't flying today? I thought someone had broken in. Plus, I hardly recognize you out of a flight suit."

"You don't like these?" Jake asks, looking at the Navy camo print he is wearing as if this uniform suddenly offended him.

"I didn't say that," you tell him, giving a small laugh. Obviously, Jake could make anything look good, even things that shouldn't.

"Can't fly every day." He says with a shrug. "Also, I'm going through some maintenance stuff and checks with my sailors."

You hum, but otherwise, don't comment watching Jake wash the knife and cutting board he had been using then. Then, after he drys them and puts them away, he turns back to you.

"There isn't anything to be embarrassed about," he tries to venture lightly.

"You don't come home and cry on me," you say, frowning.

"You sure about that one?" He asks, shoving a mouthful of salad into his mouth.

"Pretty sure that I would remember such an occasion."

Jake just hums. One of those sounds that makes you feel like he doesn't actually agree. A few bites of his food later, he sets his bowl down. His green gaze is trialed on you, but then he glances at his watch, huffing in annoyance.

There is a slight caving feeling inside you. You feel bad. How much of Jake's lunch have you taken up? You had never actually seen him come home for lunch before, so he must not get a long time.

"I do all the time. Maybe just a bit less of the wet physical crying." Jake tells you, putting a container lid on his bowl.

"You could," you utter to him, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, wouldn't bother me if you ever needed to. You know. I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Darlin," Jake says. Then glances at his watch again. "I got ten minutes before I have to go. What would you like to do?"

"I'm fine," you tell him. "You should use that time to eat."

"I'll munch while I'm doing some paperwork later."

That was a lie. You knew that Jake would never eat around paperwork. However, it was the kind of lie that settles warmly. It was one of those lies born with good intentions and made to be soothing. You could never be upset that he is even trying to comfort you at his own expense.

"I don't want to talk about it, Jake." You reiterate again.

"I know, and you don't have to. I won't ask again. However, if you ever decide that you do. I'm here for you too. Always."

"Thank you, Jake. You're a really good roommate."

"I hope you can consider me a friend too?"

"Of course, we are friends too," you reassure him. Jake's lips quirk upwards, his dimples flashing upon hearing that.

"Now, I can't go back to work without seeing at least one smile."

"That's a pretty tall order."

"Well, they don't call me the best for nothing."

"Do they really call you the best or is that something you just tell people?" You ask him, mostly joking. Jake pretends to take offense, pressing his hand dramatically to his chest.

"Ma'am, you wound me," Jake says, pouting.

"I don't know. I think it is a pretty legitimate question."

"I am the best."

"And how do they determine that exactly? Who the best is."

"Well, there are a lot of ways. Many different factors to consider."

"Oh really?"

"Yup. Also sorts of stuff, but they get us all together once a year, and we have a competition."

"What kind of competition?"

"Only the elite members of the Navy participate. We all take turns sliding."

"Sliding?"

"Yup," Jake confirms, sounding one hundred percent serious. "We set up a huge slip and slide on the carrier runway. You only get three tries, and then we add them for scoring. I may have ripped off all the skin on my chest last year, but it was worth it to win."

You can't help but let out a laugh. You picture Hangman competitively sliding down a yellow tarp that doesn't have enough water on it. It's such a silly concept you aren't sure where he came up with it.

"Ahh there she is," Jake says with a broad smile.

"I never would have thought that was a skill the Navy values."

"Yes, Ma'am. It's actually the second part of the Naval academy mission," Jake tells you, still maintaining a serious tone despite his smile. Then Jake stands up straight to his full height in parade rest.

"To develop Midshipmen morally, mentally and physically and to imbue them with the highest ideals of duty, honor and loyalty in order to graduate leaders who are dedicated to a career of naval service and have potential for future development in mind and character to assume the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government." Jake repeats dutifully and then adds. "In addition to putting these ideals to the test by hosting the world's most competitive slip and slide competition. Weirdly, people don't talk about that second part much."

You only laugh harder, shaking your head at him. "Yeah, an absolute mystery. I can't believe that isn't common knowledge."

Jake chuckles along with you. Then you two are interrupted by a timer going off from Jake's phone. He sighs and silents it.

"I'm sorry. I've got to go, sugar. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. I promise I'm okay. Thank you, Jake."

He bites his lip and nods at you going to put in his shoes and lace them back up. "Are you going to be home later?"

"Yeah, I'll be home."

"We could do something if you're feeling up for it. Or I can pick up takeout."

"That's sweet, Jake, but you really don't have to."

"I want to," he says with a shrug. Then checks his reflection in the mirror, making sure he is presentable to go back to work. After that, he turns back to you.

"I'll think about it." You tell him before playfully shoving him out the door so he isn't late. You try not to melt when Jake gives you another hug. You catch his hand just before he is too out of reach.

"Thank you, Jake. For making me smile."

"It's the prettiest thing I've seen all day," Jake says, squeezing your hand with his own. His words muddle your brain a little bit. You don't get to say anything else before he heads off to his truck, waving at you one more time and driving off.

You also pretend you aren't screaming on the inside when Jake comes home from work that night with your favorite food and ice cream. The night feels easy and warm, sitting and eating with Jake. The events of that morning can't cross your mind while Jake tells you all about some of the weird contraband he found in the junior sailors' barracks that day. He is no less than spellbinding.

🏡🧩🏡

Jake is sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work. He is surrounded by neatly organized papers spread all along the table in various piles. Jake is wearing a button-down, tie, and slacks that make you do a triple-take on him.

"Welcome home," he says, glancing up from his laptop that is open in front of him. That's when you see he also has a pair of glasses on.

"Thank you," you say, slowly making your way to the kitchen but still looking at him.

"What are you working on there?" You ask.

"Oh, I'm doing my taxes," Jake says while giving you one of his winning smiles.

"Taxes?"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I guess that makes sense," you say while looking around the kitchen for a snack.

After a few minutes of silence, you decide to ask another question. "Do you have a date later?"

You knew Jake dated. A man who looks like that has to date. However, you had yet to see him ever bring someone home, which felt odd considering everything about Jake, and the persona he liked to put on as Hangman.

"No. What makes you ask that?" Jake asks you.

"Oh. I don't know. You're dressed like you are going on a date."

"No, I'm not," he says, looking down at himself.

You laugh at him and shrug. "If you say so."

"I would never wear this on a date," Jake mutters, clearly offended.

"Well, then, why are you wearing it?"

"I'm doing taxes," he says again.

"Yeah, we have covered that. What does that have to do with your clothes?"

"I'm dressed like an accountant," Jake tells you. You can't hold back your giggles at his phrasing and bring a hand up to your mouth to try and stifle them before giving up entirely.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Two things," you say, holding up two fingers, finally biting back your giggles.

"One, the fact that you got dressed up to do your taxes. The second is that being an accountant is a euphemism for being a sex worker." Jake chuckles at your explanation but shrugs.

"Well, Mrs. Celeste said I should always dress for the day. It helps you present your best self. If you dress the part, it helps you act that part." Jake says that like a well memorized and treasured quote. A saying he clearly remembered with much fondness.

"And today is my tax day, so I am dressing like a tax professional. I will have you know. Since I started doing them myself, I have never had one problem with my taxes."

You couldn't help but chuckle more at his explanation and give him a fond smile. Sometimes the way Jake was so perfectly built and attuned for the military was endearing. Of course, a career Naval man would think a uniform was essential for each different activity.

"So, are the glasses part of your tax uniform too?"

He made a show of pushing the said glasses further up his nose. "Yes, Ma'am. They also are blue light blocking, which helps prevent migraines."

You nod along to his explanation. You finish putting together your snack and lean against the kitchen counter while munching on it. "Who is Mrs. Celeste? A teacher?"

Jake's lips flatten slightly before the expression relaxes just as quickly. "No, Mrs. Celeste is my Babula."

"Your Grandmother?" You guess.

"Yeah, sorry. My grandma, but she was strictly Mrs. Celeste growing up, only Babula occasionally."

"I don't think I've met someone who calls their grandparent by their first name."

"Well, not really her first name. You have to be respectful and throw the Miss in there with it. She is a very particular lady."

"Is it a southern thing?"

"Yeah, maybe," he says with a small laugh. The edges of his lips quirk up, and you have to look away from Jake to distract yourself. It is easy to fall into the trap of how beautiful he is, with the sparkle he can get in his eyes. Or how even the smallest of his smiles makes you want to grin back.

"So, how are the taxes?"

"Oh, it's good. I'm almost finished up."

"Awesome, congrats Jake."

"Have you done yours?" He asks you.

You shake your head and roll your eyes at the idea. "No, I definitely haven't."

"But you got your W2s in the mail last week."

"Jake, are you snooping through my mail?"

He raises both his hands up in defense. "No, I'm not! W2s just have a very particular look."

"I'm just kidding. I know you wouldn't snoop through my mail. Yeah, I got them, but I've been busy. I guess I should make a Tax Masters appointment or something."

That crease in between Jake's eyebrows appears, the one that haunts you, that you pretend you don't obsess over. Followed by a small frown.

"Tax Master?" He asks, clearly appalled. You shrug back at him, not entirely seeing the issue.

"I could do them for you," Jake says, then quickly adds on. "I mean, I can help you do them. If you have the time. I'm already dressed for it, and I won't charge you or anything."

"Oh no, Jake, that is so sweet, but I can't ask you to do that."

"No, really, I wouldn't mind. I think it would be fun. Plus, then you will have it done, and you won't have to worry about it."

"Really, thank you so much, but it's fine."

Jake's frown deepens at your answer, and he seems almost genuinely upset at your denial of his help. The warm feeling in your chest likes to flip over and grow a little bit more each time he is too sweet in moments like these.

"You know Javy warned me that you were an asshole when I was going to move in. However, you have not once lived up to that. You could stand to be less nice to me, Jake." You tell him. You mean it to come off as almost flirty and a bit of a joke. However, it doesn't seem to land with him that way.

The change that comes over Jake isn't something entirely tangible. It is almost like a shift in the air around him rather than anything physical. The way Jake looks at you just feels heavier and more charged. The confidence he always exudes seems to double with how he sits up just the smallest bit straighter but then leans back against his chair casually.

"Go get your W2s." He tells you in a perfectly level tone, but it has a demanding edge.

"Jake," you start to say and roll your eyes at him.

"Nope," Jake says, popping the p. His voice takes on a lower candace, leaving no room for arguments. "I'm not giving you a choice. We are going to do your taxes."

"No, we aren't doing my taxes."

"Yes, I am. I can't be caught not living up to my reputation. So, I'm not going to be nice and accept that you don't want to. This is one of the few situations I won't take no for an answer."

"It was just a joke."

"No, it wasn't," Jake says, giving you a small shrug. You can't tell if he is actually hurt by how he is acting, but you suspect some part of him was twinged at his best friend's description.

"It really was, Jake. Javy adores and trusts you. I'm sure he never would have suggested me moving in with you if he actually thought you were an asshole."

"I know I'm an asshole. It's fine, sugar, don't worry. I'm not going to tattle on you telling me that to Coyote."

"You aren't an ass, though. That was my whole point."

Jake just shook his head at your answer. "I am one, and I don't want that to be a surprise when you inevitably witness it."

You aren't sure how to respond to that, so you are relieved when Jake changes the topic. "Now, get your tax stuff, so it doesn't take us all night."

"Okay," you sigh, giving in to defeat. Jake gives you a mega-watt smile, and looks back at his computer screen.

As you are walking up the stairs, you hear him yell across the house. "Dress like your best accountant self!"

"I won't be doing that," you yell back.

"Please! It's important." Jake yells back.

When you are in your room getting all your stuff and paperwork pilled together. You find yourself opening your closet and pulling out an outfit that you could imagine wearing if you were an accountant.

You also spend several minutes too long wondering what would happen if you went back downstairs in the most provocative lingerie you own. After all, Jake didn't specify which type of accountant to dress up as. You wondered if it would be tempting to Jake. Could you provoke him into falling into lust with you? Tempt him enough that he took you on the dining room table on top of all the Tax paperwork? Jake has expressed attraction to women before, so there must be at least some part of him that is at least a little attracted to you.

You smash down your thirsty thoughts and try to screw your head back on straight before it can drift too much off on track. When you get back downstairs, Jake is still at the table. You dump all your stuff on an empty spot there.

Jake looks up from his computer and smiles at you, quirking an eyebrow. Then, Jake speaks to you teasingly, "And here I thought you might dress up as the other type of accountant you were telling me about."

Your brain has no choice but to start short-circuiting, and you open and close your mouth twice. Jake starts shuffling through your paperwork, looking at what you have brought him.

"I ordered us some pizza too," he says before you get out a proper response or say anything teasing back to him.

"Yum. I'm excited," you tell him sliding into a seat and opening up your own laptop.

He stops his shuffling and examination of the papers to level you with a serious look. "Thank you for indulging me, by the way."

"Anything for you, Jake," you tell him and mean it. Unfortunately, the way you feel about your roommate is rapidly spiraling out of the tight control you tried to keep it in.

"I like when we do fun things like this together," Jake says to you, grinning.

"Me too," you tell him. Then add, "Only you would find taxes fun, though, Hangman."

"I am about to show you just how fun taxes can be and how you can get a great return," Jake says, taking your words in stride.

Jake does your taxes almost entirely by himself, only asking occasional questions. He also then organizes all of your paperwork in an extra accordion binder he has. The taxes aren't fun, but spending time with Jake is.

"Thank you," you say to Jake daring to press a soft, affectionate kiss to his cheek. You linger for a moment, the prickle of his end-of-day stubble ticking your lips, but you don't mind it. When you pull back to gauge his reaction, Jake looks almost pained and upset. You worry for a moment that even just a cheek kiss could make him react this way. You briefly thank god you didn't actually try to seduce him earlier.

"Always, anytime." He finally says. However, Jake is now glaring down at his keyboard and not looking at you.

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," you venture, confused by this mood shift.

"Sugar?"

"Yes, Jake?"

"I don't think you should pay so much rent."

"What?"

"Listen," he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it all out of sorts. "I just don't think it's fair for you to pay so much."

"Of course, it's fair. I live here," you explain.

"Yeah, but no. I get BAH, and I don't have any student loans from school. Plus, the Navy pays me plenty as an officer. I was paying for this place all alone before you moved in anyways."

"I'm not going to pay less rent because you saw my financials and feel bad." You tell Jake quietly, trying not to actively become upset.

"Please don't be so stubborn," he pleads with you.

You cross your arms over your chest, "Take your own advice."

"I'm the one being stubborn?"

"Yes! You are. You are the most stubborn man I have ever met."

Jake's frown deepens, and that sad look in his eyes at your words starts to break through to you. Then he responds, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll try and work on that."

Jake starts meticulously putting things away into different folders. He moves through each of his piles on the table and doesn't spare you a second glance. It leaves a crushing feeling in your chest.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"There is no need to apologize. I'm the one who is sorry." Jake says, shrugging off your apology.

"No, you don't need to apologize. I understand why you said what you did. I know you were trying to be sweet." You start to say but are cut off.

"I wasn't trying to be sweet."

"Oh my god. Okay, fine, trying to be nice, then," you say, rolling your eyes.

Jake sets down the folder he is currently holding, and it thumps a little bit on the table. The force and loud sound make you flinch.

"I'm not sweet, nice, good, or kind. Okay? I'm not any of those things. I call things how I see them. I look at facts, figures, and numbers. Then I run calculations and act accordingly."

"And how is it mathematically possible that me paying less rent possibly works out for you, Jake? You will be losing money." As he shakes his head, he huffs at your words a little bit like they are funny.

"You could do a lot and make a lot of gains if you paid less rent, and I don't mind picking up the extra amount. You might be one of the few people I haven't hated living with. I don't want you figuring out you need to live somewhere cheaper and moving out on me. So, I'm not being nice. I'm being a selfish asshole." Jake clenches his fists hard, and you see his knuckles start to turn paler. With a deep breath, he relaxes and shrugs. Loosening the tight coil of his muscles, Jake gives you a curt tight lipped smile with a nod. "I'm just a selfish asshole, okay?"

"Please stop. Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true," he says, rolling those beautiful eyes at you.

"It's not true. Also, I would prefer if you don't use the word selfish around me, please." You say in a surprisingly steady voice. You don't really want to get triggered right now, and you could only hope that you wouldn't have to explain triggers to Jake. It takes him one moment to think and another to process before he says anything.

"Oh fuck. I'm so sorry. I won't use it again." Jake promises, no questions asked. His words blow up a balloon in your diaphragm, making it feel like your breath is about to catch. Then he adds on, "If there are any other words…" He looks around and grabs a loose pen and one of his notebooks. Jake slides them across the table to you. "Write them down. Maybe? If you can."

The warmth Jake inspires in your chest is unparalleled and drowns out anything you can think of aside from how endearing he can be and how fond you are of him. Jake doesn't take the lack of response from you well.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again. You spring from where you had been sitting, walking slowly and deliberately toward him. You make sure to give him plenty of time to protest and say something.

Jake looks steadily back at you. However, he looks like he is preparing himself to be slapped or punished, holding perfectly still. Instead, though, you wrap Jake in a tight hug. He is stiff as a board beneath you. After a long moment, as you consider pulling away, Jake relaxes and wraps his arms around you. They are wrapped loosely at first but then tighten in small intervals until Jake is practically clinging to you.

"You are so good," you whisper to him, a little dazed. You are almost stunned by how desperately Jake tries to pretend otherwise.

"Don't say that," Jake whispers in a broken voice, hugging you a bit tighter.

"Too good." You left the words for me unsaid, but you felt them.

"I'm really not."

"It's okay if you don't see it. I see it for you. I'll make sure everyone else sees, too," you tell Jake curling your hands into a fist in his shirt.

He doesn't say anything but keeps holding you tightly. You don't know how long the two of you stay embraced like that until Jake finally eases his grip on you, and you reluctantly pull away from him as well.

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Please stop paying so much in rent," he requests again.

"That will not be happening, Hangman."

"So stubborn." He sighs. Jake kisses your forehead again. He leaves his lips lingering, and you start to count the breaths memorizing how warm his lips are. Three breaths later, he is pulling away. Jake grabs his laptop and a stack of folders heading upstairs without another word to you.

You stare after him for a while, trying to parse out the mystery Jake presents, and coming up a bit short, just like you always did. He is one of the most outwardly confident men you have ever met. Yet, other times, Jake is the first person to make a self-deprecating comment about himself. You swallow down how much you desire more from him, wishing for more, knowing you can't and shouldn't have it.

🏡🧩🏡

You and Jake were lounging on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone, avoiding going to the gym, half-heartedly trying to convince you to go with him. You were also scrolling your phone while deflecting Jake’s offers.

That was when your doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking. You and Jake both look up at each other. He raises his eyebrows, and you just shrug, having no idea who could be at the door. Jake looks back to his phone, clearly ready to ignore it, when the doorbell rings twice more, and the pounding on the door gets louder. Jake sighs and gets up, walking across the house towards the noise.

“Hold your horses out there!” Jake yells towards the door before opening it.

You wait for a moment, trying to hear who it is, curious about who would be so rude and what they needed. However, you don’t hear anything from where you are on the couch. So you stand and follow Jake into the entry hallway.

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” You hear Jake say. He is standing at his full height in the door frame.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You hear from on the other side of the door.

Nervousness shoots through your whole body hearing that voice. Anxiety immediately pops up, and your stomach drops. You know that voice. You have heard it a thousand times before. Why was he here? How was he here?

“I asked you to leave, Sir.”

“Just tell that little bitch that —”

Jake steps further forward onto the front porch. “Now, we don’t speak about ladies like that where I am from. And I’m going to ask that you act accordingly while at my home, Sir.” Jake cuts him off with that well mannered southern military niceness.

“I don’t give a fuck where you are from.”

You flinch at his tone of voice, feeling bile rise up in your throat. You lean against the wall slapping your hand over your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from throwing up.

“I asked you politely to leave. I won’t ask again. I can call you a taxi or an uber. But don’t you dare take one more step on my front porch.” Jake says in a deep tone. You are hit with the sudden, horrifying realization that he is going to hurt Jake, and that is something you just won’t let happen.

You are trying to go through possibilities in your head. Anyway, this could shake out; it would be bad for Jake. Jake would either get hurt and get in trouble, or he would kick ass and gets in worse trouble. This would end badly; either way, Jake is going to get in trouble, and it would be your fault. You would be responsible because you caused this situation. Jake was going to pay the consequences all because he was trying to protect you. You were roommates, so Jake must think he has some obligation to protect you.

You feel swamped in stress knowing how easily Jake can escalate a situation and provoke someone; sometimes, all it takes for him is one well-placed smile. That stress is finally what unfreezes you, and you stumble towards the front door.

Jake’s large, broad form still mostly hides your view of the other side, but you cautiously approach and set your hand gently on the back of his shoulder. You feel how tense Jake’s muscles are under your hand and can see it in the line of the back of his neck.

“Sugar, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Jake says in a deep voice. He doesn’t budge an inch or look back toward you. “But I would like to suggest that you go back inside. I have this handled.”

You want to cry. You want to cry for so many reasons: cry because you are in this situation, that you have to deal with this again, that you feel so small. However, you mostly want to cry because Jake “Hangman” Seresin is such a good man. It’s startling sometimes, not because it’s really unexpected, but rather that it is so completely and bluntly genuine.

Having Jake here defending you, trying to protect you from the person who has probably scared you most in your life, it feels so silly to pretend like you don’t have feelings for him, to pretend that you aren’t more in love with him than you ought to be.

The realization doesn’t really feel shocking; it is closer to acceptance. A given truth that is part of your life now. An empowering truth that swells in your bones like a swift tide, filling up the spaces that have been empty for so long.

You love Jake more than you are scared. The warmth of affection towards him is so hot it burns out the freezing ice in your veins and the numbness in your fingers. You love him, and you will be damned if you let Jake be hurt, touched, tainted, or affected by this man who has hurt you. It seems cliché that loving someone like this is enough for you to finally break through the barrier of fear you have lived your whole life in. However, now it just feels so simple.

Your heart is beating hard. The adrenaline is pumping through you so strongly that you can hear it echoing in your ears. Your hand slides up Jake’s back to his bicep, and you give him a gentle push. Jake shifts with the movement. He slides to the right so you can finally fully see the front porch. However, he doesn’t move enough that you are fully exposed. Jake’s body is still partially concealing you from view.

Then you hear your name, and your attention snaps away from its hyper-focus on Jake. You turn it forward and brace yourself. You drift your eyes to the ground, landing on the feet of your visitor, staying there for a minute before meeting his burning eyes.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Ah, so she is here,” your father says, throwing his hands up and glaring at Jake. You can smell the booze on him from the doorway. It makes your stomach turn. You resist the urge to wretch, squeezing your hand, which is still on Jake’s bicep. He flexes, and his bicep digs into his shirt as your nails also dig in. You don’t like those angry, hateful eyes on your Jake. Jake doesn’t budge an inch or react to your nails on his skin.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” You ask him. Your hold on Jake acting like an anchor point for you.

“You don’t bother to answer my texts or anyone else’s calls and texts. Just because you moved out doesn’t mean you get to be a selfish bitch” your dad spits out.

“I’ve been pretty busy,” you defend yourself in a small voice.

“Oh, I bet you have been so busy. What are you doing these days?” He growls at you. “You know it doesn’t really count as moving out if you are spreading your legs to pay for it.”

You flinch, your hand falling from Jake’s arm and balling into a tight fist at your side. You hate how easily he can make you feel small, even when you are angry.

“Watch your mouth,” Jake hisses, rejoining the conversation. You glance at him, and Hangman is shaking with contained rage. You know this is not a good situation; anytime, someone could blow up.

“You should go inside, Hangman,” you tell him gently.

“Absolutely not,” Jake responds instantly.

“So you are playing the part of a pathetic little whore wife for this pretty boy.” Your dad says, cutting in.

You grit your teeth as he continues on. “Come on. I thought you gave up pussies after our talk when you were in high school.”

With the reminder of just what he is referring to, You are overcome with anger, and you finally can’t take it anymore. You recognize his words for what they are, a direct bait at Jake and undercutting you. It makes you so angry you start shaking. Tears burst from your eyes, trying to let off some steam bubbling inside you. It boils up, so you can’t take it anymore, and you whisper, “Shut up.”

“What?” Your dad asks, clearly shocked. You take a step forward fueled by your anger.

“Shut the fuck up.” You pronounce each word slowly. Then continue on, “I’m tired of this. You don’t get to be mean to me and still expect a relationship with me. You don’t get to hit me, yell at me, and abuse me just to show up at my house on your bullshit. And you sure as fuck don’t get to say anything about Jake.” You suck in a rapid breath, the words fueling the fire in you. Your angerburning brighter with every word.

“You made me think that kind, decent men didn’t exist, Dad, but Jake is good. He isn’t a pretty boy. He is smart, sweet, strong, and kind. I will not hear you say one more thing about him. Ever.” You punctuate the sentence with a jab of your index finger at him. He looks like he might be cowed, and before you can even finish a prayer that he will be done, the fire in his eyes lits again.

“You could have at least found someone who stands up for you. A real man.” Your dad isn’t even looking at you when he says it. Instead, he is staring at Jake.

“That’s a rather rude thing to say about an active duty Naval Officer,” you hiss. Your dad takes a step back, his eyebrows raising, reexamining Jake. He shifts his weight between his feet nervously.

“You aren’t welcome at our home. So leave and crawl back into the bottle you drank before coming here. Don’t come back, Dad. I don’t want to see you.”

You try to force your body to relax, but the adrenaline is still pumping hard in your veins. So, you start to walk backward back into the house. Jake still hasn’t taken his eyes off your dad, and he makes no move to come with you back into the house.

“Jake?” You ask.

“Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I need to have a talk with your old man here and make sure that he makes it home.”

“I don’t want him near you.”

Your dad still looks blown away by this turn of events. Like he is scrambling to put words together. He keeps looking back and forth between you and Jake.

Jake breathes out heavily through his nose. He turns his head enough to glance at you. Whatever he sees on your face must break his resolve. Jake clenches his jaw, and you watch the muscle flex once, then twice. After that, he rolls his shoulders, and it’s like Hangman is physically able to just shrug the tension of the situation off.

“Get home safe, Sir. I suggest doing so soon. MAs are known to drive down our street.” Jake says it in a light, easygoing tone, border lining on cheery. Then, plastering that practiced, perfect smile on his face, Jake nods his head toward your dad and comes back into the house.

Jake closes the door but doesn’t move, staring out the frosted window on the front door. His body is tense again, standing rigidly at his full height. You are still shaking from anger. You slump against Jake’s back, letting your body weight shift into his. One of his arms bends backward a bit awkwardly, sitting on your waist. His large palm is burning hot. You can feel it through the fabric of your clothes. Then Jake’s fingers flex to give you a small squeeze of reassurance.

When Jake finally does move, it is just to turn away from the door and wrap you tightly in his arms. You enjoy the warmth of his strong embrace, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline starts to fade. Jake is still shaking, though.

“He’s gone,” Jake says into the crown of your head. You let a little sigh escape you, feeling a bit more of the tension release.

“Good,” you manage to tell him.

“I wanted to defend you. I wanted to slam his face so hard into the porch that he wouldn’t ever be able to open his mouth again. Wanted to tell him how you are—”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you cut Jake off before he can continue. You don’t want to know what he thinks about you right now. You can’t handle whatever words could spill out of his mouth next.

“I’ll make sure he never comes back here,” Jake says, his voice dropping, and you feel the rage contained in him, the subtle shake and heat coming from how tense he is.

“I don’t want him near you. If something happened to you because of him….” you trail off. Your hands wander the expanse of Jake’s back in an almost soothing motion. However, you don’t know who it is soothing more, you or him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He takes a deep breath and then releases it in a heavy sigh. “What if you just give me his full name and social security number? You wouldn’t have to know about anything else.”

“Jake,” you whisper in a tone that is almost reminiscent of amusement.

Jake sighs again. He draws back from your hug and cups your face. He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away the tears that have been lingering.

“You are the kindest, most compassionate person I have ever met,” Jake whispers. Considering how he is looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes, it’s clear the emotions of the situation are still running rampant. That look, paired with how he is holding you, makes you think Jake might be about to kiss you.

“No, No. Stop.” You don’t know if you are trying to ask him not to kiss you or to stop talking. Either way, you feel like you might explode if this interaction isn’t over soon.

“Yes,” Jake says. “Let me, please.”

His thumb is still tracing along your cheek, and you can’t help yourself from leaning a tiny bit into his palm. An action that momentarily freezes his thumb before it picks up steadily again. Not hearing an explicit no from you again, Jake continues on.

“That man has no say over you. Who you are is so stunning. You never deserved to be treated the way you were. I am so sorry you ever had to go through that. I am so sorry he showed up here. You don’t owe him a single second of your time or attention. You are valuable. You are amazing. He is trying to make you small because he sees how good you are.”

A shudder racks through your body, hearing Jake’s words, and fresh tears start to fall unprompted from your eyes. As soon as they do, though, Jake pushes them away. “I am so proud of you for getting away from him. You are so strong and brave. It makes me awed. I’m so glad that you moved in here. You are…” Jake doesn’t finish the sentence, he seems to lose his train of thought. His mouth parts a little bit, and his eyes flash down to glance at your lips.

Jake is going to kiss you, and it might possibly be the worst thing that could happen. If he kisses you right now because of your dad, you know you might break into a million different pieces. You don’t want Jake to kiss you for any reason but pure desire and affection. You don’t want him to kiss you in comfort, or pity, or convenience, or as an outlet. You don’t want him to kiss you just because emotions are running high from the incident that just happened. Most of all, you don’t want Jake to kiss you and not mean it. You don’t want him to kiss you without the intention of kissing you again.

So, even though you are desperate to feel his lips, and memorize their shape, how they feel against yours. Desperate to discover what he tastes like, curl your fingers in his hair and take comfort in the form of his body. You know you can’t, it has the power to break you, and you already feel so broken and exhausted.

You cover the hand Jake has on your face with your own and pull it away. However, you don’t immediately let go holding his large palm. Hangman takes your hint and steps backward, giving you a little space so that he is pressed against the door again. You decide to thread your fingers with his. Jake’s skin is still almost hot to the touch in your hand.

“Thank you, Jake,” You finally say, meeting his piercing green eyes again. You squeeze the hand you are holding. He gives you a tight nod and then tips his head upwards, so he is looking at the ceiling. Jake rests his head against the door as well and closes his eyes.

You observe him for a moment, then you go to release the hand you are holding. Jake stops you, though, his hand tightening as yours loosens, and you try to pull away. You give a little tug, and he tightens his fingers even more. Jake’s head is still tipped, and you hear him sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out.

“Please don’t let go,” he begs you. Jake’s eyes flash open again, and he is looking down his nose at you. “I just, I need you.”

You inhale sharply at his phrasing, and he sighs heavily. “I might do something terrible if you let go of me. If you don’t need me here, there won’t be anything to stop me.”

“You’re not going to do anything terrible,” You say, retangling your fingers with his. Jake’s hand flexes in yours, and he takes another big breath.

“I’ll make sure he loses our address and forgets it too. Make sure he doesn’t remember anything at all anymore. I’ll—”

“You’ll stay right here, Jake.”

He lifts his head so it isn’t tilted against the door anymore and stares down at you. He looks like he is holding on to every word you are saying to keep his sanity. His skin is flushed from anger, and his palm shakes slightly in yours. You were in awe he was able to hold back this reaction so long, remaining calm and collected throughout the entire encounter.

“You will stay here with me, Jake. I need you.”

“Yeah?” He asks shakily.

“Yeah. Need your help, Jake.”

There is a low rumble in his chest, almost resembling the hum it was probably supposed to be. You step closer to Jake, once again closing the gap between you.

“Tell me what you need.” It comes out as a demand, and he seems to realize that when he adds on a small quick “Please.”

You look at him then, trying to read his face and those eyes that haunt your dreams. You examine the creases and lines his face makes with the severe angry look he has plastered on. You take the time to observe how his hair is hazardously falling out of place for how many times he has run his hand through it. You don’t really find any of the answers you are looking for. You just find Jake. And Jake is an oh-so-wondrous thing to find.

You step closer to him and tug the hold he has on your hand again. His nose scrunches for a moment, and his frown tightens. His eyes lift upwards towards the ceiling again as his jaw clenches; he lets go of your hand. Jake’s hand falls heavily back until it hits the door making a smacking sound. You flinch at the sound but take another step forward, crowding Jake against the door. You lift your hand up to trace over his neck and then settle on his face, encouraging him to adjust his gaze back to you. He follows direction and leans into your hold, just like you leaned into his earlier.

“Need you to stay with me,” you start slowly, encouraged as Jake nods his head in a small jerk.

“I need you to leave the front door.”

He considers your words for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry, sugar. I need to protect you.”

“There is no one in the world I feel safer with than you, Jake.” He squeezes his eyes tightly closed at those words and pulls in a ragged breath. “So, you can’t leave me alone here.”

He nods again but still has his eyes closed. “Ain’t leaving. You need me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I hold you?” Jake asks, then once again remembers his manners throwing out another small, please.

“Yes, please,” you whisper. Jake doesn’t waste a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snuggly against him. The change of angle causes your hand to slip from his face, so you wrap it around his neck instead, your fingers drifting against the short hairs there. You go to wrap your other arm around his waist but instead awkwardly hit the front door. You hiss out a small breath at the momentary pain.

Jake responds to the sound. He starts walking forward, making you walk backward. Walking while he is wrapped around you proves to be difficult, and you stumble a little. That seems to be all Jake needs; he wraps his arms under your ass and lifts you.

You are terrified at the concept that Jake is going to try to carry you, and you open your mouth to protest. However, with only one small grunt that honestly sounded more like pure sex with how low and husky it is, Jake is carrying you down the hallway. You wrap your arm around his neck more securely, adding a second one for more leverage.

Jake doesn’t stop to set you on the couch like you had expected. Instead, he continues up the stairs and right into his room. He sets you on his bed gently, and you unwrap your arms from his neck, letting him pull away. Jake goes back to the door of his room, closes it, and clicks the lock into place. You raise an eyebrow at his action.

"That’s rather presumptuous, Hangman.”

“What?” He looks at you confused before he looks back at his door. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t, I’m not.”

You shush him motioning towards yourself to try and get him to come closer again. “I know.”

Jake comes back to your side. Now that you have been given the temporary clearance to freely touch him, you cannot stop yourself. Jake sits next to you on the bed, and you are scooting closer so that your thighs are flush side by side. Jake throws an arm across your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him.

“Do you need to talk about it?” He asks you softly. You let a hollow dry laugh at his question, your laughter starts to devolve until it’s nearly hysteric giggling. Jake takes it in stride, holding you close and his thumb drawing small soothing back-and-forth shapes. After you are almost breathless and heaving, you finally start to recover.

“I don’t want to talk about it, but I definitely need to. Not with you, though, Jake.”

“Why not me?”

“Because it’s the kind of fucked you talk to a therapist about.”

“I’m a great listener.”

“I know you are, but this isn’t your baggage to pack around and deal with, Jake.”

“Baggage? Sugar, that’s why we have the attic. If that isn’t enough space, or you fill it up. I’ll build a shed in the backyard.”

“What if that’s not enough room?”

“Then we have the garage. We’ll just park in the driveway.”

“You would give up your shop?” You ask, thinking of Jake’s favorite place in the house.

“Yup,” Jake says without hesitating. “And after that, well, I’ve never been too fond of the extra guest room anyway.”

“If that’s all not enough?”

“Then we’ll move. Or we go through it until we find some we can let go of.” Jake says, his free hand crossing his body to settle warmly on your knee.

“It’s not physical baggage.”

“I know it’s not.”

The feeling of affection you feel for him grows even more. Every time you think that there is no way possible you can fall further in love with him, Jake turns around and proves you wrong. He does some kind, funny, sweet, unexpected thing that makes you fall a little harder.

You lift your head and look at him. Jake’s eyes meet your own, the severe stormy look in them a little less present. He is a bit more at ease, no longer shaking with anger. You let your eyes fall to his lips. You briefly think you love him so much it might be worth the risk to shift forward and kiss him. That maybe it wouldn’t lead to disaster like you’ve convinced yourself it would.

“What’s your favorite comfort movie?” Jake asks, breaking you from your trance. You shift a bit further away from him but not far before giving him an answer.

The two of you watch your favorite comfort movie. You are cuddled into Jake’s side the whole time. The two of you had shifted back into the bed, cuddled close while watching the wall-mounted TV in Jake’s room. Exhaustion hits you like a wall as the adrenaline leaves your system, accompanied by the heat radiating off of Jake, the way everything smells like him, and his Tempurpedic bed; you relax more than you have in a long time.

As you start to drift asleep against Jake’s chest, his heartbeat has a steady, soothing rhythm under your ear. You think out of all the times you have dreamed of falling asleep with Jake in his bed, none of those fantasies come even close to how good it actually feels. None of your dreams prepared you for how safe you would feel.

Your dreams also didn’t prepare you for sneaking back to your room at three in the morning when you woke up. Or pretending the next day that nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened except some tense moments and Jake getting a glimpse of your past. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t, either. You catch him watching you closer than he would typically for the next few days.

More time starts to pass, and you are thankful that nothing was risked or changed between you and Jake or has affected you as roommates. There are only the slightest moments when both of you are much more casual about physical affection. Hugging Jake was now a commonplace part of your day, and you occasionally catch yourself daydreaming about what it felt like to fall asleep in his bed.

🏡🧩🏡

You had started to pick up what the signs were when Jake wasn't okay, and something was bothering him pretty early into moving in. He had some pretty obvious tells. However, something had been really really bothering him for a while now. He didn't say anything to you, but he didn't have to; Jake's mannerisms gave him away. Jake wasn't following his routine and had started obsessively cleaning.

The other night, he knocked on your door, bursting open seconds after you told Jake he could come in. Then Hangman had all but begged you to let him deep clean your room. When you told Jake no, he gave you a look like you just insulted his Babula and stalked out of the room. Half an hour later, he was back in your doorway, asking the same question phrased slightly differently. You had finally given in after his second time double-checking. However, you insisted that you helped and supervised his cleaning. Once you agreed, Jake had done his happy dance. It was so cute it managed to cover the embarrassment that was crawling in you at letting someone else, let alone the man you loved your roommate, clean your room.

The next day Hangman decided to reorganize all the bookshelves. First by color, then by genre, and even one time by the number of pages. His last reorganization was to put them all back to by author's last name. This was only after Jake talked to you for over an hour about the pros and cons of the Dewey decimal system in modern library science.

After the books, you come home, and there is a puzzle on the table. A 2500-piece puzzle of the painting Meeting On The Turret Stairs. Jake works on it constantly. Only stopping to go to work and the gym. For three days, he doesn't read and doesn't do his sudoku. Jake doesn't sit with you in the living room at night. Instead, he just works on his puzzle, blowing past his typical bedtime every night. Then he stops going to the gym, and a day after that, he cancels his weekly call with his niece. That's when you know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is bothering Jake must be significant.

Finally, you can't bite your tongue or try to keep your nose out of his business anymore. The concern you feel is too much to handle. You had gotten up at 3 am for some water, and Jake was still puzzling at the table.

"How's it going, Sport?"

"No, I'm Hangman," Jake answers in a quiet voice.

"What?" you ask him, confused.

"Not my callsign," Jake mumbles to you. You squint and try to piece together what he means in your still half-asleep brain.

"You know someone named Sport?"

Jake just shrugs his shoulders, engrossed in his task. "There are worse callsigns to have."

"Like Hangman?" You tease him. Jake finally looks up at you when you say that. Jake's eyes are bloodshot, and he has a hurt look. The small frown, paired with his glassy tired eyes, makes you feel like you just kicked a puppy.

"Hangman is cool," Jake protests.

"Hangman is very cool," you tell him placatingly, holding up your hands in surrender.

"You don't actually think it's cool," Jake whispers, his tired eyes falling back to his puzzle. Jake sounds so sad about it that your feet are moving before your brain, and you are sliding next to him on the bench for the long side of the table.

"Hangman is cool," You say and then nudge him affectionately with your shoulder. "You are cool."

His lips quirk upwards from his frown before falling again. “Well, I am the Hangman.”

"How is the puzzle going?"

"Fine, good. I like puzzling."

"You have done other puzzles?" You ask.

"Yeah, I have a whole box full."

You hum at his words, tiredly wiping your eyes. "You should have been Puzzleman."

Jake's eyes flash over to yours, slightly worried. "Do not ever say that around Coyote."

"Hangman, It's three AM." He looks surprised to hear the time, and you watch him turn his wrist to confirm the time on his watch.

"Go to bed," You add softly.

"I like when you call me Jake."

"Then why do you listen better when I call you Hangman?"

"Hmm, maybe because that's the name I hear most often. Maybe because it's easy to be Hangman."

"Is it hard to be Jake?" You ask him gently.

Jake is quiet for a long moment after your question. Before answering, he sets the piece he had been holding back in its color pile. All he gives you is a whispered, "Sometimes."

You aren't sure what to say, so instead, you put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. "It's time for bed, Jake. It'll be here in the morning."

Jake nods his head, listening to you. You get the water you initially came downstairs for and wait until Jake starts up the stairs. Following behind him, you make sure he goes into his room. You aren't really eased about the situation when he shuts the door. However, you are glad he will at least get some sleep.

Before you go back to bed, you shoot your group chat with Marlee and Javy a text.

Have you ever seen Jake do a puzzle?

You wake up to texts from Javy and Marlee, both asking all kinds of questions like: what you meant? What kind of puzzle? With how many pieces? And, how long has Jake been working on it?

From the questions alone, you gather that your worries are correct and Jake puzzling is not a good thing. Getting out of bed, you make yourself presentable enough to venture out of your room and downstairs.

In the mid-morning light, you are once again greeted with the sight of Jake hunched over his puzzle. A steaming cup of tea sitting next to him, and Chris LeDoux playing from the record player.

"Good morning," you say.

"Morning, sugar," Jake says back. You are glad to get a response, but the worry is still gnawing at you. You start putting together your own morning drink, and your eyes keep drifting back to him.

"Jake, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He says, not looking away from the puzzle piece he is currently studying.

You stop leaning against the counter, taking your drink with you and walk over to his side. Jake is completing this puzzle concerningly fast; you notice examining his progress this morning alone. He keeps staring at the piece in his hand, unblinking even as you approach. You watch him for a few more moments before deciding it's time for you to intervene.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You pose cautiously. His eyebrows crease, and he still doesn't look away from the puzzle.

"About the puzzle?" he asks you in a hopeful tone.

"No, Jake. About what's bothering you."

He finally does spare you a glance, and you don't like how dull his green sea glass eyes are. The normally vibrant, mischievous glint isn't present, and they are slightly bloodshot and red, even after you forced him to get some sleep.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just work stuff. I've got to finish this puzzle." He tells you, then looks away.

You frown at Jake's answer. Puzzles are supposed to be fun, and you don't think this is actually a healthy, cathartic activity for Jake anymore. You almost preferred his book reorganization or when he went to every door and oiled the hinges, the top and bottom hinges twice but the middle ones only once. When you asked why not the middle one twice? Jake had told you something about middle children that had made you laugh.

While Jake normally released stress through organization, order, and control. The frenzy and energy he has with this puzzle is different. This wasn't like the month after you moved in, and he decided to rearrange his shop in the garage. Jake had reorganized his tools, labeling where they all went. After that, he made you a booklet of where everything in the garage was located, just in case you wanted to use something. Jake was very genuine about it, too. As if he really believed you were about to start borrowing his screwdrivers, saws, wrenches, lathe, and various other tools.

Your frown deepens, and you pull out your phone, shooting a text to your group chat with Marlee and Javy. Answering some of their questions from the morning and shooting back a request of your own.

After texting with them for a few minutes, you set your phone down on the table, taking the spot next to Jake. He gives you another short look but doesn't say anything. You take a moment to look at the piece he has been staring at for over five minutes at this point.

Taking it gently from his grasp, you examine it yourself. A moment later, you place the puzzle piece into the correct spot. Jake ghosts over the piece you just placed and taps it twice as your hand retreats.

"You got to tap it into place," he tells you softly. Then Jake is back digging through his piles, looking for the next piece.

You help Jake with his puzzle for a little bit, pleasantly surprised at the textured surface of the pieces, enjoying how tactile they are. You know this must be a very expensive and nice puzzle. Any time you place a piece, you make sure to tap it twice for Jake. Each time you do, Jake gives a small nod of approval. The one time you forget, his fingers quickly find the piece again and tap it twice with a small annoyed huff. You don't try and coax Jake into a conversation again, simply enjoying just being with him.

Y'all's work is broken a while later by the doorbell ringing. The sound startles Jake, and he jumps in his seat and his head snapping towards the door. You place a hand on his shoulder again to try and ease the sudden tension.

"It's okay," you tell him quietly, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. "I'll go get it."

"No, I can get it," Jake says, starting to stand up. You know he doesn't like you to answer the front door anymore. He hasn't ever since your dad showed up unannounced. Jake has never explicitly told you he doesn't want you to answer the door. However, you have picked up on it because he has not let you answer the door once since the incident. One time Jake had even sprinted across the house to beat you to the door.

"Don't worry. I know who it is," you say. Jake gives you a concerned look but then nods a little bit. His eyes trail after you as you make your way to the entry hall.

You open the door to Javy's tall form and are immediately wrapped in a tight warm hug. You lean into his embrace, enjoying the comfort for a moment.

"Is it really bad?" Javy asks you in a low voice when you pull away from his hug.

You shrug but then follow it up with a nod. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know. Maybe not? But it's the worst I have ever seen."

Javy gives you another reassuring squeeze before he saunters into the house towards the living area. Jake's eyes are trained on the hallway, clearly waiting for you to come back. However, when he sees Javy, he blanches, dropping his eyes back to the puzzle. Jake's shoulders hunching tight almost up to his ears.

"Hey, Hangman," Javy hums.

"Machado," Jake says gruffly, fiddling with a piece.

Javy shocks you by not immediately going over to Jake. Instead, he meanders over to your TV. He shocks you even more by opening a drawer in the entertainment center and pulling out an Xbox. Javy starts hooking up the console, and you shift your eyes to Jake again.

He is still sitting there digging through his puzzle pieces. You aren't sure what to do. If you should leave the two of them alone, join Javy in the living room, or go back to the table with Jake. So instead, you end up in a weird middle ground lingering in the hallway. Finally, when Javy has everything set up, and the Xbox booted on, he goes over to Jake. Coyote sets his hands down so hard on Jake's shoulders that it jostles the blond a bit.

"Wow, buddy, this is a nice puzzle," Javy says casually.

Jake just hums in response, placing a puzzle piece and tapping it twice. Only answering once he picks up another piece. "It's a watercolor by Frederic William Burton. He painted it in — "

"It's time for a break, Hangman," Coyote says, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Naw, you see this section," Jake gestures generally towards the entire surface area of the puzzle. "It's almost done."

"Nope, it's break time," Javy repeats more firmly.

Jake's shoulders hang, and it looks like it takes him physical effort to stand up from the table. Jake's joints and back audibly pop from the action, and he raises his hands above his head to fully stretch.

You try to root yourself in concern, not thinking of the flash of skin you saw where Jake's shirt rode up a bit. Jake blinks a few times, and when he finishes stretching, he turns to fully look at Javy.

"How long are you staying?" Jake asks, daring to glance back down at the puzzle. Javy snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face twice and then points aggressively toward the couch.

"As long as I want to," Javy responds with an upbeat tone and a wide grin. He gives a light shove, and Jake shuffles over to the couch. Jake looks at you as he walks, and you can tell that he feels betrayed.

"I'll leave you to it," you say, ready to retreat into your room.

Jake looks away from you then, and you don't like the flash of embarrassment on his face as he does. It's been odd seeing Jake so completely out of his element and uncomfortable in his skin the last few days. Embarrassed wasn't a look that fits well on Jake. It made you want to rush in and remedy the situation.

"You don't gotta go," Jake calls to you.

"Javy came over to hang out with you, Jake." You say plainly. You want to give them space to talk and hang out.

"Yeah, bro, feeling the love," Javy says jokingly. It earns him a sharp jab to his side from Jake. The action just makes Javy laugh, though. "Don't worry so much, Hang. Marlee is coming by later with dinner, and then all four of us will kick back, but right now, it's me, you, and the Master Chief."

"You'll hang out with us later, though? Or are you doing something tonight?" Jake asks, ignoring Javy.

"There is nothing I would rather do tonight than hang out with you," you tell him. Jake's eyes snap up from where they had drifted to the left, lowered just enough not to meet yours. The burning bright color in them is startling after the dull, distant look he has supported the last few days. You can't stop the words you say next, needing to try and back peddle. It takes a long beat before you say, "and Marls and Javy. I don't know if you've ever had Marlee's green chile enchiladas, but they are to die for."

"They are so good," Jake agrees enthusiastically and looks down at the controller he is holding for the first time. Javy then shoots you a smile with a thumbs up, and you are reassured enough that you head upstairs and into your room.

You hear Javy's voice behind you, "You know Marlee only cooks for two reasons."

You close your door before hearing Jake's answer and resist the urge to eavesdrop. A few hours later, you hear loud yelling and laughter from the living room. Then get a text from Marlee to send the boys to help her get the food out of her car.

The rest of the night is mostly light, and Jake almost passes for his normal self. He jokes with Coyote, eats two helpings of Marlee's enchiladas, and with you... well, with you, he is hot and cold. One moment Jake will be flirting with you in a heavy bravado, then the next, he falls into a quiet, contemplative silence. Javy has to herd Jake away from his puzzle three separate times. It gets easier to draw Jake back in every time; the last time only took a question directed toward Jake to draw him back to you guys.

It is a good night, and everyone seems happy at the end. Jake hugs Javy and Marlee goodbye and leaves you to walk your friends out. You let out a small sigh of relief, seeing Jake walk up the stairs and not back to the dining room table.

You talk with the couple for a few more minutes on the front porch, then hug them goodbye. You are thankful for them, to have such good friends who are willing to be a support system, for you, for Jake, and for their other friends too. It warms your heart, and it feels a lot like family.

Jake's puzzling is less frenzied after that night, and he starts to reign back in. He has full conversations with you again and goes to the gym after work as well. He follows Javy's rules that had been texted to you both and doesn't puzzle by alone again.

For the next week or so, Javy and Marlee end up in your living room in the evenings. Keeping Jake from becoming too obsessed, you also notice that he won't let Javy or Marlee touch his puzzle pieces. But when Jake does work on the puzzle, and you are home, he always invites you to join him.

Jake makes an effort to converse with you while working too. The conversations you two get into range from academic to childhood memories, favorites — books, movies, foods, bands, animals— funny stories, and anything else that would pop in your heads. Of course, each puzzle piece must still be double tapped into place, and you are meticulous about following that rule.

Puzzling in the evenings with Jake surprisingly becomes one of your favorite times of the day. Sometimes you would even just sit there at the table with Jake, scrolling on your phone while he works on the puzzle.

Hangman's presence is a comforting steady grounding force, so much so that you can only hope you provide half of that for him. You knew you were roommates, and Jake may not carry the same romantic feelings you do. However, you couldn't deny the plain platonic affection that poured from him, so much you sometimes think M aybe . Maybe he does feel more.

When you enter the kitchen, you see the puzzle is finished. You go to examine it and realize two pieces are missing. You feel a bit of worry creeping up in you, not sure how Jake will react to having lost pieces and being unable to complete the puzzle.

You start to look around, checking every chair and bench to make sure a piece hasn't fallen. You shine a light under the couch in case they slipped under there. Then you are flipping up the edge of the rug in the living room and trying to think of any other feasible place the pieces could have disappeared.

"What are you doing?" you hear, and you snap your head to see Jake standing on the other side of the couch, looking at you bemused.

"Sorry, I was just looking for your missing pieces," you say, straightening up and fixing the rug.

Jake quirks an eyebrow then he follows your gaze to the table where his puzzle is. Jake's mouth drops open, lips barely parted, and a soft "Oh." falls out like he didn't even make the sound intentionally.

"No luck so far, though. I'm sorry. I'm sure they will turn up. Only so many places they could have gone," You say, making sure to project an upbeat, positive tone and attitude.

Jake looks between you and the puzzle twice before suddenly you are graced with the rarest of Jake Seresin's smiles. It is one you have only seen a handful of times. It's different than his smirk and his confident panty dropping smile. It's not the smile that he gets when he laughs, and his eyes crinkle around the edges or the mouth wide open smile. It's not his practiced perfect smile he uses for pictures.

No, this smile is closed-mouthed, those pearly whites hidden from view. It's a quirk of his lips like Jake is trying to hold it back from showing it on his face but he isn't entirely successful. His bottom lip is tucked a little bit between his teeth as if he is physically trying to bite back the expression, none of which prevents Jake's dimples from popping up.

It's a smile that always leaves you a little stunned, and this is no exception. Not that there are many things about Jake that don't leave you feeling that way. This smile, paired with the soft look in his eyes, makes you want to melt into the floor.

"I have the pieces," Jake tells you then. It takes you a few moments to process his words.

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah, I do," he says and pulls out a ziplock baggie from his pocket with the two pieces in it.

"That's great!"

"They weren't lost. I was saving them, actually."

"Saving them for what?"

"For you. Well, for us."

You don't think you are able to hide your surprise at his words. "For us?"

"Yeah. You know, so we can finish this puzzle together. We worked on it together. So, we should finish it together. Few things match the feeling of putting the final piece of a puzzle into place."

God, you want to kiss him. You want to grab his face and smash your lips against his. You want to taste him and thread your fingers in his short dirty blonde hair. The little fantasy starting to form in your brain is cut off by Jake walking over to the table.

You follow him there, and Jake sets the last two pieces on the table, letting you pick which one you want. Once you make your selection, Jake grabs the other one.

"Okay, on three," he tells you with a grin. At his countdown, you both place the pieces of the puzzle. Automatically you double tap your piece into place. Jake was right; it is an extremely satisfying feeling finishing the puzzle and seeing it whole for the first time.

Your gaze drifts over the puzzle, and you look up to see Jake staring at you instead of the finished piece. After a moment, you realize what is wrong. Your hand reaches across and gently nudges Jake's to the side. Then you tap Jake's piece twice, realizing that for the very first time, he seemed to have missed that compulsion of his. However, you knew it would bother Jake when he realized he had forgotten, so you make sure to complete the ritual.

Jake's gaze snaps down to the piece you had tapped for him. Then his knuckles purposely brush against the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

"Thank you," spills from both of your mouths at the same time, which makes you laugh.

"Jinx," Jakes says in a rushed voice, making you laugh harder. That odd tension in the air between you two disappears.

You walk into the kitchen and grab a white claw from the fridge, bringing it back for Jake, handing it to him. Jake is a strict enforcer of the jinx soda pop rule. The two of you look at the puzzle for a few more minutes. Taking in the stunning painting, the yearning and sadness of it never fails to impact you.

While the two of you had been working on the puzzle, Jake had told you many different facts about The Meeting On The Turret Stairs. How it was a watercolor painting by Frederic William Burton, the poem it was based on, the era it was painted in, and its place in Irish art.

When you asked Jake more, he surprised you by knowing hyper-specific details and answers off the top of his head. Intrigued, you learned how he had double majored at Annapolis in Aerospace Engineering and History. However, because Jake was golden boy Midshipman Seresin, he had gotten away with his final history thesis being art focused. Hangman more than understood how to be charming when he needed to be.

"What now?" You ask him.

"What do you mean?" Jake asks, confused.

"What do we do with the puzzle?" you ask. It sounds much better than what you wanted to say. What now between the two of you? What were you going to do to keep spending time together?

"We take it apart." Jake shrugs.

"No," you gasp, horrified thinking of all the time you had put into the puzzle just to undo it and throw it back in the box.

"What else would we do?" Jake asks you. You think for a moment before smiling at your own idea.

"Let's Mod Podge it, and then we can hang it up. We have some pretty bare walls in the house, and it is a stunning piece of art," you suggest.

Jake doesn't even take a moment to think it over before saying, "I love that idea."

So, you two are driving to the craft store to get cardboard and Mod Podge. A week later, the puzzle has been cemented and hung on the wall in between your and Jake's rooms upstairs. After the puzzle is finished, Jake is back into his sudoku and his various other reading books. He still lingers near you in the evenings, waiting longer than he used to before retreating to his room for bed.

One night almost a month after you two had finished the puzzle, Jake brings the subject up again. You two are lounging on the couch, he had just gotten home from watching the Army-Navy game at a bar with some of his friends, and he is definitely a little bit tipsy.

"I am going to build us a puzzle table," is the first thing he had loudly declared, walking in the door.

You were instantly worried about why Jake might want to start a new puzzle. "Is everything okay?"

Jake doesn't seem to hear you, though, as he continues on. "A really nice one that opens and closes with velvet or something so we don't have to worry about losing pieces, and maybe I can even make it an adjustable height?" He is talking to himself more than to you.

You watch as he grabs a notepad and pencil out of a drawer. Then he slumps on the couch. Before you know what's happening or can stop it, Jake has his head on your lap and is sketching design ideas, potential measurements, and materials.

"How are you doing?" you ask him again, staring down at his face, unable to contain your enamored smile. Jake just nods his head and keeps sketching while mumbling.

You run a hand through his soft hair tentatively. It is a bit longer than usual right now, almost out of regulation. He will need to get a haircut this week, but the strands are so soft, and you can't help but enjoy that there is a bit more there to run your fingers through. His eyes instantly close, and he hums contently at your touch.

"Hangman?" you ask him almost teasingly, halting your movements.

"Yes, sugar?"

"Are you okay?"

He blinks his eyes open and looks at you. Their gleaming sea glass green color is a little glazed over and so very soft. His mirth is open and obvious to you. "I'm so great. Navy won."

"That's great. Go Navy." A wide grin splits his face wide, and Jake's eyes actually crinkle closed, hiding their unique color from you again.

"That's right, Honey. Ooh ahh!" Jake responds automatically, making you both laugh, and maybe you had been drinking a little bit of wine before he came home; perhaps you were warm from that, or maybe Jake was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Your eyes lock with his, and your hands pull out of his hair. You let one drift trace his face helping him relax the furrow in his eyebrows.

"Why do you want to start a new puzzle?" You ask.

"No new puzzle. A new table." He corrects you. Jake taps his pencil on the notepad pointedly.

"For a new puzzle?"

"You liked doing a puzzle with me, right? Well, after the first bit, you liked it?"

"I loved it." The words slip out of your mouth before you can amend the sentiment to come off less forward.

"Me too,"Jake says and trails off for a moment. Then he continues asking, "So you would be open to doing another one with me? Just for fun this time, not my mental health." Jake doesn't say the last sentence with any bit of shame or embarrassment, which you admire. However, the vulnerability is obvious and glaring.

"Yeah," you confirm, once again having to run your fingers over his brow to relax his face.

"Perfect. I'm building the table, then. You can pick the puzzle this time."

You can't help but let your hands slip back into Jake's hair, and he returns to sketching on his notepad. It was a moment of quiet peace you knew you didn't ever want to let go of.

"Javy said that you don't like to do puzzles with other people, and that's what helps you pull out of the pit."

Jake's eyes don't leave his notepad, and he turns the page. You watch Jake start to scrawl the pros of a dovetail joint versus a dowel joint before he starts to draw it out as well. You almost don't think he will say anything back by the time he finally does.

"You aren't other people," Jake tells you, as he starts drawing in shading, which is completely unnecessary for anything beyond aesthetic. He bends the lines from a basic blueprint to a detailed drawing of a realistic table joint. It was distracting watching the engineer in him flow into the unexpected artist.

The idea that you ever had thought his talent for art and engineering were such radically different things was a bit funny. Now that you see him dance between the lines back and forth so elegantly that you understand it wasn't two competing sides of Jake. It was just him. It was how he worked and operated.

It was how he was Hangman and also Jake. It was how he could fill out sudoku then go to bed at 9 pm and how he could shoot pool until closing with the squad. It was how he was a cowboy and a pilot. It was how you wanted to cry a little bit, knowing he enjoyed you there, knowing you weren't like other people.

And you are struck with the thought that you don't ever want Jake to do a puzzle with anyone but you. You never want to see him sitting alone at three am with bloodshot eyes putting pieces into place again. And you don't even want to consider him explaining animatedly why he believes a piece goes in one color pile and not the one it was originally sorted to anyone but you.

You want to be selfish with Jake. You want to have him, and you want to keep him close, never letting go. Surely you could convince Jake to be yours. It was a selfish act that could be forgiven if you promised to cherish him. After all, there were worse things in the world than loving someone, so entirely the fact they might not love you to the same degree didn't hurt so much.

Jake flips to the next page in the notepad and starts to sketch out the living room. As he works, the living room table starts to look significantly different than your current one.

"Oh. It's for the living room?" You ask him.

At first, he just hums in response, but when he finishes rounding out a line, Jake lifts his pencil from the paper. It pauses there, poised and frozen, as he asks, "Do you want the dining table instead?"

"No." As you continue, the pencil falls back to the page, "It just wasn't what I was originally thinking."

"I could do a dining room table too. They could even be made of the same wood." Jake says. His green eyes broke from the page to glance up at your face for the first time in a while. He searches your face trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.

"Two puzzle tables?"

"Think of all the possibilities. We could do two puzzles at once." Jake gasps. You kind of hate the excited timbre that Jake's voice picks up at the idea, but you actually mostly love it.

"Just one puzzle at a time, please." You say, giving his hair a teasing gentle tug, ignoring the sharp inhale of his breath that immediately follows. You refuse to give away the unexpected thrill sent straight through your body that settles at your core. You have to consciously make sure your words do not fall out rushed, "I think it would be nice to have out here, comfier."

"I thought the exact same thing."

"Oh really?" You ask, amused.

"Yes, Ma'am. I've got two words for you, puzzle naps."

You huff a small laugh at him and bite your lower lip. He flips back to his first page of notes, where he had a small list of wood. He adds cherry to his list after oak.

"Juniper is really pretty," you suggest. He immediately starts to write down your suggestion with a little heart next to it. When Jake starts to shade in the heart, you feel like the one in your chest might actually burst out. Something very similar to butterflies was fluttering around in you, but it is much less nervous and rather born of pure fondness.

"Sounds beautiful. I'm sure it's perfect," Jake tells you.

"Let's pick one together, though. It should be our choice."

"No," Jake says, drawing an elegant oval around juniper. Then he goes back and strikes a straight line through the other options. "No one else has ever remembered to double tap."

Jake spends a few more minutes detailing the design before his eyes start to get sleepy, and his pencil marks become light and halting. It doesn't take much from you to encourage him to go to bed, just a whispered suggestion.

He stumbles up from the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. Jake puts his notebook on the counter in the kitchen. After that, Jake circles back to press a second lingering kiss to your forehead. You watch him go all the way around the house to double check the locks, the front door, the garage, and the back door. Finally, after sending you two finger guns, Jake drags himself up the stairs, humming Anchors Aweigh.

"Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!" You loudly hear him sing. You listen to Jake as he hums his fight song while randomly peppering in other lyrics. When you finally hear him close his door, your mind makes a decision on the war it's been having.

You are going to do whatever it takes for Jake Seresin to agree to be yours. Potential consequences be damned; Jake is worth the risk.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #Hangman imagine #Slow burn #Roley Coley's writing #part 1 #Double tap #Hangman x you #house we share

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goldenseresinretriever · 6 months

Text

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 6

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies, legal inaccuracies. No use of Y/N. Any opinions on NHL teams expressed by my characters are not my own and describe fictional versions of these teams.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Sorry for the wait, y’all! I was having a hard time finding writing motivation even if I really did want to write but I'm back!

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You pull onto Jake’s street at 7:05 on Monday morning, barely suppressing a yawn. You’d originally planned to show around eight since the two of you weren’t expected in until nine but Jake had texted you last night asking you to come over earlier because he “needed help with something.” He’d also explained that the garage would be open for you to park inside. You know that has nothing to do with safety since no one in this neighborhood looks desperate enough to steal your piece of junk on wheels, so you wonder absently if Jake’s ashamed of having said vehicle parked in his driveway. On second thought, maybe it’s simply a privacy measure in case the paparazzi come snooping for a peek into his personal life.

As you catch sight of the familiar beachfront property, you note that the garage is, in fact, open. You suppress a snort, rolling your eyes as you pull into the garage and see the newly added, hand-painted wooden sign at the front of the space designated for you. Bright green letters announce it as “the carrot patch” complete with crudely painted carrots adorning the rest of the plank. You absently wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. After your conversation with Jake on Saturday night, you’d agreed to be friends, but part of you is starting to become lightly concerned with exactly what Jake’s definition of friendship looks like.

You park and head back to the front door, ready to tease Jake about the sign when he opens the door and every thought in your mind flies out the window. He’s wearing an apron that says “Grillmaster” in flaming text over his pajamas.

“Mornin’ Bugs, ready for business?” His grin is wide and infectious and you roll your eyes. It’s way too early for him to be so cheerful.

“You’re in a good mood.” His eyes dance playfully as he wraps his free hand around your arm, the other wielding a spatula, pulling you inside where Pudding dances around behind her owner, just as excited to see you. You drop down to give Pudding a big hug, not minding as she slobbers all over your scrubs. Jake moves past you towards the kitchen. Pudding pulls away from you, dancing on her toes as she looks back to make sure you’re coming with them.

The kitchen smells amazing and you watch Jake as he flips pancakes with one hand and sips coffee with the other. The scene is endearingly domestic as he looks up from the pan to where you’re awkwardly standing in the doorway. He smiles, using his chin to direct you to the barstools across from him as he asks, “How do you like your coffee?” He nods in the direction of the coffee machine to his right.

“Oh…” You hesitate as you sit down on one of the stools. “I don’t.” You give him a nervous laugh. “I’m a matcha girl.” He just nods, smiling at you.

“Duly noted, Bugs. We can stop somewhere on our way in.”

You shake your head, waving him off. “It’s fine, Jake. I don’t need one every morning, I only really make one when I have time.”

“We have time today.” He gives you a gentle shrug as he passes you a plate with three pancakes.

“Thanks.” You blush softly at the fact that you’re here, sitting in Jake’s kitchen, discussing your favorite morning beverages while he’s cooking you breakfast. “Speaking of time, why’d you ask me to come over so early? You mentioned you needed help with something?” You take a bite of the pancakes and barely suppress a groan at the tangy burst of blueberry that coats your tongue. “Jake, these are amazing.”

He chuckles at your reaction before he sighs, leaning on the counter slightly. “Pudding needs a walk and I’m supposed to be on leg rest so…” He trails off and you can tell he doesn’t like having to ask you.

“Sure thing, Jake, I can take her out.” You reach down to scratch Pudding’s ears where she’s sitting on the floor next to you. “You don’t mind, do you, Princess Pud? We’ll go on a walk while your dad gets some rest, yeah?” She snuggles up to your hand and you don’t think she minds at all. “I’ll finish these up and we can get going.” You pause, thinking. “Jake who took her out over the weekend?” You’re trying your best to keep the accusation out of your tone, but you ARE his physician after all. He just chuckles in response.

“Javy did, don’t worry. I’m adhering to all your rules, Bugs.” You nod.

“So you talked to him?”

“Yeah, I talked to him. He deserved to know before the rest of the team. We usually tell each other everything, at least until now. He’s my best friend…” Jake looks at you ruefully. “I can’t lose him.” The TOO is implied in his eyes and your heart aches.

“How’d he take it?” You ask carefully.

Jake’s face lightens at that as his lips curve into a smirk. “He offered to move in.” You choke on your pancakes, giving him a bewildered look. Jake offers you a glass of water you hadn’t noticed him fill. After washing down the chunk of pancake lodged in your throat, you’re back to glaring at Jake.

“And you didn’t think to take him up on that?” You were here in his kitchen at 7 am and you could be asleep in your bed. Jake’s face twists in disgust.

“Just because he’s my best friend doesn’t mean I want to live with him. The last thing I want is for my house to become a revolving door for puck bunnies because he refuses to grow up. And if any of them saw me?” He shakes his head. “News of my injury getting out before we make an actual PR announcement sounds like a nightmare and a lecture from Zam that I’d rather avoid.” He shudders. You nod slowly. He’s not wrong. Javy Machado may be a sweet person and a good friend but the man was notorious for being more than a little cavalier in his personal life. He was frequently pictured leaving games or bars with a woman or three on his arm.

Admittedly, however, Jake had been similar during his early years. He and Javy were a dynamic duo on and off the ice from college through their time together in Arizona. Both had been surrounded by women and yet neither had ever been in public committed relationships. After leaving the Coyotes, however, Jake had seemingly aged out of his playboy ways. While his popularity had only continued to skyrocket once he joined the Stars, the photos stopped.

“So,” you start and Jake arches an eyebrow in your direction to let you know he’s listening as he flips another pancake effortlessly. “You used to be like Javy, and who would blame you, you’re a celebrity, but why’d you stop I guess? Was it just what you said, you grew up and Javy didn’t or…?” You trail off, not really sure why you want to know, but hey if a secret wife and child are about to walk into the kitchen to help themselves to pancakes, you’d like a heads up.

Jake shrugs. “I guess I ‘grew up’ if that’s even what you call it. In the beginning, it was so exciting, all the attention, the women, et cetera but at the end of the day I’m in this gig to do one thing and that’s play hockey.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re good at it then.” The comment slips out before you can stop it and Jake smirks at you.

“Damn Bunny, you a fan?” Your heart skips as he shines the full force of that charismatic media smile on you. You can’t let him get to you, though.

“Contractual obligation, remember?” You wink. He chuckles at you bantering back.

“You gonna keep that excuse up and the next thing you know, you’re wearing my jersey opening night.” He winks back and your cheeks are flaming. Little does he know it wouldn’t be the first time you wear his jersey. You’re not sure how to respond so you give Pudding’s head a muss and stand up.

“We should get going. Be ready to go when we get back or else we’re going to be late.” Jake chuckles at your deflection but waves the two of you off, collecting your empty plate and depositing it in the sink beside him, replacing it with his own.

***

When you and Pudding get back from your walk, Jake is on the couch, attempting to tie the shoe on his bad leg, awkwardly bent over the straightened limb. He’s clad in a Dogfighters tee and athletic shorts. What really throws you for a loop is the plastic tiara on his head that proudly reads “Passenger Princess.” You roll your eyes before crossing the room to drop into a squat by his foot. He looks up, surprised, as you take the laces in your hands, tying them for him, before sitting back on your heels.

“You ready to go, Passenger Princess?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a smirk tugging at your lips, but his face is still an expression of quiet awe.

“Y-you didn’t have to do that.” His cheeks are dusted with the prettiest shade of pink. Your smirk melts into a soft smile at the sight.

“Yeah, but I wanted to. Plus, you’re a princess right?” You give his knee a gentle pat over the brace as you stand, smirking at the tiara. “You ready to go?” You hold out your hand to him and he doesn’t hesitate to take it, not breaking eye contact as he lets you help him up. You grab the strap of the duffle bag next to him, making to hoist it onto your shoulder before it almost takes you down. You’re off balance and about to tumble when Jake grabs your waist. “What the actual fuck do you have in that bag, Jake?” You stammer out as you try to ignore how your heart is pounding against your ribs. You convince yourself that it’s from the almost-fall and not because you’re currently pressed chest-to-chest with Jake, your head craned back to look at him due to the awkward angle.

“Bricks.” He half chuckles the words out but you can tell he’s flustered from the sudden movement too. “Here, I’ve got it.” He rights you, sliding his hand under the strap of the duffel, fingers brushing your shoulder as he transfers it to his own.

When you get to the garage, you face off with Jake’s truck once again. You shift nervously, not breaking eye contact with the behemoth. “Are you sure we can’t just take my car?”

“Nope.” He pops the p. Before going to open the door for you, tossing his duffle bag into the back. “Come on, Bunny, up you go.” You head over, defeatedly and Jake swings you up into the driver’s seat. You know you should probably just ask if he has a stool or something you can keep in the car but a small terrible part of your brain is addicted to the feeling of his hands on your hips, warm and solid, and the way the muscles in arms ripple as he swings you up like it’s nothing. While you’re lost in thought, he’s gotten in himself, before he holds out his hand to you, palm up. “Here, let me see your keys.” You pull them from your purse before tossing it into the back with Jake’s bag. He expertly slides a ring with two keys onto your larger collection. Attached to them is a green puffball with bunny ears that makes your lip twitch as he hands the keys back to you. You tear your eyes away from the keychain to examine the new additions to your keys. The spare fob for the truck, you half expected but the smaller key next to it is a surprise.

“Jake, you did not just give me your house key.” You look at him, incredulously. He shrugs like he gives out his house key to just anyone.

“You’ll be coming here every day, I might be in the shower and I don’t want you waiting outside. Plus, what happens if I fall and I can’t get up? Or some other kind of emergency. It makes sense.” You hate to admit that he’s right because it feels odd. You’re his doctor, and maybe his friend and now you have the keys to his car and his house. “You can argue with me later, Bunny, and I look forward to it, but we’re going to be late if we don’t get going. Turning the keys in the ignition, your eyes bug out as you see the numbers on the dash clock. He’s right. You curse under your breath as you pull out of the garage and Jake reaches over you again to click the remote for the door.

***

You make your way through the training area, towards the locker room. Jake’s called a team meeting to let them know what’s going on with leg and he invited you to come for moral support. Some of the guys, including Jake, are still lingering back in the gym, wrapping up their morning workouts. Your eyes are drawn to where he’s seated on a weight bench and doing bicep curls. “Hey, Hungman!” Your head turns to where some guy from the second line is calling out to Jake, your eyebrows twitching in annoyance.

“It’s Hangman.” You do your best to control your irritation as you correct the other man. Jake turns to where you’ve just come in.

“Really? Well, maybe you just haven’t gotten all the information, doc.” The other man smirks at you, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Because he’s most definitely Hungman.” He laughs at his joke. It’s not original by any means. It’s one of the many nicknames Jake’s attractiveness has earned him from thirsty puck bunnies. “Or do you prefer Bangman, huh Captain?” He rounds on Jake, expecting him to join in on the teasing but Jake shuts it down coolly.

“Just Captain works, Lennox.” His green eyes are cold and shuttered and you fight the urge to cross the room and put your hand on his arm. He sets down the weight in his hand, standing. “Let’s go, we’ve got the meeting in five.” He makes no move to wait for the other man, heading over to where you’re waiting by the door, the ice in his gaze thawing as he gets closer. He doesn’t make any move to touch you and you appreciate his restraint because you can tell that he wants to in the barely there twitch of his muscles. “Thanks.” His voice is so quiet that you almost miss it.

“Don’t mention it.” You glance up at him, briefly. “We’re a team, right? We stick up for each other.” His mouth tugs up at that.

“Always.” He agrees and leads the way to the locker room. Most of the team has already gathered and are sitting on the benches. You linger by the door, present but not intruding. Maverick gives you a smile and a nod from where he’s standing in the back next to a grumpy-looking Cyclone, Zam, Nat, and the rest of the staff. Jake’s chatting with other members of the team as you wait for stragglers. Zam makes her way over to where you’re standing, grabbing your arm and dragging you over between her and Natasha.

“So,” she whispers, raising her eyebrow conspiratorially. “Word from Nat who heard from Javy is that you’re driving Golden Boy to work? What’s that about?” Nat looks just as curious.

You shrug nonchalantly as if it’s that simple. “He asked me to.” You nod towards the front of the room. “He’s actually about to explain that. Well, sort of.” Zam’s eyebrows fly straight up her forehead as she and Nat turn their attention to where Jake’s clearing his throat, standing at the front of the room. Every eye in the room is on him, but not on his face. He’s wearing shorts today and his knee brace is on display.

“So, I should probably just get straight to the elephant in the room,” Jake says and he’s wearing his biggest and brightest media smile, Zam should be proud. “I tore my MCL in June during playoffs. It’s been left untreated for the past two months until last week.” Chaos breaks out. The guys are shocked and next to you, Zam drops her clipboard as Nat’s lips are pulled tightly into a thin line. Silence falls again as Jake tells his team the same story he told you last week and the mood in the room shifts to somber. “I didn’t come to San Diego to half-ass this. Hockey has and is always going to be my first priority and that means being the best player and captain that I can be. I know I haven’t done the best job as either recently but I want to ask for the chance to start over. I’m going to be working with Bugs to heal as quickly as possible and if everything goes well, I’ll still be able to play in the season opener. Since I can’t be on the ice, I’m delegating leadership to our alternate captains, Machado and Bradshaw. Still, feel free to come to me with stuff, but they’ll probably be more available.”

Zam elbows you, jerking her chin towards the front of the room, indicating that you should say something. You begrudgingly squeeze your way to the front and Jake gives you an encouraging smile as you stand next to him. “I’m in the process of scheduling official tests to confirm my hypotheses but as of right now, my professional opinion is that Jake should be able to play in the opener or at the latest be able to come in by the second week. He’s going to be just fine.” You smile and pat his arm, gently. You and Jake field some questions from the team before he squeezes your shoulder in silent thanks as you head back to your spot in the back. Jake wraps up the meeting and Maverick and Cyclone start to head to the front of the room to make some closing remarks when the door to the locker room opens.

The room falls silent as Tom Kazansky steps inside, propping the door open behind him. He’s the owner of the Dogfighters and this is the first time you’re seeing him in person. He’s just as much of a hockey legend as Maverick and Cyclone and you think fondly of your dad as your heartbeat speeds up at the sight of Iceman. “Hey team,” he greets warmly. “Glad I could catch everyone together! I have an announcement to make.” He rubs his hands together. You glance at Zam and she shrugs. She’s just in the dark as you are. “There’s been some concerns raised about the current coaching situation we have here.” Your fists clench in silent fury. You know this is Cyclone’s doing and sure enough he’s wearing a satisfied smirk on his face as Maverick looks nervous next to him. Zam’s face is a mask of quiet rage as she does the same. Iceman’s eyes dance with humor, however. “So I’ve made the decision to bring on an assistant coach.” Murmurs rise among the players. Sure, most teams have multiple coaches but everyone can tell that something bigger is going on right now. “Without further ado, let me introduce you to your new assistant coach.” Iceman smiles, extending his hand to the open door. Your hearing goes muddled and you don’t hear the name he calls because you’re so dumbstruck by the woman who walks through the door. “…though you probably know her best as Dare.” Iceman claps the woman on the shoulder.

She’s wearing a smart navy blue suit and her hair is flawlessly pinned back from her face, the gray streaks in it tasteful. Her eyes glint as she smiles out at the dumbfounded team. “Assistant Coach Dare Mitchell, reporting for duty.”

A/N: BOOM BABY, things are about to get INTERESTNG 👀

#snitches get stitches // sdd #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters hockey au #sgs // sdd #jake seresin x bugs #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #no use of y/n #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun maverick #tgm #tgm hockey au

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Not A Coincidence

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 3k words

summary: It’s not a coincidence that you turn up at the Hard Deck for a beach day. It’s not a coincidence either that you end up inside the bar all alone with Rooster. And after what happened on Tuesday, well...

fair warning: allusions to smut. no smut in itself.

a/n: this is my first bradley oneshot and i am so fucking scared imma fuck up but yknow. we’re vibing. also the jake slander in this is all fun and games. i love him.

main piece to “Tuesday Night”, “ Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night" and “Take Me On A Joyride”, can be read seperately tho

top gun masterlist

You were early. Too early. Much too early, considering it was currently 10am and your shift began at 5pm. But here you were, sunglasses high on your nose, bikini on under a loose shirt, straw hat on your head, towel and sunscreen in your bag on the passenger seat.

It wasn’t a concidence that you’d decided on coming early for a beach day. It was far from that, actually. And you hoped, prayed, begged that Penny wouldn’t let it slip, that she wouldn’t rat you out. Because if she did that, you were not sure you’d be able to handle the teasing that would follow. Of course she wouldn’t want anything bad for you - just a little push in the right direction, she’d call it, and smile that smile of hers that had you and Amelia giving each other the side-eye every time.

But you’d have to take that risk.

Because you sure as hell weren’t missing out on this shit.

And it was all Penny’s fault in the end anyway. Penny’s fault because she was here on a Thursday morning, Penny’s fault because she was sitting outside, Penny’s fault because she just had to send you a picture, didn’t she? God damn her. God damn her for being your aunt. God damn her for not sending you that picture earlier.

You grabbed your keys a little too tightly as you turned off the ignition and pushed the door open and close again with a bit too much force. One deep breath. Then another. You needed to calm down.

You didn’t bother with the front door - if you could save the time it’d take to find the keys in your bag, you absolutely would - instead walked around to the tables at the back. This side of the Hard Deck was hardly ten metres away from the beach, so the second you rounded the corner, you stood, frozen in spot, and watched the picture Penny had sent half an hour ago become reality.

And reality was much better than the crappy photo in any and all ways imaginable.

The squad was all shirtless, all greased up, running after two balls, tackling each other, sand sticking to every inch of exposed skin, sunglasses on and drenched in golden light. It was like a scene straight out of some summer rom-com - actually, no, it was pretty much like a scene coming straight out of some soft porn. Unfurling right in front of you.

Oh, you were in trouble.

Especially the moment anyone spotted you. And they would. They fucking would if you didn’t move it right about now.

As quietly as you could - and as invisible as possible, which was harder - you walked up to Penny, keeping your eyes firmly planted on the aviators rolling around in the sand. You were pretty fucking sure nothing would ever top this moment right now. Thirteen of what had to be the most attractive people on the planet tan, sweaty and half-naked? Yeah, there was no way in hell it would ever be any better than this right here.

You only glanced away for a second to sit down next to Penny, to take a look at the blank Sudoku in front of her. You snorted.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who dropped everything to get here”, you said, eyebrows raised, put your bag down next to you and looked back at the beach where Phoenix was just throwing her arms into the air to celebrate something you guessed was a good thing for her team. Hangman looked livid.

“What can I say?”, she chuckled. “Even an old woman can enjoy some eye-candy sometimes.”

“You’re saying ‘old’ like you actually are.”

“Well-”

She was going to argue, like she always did (you’d had this conversation a ton of times already), but before she could, Maverick came jogging up from the beach to a little chair he must’ve brought for himself. He waved in your general direction. You knew better than to think it was actually meant for the both of you - you were aware enough of the history of his ‘relationship’ with Penny to not be that arrogant. It always went the same: the two of them stumbling across each other every few years, with the exception of the half decade when she’d been married, they hooked up, they had a great time for some weeks, maybe even some months, then Maverick got himself into some kind of trouble and had to move across the country, leaving behind Penny and her broken heart.

As he sat down to keep watching the game, you realised that you’d been spotted. Someone had noticed Mav’s wave, had seen not only Penny, but you too, and well, you were fucked now. You were fucked because it was Rooster who’d spotted you. Rooster who had a shit-eating grin on his face as he peeled his sunglasses off and made eye contact with you. Rooster who you knew was smart enough to connect the dots, to figure out that you being here wasn’t some coincidence. Rooster who probably realised you were checking his team out - checking him out - even all the way down the beach and through your sunglasses.

But who could blame you?

Hell, he looked gorgeous in his dumb Hawaiian shirts and jeans already, you weren’t particularly shocked that he looked even better without them.

He waved at you. Waved at you to come over. To come join them.

Within a few seconds, the rest of the aviators were catching onto his idea, were looking at you sitting there watching them, were following his example and waving at you to come down. You bit the inside of your cheek.

You’d thought that if you were sneaky, careful enough, that you’d be able to just sit here and stare at them, watch them play, admire them for a while. Maybe pretend to read a book if they were to spot you after all. But, no, of course not. Of course Rooster had to demolish your little plan, crumble it up into nothing. Curse him.

You sighed, but you knew the squad well enough by now to understand that you had lost. You had no choice but to do what they wanted you to do - they’d find a way to force you anyway if you didn’t do it willingly.

Penny’s laughter in your ears, you got up and made your way down to the beach, arriving to a chorus of cheers that had you grinning and bowing. You could very well just play this off as some funny coincidence as long as Rooster kept his mouth shut. But with the way he was grinning at you, you were doubting he would for long.

“I gotta admit I feel a little insulted that I wasn’t invited to your private beach-party”, you said, letting your eyes rake over Rooster with no concern whatsoever for being caught. You had sunglasses on. Nobody could prove you were doing a damn thing. And he was just too attractive for his own good, too attractive to ignore, too attractive not to look.

“In our defense”, Phoenix said, still a little breathless from the game, and held both her hands up. “We didn’t know we were even having a beach-party.”

“You didn’t even know?”, you asked.

“Mav took us by surprise. Only told us this morning.”

You snorted, interrupted before you could reply by a ball landing at your feet.

“You playing, Junior?”, Jake shouted, making sure to flex his arms just short of ridiculously. If he weren’t Jake and you weren’t you, you’d probably be super into him, more turned on and less annoyed, but this way you just rolled your eyes and flipped him off.

“First of all, Texas boy”, you yelled. “Quit calling me that or I’ll cut your fucking dick off. With some elementary school scissors as well because that’s all I’d need. And also, you know I hate sports, the mere fact that you’re suggesting I move any more than necessary is laughable.”

You heard Phoenix and Rooster snicker as Jake laughed and threw you a sloppy salute.

“Whatever ya say, Junior.”

Junior. How you despised that goddamn nickname. Mainly because it didn’t make sense anyway - you weren’t even Penny’s daughter, you were her niece. They’d make more sense calling Amelia Junior. But no, it had caught on, and now you were just short of slapping people every time you heard it.

You turned back to Rooster, swallowing hard as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his face this time.

“I’ll get you guys some drinks”, you said, smile tugging at your lips. “If, that is, you’re allowed to drink.”

“A drink won’t kill us”, Phoenix winked, and then hauled the ball from where it still lay at your feet and charged at Jake.

You chuckled. There was a heavy silence hanging over you and Rooster even after half a second, your sunglasses protecting you from too much eye contact and him holding it effortlessly anyways.

“You look good”, he muttered, his voice low enough that you knew none of the others heard it. A shiver ran down your spine. Your throat went dry. God, why had you got yourself into this? You should’ve saved the pic, thanked Penny and stayed home. None of this complicated shit. But well, seemed as though you liked it complicated.

“Do I?”, you asked quietly, barely suppressing a grin. He made an acknowledging sound that almost had you throwing caution into the fucking wind and pulling him in for a kiss just like that.

“I think I could use a helping hand”, you said instead, voice sounding more breathless than it probably should. “You know, with the drinks.”

His lip quirked up at that, the indication of a smile that you were much too familiar with already. You swallowed. This man should not have this effect on you. But he did, and well, who were you to argue with god’s gifts?

“I’ve always got a free hand for you, sweetheart”, he chuckled, his fingertips dancing across your upper arm. You sucked in a breath.

He’d flirted with you before, yes. But ever since Tuesday, he’d taken it up a notch. You’d have expected something like this from Hangman, surely, but not from Rooster. Sweet Rooster.

Not so sweet after all.

“You’re unbelievable”, you muttered, shaking your head and looking down (a mistake, in hindsight, because that meant you were staring right down at his abs) to escape his eyes on yours.

“What, you don’t like these hands?”, he asked with a grin, his finger snaking just below the hem of your sleeve before he pulled back, holding his hands up in front of you and turning them around - palm facing you, back facing you, palm facing you. You could’ve slapped him.

The thing was that he had really fucking nice hands. And you didn’t usually notice that. But his were big, his fingers long, so goddamn perfect on your waist, your jaw - useful too, you could imagine.

“I like those hands carrying the drinks out”, you quipped. “Think the guys can make do without you for a few minutes?”

He didn’t even take a look at the squad before raising his eyebrows.

“Sure they can.”

You couldn’t help the grin on your lips as you turned and walked up to the Hard Deck, passing by Penny (with that annoying smile that told you She knew, she knew, she knew), only leaning down to tell her you were getting the squad some drinks before you were pushing open the door, stepping behind the bar and getting out a tray. You set it down on the wooden bar top, put a bunch of shot glasses onto it and got out a bottle of vodka, only looking up when you heard Rooster laugh.

“And here I thought I was getting my hands dirty after all.”

You snorted, resting your palms against the edge of the bar and leaning closer over to him. It was dark, light barely flooding in through the windows with the shades down, especially with your sunglasses on, and you really should have taken them off, but the sweet advantage of Rooster not knowing where you were looking was a bit too sweet to give up just yet.

He looked good even in this dim light. One arm on the bar top, his face turned to you, his sunglasses still up high in his hair. Usually he’d hook them into his shirt, but - well, he wasn’t wearing one. A layer of sweat was covering his entire torso, droplets dripping down his neck.

“You” - you pointed a finger at him - “are a cruel, cruel man.”

He leaned just a bit closer, grin playing on his lips, and your breath caught in your throat as he raised a hand, prying your own sunglasses off of your face. Carefully, slowly, paying close attention to not hurting you.

“Now is that good or bad?”

He folded the glasses, put them down next to the tray and caught your gaze. For the first time today, you were actually looking at him. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip all on their own. If he knew about even half of the power he had over you, you were fucked.

“Well for me”, you grinned, not daring to do anything but stare right back at him. “For me, that could be very good. Depending on what you define as good, Bradshaw.”

“Would be beneficial if our definitions matched.”

You let out a laugh and shook your head, finally breaking eye contact to turn around and get out another tray, another few glasses (bigger ones, this time) and a bottle of water. Drinks were well and all but the squad needed actual fluids in their systems that weren’t alcohol and as far as you knew them, they had not brought enough to even last them much more than a few hours.

“You’re a menace, Bradshaw, is what you are. And now help me get these drinks out.”

You grabbed one tray, grabbed the bottle of vodka and maneuvered everything out from behind the bar, towards the door. Your pulse was a bit too quick, your breathing a bit too shallow, but you were fine considering what had just gone down. Considering you’d been in here alone with Bradley goddamn Bradshaw, the literal finest man on the whole planet, and had managed not to throw yourself at him. Even after what had happened Tuesday. Even after knowing just how heavenly he felt close to you. Even with how horribly obviously he’d been flirting today.

You had hardly taken two steps away from the bar top when you were tugged back - an arm around your waist, the tray wobbling dangerously. You put the bottle of vodka down on the bar, hard, much too forcefully, to keep everything from clattering to the ground. You were good at your job, yes, but not even you could keep a tray of close to fifteen shot glasses safely on your arm when someone was purposefully tripping you up.

“Shit, you can’t just do that!”, you cursed, carefully steadying the tray and putting it down as well before you looked up at Rooster. He’d let go of you, but he didn’t seem guilty or regretful in the slightest, that grin still on his lips.

“You really want to leave me here without making use of these hands?”, he muttered, so close to you now that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You wanted to be mad at him. You so, so badly wanted to be. But he was making it way too hard.

“With what those hands did already”, you hissed, poking a finger into his chest. “I don’t know if I want to find out whether the rest of what they can do is just as destructive.”

He laughed, his hands back on your waist again suddenly, fingers splayed across your skin (the shirt was really, really thin after all and you felt like you were on fire wherever he touched you), pulling you flush against his front. Your palms came up to his chest to steady yourself and you sucked in a breath - sweaty skin beneath your fingertips, well-defined abs against your stomach. Most definitely god’s gift. Shit.

“Changed your mind that quickly?”, he hummed, thumb tracing the hem of your bikini bottoms over your shirt. “Think I can recall you being very eager to find out two days ago.”

“You kept track?”, you asked breathlessly, the question sarcastic but your tone - sadly - outing just how affected you were by all this. By his closeness, his touch, his words. Oh, you were down bad. He chuckled.

“For such a pretty girl like you? Always.”

He held you just a little tighter, pulled you just a little closer. You hadn’t thought it was possible.

“Bradley”, you whispered, and something in his expression changed like a switch had been flicked in his mind. His fingertips dug into your hips.

“Say that again.”

You didn’t think your mind had ever been this absolutely blank as you looked at him, rolled his words around in your head, your lips parted and your eyes wide.

“Bradley”, you repeated - had you ever said his name before? On Tuesday you’d kissed him, sure, but you’d both been tipsy and it had been 1am and you were pretty sure you’d called him ‘Roos’, even with his hands pinning you to his Bronco and your arms crossed behind his neck. “Kiss me again.”

#top gun #top gun x reader #x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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sunnysidevans · 1 year

Text

Fire & Oceans - J. Seresin

Summmary: Jake Seresin was a man of his word and he fully intends to do so, through oceans and fires, he will always be there for his sweetheart. No matter what.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Mitchell!Reader

Warnings: 18+, mentions of injury, lots of crying , emotional af. mentions of accidents in a f-18. mentions of death.

a/n: I couldn't help but keep up with these two okay, I wanted jake to have an endgame. You can read this as a stand alone piece but also can be read in additional to this fic

ps: surpise, it's long.

Fall was setting in, yellows and oranges covered the green. A scene you were far from being familiar with. “Sweetheart” pulled from your thoughts, you look over your shoulder towards the front door.

The breeze of Southern Texas followed him in causing a shiver down your spine. You still hadn’t gotten used to the shift of the fall season. “Hey” you smile, tossing the towel onto the counter. Walking to the entryway, leaning against it with a smile.

“Good day?” you ask, hands on your hips. He nods with a chuckle, “These recruits are killing me” he says. You laugh, pushing off the frame, going back to the cutting board. “That's what happens when you become a Captain old man” you smirk, cutting the vegetables for dinner. “Excuse me” he scoffs, making his way into the kitchen.

He makes his way to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. “I am not old” he whispers with a grin, kissing your jaw. You smile, continuing to prep the vegetable in front of you.

“How was your day?” he asks, looking you up and down as he moves to stand beside you. He takes you in then, the Navy shirt that hung loosely on your body and the pair of boxers you stole from him, the whole outfit stolen from his half of the closet. “It was good, I got to talk to Roos” you smile, tossing the vegetables into the pot.

“How are the birds?” he asks with a smile. You laugh, looking at him as you set the spoon down. “Good, they are planning the wedding as we speak” you smile. Rooster was still stationed in California at Miramar, with Phoenix. “I hope I can get the time to go” you look up at him with furrowed brows. “What?” he shrugs with a smile as he moves closer to you, wrapping you in his arms. “I know how much he means to you, and hell he means alot to me too” he laughs, squeezing your hips.

“I see” you say with a grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Now, I can’t believe you haven’t even kissed your boyfriend since I've been home a whole” he looks at the clock then back at you “five minutes”. You laugh, standing up on your tip-toes to kiss him. He hums against your lips, kissing you as if you’d slip from his fingers.

“Okay captain, please go change you smell like jet fuel” you laugh at the look on his face. “Ouch” he puts a hand against his chest as he backs away and out of the kitchen, “right in the heart”. Shaking your head, you turn back to the stove.

Life was a lot different from two years ago. Two years ago you were sending the love of your life on a dangerous mission he could possibly not come back from. Now you were standing in your shared home in Southern Texas.

Jake got a captain position almost immediately after the Uranium mission, shipping the two of you off. You hear the sound of water running, knowing he decided to shower before dinner, the southern gentleman he was. The sound of vibrating on the table pulls you from your thoughts. You smile, picking the phone up and answering quickly.

“Penny” you grin, leaning against the counter. “How is my favorite Texan?” laughing, you shake your head. “I am fine, how are you?” She has a smile in her voice, one you can hear even without seeing her. “What is going on?” you ask, looking over at the clock.

“What makes you think something is going on?” She's giggling like a schoolgirl. “Because you can’t stop giggling, tell me” she’s mumbling over the phone. “Okay hold on, Pete!” she yells, your father grumbling in the back.

“We have to tell her together” you can hear her whisper as he chuckles. “Tell me what?” you ask, looking over at your own lover making his way down the steps. You put the phone on speaker, looking at him with raised brows. “We’re getting married honey” your father finally says, you gasp. “What?!” you laugh, looking up at Jake as he grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Oh my god! That’s so exciting!” you smile, “Bout time you did something dad!” he chuckles. “Thanks sweetheart, we’re hoping maybe you can come, Jake too of course” Jake laughs beside you, “I would love to be included”. You say your goodbyes, setting the phone aside.

“I don’t want you to worry about this” you look over at Jake as he looks up from his book. He pulls the glasses off his nose, raising his brows. “What’s that?” he asks, setting his book on the bedside table, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you into his chest. “If you can’t come with me to California for dad’s wedding” he sighs, rubbing your back.

“I am gonna see what I can do sweetheart, you know that” nodding against his chest, you nuzzle deeper into his side. “ I know we will have time but I also know how the Navy works” you whisper, tracing absentminded shapes against his skin. “I don’t want to go without you” he chuckles softly, “I know sweetheart". He kisses the top of your head, pulling your body closer.

“Let me see what I can do first, it’s a few weeks away” he whispers. He didn’t want you to go without him either but Jake was no idiot, he knew how the Navy worked.

The red circle on the calendar continued to get closer, the days ticking by before the day was here. You were flying to California, without Jake. Standing in the airport as you look up at the man in front of you.

“It's okay” he whispers, cupping your cheeks. He stood in uniform, running from base to see you off. “I’ll miss you” you whisper, kissing his palm. Looking up at him through your lashes, he felt your tiny hands on his heart, squeezing. He nods, his own sad smile. “I know honey but I will hopefully be there for the wedding itself, I promise” he whispers, kissing your nose.

“Call me when you land, I don’t care the time” he insists, watching as you are slowly making your way to the gate. “I am not waking you in the middle of the night” he shakes his head, hands on his hips.

“I do not care” his voice is stern, you smirk. “No need to go captain on me, I get it” he smirks, sending you a wink. “I love you” you stop at the gate, looking back at him, he can see the tears in your eyes from where he stood.

“I love you” you say, watching the sag of his shoulders as he sends you another loving smile.

Two weeks of an empty home finally catching up with him.

“She should be landing any minute,” Bradley says, looking from his phone back to Maverick and Penny. She smiles, standing between the two boys.

“I love how excited you are '' he chuckles, looking at Maverick and then back to her. “She’s practically my sister, and then Hangman scoops her up and whisks her away” he shakes his head, a slight scowl on his face.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” he looks up at the sound of his name, laughing loudly. You stood at the top of the escalators, hands on your hips and a pair of aviators on your face.

“(Y/N) Mitchell, get your ass down here!” Maverick laughs, moving to the end of the escalators to wrap you in his arms. “Hi!” you laugh, hugging him back as tightly as he was hugging you. “Look at you!” he grins, looking you over. “Texas is doing you good” he says, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“Okay let me see her, '' Bradley says, looking between the two of you. “Get over here” he pulls you into his chest, face squeezed between his pecs. “Roos'' you giggle, hugging him back tightly as his chest rumbles. “Hi Dove,” he smiles, kissing the top of your head and gives you an extra squeeze.

Penny then moves in, pulling you from Bradley to give you a tight hug. “Save me” she whispers in your ear with a laugh. The two of you laugh, linking arms and making your way outside.

“No Jake?” Maverick asks from the front seat, you shake your head as you look out the window. The trees pass in a blur, greens and blue from the ocean. “He’s gonna try coming, talking to his superiors and all '' he nods, looking back at you.

“I havent been away from him in a while, it feels really stupid to be upset about it” you chuckle as he shakes his head. “It’s not sad sweetheart, he’s the love of your life, we understand '' you smile at him, leaning against Bradley beside you.

“I’d be lost without phoenix” he whispers, looking down at you with his own shy smile.

The drive back to Bradley's apartment was quiet. "I will see you soon okay?" Maverick asks, head out the window as you and Bradley make your way to the door. You nod with a smile, "of course! I will see you soon". He smiles, waving to you and Bradley as Penny speeds away with a laugh.

Making your way up the flights of stairs, panting as you make it to the door. "I am not used to these, how did I live here?" you mumble as Bradley laughs, opening the door. You stop in your spot, looking down at the vibrating phone in your hand, smiling. “Hey you” biting back your grin, making your way to the guest bedroom. “Hey gorgeous” Jake’s voice is deep, full of sleep.

“What are you doing up?” you ask, sitting down on the bed, looking at the time. “It’s late” he shrugs knowing you can’t see him. “I wanted to make sure you made it” his voice is slurring as he fights off sleep. “I did, we just made it back to the birds” he chuckles, a sleepy smile on his lips.

“Alright sweetheart” he yawned loudly, he knew he should sleep. “I can’t sleep without you here” he admits, his voice soft. “Oh my love” you smile, hugging his hoodie closer to your body. “I can’t sleep without you either, hopefully it’s just a few days and you can fly out here” he nods, sighing heavily.

“I love you” you smile, chuckling. “I love you too Captain” he chuckles, rolling over to face your side of the bed. “Go to bed” you smile as his snores fill the speaker.

Within days wedding planning was in full swing. “Wait, so you want to get married here?” you look up from the notebook, looking between Penny and your father. She nods, looking at him then back to you, “I mean this place means so much to the both of us, it only makes sense” she shrugs. He nods in agreement, “I mean, it also saves us some money” he grins. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he looks between the two of you with a sheepish smile.

“I’ll be right back” he places a kiss on Penny's head and walks away. “So” she leans on her elbows on the bar top, looking you up and down. You raise a brow at her as she grins, “how’s Hangman?” she asks.

You smile at the thought of your boyfriend, “he’s great, he loves being able to be home. He likes getting to see his family whenever he wants” you nod. She smiles, “I mean you both look so happy, I see the photos you sent your dad" she hesitates, biting her lip. She looked like she was having an internal battle with thoughts.

“When’s he gonna ask you to marry him again?” she asks as you choke on the water you were sipping. “What?” you ask, coughing.

“I mean the man is swooning for you, I can’t believe he hasn’t done it” she shrugs with a smile. “I don’t know if I’m ready to marry him yet” you admit, looking at her. She nods slowly, watching your face as she sighs.

“I know, I want you two to be happy. I also know that it takes a lot to build trust” She takes your hand, you notice the glint of her engagement ring from the sun, you smile.

“I mean, the two years we’ve been in Texas has been nothing but wonderful, I have fallen in love with him all over again” she grins, the blush making its way to your cheeks.

You wave goodbye to penny as she pulls out of the small parking lot, making your way back up the flights of stairs you were starting to hate.

“Oh, Honey!” you walk through the door with a laugh, stopping at Phoenix and Rooster sat on the couch together. “Oh-” you cut yourself off, shutting the door quietly.

Phoenix sent daggers in your direction.

“I’m sorry” you whisper, walking towards the hallway. “Dove, c’mon come watch something with us” Bradley looks over the back of the couch at you with a smile. You shake your head, sending him a smile. “That’s okay! You two spend time together, I’m a little tired” you walk down the hall before he can protest.

“Why is she staying here again?” Phoenix asks, looking at her boyfriend. “This was her place first honey, it seemed only fitting, she took me in when we were brought back” he looked down at his girlfriend. She nods, falling into his chest with a huff. Looking at the clock, biting your lip as you contemplate the time in your head. “Screw it” you whisper more to yourself, calling the number you knew by heart.

The phone rang and then Jake’s voice picked up.

“Captain Jake Seresin, leave a message” you smile at the sound of his voice, hanging the phone up before the tone.

You felt alone without your boyfriend in a world full of people you loved dearly. Falling into the bed, you sigh. Looking at the ceiling you set the phone beside you. Penny’s question lingering in your head.

Did you want to marry Jake again? It had not come up in the last two years as you were just learning the other again. In the world of your thoughts, you fell asleep.

The knock on the door a few hours later pulls you from sleep, “what?” you mumble. “Dove, can I come in?” Bradleys voice is soft. “Sure Roo” looking at your phone, nothing but the photo of you and Jake. You were starting to get worried about him. The bed dips as you look up to see Roosters brown eyes.

“You okay?” he asks, hand resting on your knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine” you sit up, crossing your legs over the other, watching his face. “I’m sorry about Natasha” he looks at you, face full of sympathy. Shaking your head as you smile at him, “Don’t be sorry”. He shrugs, “I don’t want you mad at me” he whispers as you chuckle. Moving closer to him, you wrap him in your arms hugging him tightly.

“I’m far from mad at you” you whisper, resting your head on his. He falls into your chest, giving your arm a squeeze. “Are you okay?” he whispers, sitting up to look over your face.

“I haven’t heard from Jake in almost forty eight hours” you sit back in the pillows, shrugging. “I’m worried” he looks at you, sighing. “Have you talked to your dad? He might know something” shaking your head, hugging yourself as you sigh.

“No, I haven’t. I don’t want to worry him with my worries, especially with his wedding coming up” he nods. “I’m sure Hangman will be okay, he will call before you know it” he chuckles watching the smile on your face.

The Hard Deck was covered in flowers, multiple colors and multiple types. Penny’s favorite being a sunflower, each table set with a sunflower in a vase. “Sweetheart” you look up at the sound of Penny’s voice, who is standing in the doorway smiling.

You had decorated the Hard Deck for the reception that was to take place in 5 hours.“This is beautiful'' you grin, looking at her. “You like it?” she nods eagerly, moving to hug you tightly. “I love it,'' she whispers, pulling you at arm's length with a concerned look on her face.

She could sense the upset even behind your wide smile, she knew you better than that to let it go.

“What is it?” you ask, resting your hand ontop of hers, “what’s going on?” her tone is serious. Furrowing your brows, she gives you the look that could only say, 'spill it'.

“Jake has gone radio silent” she frowns, moving the two of you to a table to sit. “Have you talked to Pete?” you shake your head, “he has enough going on” she smiles, looking at you. She looks down at the sound of your phone vibrating on the table, she nods towards it.

“Go ahead and answer that '' you send her a sad smile, nodding.

“Hello?” The line is staticy but clear as day, “Hi, is this Mrs.Seresin?” it brings a blush to your cheeks, you were not Jake’s wife but to be referred to as that made your heart speed up. “Um, yes yes this is" you stand from the table, walking away from Penny.

“Ma’am I am sorry to inform you, there’s been an accident with Captain Seresin"

Putting a hand over your mouth to cover your gasp as tears form in your waterline. “He’s just been recovered this morning” you sob.

“We have brought him here to the hospital on base but I think it's best you get here when you can” the woman's voice was nothing but background noise. “Okay, I-I will be there as soon as I can'' you hang up quickly.

“It’s Jake, I-I have to go” you grab your bag off the counter, rushing to the door.

12 hours of auto-pilot, 12 hours of flights, 12 hours of silence. You weren't even sure how you safely made it to the hospital, running on nothing but pure adrenaline.

The beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound you heard. “Mrs.Seresin?” the doctor is making his way into the room as you stand. “Hi” he smiles sadly at you, holding his hand out to shake your own.

“I am Dr.Wilson, I have been caring for your husband since his arrival” you nod, hugging yourself as you look over at Jake. You didn’t have the heart to correct the doctor or anyone who referred to you as Jake’s wife.

“He’s got some extensive injuries, many we are monitoring. The main one is the swelling in his brain from the crash" His voice is sincere. “Is he gonna make it?” your voice is hoarse as you look between jake and Dr.Wilson, he smiles sadly. “We need to see if Captain Seresin’s pressure evens out and if the swelling in his brain goes down, the rest of him will heal” you nod, everything sounding foregin to you. “I will be honest with you Mrs.Seresin, he's not out of the woods until he wakes up' you nod.

“i will leave you with him for now, I will be in to check on him soon” he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, walking out of the room.

You take a deep breath, taking in your boyfriend's state. He laid in the bed, bruises all over his face, his arm in a sling with the tube helping the rise and fall of his chest. He looked so small in the bed. You sit back down in the chair beside him, curling up in the seat as you sob.

The hospital room was silent, the slow rise and fall of his chest was the only ease you felt. You watched as the bruises on his face became more purple, the busted lip becoming more split. There was no timeline for him waking up, he could be out longer than he already had, which was about three days.

The vibrating of your phone, pulls your eyes from his face to the phone, you answer. “Hello?” you are shocked at the voice at the other end, “is he okay?”.

Natasha Trace had a nervousness in her voice as she spoke. “For the time being” you say, reaching out to take Jake's hand, resting your joined hands beside him on the bed.

“Listen” she sighs, “I’m sorry, no one should have to go through this, especially with the one they love'' you nod, knowing she can’t see you. “Thank you, I appreciate that" she nods, looking at Bradley who sits with concern on his face.

“What if I never get a chance?” you whimper, she frowns. “Chance for what?” she asks, you look up to avoid more tears as you sniffle. “To tell him how much I love him, to-to tell him that I’d spend the rest of my life beside him” you sigh, wiping your cheeks quickly.

“What if we’ve lost time?” you whimper, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs. “I’m sorry, um- thank you for calling. I will definitely tell him” she’s sitting up on the couch, “hey, it’s okay (y/n), Hangman knows that''.

You smile sadly, “thanks for saying that, I will talk to y’all soon” hanging up the phone before she can continue, letting the tears roll down your cheeks silently.

"Phoenix just called" you whisper, squeezing his hand. "The bird has a soft spot for ya, cowboy" you smile sadly, kissing his knuckles.

Standing in the hallway the fluorecent lights were brighter than in the hospital room. You look up at Dr.Wilson who was giving you the daily update on Jake's condition.

“Can he fly again?” you ask, voice hoarse, it was the first time you spoke in hours. Dr. Wilson sighs, “Unfortunately, we won't know until he wakes up, we don't know the extenet of the injury to his head and his brain” you nod, looking at him with a sad smile.

“I know this is something he will want to know '' he nods. “When can we expect him to wake up?” you ask, the doctor sighs, watching over your face. “I’m not sure, he’s been out of it now for about four days but from what we can see his swelling is going down so, hopefully soon” you nod. “Why don’t you head home? Grab something to eat or shower?” shaking your head, you sigh.

“I’m not leaving him” you nod towards the door, walking back into Jake's room. Standing at the end of the bed you watch the rise of his chest. You pick at your cuticles, a habit you knew Jake hated.

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your phone from the end of the bed, hoping they were awake as you hit call. “Sweetheart” Penny’s voice is soft, sitting up from the bed beside your father. “Hi mom” you whisper, closing your eyes tightly.

She stops as she looks at your father beside her, you have gotten in the habit of calling her mom. “What is it?” she asks, voice soft. All you wanted was a hug.

“What if I lost him?” you watch the rain run down the window. “You didn’t, he’s okay, what did the doctors say?” she asks, your father sits up beside her, holding a hand out to her to take the phone. She shakes her head as you continue on.

“He’s gonna be okay, they think. It looks like the swelling in his brain is going down so, they are hoping by end of day today or tomorrow he will wake up" you sigh. “I called his mom, she’s on her way” she nods. “I will book a flight baby, hell I will fly to you myself.” you close your eyes tighter at the sound of your fathers voice. “That’s not necessary dad” you whisper, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry I missed the wedding” you say, she shakes her head, “no sweetheart you didn’t”. Furrowing your brows, you look back at Jake and back out the window.

“We canceled until you both can be here” she says, picking up on your confusion. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that” she chuckles, “yes we did”. The opening of the door pulls your gaze from the window to over your shoulder, Jake’s mom stood in the doorway with his father. “I-I gotta go” she nods, “we love you sweetheart” you share ‘ I love you's and hang up.

“Oh honey” Lisa, Jake’s mother, is pulling you into her arms. In the time you’ve moved to Texas to be with Jake, the Seresin’s have become quite fond of you. “Hi” your voice is soft, hugging her just as tight. “How’s my boy?” she asks, moving to sit beside him, taking his non injured hand “He’s got a few broken ribs, a broken arm as well as some swelling in his brain” she gasps, looking up at you.

“Hence why he hasn’t woken up yet” your words slow as the machines pick up. “Honey” she’s standing beside her son, holding his hand tightly. “We’re here honey, all of us, your dad, me and (y/n)” she smiles as his heart monitors pick up.

Rushing out of the room, you yell down the hall.

“I need a doctor in here!”

The rush of nurses and doctors make their way into his room, checking his pulse and checking him over. You stand in the hallway, watching as the nurses continue rushing into the room, frozen.

He’s groaning. The first sign of life for Jake Seresin.

You sob, sliding down the wall outside of his hospital room. Sobbing into your knees, not noticing the presence beside you. Glen, Jake’s father, stood beside you.

He crouches down, hands on your shoulder as he pulls you into a hug. “He’s okay sweetheart” he whispers holding you as your body shakes with sobs. His hand rubbing soothingly circles on your back. “It’s okay” he’s not sure if he’s reassuring you or himself. “C’mon sweetheart, I know he wants to see you” he’s helping you off the ground, hand on your lower back to lead you into the room.

Jake’s smile could light up a dark room at the sight of you. You stand at the back of the room, hugging yourself as the tears continue to roll down your cheeks. You wanted to give him the chance with his mother and father.

“Can I have a minute with my girl?” he asks, his voice hoarse as he looks up at his mom as she nods, wiping her own tears. She gives your shoudler a gentle squeeze as she exits the room. You can hear she's already calling Jake's older sister, Lauren. The room is then silent, just you and Jake. “Sweet girl” he holds his hand out, his left hand that you’ve spent days holding.

“C’mere” his voice is pleading, far from the Jake you are used too. Jake was alive. You make your way beside him, going to sit in the chair but he stops you, pulling your body to sit beside him. Reaching out, you cup his cheek, smiling a teary smile. “I’m okay” he whispers, leaning into your hand. “You weren’t two days ago” you say, stroking his cheek gently.

He nods, looking over your face, reaching up with his good hand to wipe the stray tears. “Jake Seresin you scared the shit out of me” he chuckles softly, “I’m sorry”.

“I kept my word though” he smiles as you furrow your brows. “I told you I would fight through fire and swim through oceans” you scoff.

“This is far different Jake, you were in an accident” you shake your head as he sighs. “It doesn't change that I made it back to you” sighing, wiping your cheeks quickly as you nod.

Resting your hand on his chest, confirming to you, he was alive.

“Mrs.Seresin” you look up at the nurse, Jake smirks from his spot. “We just need to ake him for some tests” you nod, standing from the bed.

“I’ll see you soon” he smirks, winking at you follow beside him out of the hospital room. Stopping in the doorway as they wheel him down the hallway.

“Dove!” you look up at the sound of footsteps. “Roos?” you look over your shoulder, watching as he runs down the hallway. “Rooster!” you run to him, body colliding with his as he wraps you in his arms.

He’s panting, hugging you tightly. “Bradley” you chuckle, hugging him tighter, “What are you doing here?” you pull away, meeting Natasha’s eyes from behind you. “I’m here for you” he says with a smile. “Well you are in time” you whisper, squeezing his hand as he looks at you with furrowed brows.

“He’s awake” he grins, pulling you back into a hug. Two additional arms wrapping around you, Phoenix wraps you in her arms tightly. The three of you stood there, wrapped in the other.

“I told you” she whispers, looking at you with a knowing smirk. You nod, giving her arm a squeeze. "Yes you did, I need to start believing you from now on" she laughs.

Walking through the hospital, you sigh at the smell. A smell that is going to follow you now through the rest of your life. Spending two months in this hospital was enough for you, never wanting to see a hospital again. Pushing through the Therapy door, you smile.

Standing in the doorway of the gym, you watch as Jake and the therapist continue to whisper to each other, unknown of your pressence.

Jake was in his final steps of rehab, rebuilding his strength from his time in his coma. “There’s my girl” you look up to meet the green eyes you can’t help falling in love with all over again.

“Hi Captain” you grin, pushing off the doorway to make your way into the room. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against his sweaty chest. You cringe with a smirk, “god you stink”. 67He laughs, kissing the top of your head .

“I will leave you two alone” the therapist nods, walking out of the room as Jake moves to sit on the bench. “I want to ask you something,” he says, voice full of seriousness. “What's that?” you ask, moving to sit infront of him on the opposing bench.

“Why didn't you correct the nurses when they called you Mrs.Seresin?” you blush, looking away from him biting your lip. “I-I guess I just didn’t think to” you admit. He grins, looking over your face. “I didn’t hate the idea” he says, looking at you with what you called his captain face.

He reaches out, pulling you to sit on his lap, straddling his waist. “When they called me” you take a deep breath, reliving the whole thing again. “Asking me if I was Mrs.Seresin, i didn’t even hesitate. I was worried sick about you, I don't think it even clicked with me at the time.” you shrug, looking at him with a smile. He smirks, cupping your cheeks. “You have been Mrs.Seresin for quite some time, whether it’s on paper or not” you grin, leaning into his hands. “Oh really?” he grins, it met his eyes for the first time in weeks, nodding.

“You and me against the world sweetheart, that’s how it’s always been. Through fire and oceans” you smile, nodding as you connect your lips to his. He pulls you closer, arms around you fully. The first time in about a month that he could fully wrap both arms around you.

You cup his cheeks, whispering, “you and me” he smiles. He nods against your hands, “through oceans and fires”.

You pull away from him, standing from his lap as he groans. His hand staying in yours. “Okay casanova, let's get back to work” his therapist, Ruby says.

A sweet older woman who did not put up with his shenanigans. “Sorry Ruby, just lovin up on my wife” he winks turning towards Ruby.

San Diego California, the perfect breeze from the ocean made it's way across your skin as you stand on the deck of the Hard Deck. This was something you were used to, being kissed by the ocean in November.

It was a perfect day for a wedding. Standing in the sundress, you take a deep breath. “(Y/N)!” you smile at Ameilia who is standing in the doorway, “mom needs you”.

Making your way to the small room at the top of the Hard Deck, you stop in the doorway with a smile. Penny stood in the white dress, looking up from the mirror as she struggled to zip it. “Mom” she stops, looking back at you with a shy smile. “Some help?” she asks as you nod, walking towards her.

Zipping the dress, you smile at her in the mirror. The flowers in her hair were simple sunflowers. “You look beautiful” she smiles, turning around to hug you tightly. “Thank you” she whispers, cupping your cheek. “So do you, both of you" she smiles.

Amelia moves to stand beside the two of you as you feel your phone vibrating in your dress. You smile, looking between the two of them, “I will be back”.

They nod, moving together as you shut the door behind you. “Hello?” putting the phone to your ear, you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Hi sweet girl” blushing, he grins from his place in the airport. “How’s the wedding coming?” he asks as you chuckle. “Well, I am getting ready to go see dad and we are getting this thing on the road,the squad is already outside” you laugh, watching the other pilots.

“I think Coyote is already a few champagnes deep,” he laughs. Jake couldn’t make it to the wedding with you but insisted that you go without him. What you didn’t know is two days ago, he got the clear from Ruby that he could fly.

So he booked the first flight to San Diego.

“I’m sorry I’m missing it” he smirks, making his way out of the airport. You shrug, watching the group out the window, smiling at Bradley and Natasha together.

“It’s okay, I know dad understands, I understand” you whisper, picking at your cuticles. “I love you” he smiles, hauling down his taxi. “I love you sweet girl, I want lots of pictures of you in that sundress” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Okay cowboy, I will make sure of it” you smile up at Bradley as he walks in the door, shutting it quietly behind him. “I’ll call you later okay?” he nods, “sounds wonderful sweetheart, I love you” hanging up the phone, smiling down at the photo of the two of you.

You look up at Bradley who smiles. "Ready?" he holds a hand out to you, smiling you take it in your own, walking to the room your father was in.

Knocking on the door, you smile at your fathers voice. Opening the door at his request, you chuckle at him struggling in the mirror. “Dad, you have got to know how to tie a tie” you shake your head, walking to him. He turns to face you, stopping.

“Oh look at you” he rests his hands on your arms, looking you up and down. “You look beautiful" he looks from you to the brunette standing behind you, “you look very handsome, Bradley”. He chuckles, walking to the two of you. “Thanks Mav, now let's tie this tie” he grins, taking the two ends beginning to tie it.

“I can’t believe you are marrying Penny” Bradley says as Maverick chuckles. “Me either, I keep thinking about what your father would say about it” Bradley smiles at the mention of Goose. “Uncle Goose is probably shocked” you say from your spot on the couch.

Both men laugh, looking at you as Bradley finishes tying the tie. “You are probably right” he nods, sitting beside you, taking your hand. “I’m glad you are here” Maverick smiles, squeezing your hand. “I know how hard the last few months have been, I know how hard it probably was leaving Hangster” you laugh, nodding. “He’s okay, I’m okay” you squeeze his hand, standing from the couch.

“I will see you boys outside” you wink, “Let's have a wedding damn it!” you yell, shutting the door behind you. Walking towards the beach, a hand reaches out to grab you.

Pulling you through the doors, Phoenix smiles. “Natasha” you smile, looking her up and down. It was different from her usual khaki and slicked back bun, loose curls and a beautiful red sundress.

“I’m sorry” you furrow your brows, looking at her with a smile. “Why?” you chuckle, she sighs before smiling. “I should’ve never treated you the way I did, I see now how much you love Bradley and Jake” you smile, looking at her. “I’ve known Bradley since he and I were in diapers, I witnessed a lot of things I probably shouldn't have, stories for you later” you laugh as she does, nodding. “I fell in love with Jake when I came to North Island, Bradley tried talking me out of it, more times than I think I can count” she nods with a laugh, as she smiles.

“I love Bradley but the way he looks at you” reaching out, you squeeze her shoulder. “It’s you Natasha Trace, he is swooning for you hard" you wink, linking your arms together to walk out onto the sand.

Everyone made their way to their seats, flowers lined the sand as you stood at the end of the aisle on the steps. Watching as Bradley and your father walked out together, standing at the end of the aisle.

The music hadn’t started yet for Penny’s arrival, you furrow your brows. “Now, I didn’t miss walking a bridesmaid down the aisle, did i?” you knew that voice immediately.

Looking up, Jake stood at the top of the stairs, a smirk on his lips. He stood in his dress whites, Ameilia stood beside him with her own smirk. You close your eyes, biting back your growing smile.

“No officer, you didn’t” you grin, walking to meet him at the end of the steps. “You can’t show up my own father ya know?” you whisper as he shrugs, taking his hat off.

“C’mon, I want the chance to walk my girl down the aisle” you chuckle, linking your arm with his as he holds the other out. Furrowing your brows as Ameilia is linking her arm with his other. “You look beautiful too” he whispers to her, as she smiles up at him.

The three of you walk down the aisle, he kisses your cheek as he sends you and Amelia to the side. As he’s going to sit, Maverick pulls his elbow to stand him beside Bradley. “Welcome back Captain” Bradley whispers, holding a hand out to him. The two shake hands as the music starts, Penny standing at the top of the stairs with a smile on her lips.

She winks at you as she walks down the aisle, choosing to walk alone. You hold a hand out to her as she makes it to you, moving her in front of your father and holding her bouquet.

You watch the ceremony with tears in your eyes, eyes moving between the two of them and back to your boyfriend. He winks, clapping as everyone else cheers. "I now introduce you to, Mr and Mrs. Admiral Mitchell!" you laugh, clapping.

Maverick scoops her up in his arms, walking down the aisle as she laughs. "Drinks inside!" she says through her laugher.

Bradley meets Phoenix at her seat, linking arms with her as they walk inside. You smile, standing in your spot. “Go ahead” you whisper to Ameila, as she laughs and jogs to catch up to the two of them.

An arm slipping around your waist pulls your eyes from the group and up to meet his emeralds. “Hi sweet girl” he whispers, kissing your forehead. Moving to fully wrap your arms around his neck, you smile. “How did you even get here, and let alone keep this a secret from me?” you ask, hand resting on his chest.

A habit he has noticed in the last few months, you always rested a hand over his heart.

“Ruby cleared me to fly two days ago” he smirks, watching the shock over your face. “And you lied to me!” you defend as he laughs, pulling you closer to his chest. “Listen” he whispers, looking over your face, nothing but love in his eyes.

“I wanted to keep it a secret, surprise you” he smiles, kissing your cheek. “I have other motivates” he continues as you furrow your brows. “And what's that cowboy?” he smiles.

“I remember about two years ago, someone confessed to me on this beach she never wanted to give her heart to a stranger” you blush, nodding.

“So, I have my own confession” he whispers, reaching up to cup your cheek. “(Y/N) Mitchell, four years ago I walked into this bar and found you serving drinks and you took my breath away” he smiles at the blush on your cheeks as you tried looking away from him.

He turns your chin back to face him. “I promised myself from that day, I was gonna marry the woman from behind the bar, god damnit I was gonna marry Captain Mitchell's daughter” he smirks as you giggle.

“And I tried, and that didn't happen, we didn't work out” you roll your eyes as he smiles. “Then, I got called back to Top Gun, called back to you.” he feels the tears in his waterline now, watching over the love that was held in your eyes. “You forgave me and packed up your life to spend it with me” he nudged his nose against yours, moving to stroke your cheek with his calloused thumb.

“I felt complete again for the first time in years, and then I thought I lost that chance,” he admits. In the months after his accident, Jake rarely talked about what happened.

“I thought I was going to die (y/n), I thought I was going to leave you alone in this world, I thought about how I never had the chance to tell you” he gulps, licking his lips. “I never would get to tell you how I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, I want to be your husband and a father to our children” he grins, catching a tear with his thumb.

“I fought to keep my promise, I was gonna swim through that ocean until I found my way home to you” you chuckle through the tears. “I don’t want to take away from your Dad and Penny” he says, moving away from you. “But, I’m not gonna let us leave this place, our place” he motions to the beach.

“I told you I loved you the first time on this beach, we had so many dates on this beach, this is our beach” he smiles, looking around. “So” he pulls the box from his pants pocket, moving to one knee in front of you.

You gasp, hand moving to cover your mouth. What the two of you didn’t know was, Bradley and Natasha stood in the window. “(Y/N) Mitchell, let’s put it on paper shall we? Will you marry me, again?” he grins as you laugh.

“Oh my god, yes!” he laughs, standing as he spins your body around. Your arms wrap around his neck tightly, laughing. He slides the small delicate band on your finger, one you knew instantly. “Your moms” you whisper, more to yourself than him as he smiles, nodding. “It is” you look up at him with a smile.

Cupping your cheek, he pulls your body closer to his. “I will keep my promise, now and forever” you grin, leaning up to kiss him, pulling him closer by the back of his neck. “Whooo!” you both pull away, chuckling as Bradley claps from the deck.

“Another wedding! Yes!” he laughs with smirk. Jake wraps you in his arms, smirking. “Next it’ll be you birds!” he points out, smirking at the blush on Phoenix's cheeks and the nervous laugh from Bradley.

Jake Seresin felt content with his life for the first time in years. He smiles at the grin on your face as your cheek rests on his shoulder, watching the waves of the ocean.

“Through oceans” he whispers, kissing your temple.

“And fire, Cowboy” you wink, connecting your lips.

if you enjoyed this fic , you can find all my other work in my library here <;-

i swear one day I will write a short Jake fic, will it happen? probably not but I can't stop myself. If you enjoyed this, reblogs & comments are always welcome!

#glen powell #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x mitchell!reader #jake seresin x civillan!reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake hangman x you #hangman x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman fic #top gun fic

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averagewriter-inthedark · 25 days

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His Reason to Fanboy 🦸‍♀️ | Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia imagine

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x MovieStar!reader (romantic) Dagger squad (platonic), Marvel actors (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, slight profanity, pop culture references, timeline events not completely in order | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: about 7k

Requested 📨 yes/no for Anonymous (tagging @eternalsams though cause I know how much you love Mickey <3)

Premise: Little was known about the private life of energetic WSO Mikey 'Fanboy' Garcia to his fellow Top Gun alum. He was a walking encyclopedia when it came to all thing's superheroes and Hollywood's biggest stars. So it's the biggest surprise of their lives when the face behind his call sign Fanboy is revealed after years of wondering who claimed his heart when he was just a teenager.

Note: gosh writing this reminded me how much i love writing famous!reader x dagger pairings. this was so fun and long awaited so big apologies to the person who requested this last summer 🥰🥹. I hope it was worth the wait and I did it justice!! 🫶🏼

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If there is one thing the Dagger squad knows about their energetic WSO, Mickey Garcia, it’s that he lives up to his callsign Fanboy. Everyday they bear witness to his knowledge of all things superheroes and who’s dating who in Hollywood. The man’s apartment--or dorm on base depending on where he is--gives away all his interests and pop culture loves. Anyone who becomes friends with Mickey would have no trouble finding a birthday gift. There'd be endless ideas.

Each room of his home had its own theme. Go to the bathroom and you’re hit with his love for Star Wars. Doctor Who memorabilia coats his kitchen. Then his living room looks straight out of Avengers tower. Throughout the apartment there’s knick knacks from attending a multitude of conventions, including a wall dedicated to signed pictures and movie posters.

“Damn, Garcia,” Hangman whistles, roaming the vast collection. “You sure are a collector.” The WSO laughs, waltzing to his fridge to collect a case of beers for the squad.

“My pride and joy.”

“I can see that,” Jake stops in front of a glass case filled to the brim with Funko Pops and figurines. One striking detail was the majority being characters of a certain actress hot in the Hollywood scene. “I see you also got a crush on Y/n L/n.”

The name sent a large smile on Mickey’s face, filling his chest with warmth and butterflies, though his friends were too occupied to notice. “You can say that.”

“C’mon, Mickey!” Y/n shouted at him from the sidewalk, waving a hand frantically toward the movie theater. “We’re gonna miss it!” It was a packed house, Mickey weaving through a horde of people after his mother dropped him off, promising to pick the two teenagers once the film ended. Listed in bold letters on the showings were “Spider-Man 2”, along with several others but they didn’t matter to them. They were there for the newest Spider-Man, having anticipated it all year.

Y/n stood with a cross body bag filled with candy, holding up the tickets. “You’re lucky I already got our seats.” Mickey fell into step as she led them inside, rolling his eyes playfully.

“At the very least we’d miss the previews, Y/n.” He held the door open, “not the end of the world.”

“Speak for yourself,” she teased, thanking him in the process. Together they beelined for the concessions. With a soda and popcorn bucket in their hands the teens made it to their seats right as the lights dimmed. Y/n visibly excited during the trailers for National Treasure, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Then when it came time for the movie to start, she barely touched the popcorn. Leaving Mickey to enjoy it for himself. They shared candy and gasps during intense scenes.

When the film ended the teens made their way out immersed in a debrief, “Harry is going to be a problem in the next one,” Y/n predicted with confidence, “Now that he knows Peter is Spider-Man, he’s gonna go after him to avenge his father.” The girl threw her hands up, “Which wasn’t even his fault!”

Mickey laughed, popping a few leftover skittles in his mouth, “I’m kinda sad about Octavius. He had a change of heart in the end.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. They walked in the direction of the Dairy Queen next to the theater. Craving some ice cream while they waited for Mickey’s mom. “I hope one day I can be in one.” Mickey peered at her, frowning at her tone which was a mix of longing and sadness.

“A superhero movie?”

“Any movie really,” she chuckled, pushing her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket. “A superhero one would be amazing--just because I love them so much.” Since they became friends at eight years old and their shared interest in comics, Y/n and Mickey watched pretty much every superhero movie to exist. Only when they turned 10 did their parents allow them to go to the theaters on opening weekend with supervision. It was the past year they were able to go alone now that they were fifteen and in high school.

Living in California, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Y/n had always had a desire to go into acting. Begging her family to take her to auditions. Which was difficult considering they had full time jobs. Y/n’s mother a paralegal and her father a mechanic. When Y/n turned 10 her parents agreed to take her to commercial auditions on weekends. She landed several jobs, including ones for well known brands like Coca-Cola, Cheerios, and Motarola to promote their new phone. Children's toys, and hotel marketing. Recently came guest roles on popular tv-shows, like That’s So Raven, House, and voice acting on Danny Phantom. She had her agent to thank for that.

But she was itching for that big break.

“You’ll make it, Y/n,” Mickey put his arm around her shoulder, the girl leaning in. “You’re the most ambitious, hard-driven, working person I’ve ever met. You’ve got family and friends who support you. An agent who cares about you.” If there was one thing he was right about it was her support team. Y/n’s agent Tanya had been with Y/n for two years and worked endlessly to secure her projects. The two were introduced in 2002 shortly after Y/n had a small role of a young vampire in Queen of the Damned. Her first feature debut, but it was so small she wasn’t listed on the credits.

Tanya believed in Y/n more than anyone else. She was the reason Y/n appeared on more tv-shows than commercials within the last two years. While getting movie roles proved difficult, Tanya was determined and had Y/n pumping out auditions left and right.

Mickey squeezed her shoulder gently, adding a friendly kiss to her cheek that made her heart flutter. “It’ll happen.You just have to be patient.”

If only the two had made a bet that day. Mickey never lost faith in Y/n’s potential. And when they finally entered a relationship junior year after years of mutual pining it only heightened. They both attended University of Southern California, Y/n pursuing acting while Mickey studied aeronautical engineering. While finishing high school, Y/n auditioned consistently for L.A productions, accumulating credits on Constantine (which had her loss for words getting to work with Keanu Reeves), Ugly Betty, Bring It On: All or Nothing, and her personal favorite, X-Men: The Last Stand. Then in 2006 she had credits on Transformers, Knocked-Up, and Freedom Writers which were released in 2007. Those roles would benefit her in the years to come for the connections she made with co-stars.

Her building resume those years resulted in Y/n getting that big break she dreamed off. One crisp January day in 2007, having just wrapped on a guest appearance on Suite Life of Zack & Cody, Y/n received a call from Tanya. Changing the trajectory of her career forever.

“I’ve got you an audition to play Robert Downey Jr.’s daughter in this new Iron Man production.”

Y/n literally spit out her soda, choking as she tried to say, “I’m sorry, did you say Iron Man.” Of course she heard correctly, but Y/n being the massive comic fan she had to be sure.

“Yes,” Tanya chuckled, Y/n could hear her typing away on her laptop. “I’m emailing you the scene--you’ll read for Jon Favreau, Kevin Feige and the casting director. There’s a chance Robert might be there for you two to do a chemistry read.”

Y/n rushed to her laptop, nearly running into the wall of her dorm when she cut the corner too fast. The *ding* of the email coming through sounded, Y/n sliding into her chair at a rapid speed to open the document and print it out.

“So you’ll do it?” Tanya’s voice reminded the girl she was still on the phone.

“Where do I meet you?”

Now if Y/n were being honest, she wasn’t too confident of her chances of getting the role. It was the inaugural film of this highly anticipated Marvel franchise. Not to mention an L.A set so who knows how many up and coming actors are fighting for a spot. Y/n knew her odds were slim. But she was going to give the best damn performance ever.

She planned to tell Mickey about the audition once she knew the outcome. As much as she loved and trusted him and his faith in her, Y/n didn’t want to disappoint him. Not that she ever could, Mickey adored her and supported everything she did. But since he loved superheroes as much as her, this was important to him as well.

The audition process was a long and painful process. Following the initial reading, Y/n had been called back four more times as the team narrowed down their choices. They did several scenes, particularly the ones with Robert since the character would be on screen with him the most. Each time Y/n read with Robert it was nerveracking, but she handled it well and really put her acting capabilities to the test. The man complimented her after every session to which she was grateful for. It boosted her confidence. Even if she didn’t get the role, Y/n was thankful for the experience and hoped to work with Robert in the future.

After a grueling month-long process, Y/n received the call she’d been waiting for. From Kevin Feige himself. “We want you to be our Jordyn Stark.” It took everything in Y/n to hold back her screams of joy. Releasing them the second they ended the call. She nearly woke up the entire dorm hall, thankfully no cops were called.

Mickey was over the moon when she told him the news. Jumping from his side of the booth to pull her up into a massive hug. Kissing all over her face, “Oh my God this is amazing!! You’re gonna be a superhero--I knew you could do it! Holy shit!” They looked like little kids in a candy store, bouncing up and down in a fit of excitement.

Proud of his girlfriend, Mickey dragged her to the nearest comic store. Purchasing a comic that featured her character and figurine. “Will you do me the honor,” he held up a sharpie, grinning at the look of joy on her face, “of signing this for me. I want to be the first person to have THE Jordyn Stark aka THE Iron Lady,” he winked, and finished, “aka THE Y/n L/n’s autograph.”

Tears formed in her eyes. Both from the overwhelming amount of happiness and because of Mickey’s whole show. People passing by gave confused looks, unaware the girl was about to become the face of a whole generation.

Iron Man’s release sparked a new era in Hollywood. Marvel Studios got the green light to begin plans for a whole phase of projects in the universe. Reception to Y/n’s performance of Jordyn Stark was well received. Fans and critics praised her, fellow actors committing she was the scene stealer.

Rosario Dawson, a massive comic book fan, stated in an interview when asked if she saw Iron Man, “Are you kidding? I saw it three times in theaters--I was blown away! And the girl who played Tony’s daughter, I believe Y/n is her name, oh my gosh she was amazing,” the woman talked with her hands, “Every scene she was in had me either laughing, on the edge of my seat, or simply going ‘wow, this girl is talented’. She matched Robert’s energy on screen so you’d think they are a father-daughter duo in real life.”

Samuel L. Jackson, who would go on to be Y/n’s co-star in future Marvel films and Hollywood projects, said, “Look I don’t say this lightly, but that girl is gonna go places. And to think this is her first big supporting role in a motion picture!” He smiled brightly, “what a talent.”

Y/n was full of excitement, not hesitating to sign her name on the dotted line for a multi-picture contract--but not before her agent and lawyer read over it. The success she garnered from Iron Man occurred rather quickly. In the following year Y/n found herself attending award shows for the first time. Winning Best Supporting Actress in an Action Movie, Best Scene Stealer, Best Duo with Robert Downey Jr. and Best Breakthrough Actress at the MTV Movie Awards. She also won her category for the Kids Choice and Teen Choice Awards.

Before long her agent was blowing up her phone. Iron-Man 2, 3 and The Avengers were already accounted for and Y/n wanted to lengthy her filmography to prevent being typecast. Obviously she loved Superhero/Action movies, but she desired to be a versatile actress. Countless auditions, but Y/n soon became a staple name in the early 2010s with performances in Tron: Legacy, Black Swan, Insidious, Grown Ups, Contagion, teaming up again with RDJ and Jude Law in Sherlock Holmes. Then in 2012-2014 Y/n added Men In Black 3, The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Enemy, The Hunger Games: Mockinjay and Interstellar to her list. Working with amazing directors and popular franchises pushed her into international stardom. Plus making lifetime collaborations.

Oh, and can’t forget being nominated for Best Supporting Actress at the Oscars and Golden Globes. Winning the latter and making Y/n one of Hollywood's most desired acts. Now whenever she appears in a project, the Golden Globe Winner precedes her name.

And Mickey was there every step of the way. He was living his dream of working in aviation, completing OTS and flight school to become a weapons-specialist officer in the Navy. The backseater to the pilot, but just as important. Y/n was beyond proud. Thinking of all those times Mickey randomly gave plane facts or begged her to go to the air show in high school. Anytime she traveled and saw a figurine of a plane he was missing from his collection she got it. Luckily the Navy kept him on the west coast. Making it easier to see each other during her days away from set. He loved his job. And Y/n loved him.

Maintaining a relationship while in high-demand careers was no easy task. Especially when one’s a movie star and the other goes on classified missions for the government. Add on the fact they wanted to keep their private life a secret to prevent media scrutiny. Y/n worried in the beginning Mickey would view it negatively. Not posting about him on social media or bringing him to premiers and award shows. Like he was some dirty secret. But Mickey, the wonderful man he is, never was bothered. In fact he liked the idea.

They talked consistently, sometimes everyday unless they were occupied with work. Y/n kept him updated on every audition. Sharing the excitement with him each role she landed and comforted by his voice when rejected. And while he didn’t go to the premieres, Mickey was at every opening weekend for her movies. Dragging his friends along each time. It’s no surprise he earned the callsign Fanboy for his endless passion for movies. Specifically the superhero ones. While drunk the first weekend in flight school he gave the entire lore of the current MCU projects. To anyone he would just be labeled a superfan. Unaware of the true reason behind his love for the MCU.

The mid-to-late 2010s did not disappoint. Y/n’s contract for the MCU extended as Jordyn Stark became a prominent figure in the franchise. And with her strong chemistry and bonds, Y/n collaborated with several of her Marvel co-stars in projects outside of the MCU. Jeremy Renner in Arrival, working with Denis Villenueve again starring in his Enemy and Sicario. Brie Larson in Room, Tom Hiddleston in Crimson Peak. Both of whom, with Samuel L. Jackson, starred in Kong: Skull Island with Y/n. She worked with Tessa Tompson in Annihilation--who would go on to cite inspiration from Y/n’s performance in MIB when she joined the franchise in 2019. Then after working with him in Men in Black 3, Y/n teamed up alongside Josh Brolin in Sicario, Deadpool 2, and eventually parts 1 & 2 of Denis’ adaptation of Dune.

“Oh she’s one of my favorite people to work with,” Josh said during the press tour for Endgame after the interviewer mentioned all the times the two collaborated. “I had first seen her in Freedom Writers back in 2007 and thought she was just spectacular. Then of course in Iron Man, what can I say,” he shrugged while beaming, “It’s because of her and Downey that we have the MCU in the first place. They really set it in motion and to capture that feeling of, ‘this is going to be something’ so early on is incredible.” Josh crossed his legs, grinning wide as he added, “I love working with Y/n, I’ll say yes to any project if she’s attached and I’m excited for this next thing we got going with Denis after this.”

Besides movies Y/n continued to land jobs on shows whenever she was back in L.A. Tanya, her agent with an iron fist, booked her guest appearances on The Good Place, Black Mirror, Hannible, and The Americans. Her gig on Daredevil stirred major discourse in the Marvel community. Especially after it was announced years later the MCU would be buying the rights to the Netflix Marvel productions. In 2017 she had a recurring role as part-time companion to the 12th Doctor on Doctor Who. Becoming a fan favorite, the actress was constantly asked by fans and reporters if she had plans to return for the upcoming 60th Anniversary special. Y/n enjoyed her time in England and met up with several friends. Christopher Nolen, in fact, had called her up with the offer of a role in his upcoming work, Tenet.

How could she pass that up?

2019 from the start was going to be an interesting year for the actress. At the height of her career Y/n felt the train was non-stopping. Traveling around the world. Press tours and interviews. Finding time to decompress was a task in itself. In between projects Y/n visited Mickey at his base in Northern California. Just like old times they’d go to the movies together. Only in disguise to hide from fans and the paparazzi. Sometimes they’d see her movies--usually at Mickey’s request, but Y/n always felt weird watching herself on screen. She’d think after over fifteen years in the industry she’d be used to it, but nevertheless she’d tend to think, ‘I could’ve done that better,’ with every scene.

By September of that year Y/n was gearing up for a major project with longtime friend and collaborator, Denis Villenueve. Endgame had taken over the globe, concluding 10 years of buildup between characters and storylines. Tears upon tears were shed at the premiere. Unsure of what Marvel had planned for Jordyn Stark, Y/n prepared for the next chapter in her career. On top of Endgame she’d been in Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and the rom-com, Isn’t It Romantic. She’d signed on for a three-picture deal with Deadpool, but now he was also going to join the MCU, so the future of her character was in question. Ryan, however, assured her she’d remain in the universe, already texting plans of potential dialogue and jokes.

Then there were countless interviews and promos.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n!” her excited tone was directed to the camera, sitting criss crossed on a pastel purple fabric that lifted into the backdrop. “And I’m here with Buzzfeed to answer some questions sent in from Twitter and play with puppies.” She rubbed her hands together, “Bring them in!”

Dream come true if she were being honest. Surrounded by tiny four-legged creatures that caused her heart to sour. Answering the questions was actually the difficult part, pulling the slips of paper from the bowl and reading aloud, ‘What has been your favorite role to play?’

“This is probably obvious,” her laugh was light and genuine, “but it has to be the one, the only, the absolute icon herself, Miss. Jordyn M. Stark.” Y/n visibly awed as a beagle pup climbed into her lap. “Anyone who knew me growing up--.” she instantly thinks of Mickey, smile widening, “knows my love for superheroes and comics in general. I was always at the movies opening weekend, sometimes even opening night, to watch the newest release. Getting to play Jordyn Stark has been an absolute dream come true. Not only has it fulfilled a longtime aspiration of wanting to play a superhero, but it’s opened the door to so many opportunities,” she points out the obvious, “she put me on the map. It’s crazy to think it’s been over a decade since I brought Jordyn to life on the big screen and until Marvel lets me know what’s next for her, it’s a bittersweet end to an amazing chapter in my life.”

‘What’s been the most challenging part of your career?’

Y/n thinks for a moment, petting the husky pup biting her shoelaces, “I think having to migrate from what my life was like before booking Jordyn--which is ironic considering that’s what every actor's goal is. To get that big break that shoots them into stardom if you say…” her hands move to emphasize her point. “Going from a freshman in college working a part-time job at a hotel and getting tiny gigs on L.A productions,” she lifts her left hand up, then her right, “to the train never reaching its stop…it was a big shift. I definitely was the type of actor calling up co-stars with questions like, ‘is it always like this?’” she ends it with a chuckle, “I think I managed it well, but I still think about it from time to time.”

‘Favorite actor/actresses to work with?’

She doesn’t hesitate, “Downey of course, that’s my ride or die. His name on my phone is literally, ‘Work Father/Iron Dad’.” She laughs with the crew, “And Josh Brolin--love that man so much. I’ll actually be seeing him soon and I’m excited to catch up.” A pup barks for attention and Y/n lifts him in her arms, “I love working with Tessa Tompson. She and I got close on set during Avengers and I gave her advice on joining the Men In Black family. If there’s one actress I’d love to work with again it would be Viola Davis.” Y/n clutches a hand to her chest, “We had to do so many scenes over because I could not stop staring at her in awe and would miss my cue or forget my line. Ah! I was so embarrassed--but she was great about it and I freakin’ love her. I really really adore Keanu Reeves--in fact,” a wink is sent to the camera, “I might actually have some exciting news to share soon regarding a certain action franchise he’s in.” Seconds after the interview was released Twitter was buzzing. Excited about the potential of Y/n joining the John Wick series.

‘Is there another superhero, or possibly villain, you’d be interested in playing on the big screen?’

“Ooo I like this question,” Y/n grins, clapping a bit only to have the puppy in her lap playfully take a bite at her fingers. “As I mentioned I love comic books, so any chance to play a character in one I’m taking. If I had to choose….” she scratches her chin before smirking, “Poison Ivy is one of my favorites from DC--if I were to play her alongside Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn I think that would be so iconic. I’d love to play a villian/anti-hero in general,” she shrugs nonchalantly. “ The closest I got to playing one was Shock in Daredevil. Every other character in a superhero setting I’ve done has been heroes. There’s so many villains in X-Men I think are intriguing--Dark Phoenix, Fatale, and Copycat. But for sure Poison Ivy is my top choice.”

‘Do you have any advice on romance?’

The question fills Y/n with heat, giggling under her breath which the camera catches. “I don’t think I’m the best to answer this question, because when it comes to romance I just wing it--,” her hands raise in defense, “which had worked to my advantage.” The topic of relationships was rare for Y/n. No surprise there since she’s been known to keep her private life private her entire career. Not to mention she’d been with Mickey for half her life. “My partner on the other hand is very romantic. He loves to plan dates, surprise me with my favorite candy, and will send memes at the most random times of the day because they remind him of me. He’s not in the industry,” she is quick to point out, giving viewers a first time look of her personal life, “but he knows a lot and is my biggest supporter. I love him dearly.”

The video went viral on twitter and, as expected, people had a lot to comment on the clip of Y/n’s love life.

@/Lokidarling: awed so many times watching @/SuperY/n talk about her partner. I hope to love someone like that one day.

@/TheDoctorsWife: So we can all agree Y/n L/n’s partner is the luckiest man on the planet.

@/MTV: currently sobbing that our wife @/SuperY/n is off the market.

@/Slick_like_AgentK: @/SuperY/n heard the rumors about her and Sebastian Stan and said ‘NOT TODAY!’

In the weeks leading to fall Y/n made plans to read Dune at Denis’ request. Had auditions lined up for Succession, Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and The School for Good & Evil. And desperately needed time with her fiance. The two recently engaged following their 30th birthday.

Technically they were legally married under California’s common law. They’d been together since 16 and while no rings were on their fingers, they had assets. Including cars, apartments, and dogs. Still they wanted a wedding and proper marriage documents. Both agreed to sign each other's prenup. A scene almost comical when they approached both their lawyers, who along with their families and Y/n’s agent knew of their relationship.

Admittedly, the engagement was a result of upcoming events. Ever since Mickey informed her of his orders to return to Top Gun for a classified mission Y/n had been stressed. Thoughts plagued her mind of the dangers Mickey could face. Not just the mission but the training itself. She’d heard of incidents of technical malfunctions in the air that led to someone’s death. The thought of Mickey hurt or worse, dead, in the line of duty was her worst nightmare. And since she was not his wife, medical professionals were required to not share any information of his status if he were admitted.

So before he shipped out, they did what the typical military couple does on a time crunch: they went to the courthouse.

Did Y/n’s publicist bribe and threaten to sue the official if TMZ got word? Only God bore witness to that interaction.

By the grace of a higher spirit Mickey came home to her. They had little to no contact while he was off shore so the second he called her up saying he was back in Fightertown Y/n was packing a bag. Speeding down the next morning.

Their time together was private, and unbeknownst to both it would be the last. In a sense that is.

Because they pulled off the impossible, Mickey and the rest of the Dagger Squad were declared an official strike squad for the Pentagon, basing the team at Fightertown. A good thing for the couple. Now instead of a four-hour drive it was cut down to just over two hours.

“How long will you be gone?” He brushed his fingers down the length of her arm, the two cuddled on the couch watching The Bachelorette.

“A few months,” was her reply, nibbling on a twizzler. Sighing, she nuzzled against his touch, not wanting to think about the long flight to Budapest ahead of her. She’d planned to use that time to read Dune before her first day on set. “Maybe less if all goes well. How long will you be offshore?” Y/n referred to his pending mission with the Dagger Squad. She felt him shrug against her.

“I’d say no more than a couple weeks. Rooster is team leader and Mav’s supervisor. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Tilting her head up to look at him, Y/n smiled, “I want to meet your friends. They sound like great people.”

“They are,” Mickey grinned, matching her gaze, “You’d love them--but I have to warn you they can be a handful. Especially Javy.” He laughed as the memory popped in his head, “It’s amazing we can get stuff done at times.”

Y/n thought for a moment, laying her head back on his shoulder, “Maybe when I get back we can talk about going public. What do you think?” her tone was nervous, butterflies in her stomach for his reaction. This was the first time in a while the idea of disclosing their relationship came up. And considering they were now legally married, keeping it secret was harder by the day.

Mickey tightened his hold around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. It made her instantly relax, “Whatever you want, mi amor.” He smiled at her sigh of relief, “You know I won’t object--so long as you’re sure about it.”

“I am,” she doesn’t hesitate, “we’ve kept it hidden for so long--which I’m amazed by with all the times we’ve gone out.” The fact her disguises worked made her laugh any time she thought about it. “Everyone at Marvel pretty much had their suspicions that I was in a serious relationship. Never said anything, which I’m grateful for. But I want to share you with the world,” leaning back up, Y/n cups his cheek, stroking his jaw followed by a sweet kiss to the lips, “because you are my world.”

If only there was a camera secretly concealed in Mickey’s apartment the day his closest friends discovered the secret he’d been harboring. It happened unexpectedly, completely taking them both off guard.

Wanting to surprise Mickey after months away filming, Y/n arrived in San Diego with their favorite take out in hand and headed straight to his apartment. As she was taking the items from her car she noticed a man with a very large camera across the street.

Pointing the lens straight at her.

“Fuck,” was the first word out of her mouth, beginning to grab things in a rush.

“Y/n! Y/n over here!”

Preparing herself, Y/n put on a brave face and turned on her heel. “Hello!” she smiled and waved, seeing the pap had moved closer but still kept his distance. “All I ask is please don’t take photos of my license plate, if you don’t mind.” Running into paparazzi while driving her own car always brought fear. Many celebrities had unfortunately dealt with fans showing up to their homes due to their license plate being leaked. Y/n tried her best to prevent that whenever she could.

Thankfully the gentleman was nice, waving a hand in return. “No problem!” He continued snapping pictures as she walked, following behind several paces. When she got inside, without her usual disguise because she was in a rush, Y/n caught the stunned expression of the doorman and receptionist. ‘Cat’s out of the bag.’

Ruffling for her key once in the elevator, Y/n shot a quick text to her agent and publicist, ‘sooooo we might have a problem…although it's not the worst if we’re being real.’ Quickly putting her phone back in her bag to not see the incoming replies--to spare herself the stress--Y/n hurried to the apartment. Not even giving Mickey a warning before she busted inside only to shock herself with the discovery of people inside.

“Oh my,” she said aloud, hearing the sound of someone dropping their phone followed by several gasps and a ‘what the fuck?’.

Mickey, however, was jumping from his seat, “Baby!” he shouted in glee, rushing to encompass her in a massive bear hug. Completely oblivious to the fact his friend's jaw dropping reactions behind him. “When did you get it? Just now? I thought you were coming on Monday!”

Wrapping her arms around him, Y/n remembers why she was there in the first place. “I wanted to surprise you,” lips meet her cheek. “I brought Sambino’s.”

Mickey moans like he just won the lottery, cupping her face, “You are a living angel. How did I get so lucky?”

Smirking, Y/n hands him the bag as they untangle and replies, “You didn’t make fun of me for being the only girl in our third grade class who liked comics.” She scrunches her nose when he ‘boops’ it, followed by a quick kiss to the lips.

By now the group taking up the entire living room had stood up, congregating in the kitchen. All wore matching expressions: flabbergasted, awe, and pure confusion. The man closest to Mickey who towered over everyone spoke first.

“Garcia,” Payback choked out a laugh, wrapping his head around the fact he just witnessed his partner kiss THE Y/n L/n. His hand waved in their direction, “When you said you and your highschool sweetheart preferred to keep a low profile…her being the actress you’re obsessed over was not at all what I had in mind.”

Jake scoffed, “speak for yourself, I thought he was bullshitting us about having a high-school sweetheart,” at Mickey’s look of offense he raised his hands in defense, “What? You hardly ever spoke of her and quite frankly--” hands wave around the place, “you have no pictures whatsoever.”

“Oh I do,” The WSO winds an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, to which she leans into. “Just they’re in photo albums and kept in a safe place. Away from prying eyes.” A playful smack hits his chest, Y/n rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Javy cuts in with a confused chuckle. “Are we just going to ignore the fact we’re in the presence of an A-list actress--who is dating our Fanboy.”

Bob gives a friendly smile, “that makes sense why he’s always talking about the MCU and seems to know the direction it’s going before we do.” The fellow WSO then adds after chucking, “it’s because you’re really a big fan of Y/n.”

Rooster belts out a laugh, “Yo that’s kinda ironic. Fanboy dating his celebrity crush he never shuts up about. I couldn’t have predicted that at all.”

“Dating is putting it lightly,” Y/n finally speaks up, face full of amusement. Placing a hand on Mickey’s chest, their attention instantly goes to the ring on her finger.

“Well shit,” Jake whistles, causing Nat to nudge him with her elbow, though she matched his stunned expression.

“Damn, Garcia!” Javy goes to dab him up. Reuben does the same while saying, “Congrats man!”

“I know we may look like we’re calm,” Natasha chuckles, catching Y/n’s attention which makes her become nervous. “But I think I can confidently say for all of us we're freaking out inside--at least I know I am.” the pilot blushes, stunned to be talking to one of her favorite actresses of all time. The previous night she literally sat down to watch How to Get Away With Murder. Particularly the season Y/n was a recurring character on.

The squad knew Mickey grew up in the same town as Y/n after he mentioned the high school he attended in Orange County. It had been the first time they hung out at his apartment where they saw his entire collection--and pretty much shrine--dedicated to his favorite franchises. Following Jake’s comment of Mickey’s little ‘crush’, the WSO casually said, “Yeah, you can say that. We actually went to high school together.” This was then followed by Mickey whipping out his sophomore year book to show proof. Ever since the squad was envious and sometimes tried to ask questions but were brushed off.

But to discover the two were married? Now that was unexpected.

Once everyone departed after several hours of giving detailed accounts of their lives--plus mentioning to Mickey a Pap had spotted her and the likelihood of the internet discovering their relationship--,Y/n let out a heavy breath, unable to fight the grin off her face. Giggling when Mickey gave her a look of ‘What did you think?’ “That was fun--Ah!.” A squeal escaped her as he picked her up, spinning them in a circle.

“Been wanting to do that since you walked through the door,” he brought her into a passionate kiss, setting her down but keeping their chests pressed together.

“Why didn’t you?” she teased, kissing him again while combing her fingers through his short hair. A blush rose on his cheeks.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she spoke with honesty, “but I understand. We were both surprised. I wasn’t expecting an audience--probably should’ve sent you a heads up.” Mickey shrugged, swaying them side to side.

“Honestly I’m glad you didn’t,” a light laugh escaped him, picturing his friends' faces once again. “If there was one way I was going to break the news to the squad that I'm married to the woman I keep dragging them to the movies to see, it would be like that.”

Y/n broke into giggles, thinking to all those times Mickey sent her photos of him and his friends in the theater with captions like, ‘You already know what’s going down.’ ��Jake and Javy are trying to bet who would pull you if they got the chance.’ ‘Wish you were here…so I could steal your sour patch kids.’

“Which, speaking of….” Mickey stepped back a bit, hands landing on her waist with eyes full of wonder and question. “How do you think we go from here? Now that the whole world is about to know about us?”

Y/n smiled brightly as she pictured the future. Moving her arms to wind around his neck, feeling her belly fill with warmth and happiness.

“I think….it’s time we plan that wedding.”

E! News reported that evening, “It looks like Bruce Wayne isn’t the only superhero who’s good at hiding information--tonight Golden Globe winning actress Y/n L/n has confirmed via Instagram her marriage to longtime partner, Naval Weapons Officer Lieutenant Mickey Garcia. Turns out the two have been in a relationship since they were teenagers--sixteen to be exact! They officially became a couple in 2005 as juniors in high school and have kept it hidden from the limelight. Wow! Talk about a well kept secret.

“The news came following reports of Y/n spotted in San Diego several times outside of Garcia’s apartment complex. Photos then surfaced on Twitter of several occurrences where fans have speculated seeing the two in public. Cozying up at movie theaters, enjoying a weekend getaway to Hilton Head, and internet sleuths have even found an instagram account they believe is run by L/n strictly for close friends and family. Former classmates of the 30-year-old actress have come out saying they remember the two together like peas in a pod. We even have a photo someone shared of the young couple attending their high school prom. Y/n revealed in the summer of 2019 she’d been in a committed relationship, but has never given details until now.

“Y/n L/n first got her big break in Hollywood at eighteen years old when she was casted as heroine Jordyn Stark opposite Robert Downey Jr. in Iron Man. After years of small supporting roles and starring in popular commercials, the now critically acclaimed actress has appeared in several blockbuster films including Black Swan, Interstellar, La La Land and most recently Greta Gerwig’s Little Women. Besides Marvel, Y/n has been part of multi-billion dollar franchises--Men In Black, The Twilight Saga and The Hunger Games just to name a few. Then in 2016 she won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal as DEA Agent Molly Coleman in Denis Villenueve’s Sicario. Coming down from the high of Marvel Studios record breaking release of Avengers: Endgame, Y/n recently wrapped on the upcoming sci-fi production of Dune--her fourth collaboration with Denis and has an ensemble cast with names like Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Fergason, and Josh Brolin.

“In her instagram post--featuring several photographs of the couple over the years starting from when they were children to the most recent of their courthouse ceremony--Y/n thanked Mickey for his continued love and support of her, remaining her quote “cheerleader and shoulder to cry on as I progressed through this wild journey of playing dress up on the big screen. You never lost faith in me. You stood by my side, first as my best friend, then as my boyfriend, and now as my life partner. I am forever grateful for you, Mickey Garcia. And while the Navy may have given you the name, It’s an honor to be your reason to fanboy.”

..........

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

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katcoquette · 2 years

Text

Gotta Be Quicker

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x pilot!Reader

masterlist | taglist

summary: requested by anon! you join your fellow pilots on the beach for a game of football with a side of flirting.

★ word count: 1.5k

★ tw: competitive coworkers to lovers, cocky man, inexperienced explanation of football by me

★ author's note: took one for the team and rewatched about 30 seconds of the football scene that I could find online over and over until I was confident I had (most) of the teams right. it was wholly unnecessary but I don't regret it.

Everyone knew about Hangman and Rooster’s little rivalry, but the one you had with him was backed by years of sexual tension, which made it arguably worse. All those years you’d know each other had been filled with countless jabs, risqué jokes, taunts, you name it. It was no different after being called back to Top Gun.

“Please, please, just go out with him. End everyone’s suffering.” Phoenix pleads, mostly joking, but probably also a little bit serious. You trudge through the deep sand together, headed closer to the waves where the ground was better suited for whatever Maverick had in mind for you all.

“I love you, but not a chance.” You say giving her a tight smile. She groans right as Payback catches up with you. “What’re you moaning about?” He asks, nudging her shoulder.

“Viper’s refusing to take one for the team and go out with Hangman.” She gives you a pointed look, a teasing smile on her face.

He tosses his head back and dramatically groans, causing Phoenix to laugh. “Not you too.” You shake your head.

He throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you to his side. “You and Hangman obviously have some things you need to work out.” He says with a smirk. “Please handle them sooner rather than later.” And then he’s running ahead of you, calling back over his shoulder, “It’ll help with the team-building!”

You roll your eyes, but laugh as you and Phoenix join everyone else. You notice Hangman grinning at you as he tosses a football up in the air, but he doesn’t say anything this time.

Maverick tells you the name of the game he’s created, Dogfight Football, but doesn’t give any other instructions aside from a simple, “You play offense and defense at the same time”.

“Rooster, Bob, Viper, Coyote, Fanboy, Fritz. You’re with me.” Maverick points as he calls your names, “Hangman, Phoenix, Payback, Harvard, Halo, Yale. Other side.” You pout as Phoenix retreats to the other team, then move to line up between Rooster and Bob.

You scoff when you notice Hangman has lined up directly across from you. He makes a gesture that he’s keeping his eyes on you, pointing first at his own, then towards yours, paired with a smirk.

That smirk would be the death of you.

The sun beating down on your back isn’t the only heat you feel throughout the game. Hangman sticks to your side during every play, defending you with annoying effectiveness, preventing you from ever being open.

At one point, you almost crash into him trying to move into another position, “Will you move out of my way?” You huff, pushing on his arm. “Don’t think that’s the point of the game, Viper, dear.” You groan.

“Viper!” Rooster calls, looking for a pass. You nod at him, looking for an opportunity to get clear. You’re standing behind Hangman, who has his arms out as he notices Rooster’s attention. You see your chance and you take it. “Hey Jake?”

He turns to look down at you, his arms faltering in confusion at the use of his first name, instead of his call sign. “You’re in my way.” You push past his arms while he’s distracted, signaling to Rooster and jumping up to catch the ball. With it safely in your arms, you turn to face Hangman with your version of his cocky grin, holding it up to make sure he can see it.

His eyes narrow, “Oh it’s on.”

The group as a whole had stopped keeping score a long time ago, but you and Hangman were keeping your own scores against each other, and you were only one touchdown ahead of him.

He intercepts one of your passes for a touchdown, and cheers loudly, holding his hands up in the air. “Boom! That’s how you do it.” He tosses the ball over his shoulder, mimicking a grenade and three of his teammates fall dramatically to the ground as you watch with your hands on your hips.

Hangman points to you from across the sand, “All tied up now, Viper.” You shake your head at him, trying not to let him see the genuine smile that had crossed your face. You’d never willingly admit it, but competing with him had made the game even more fun.

You almost considered letting him win just for the sake of seeing him show off more, but decided beating him would be even better.

“Let’s finish this.”

Mav had dropped out of the game, content with watching the rest of it go down, and cheering from the sidelines.

You’re back where you started, side by side with Hangman, elbowing each other to try and stay in front. “Hangman! Heads up!” You hear Payback yell, before you see a ball being thrown in your direction.

You both jump for it, colliding mid-way through and tripping into the sand. You let out a yelp in surprise, and then lunge for the ball in front of you at the same time as Hangman.

You’re just a little bit quicker.

“Ah! I got it!” You exclaim, holding it up as chaos ensues around you. “Over here!” Rooster calls, and you toss it up to him from where you’re on your elbows in the sand. He throws it to Bob, who makes a perfect catch, winning the game for your team.

“Nooo!” Hangman calls out in the same position as you, hitting his fist on the ground, and putting his head down. But when he lifts it up, he’s smiling at you. You laugh, “What? Nothing to say about that?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “You got lucky.” He chuckles, getting up and offering you a hand to pull you up too. You dust the sand off of your skin, keenly aware of him still standing in front of you.

You look behind his shoulder to see the rest of your teams hoisting Bob up and chanting his name. You laugh, looking back at Hangman. “I guess that means I win.” You say, hands clasped behind your back, taunting him.

But he doesn’t take the bait. “I guess so.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good game.” He offers, holding out his hand. You purse your lips suspiciously, but take it anyway.

He yanks your arm as soon as you grab ahold of him, turning you around and pulling your back into his chest. His arms wrap around you, and he leans his head on your shoulder to talk into your ear. “You look a little hot.” He says lowly.

“Hangman…” You start, holding his arms.

“Like you could use a dip in the ocean.” You know he’s smirking again. “Don’t you dare.” You look up at him, but it’s no use. He doesn’t say anything as he picks you up, and you yelp in surprise.

The next thing you know, he’s run into the ocean and you’re being dropped into the waves. You pop out of the water sputtering. “You asshole!” You say incredulously through a broken laugh. “I cannot believe you just did that.” You splash him where he stands in front of you laughing.

“Believe it, baby.” Then snorts when he sees the look on your face. “Alright alright, I’m sorry. Let me help you up.” You stand on the deeper side of the sandbar, a playful pout on your lips.

He’s offering you his hand again. You take it and yank him into the water next to you.

You have a smile on your face when he emerges, “I can’t believe you fell for that! It’s the oldest trick in the book.” You laugh as he pushes his hair back from his face. He rolls his eyes, but can’t help joining you with a chuckle.

As your laughter dies down, you notice how close you’re standing, the current pushing you together as if even the ocean had agreed with Phoenix’s earlier statements.

You watch drops of saltwater run down his face, glistening in the setting sunlight, then your eyes move to his. You’d never been close enough to him to see how green his eyes were, especially in this light.

He takes an intentional step closer to you, and you feel his hand brush over your arm under the water. You place a hesitant hand on his lower back, brushing the waist of his shorts on the way.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He mutters quietly.

“Okay.”

His lips are salty when they meet yours, hands holding you firmly to him. You open your mouth, happy, for once in your life, to let him take the lead.

Whistles from the beach cause you to break apart. You rest your head on his chest, blushing. “Oh my god..” You laugh, embarrassed that you’d forgotten your entire team was standing within eyesight.

Hangman chuckles, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a hug that shields your face from everyone. “They’ve been betting on us ya know.” He kisses the top of your hair, sighing happily.

“Oh I know.” You snort, looking up at him. “It’s killing you that they were right, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow at his question, laughing, “How’d you know?” You ask him.

“Ohhh-“ He drags it out as a sigh, looking around, then meets your eyes again, smirking, “Because I’m feeling the same way.”

“You know it’s not too late to pretend we still hate each other. Save them the satisfaction.” You tease, starting to trudge back to shore.

He slings an arm over your shoulder, “Not a chance.”

Taglist: @lucianaasf @oliviah-25 @littlebadariell @averyhotchner

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

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hangmans-girl · 2 years

Text

Lover (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

Summary: The one where you found the most perfect love in the shape of a man named Bradley Bradshaw.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff.

Words: 2,273

Author's Note: I've noticed I have been writing a lot for Bradley these days. I think I should begin with my Hangman fic as soon as I can.

The immaculate smell of cookies emanated through the walls of the house as you and your son, Nick were mixing another batch of cookies. "Am I doing it right, mommy?" Nick asks as his little arms struggled to pull the spatula around the thick cookie batter.

"Yeah, you are. Do you need mommy's help?" You asked. Little Nick shook his head as he tried harder to mix the batter.

"I think I'm good, mommy." He replies.

You nodded as you smiled, ruffling his hair in the process. You then continued to mold the batter into the cookie pan so you could put it in the oven when you suddenly heard a cute giggle from the living room

You craned your neck to get a better view of the living room from the kitchen. Bradley was sitting on the floor with his eyes closed as your 4-year-old daughter smudged some makeup on his eyelids.

"Daddy, you need to sit still."

"Oh okay," Bradley says as he tried his best not to move. His hand wandered around the floor as if he was looking for something. "You think you could give daddy some more of this red one? I feel like the other cheek's a bit lighter than the other, baby girl." He adds as he raises a round blush palette in front of your daughter.

"One second, daddy. I'm almost done with your eyeshadow."

You smiled at the very wholesome scene in front of you. You sat on the kitchen stool as you turned to look at Nick who was currently munching on some cookies while he held a cold glass of milk in his other hand.

In the middle of your trance, some flashbacks from where it all started came flooding in.

Growing up with Bradley meant three things: endless singing, clothes trying-on montage, and running around by the shore the whole day. This continued until both of you grew up and needless to say, this also meant growing feelings for him.

You've always had the hunch that he knew about what you felt about him and that he just chose to ignore it for the sake of your friendship. By the time he graduated from the academy and was subjected to being part of the TOP GUN Programme, he finally cracked.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" He asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't this the part where you're supposed to tell me that you love me and you don't want me to leave? I mean, I'll be gone for 3 months."

Your mouth gaped in awe as you avoided his gaze. "W-What are you talking about, you idiot--"

He placed both of his hands on your shoulders as he leaned down to level his gaze upon you. "You're like an open book, sweets. You don't even try to close it."

He tapped your cheek gently as he grinned mischievously, making you scoff in embarrassment. "You knew? All this time?!"

"Yeah, since 10th grade." You couldn't believe it.

"Then why didn't you say anything?!"

He shrugged, "I didn't want to impose. I just thought maybe I was so attractive that you always looked at me in a certain way. But since you just admitted it, turns out I was wrong. You actually like me."

You gasped when you realized what he had just done, "You little-- Ugh! Damn you, Bradshaw!" You marched away from him as he ran to catch up with you.

"Come on now, you can't send me away like this," He whined, still laughing at your adorable reaction.

"Bradley, I swear to God I will punch you--"

"No thanks, but I'll take a kiss. It will last me three months, I think. But I'll let you know if I need more." He winked, making you frown in confusion.

"Bradley, just what are you on about?"

He rolled his eyes as he sighed dramatically. "Jesus, (Y/N). And here I thought I was the idiot one."

"Okay, Genius. You like me back. I get it."

He looked at you in confusion. "Do I?" You groaned as you punched his arm playfully. He chucked lightly before holding your wrists as he pulled you into a warm hug.

"I'm gonna miss you," He whispers on your neck.

You tightened your grip on his body as a response, earning you a soft kiss on your crown. "Now, where's my kiss?"

You giggled at the question. "Come back home in one piece, then maybe we'll talk."

He whined dramatically as he sighed. "Fine, I guess," He started to pick up his things as he looked over to the side where the airstair just opened. "Oh, there goes my ride." He pointed at the plane swiftly to catch your attention before he stole a quick peck on the lips as he ran towards the plane before you could even recover.

You were in complete awe as you stared at his grinning figure from afar, waving at you like a child before he went inside the plane.

After that, you came home smiling like an idiot.

3 months after, when you heard that he was graduating from TOP GUN, you immediately packed your things and flew to San Diego. As soon as he spotted you from a sea of pilots in white uniforms, he pushed his way out of the cramped space and gave you the tightest hug you have ever received from him.

"So, where's my kiss?"

"I believe you stole one 3 months ago."

"Aw, that's not fair. Can I have one as a graduation gift?"

You sighed in defeat. "Fine, just one. Then we'll talk, okay?" You tiptoed as you gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled lovingly at you as he nods, "Yes, ma'am."

When both of you finally had the time to talk, you tried to figure out what to do with your relationship. As per Bradley, both of you didn't need to figure it out since he had already absorbed the thought that you were his, and he was yours.

Bradley was the greatest boyfriend you could ever ask for. He'd bring you souvenirs that he claimed 'reminded him of you' while he was still away, give you massages out of nowhere, and braid or brush your hair for fun while listening to you rant about how the supermarket never restocked your favorite potato chip anymore.

When Bradley was young, he could clearly remember seeing his parents dancing around the living room as he sat there while clapping with joy. He could also remember his parents singing a song while he sat on top of the piano, trying his hardest to sing along to what they were singing.

His parents were the happiest with each other. As he grew up, he reflected on that thought and decided that he wanted that kind of relationship. A pure, happy, and passionate one.

A year after he graduated from TOP GUN, he decided to pop the question. He figured that he couldn't wait any longer and wanted to just take you home with him and be with you forever. Of course, you said yes.

Your marriage was pure bliss. Bradley was very consistent, and he proved himself to be better as the days went by. After a year of marriage, you found out you were pregnant.

Bradley found out about it through a little game you set up when he came home from a mission. You placed a bun inside of the oven and lead him to it as he stared at the oven for a good 10 minutes. "Babe, I think the bun's burning. Don't you think you should take it out already?"

You suppressed a smile as you shook your head. "Nah, it's not due to come out 'till September."

He frowned in confusion. "What? The bun will be spoiled by then---"

You rolled your eyes at his cluelessness. "Jesus, Bradley. I'm pregnant."

He blinked at you for a while, taking all the information in. "Oh." He breathes out. His eyes widened as he suddenly pointed at the oven. "A bun in the oven--Oh my god! You're pregnant! I'm gonna be a dad!"

He lifted you up carefully as you laughed at his reaction. "And here I thought you were so smart, you couldn't even figure that out."

"I'm sorry, babe. I think it's the post-flight brain fog." He grinned before hugging you lovingly as both of you ended up cuddling on the couch for the whole day.

All throughout your pregnancy, Bradley was very hands-on and protective. In your fifth month, he already bought some things to use for babyproofing around the house. When he found out that both of you were having a boy, he passed out.

When Bradley found out that your water broke, he immediately filed for an emergency leave for a week just to be there for you during your labor. But the moment he got to the hospital, you were already holding your baby boy in your arms.

You could tell that he was mesmerized by his newborn with the way he looked at him. He cried for 2 minutes while he hugged the little boy close to his chest as he carried him away from you to get some alone time with him.

When Maverick and Penny came to visit, Bradley refused to let his newborn go. Bradley wanted to hold him for as long as he could, even if his arms went sore. He sat by the corner of the room as he cooed at the little boy in his arms

"Let me hold him, Brad." Maverick says as he earns a groan from Bradley.

"Not today, Mav. I'm having my moment here."

Needless to say, he remained like that for hours.

When Bradley was a good husband, he was also a good father. Unlike any other dad, he loved doing the dirty work. You never knew why he was always so excited about changing the diapers, bathing the baby, and feeding them even if it was messy to deal with. When you saw how happy he was with it, you figured it was just him being a doting father to his firstborn.

When Nick was about 2 years old, there came baby number 2. You cried yourself to sleep after you found out that you were pregnant again and Bradley couldn't be there for you because he was stationed for a year in a different country.

You called him and told him everything. He assured you that everything was going to be fine as he promised to be home as soon as he possibly could.

After a year of being away, Bradley finally came home to a reading little boy and a crawling baby girl.

That night, he cuddled both children to sleep after reading them a bedtime story. You were left to sleep alone in your shared bedroom, but it didn't matter. You just didn't want any of this happiness to end.

In the middle of the night, you felt an arm wrap around your waist as Bradley buries his face on your neck from behind. "I'm sorry for not being able to be there for you when you were carrying our little girl. I promise to do the best I can to make up for the lost time." He whispered.

You used to think that perfect love didn't exist. Little did you know that that kind of love took a human form in a man such as your husband.

"Hey, hun. You okay?" You heard Bradley ask you as you snapped out of your thoughts.

"Yeah," You replied as you turned to look at him and laughed. "Wow, honey. You look...good."

"Yeah, I know, right? I feel like a walking butterfly clip," He says as he poses in front of the mirror, combing the wig with his hand to straighten it up. "Man, I look hot. Our daughter should be a makeup artist when she grows up."

You laughed as you took a minute to absorb his little ensemble. His blonde wig was out of place, he had colorful hair clips around it, and he was wearing a pink, frilly apron from the little tea party your daughter set up a while ago before she decided to mess with her dad's face.

You made your way towards him as you hugged his waist. "I love you so much, Brad."

He hugs you back as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I just hope you didn't do something bad, but I love you more." You slapped his chest gently as you chuckled.

"Daddy, you forgot your earrings!" You and Bradley looked down to see your adorable daughter handing her dad some plastic clip-on earrings. Bradley gladly takes them from her little hands as he clips them on his ears.

"I think this calls for a family picture," Bradley says as he reaches for the camera, pulling the children towards the living room. Nick sat with his plane next to Penelope with her doll as Bradley set up the camera. You sat next to the kids as Bradley ran to sit beside you before the camera flashed. As soon as it ended, Bradley and the kids looked at the photos.

"Mommy's got a third eye."Nick laughs as he looks at the photo before pointing at your forehead. You frowned in confusion as you immediately looked for a mirror, and there you saw a lipstick mark on your forehead. Bradley.

You looked at him as he grinned. "I love you." He mouths at you before looking at more pictures with the kids.

Life couldn't get any better than this.

#bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x wife #bradley bradshaw headcanon #rooster top gun #top gun rooster

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phoenixsbby · 2 years

Note

can you write something with Hangman where y/n is pregnant and she’s at a Dagger Squad dinner and she received some comments about how big her belly is compared to the other women, so she refused the chocolate cake dessert and Hangman follows her after the dinner in the kitchen, seeing her crying and stuff ?

thank you for the request :')

warnings: mentions of body size/weight, swearing

——

You’ve been eyeing that chocolate cake since the minute you arrived at the barbeque your husband, Lieutenant Jake Seresin, had been invited to. It was huge and looked moist and mouth watering and you could only partially blame the pregnancy hormones for wanting to shove the entire thing in your mouth with your bare hands. You’ve waited patiently though instead of giving into your chaotic, intrusive thoughts.

You’ve gone through the motions of talking with all of your husbands colleagues, you’ve spent time playing yard games with different members of the Dagger Squad (you totally didn’t get too excited and caused a scene when you and Rooster beat Bob and Phoenix in corn hole), and you ate your fair share of dinner.

And when it’s finally time for dessert, you do not hesitate in stepping up and grabbing a big piece of that beautiful cake. You see no shame in it, wanting to eat dessert. Not only because your pregnant and rightfully deserve to treat your baby to this homemade masterpiece but also, because if someone wants to eat some cake then who gives a fuck?

The piece of cake you have dangling at the threshold of your mouth freezes mid air when you make direct eye contact with one of your least favorite pilots you’ve had the (dis)pleasure of knowing since Jake had been stationed in North Island. Cobra.

You hold eye contact for a beat of silence, still with your cake hovering, and watch as he raises his eyebrows and dips his gaze down to your body. You can feel the judgement rolling off of him, in the way he’s staring at you when your eyes reconnect.

Without taking a bite of the cake that’s been teasing you all night, you place your fork back down on your plate.

“Can I help you?” You try to keep your tone sweet but there’s no missing the rigidity behind it. You completely stopped caring about being polite to this guy pretty quickly after hearing about the multiple sexist “jokes” and negative comments about other pilots he’s made in the past. You’re not a pilot yourself but, you’ve heard enough stories from Jake about Cobra to how shitty of a teammate (and person) he is.

“No, I just ..” Cobra purses his lips and shakes his head. You roll your eyes so hard, you’re surprised they don’t fall out of your head.

“Just what?”

“You really think you should be eating that?” He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side as he says it and you’ve never been a violent person but suddenly, you’re ready to swing.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on Y/N.” He grins and your blood turns from lukewarm to boiling hot inside your veins. He takes a step closer to which you react by taking one backwards. He dips his head close and adds, “We both know you’ve gained a some weight recently. You don’t see any other females here shoving cake in their mouths, do you?”

You haven’t told anyone that you’re pregnant other than your husband. It’s still early and it’s been a busy, stressful time at work for Jake so, you both agreed to push off telling everyone for now. And yes, during the time since you found out, your body has changed which is completely healthy and natural when you’re growing another human inside you! But the fact that Cobra doesn’t even know that and is still commenting on your weight, it makes you sick.

You want to scream and yell at him, to tell him off, to ask him where he gets the nerve to talk to anyone about their body but, all you do is blink. Your eyes instinctually flicker around the other women at the party. The other wives and girlfriends and pilots at the party are all beautiful and fit in their own right. Suddenly, despite knowing your body is doing its natural thing to support you during this stage in your life, you feel inferior to them in every way.

“Sorry to be so up front about it.” Cobra adds. Sorry my ass. “But, I think I’m doing you a favor. Maybe switch the cake out for some fruit or something.”

You glance down at the cake on your plate, the once delicious dessert looks about as appetizing as a pile of dirt and worms now.

An arm wraps itself around your shoulders and pulls you into a firm body. You glance up and see Coyote looking at you with furrowed brows.

“You okay?” He discreetly wipes a tear off of your cheek that you didn’t even know fell. Despite the answer being no, you nod weakly.

“I need to use the bathroom.” You croak out before shoving your plate in Coyote’s direction and making a beeline for the house. Faintly as you walk away, you hear Coyote throw a ‘what the hell did you do?’ at Cobra. But, you don’t care enough to stop or listen to the ways Cobra will spin this so he’s the victim. All you care about is getting away from these people to cry your eyes out and try your best to not make a scene at your husbands work party.

You don’t find the bathroom, instead you find a small secondary pantry in the back of the house to have a mini break down in. You slump against the wall and finally let all of the tears you can feel prickling at your dry eyes fall.

You feel like you’re being ripped in half. One half of you, the arguably more reasonable half, knows there is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone’s body is unique. Some bodies are small, some are big, they all change under different circumstances. Body size does not determine a persons worth. Nothing gives someone the right to comment on another persons body the way Cobra did yours. The only person who should feel ashamed here is him.

Yet the other half of you lets his words stick to your skin like glue until they seep through many, many layers of yourself, until you can feel them festering inside of you. Maybe you could be making better eating choices? Maybe you should be eating more fruit? You don’t know because this is your first pregnancy and its hard to be a mother! But, you’re trying your absolute best to figure it out. Shouldn’t that count for something?

You’re outright sobbing when you feel arms encase your body and pull you flush against a hard, warm chest. One hand cradles your head while the other rubs soothing circles against your back. One deep inhale of a spicy and sweet familiar scent is all you need to know who’s holding you - Jake.

“What’s going on?” He murmurs into your hair, voice laced with concern as he squeezes you tightly against him. He knows what’s going on, Coyote came and found him the minute Cobra told him what he had said to you. Despite Cobra trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, Coyote could see right through the bullshit.

Jake had two options; hit the fucker that thought it was okay to comment on his wife’s body or find his wife who he knew needed him in that moment. It was a no brainer (okay, he did consider hitting Cobra for a hot second), he had to find you.

“I-“ you try to explain it but, the words collide with a sob that’s already lodged in your throat.

“Take some deep breaths.” You feel him inhale a deep breath of his own, hold it, then release an equally long exhale. “Come on, baby.” He inhales another, prompting you to follow along.

The first few breaths you take are jagged and short, some leave you gasping for more air. But after continued encouragement from Jake, eventually your breathing returns to a somewhat rhythmic state. Your heart no longer feels like its jackhammering its way out of your ribcage, your thoughts about your body and being a good mother are no longer stirring up a storm in your mind. You feel calm there, in that pantry, wrapped up in your loving husbands embrace.

“There she is.” He smiles, soft and sweet, as you pull away from him just enough to see his face. He wipes away the lingering wetness of tears on your cheeks before leaving his hands there to cup them.

“I feel-“ you struggle again to find words to accuracy describe this feeling. You settle on motioning the shape of a balloon with your hands and take another shaky, deep breath.

“Whatever that snake said to you out there, it’s not even remotely close to the truth.” Jake tilts his head and rubs his thumbs gently across your skin.

“Isn’t it? I mean, I have put on some weight.”

“Because you’re pregnant, Y/N.”

“But, we’ve all seen those women who stay in such good shape when they’re pregnant like you can’t even tell they’re pregnant until the day before they pop that baby out! And all they drink is kale smoothies and their favorite midnight snack is baby carrots. They definitely do not eat chocolate cake!”

“Y/N,” Jake tilts your head up away from your belly to look him directly in the eye. “Everyone’s body is different. And I happen to think yours is amazing.” You scoff and try to look away but, he holds your eyes to his. “Whether you gain or lose weight, if you grow a foot or shrink a foot, I will always think your body is amazing. Not only because you’re growing our baby in there,” he places a hand on your lower stomach “but also because it’s yours. You are so beautiful.”

You melt into his touch and rest your forehead against his. You have no idea what you did to get so lucky in loving a man like this, one of the good ones. He kisses you slowly, letting every ounce of his love translate from his lips directly to yours.

You groan the second your lips break apart and slump into his hold. You feel his laugh vibrate against your chest as he holds you up.

‘What is it?”

“I can’t believe I let that dickhead talk me into not eating that cake. I bet it’s all gone by now.” You pout into his chest before he puts his hands on your forearms and pulls you off of him. You narrow your eyes at the way he’s smirking at you.

Wordlessly, he reaches behind you and by the time he’s fully back in your field of vision, he’s holding your plate with the same piece of cake on it from before. You gasp and smile, so bright and contagious and Hangman can’t believe he gets to witness something that gorgeous.

“Oh, I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you.” You squeal as you take the plate from his hands and don’t hesitate in sticking a forkful of cake into your mouth. You moan and let your eyes flutter shut at the gooey goodness of it. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it.” Jake chuckles as his thumb swipes away a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

“Uhhhh … I was talking to the cake.”

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman blurb

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

God Bless Texas

Pairing: cowboy!Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female!reader

Summary: Jake takes you back to Texas and things go south when a man tries to claim something that's not his. (Based on this request)

TW: fighting, mentions of blood, sexual tension

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This made me think of “Whoop a Mans Ass” by Trace Adkins lol also sploosh

You're standing in the middle of a dance floor in Texas trying to follow along next to Jake. He's insisted for months that you need to come home with him and get a real line dance experience after you dragged him to some bar back in San Diego that he called a disgrace. So, here you are laughing loudly and doing your best to keep up.

You're not very experienced but Jake is patient with you as you learn and he feels himself falling even more in love with you. You've seen many sides of your boyfriend in your time together, but watching Jake in his element at home is a whole new experience. Your eyes rake over his body, noticing the way his worn-in wranglers hug his thighs. He paired them with boots and a shiny belt buckle and you have half a mind to just pull him into the bathroom.

The song ends and the two of you step back to your table to rest for a few minutes. You watch him pop a toothpick in his mouth and get a wicked idea. Jake watches as you reach out and pluck the cowboy hat off his head, placing it on your own with a knowing smirk. Jake had given you a general rundown of southern etiquette, and first on the list was 'wear the hat, ride the cowboy'.

He knows exactly what you're up to and he's inclined to take the bait. You're standing in front of him in a pair of boots he bought you, cut-off shorts with a buckle that matches his and sporting his hat. It's like a scene pulled out of a wet dream and he thinks that his 16-year-old self would punch him in the dick for not hauling you over his shoulder right then and there.

He shakes his head with a bright smile and pulls you into him by your belt loop. He leans down and you expect him to kiss you but instead, he presses his mouth to your ear. "I'm going to the restroom. Grab us some refills, please?" He doesn't wait for your response, turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction.

You take a second to regain your composure before heading up to the bar. You're busy trying to yell your order over the blaring sound of "Boot Scootin Boogie" when you see a man come up next to you. He hands the bartender his card and tells her to put it on his tab.

Your eyebrow quirks up and you wonder how this guy will feel when he finds out he just paid for another man's drink. Especially a man whose girlfriend he's trying to flirt with. You turn to him slightly to say thank you before looking back straight ahead.

The man doesn't take the hint and leans in a little too close for your liking. "I just paid for your drink, little lady. Least you could do is give me a name." You finally look at him fully and give him a once-over with a bored expression. He's dressed the same as every other man in here with a cowboy hat and pearl snap shirt. He's handsome, but he's no Jake.

"Y/N." You say in a monotone voice. He tips his hat forward with a grin before testing out your name on his tongue. "Y/N. Pretty name for a pretty girl. I'm Hunter. Need a dance partner?" How this man can't read your body language is beyond you.

"No, I'm here with my boyfriend." You explain while trying to spot Jake in the crowd. Your gaze finally meets his and you smile, shifting your eyes towards the man slightly to signal that you need him. The man sees this and takes thinks your change in demeanor is directed at him. Big mistake.

He leans on the bar and cages you in, one of his hands coming down to rest on your hip. Your eyes widen slightly as your view is blocked by his body and you feel anxiety shoot through your chest. It's not that you can't defend yourself, you've gotten into your fair share of altercations. But the man took you by surprise and now has the advantage over you.

He licks his lips and drags his eyes down your body. You feel small and dirty under his lustful gaze. It's no secret that this man is undressing you in his mind and thinking of you in ways only meant for Jake. "I don't see him anywhere, sugar." You wrinkle your nose at the comment. Aren't guys in the south supposed to be gentlemen?

You're contemplating kneeing this asshole in the dick when you hear Jake's voice and relief washes over you. "Turn around then, pretty boy." You don't know much about the culture down here, but based on this guy's reaction, you're guessing that's worse than being called a swear word.

The man looks over his shoulder but doesn't move. Jake has a bright shit eating grin when Hunter makes eye contact. "See me now?" He asks with his arms crossed and shoulders back. Hunter laughs and glances back toward you. "You left her alone. Seems fair game to me." He says with a shrug.

You're still blocked between his arms and Jake's patience is wearing thin. "She's wearing my hat asshole. Besides, whether she's spoken for or not, if a lady tells you no, you listen. Didn't your folks teach you anything?" His tone is sharp and you can tell he's reaching the end of his rope. He can see your hand shaking with anxiety and gets even angrier.

The man's hand tightens on your hip at Jake's words and you wince. Jake's eyes shoot down to where the stranger is touching you and his eyes darken before darting back up. He takes a second to size the man up and weigh his chances of winning this fight. He decides his odds are pretty good and he takes a step toward the man's back.

"You have to the count of three to get your hand off my girl before I break it." He says a little too calmly. If there's one thing you've learned about Jake, it's that he runs his mouth because he has the hands to back it.

The man turns around and you take the opportunity to maneuver around him. Jake takes your hand and quickly pushes you back, using his body to shield yours.

Hunter stands to his full height and he's got a couple inches on Jake. Usually back home, if a man tried something he would back down as soon as he was challenged. Most of them didn't actually want a fight, and they knew better than to fuck with a man who so easily hurls threats as if it's second nature. Not to mention Jake almost always had a height and strength advantage.

Here though, the environment is completely different. It's rural Texas and most of the men know how to fight. Almost all of them grew up working on farms or ranches so Jake's physique from the Navy isn't special.

The man smirks at Jake and for the first time, you worry he might have met his match. It wouldn't normally concern you seeing as Jake would have backup, but here he's alone and you don't know if this asshole has any friends lurking nearby.

The man looks at you once more and what leaves his mouth next leaves you wanting a shower. "How about I kick your ass and then she can wear my hat instead." His stare reminds you of a predator stalking its prey and you shrink into yourself. Jake's body tenses at the implication and before you can process what's happening, you watch his fist connect with the man's cheek.

You jump back knowing damn well you don't want to be within range of either one of them. Hunter stumbles back a bit and turns his head to look at your boyfriend with a mocking smile. "That all you got?" He taunts and swings at Jake. He socks your boyfriend in the eye and your hands fly up over your mouth.

There's a crowd forming now and you watch in horror as the two of them start an all-out fistfight. Jake is holding his own pretty well but he's taken a few hits and has blood running down his cheek and a split lip.

They've knocked over a few barstools and are now on the ground. Hunter is on top of Jake but each of his attempts are blocked. It takes Jake a second to regain control but when he does he lands a devastating blow that causes the man to lose his footing and fall on his back. He lays there groaning and you thank god it seems to be over.

Jake spits down at the man and he turns to face you. For the first time since all this started, you're able to get a good look at both men. Hunter is still on the ground and he has blood flowing freely from his nose and eyebrow. You examine Jake's face next and while he took a beating, the other guy is definitely worse off.

You see he's still bleeding and there are already bruises forming. He has a busted blood vessel in his eye and the area is already dark and swollen. You shake your head as you think about how the hell he's going to explain all of this when he reports to duty in a few days.

You see movement over Jake's shoulder and grab his hand as you watch security making its way over. The two of you leave quickly and you stick your hand out for the keys. He gives you a skeptical look and you scoff. "You need to try and stop the bleeding, Jake. You shouldn't be driving."

He sighs softly but nods his head and hands them over. The ride back is quiet aside from the sound of the AC blowing and country music playing softly over the radio. Jake has found some napkins in the glove box and has them pressed to his cheek but it doesn't do much to help.

Once you're back, the two of you swiftly head up to your room while trying to keep your heads down. You see people staring out of the corner of your eye and speed up with Jake hot on your tail. You manage to make it to the suite and you pull Jake into the bathroom.

You point at the toilet with a firm expression. "Sit." You demand and Jake obliges, waiting silently for your next move. You grab a first aid kit that you always travel with and almost laugh.

Jake always makes fun of you for it, saying you're too over-prepared. You've always told him there's no such thing. The whole thing seems funny now, and you don't think you'll ever let him live it down since he just proved you right.

Once you've gathered everything you need, you walk over to him and he looks up at you with adoration. Your face softens and you sigh quietly. "This is going to sting." You tell him while pouring some alcohol on a rag.

He wraps his hands around the back of your thighs and pulls you forward so that you're standing between his legs while he stares up at you. "Do what you need to darlin'." His accent is so thick down here and you can't help but smile at the sound.

You don't respond, choosing instead to get straight to work. You press the cloth to his cheek first and he doesn't even flinch. Your eyebrow quirks at his lack of reaction and your stomach does a flip. Something about a man getting into a fight and then being able to handle the pain while you take care of him apparently does it for you.

You turn to grab some gauze and Jake speaks up. "I'm sorry. Not for fighting but for ruining your first night out. It was supposed to be fun." You glance over at him before turning back to the box in front of you.

"You didn't ruin it. You protected me and took a beating for me. Besides, I'd say this is pretty fun." You tease with a sly grin and Jake leans forward to kiss your hip in response.

Once you've cleaned his cheek and stopped the bleeding the best you can, you move on to his lip. The bleeding there has slowed down significantly and all you have to do is wipe over it to disinfect the cut.

You grab another clean rag and wet it, wiping as much dried blood off his face and neck as you can. It's dripped down onto his shirt and chest and you stare at the sight for a few seconds, darting your tongue out to wet your lips. What does it say about you that you find a bruised and bloody man sexy? You don't ponder on it for long, opting to look back at Jake's face.

He has a smug grin and twinkle in his eyes after catching you staring at him but doesn't say anything. You shake your head to try and clear it before stepping back. "Get in the shower and clean up. I'm going to get some ice for your eye. It's already a pretty nasty shiner so we need to do as much damage control as possible."

He nods his head dutifully and salutes. "Yes ma'am." He says seriously but he can't fight the smile breaking out on his face. You give him a pointed look and turn on your heel to find the ice bucket. You hear Jake step into the shower just as you walk out the door to get ice and when you get back, the water is still running.

You grab a fresh set of sleep clothes and step back into the steam-filled room to leave them on the counter for him. You falter when you see him through the glass shower.

His head is back with his eyes closed as water pours over his face and down the front of his body. He has a few bruises on his stomach and ribs and your heart twinges. You didn't realize he was this banged up.

Jake must have sensed your presence because he steps out from under the stream and pushes his hair back off his forehead while turning to you. You watch him lick his lips and your legs almost give out.

His eyes rake down your figure and you realize you're still wearing your clothes from the bar, including his hat. He brings his gaze back up to meet yours and cocks his head slightly to the side. "Join me?" He asks and you hesitate.

You know his body has to be hurting in more ways than one and you don't want to make it worse. You lose your resolve when you see Jake run a bar of soap down his abs. You take his hat off carefully and step forward, throwing your shirt to the ground in the process. Fuck it. You see Jake's smile widen and you swear this man is going to kill you. God bless Texas.

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greenorangevioletgrass · 2 years

Text

it's classified | b.r.b. (2/2)

<<<read part 1 here>>>

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: what was supposed to be a simple one-night stand during the training for your upcoming movie turns into an epic strangers-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-lovers adventure… 10,000 feet in the air.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: language, more behind-the-scenes nerdiness, mention of menstrual cramps, La La Land reference lol, mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff, smut [dirty talk, oral (f), fingering, overstimulation, protected sex], rooster is secretly a softboi, reader is so stubborn skjdhfksjdhf

notes: here we are, part 2! they're my new precious baby can't you tell? please join me in this dumpster fire. reblog, send me asks, talk to me bc a bitch is horny, okay???? happy reading!

✨ i do not have a taglist. follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

***

iv. Jimi Hendrix — Purple Haze / John Mayer — Do You Know Me

The first couple of weeks are rough. The flight training is hell —even when the G-Force doesn’t feel as bad and you start to enjoy the view of the mountains and the sea and everything else in between, you’re still locked in the box with Rooster. Day in, day out.

The only reprieve in this pre-production is the filmmaking workshop. Not only will you be flying in the actual jet, but you will also have to handle all the technical aspects while you’re in the air. Sound and makeup and props and cinematography… everything that has to do with filmmaking —and nothing with Rooster. At least on those days, you get a break from his insufferable mug.

“Morning.” The man in question walks into the classroom in his khakis, fitted to his form, taking the empty seat right in front of you.

“Um, what are you doing here?” You lean forward over your desk, whispering quietly. Careful not to raise any attention.

He turns around, resting his elbow on your desk, and answers quite matter-of-factly, “They asked us to come in. Something about making sure everyone’s on the same page to get the lighting and the framing and the… everything right.”

Like clockwork, the door opens again, and this time Lieutenants Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin stroll in, deep in conversation with the movie’s leading man John Cho. They take the front row seats, greeting the class with a brief nod.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “That’s… great. Welcome to filmmaking.”

“Happy to be here.” To everyone, it sounds like ordinary passing niceties. But you know better. You hear the hint of sarcasm in his voice. The pettiness of making your day absolute dogshit with his presence.

The two of you exchange a tight, wry smile as Scott, the first AD, opens up the session. There’s no snarky remark, no quippy comebacks. Not when anyone else is around —or the comm lines are open. Neither of you would risk being less than professional in the workplace. No matter how much you detest each other. No matter if your effort to deter each other from this project only seems to only bring you closer together.

As the old saying goes, you make plans and Kevin laughs and assigns Rooster as your designated pilot.

Which is why you’re now strapped into the cockpit with four cameras in your face, a makeup pouch hidden in your flight suit, and a notebook scribbled with cheat sheets of instructions and technical notes. Hovering above the California mountains, 1,000 feet in the air.

“So what’s our plan here, Houdini?” Rooster says over the comms.

He damn well knows what the plan is. Whether he asks to test you or let you take the wheel as ‘in-flight director’, you have no idea. “I need the sun on my 2 o’clock. When I call ‘action’, we’re gonna head north and floor it while I say my line, and then we do a hammerhead.”

“Up or down?”

So he was testing you. “If we go down, we’ll crash,” you say it like it’s obvious —because it is. But you confirm anyway, “Hammerhead up, Rooster.”

He chuckles. “Copy that. Ready when you are.”

Today, of all days, you’re not gonna let Rooster rain on your parade. You stare at the panel before you, giddy as you press the mic button, “Sound speed…”you announce with a clap to mark the track. “Camera rolling…” you straighten in your seat a little. “Let’s go. First take of the shoot. Scene 49, shot 13, take 1. And…” You take a deep breath, and hear Rooster doing the same. Inhale… exhale…

“Action!”

You’ve played characters which transformed your appearance and mannerisms in small, intense dramas set in Butt Fuck Midwest. You’ve acted opposite tennis balls and green screens in those movies with more money than sense. You’ve been through the wringer. But never in your life would you have imagined playing a pilot on the back of an actual, accelerating F-18 over real terrain.

And everything else falls away. There’s just you and the sky and the story.

No more airsickness. No more nerves. No more games with Rooster.

Even he seems to understand that. Since that day, he’s gotten off of your back a little bit when you’re in the air. Things aren’t in great terms, by any means, but at least there’s no backhanded remarks. None of the usual unease. The two of you just stayed in your own lanes.

“We got you, Trickshot. I got the bandit on my sight. Locking target…” your voice is calm, even at top speed. “Oh, shit, shit, shit!” The aircraft does an aileron roll, maneuvering a full 360-degree. You let the cameras roll for a moment, taking off your mask as you breathe a sigh of relief as the jet goes upright again.

“Nice,” you hear Rooster say under his breath as soon as you call ‘cut.’

“What?”

“Nothing.” There’s a slight pause, and you can imagine the side-eye he always does. “Reset?”

“Yeah. Let’s… do it again.”

The butterflies in your stomach are pleasant, and you’re sure it’s the adrenaline from pulling sustained G’s on low terrain. Not so much from things… easing up between you and Rooster.

Never from Rooster.

But things do ease up. You’re not quite friends, and at this point you’re not expecting to be, but things dissipate into a more… civil acquaintance. A working professional relationship. The kind where you give each other opinions about the work.

“I like the previous one better,” he casually comments during a quiet lull one day.

You’re in the middle of adjusting your helmet for continuity, and you stop dead in your tracks. “You were paying attention?”

“‘Course. I had to.”

You’re not sure which one is more surprising; that he’s listening in on all the takes you’ve done, or that he’s right. Come to think of it, it’s probably the first time you’ve actually agreed on something. And it’s… not too shabby.

Not too shabby at all.

But of course, not every day is a good day. Some days, like today, you’re filming an intense dogfighting scene while having the most excruciating period cramps. You’ve taken some ibuprofen earlier, but either it has worn off or the cramps multiply with the G-Force, but it doesn’t seem to be working —if any, you seem to be in even more pain.

“So, from the top?”

If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve pointed out how he’s using performance lingo now. “Yeah, yeah. Give me a sec.” A deep breath as you brace yourself. And another. “Alright, let me just set it up real quick —” a squeezing pain shoots up your spine and you let out a strangled grunt.

“All good back there?”

“Mm-hm. Just… just cramps is all.”

“Stretch your legs. Try wiggling your toes.”

You chuckle ruefully. “It’s not that kind of cramps.”

“What —oh. Oh. Shit. Um… Do we —do we need medic? Do we need to land?”

“What, and leave your boy Hangman hanging?” you chuckle wryly, throwing a two-finger salute at the pilot in the jet hovering next to yours. Behind you is Kevin in the Cinejet, ready to shoot the dogfight sequence from a bird’s eye view. There’s no way in hell you’re tapping out now. “Nah, it’s cool. Let’s do it again.”

“Right…” the hesitation is palpable in his response, but he goes along anyway. “But you head over to the infirmary when we’re done, okay?”

You almost forget how caring he can be, even amidst the chaos and the simmering animosity. He doesn’t pull back on the aerobatics, although he’s a lot steadier in between takes—even more so than usual. He follows up on that promise as soon as you hop out, and tightly offers to help you. You wave him off, saying it’s fine I’m fine, gritting your teeth as the muscles inside you contract painfully. He notices, undoubtedly, but he gives you space and lets you walk yourself to the med bay. It’s… sweet.

What you don’t expect is seeing him in the basecamp hangar just an hour later. Sitting in a quiet corner, out of the crew’s way —a bottle of water in one hand and his phone in the other. Hair mussed up from the helmet, a furrow between his eyebrows as he focuses on his screen.

You’re on the way to the video village, but you can’t help making a beeline towards him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to fly John out.”

“I let Fanboy take the wheel,” he looks up at you and immediately scoots over, and you try not to think about the row of empty seats around him. It’s only polite to take the seat he’s inadvertently offering you. “It’s not everyday he gets to fly Hikaru Sulu himself.”

“Oh, that’s right. He’s a Star Trek fan.” You fondly recall the unmistakable font on the pilot’s helmet.

He nods. “You, uh, you good?”

“Better now.” You lean back against the chair, and tilt your head to the side like you’re letting him in on a secret. “I don’t know if you’ve ever pulled 7 G’s while you’re bleeding from your core and your insides are tearing itself apart, but that’s… an experience.”

You swear you hear him smile a little. “I don’t think I have. But you held up really well.”

“Thank you,” as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you realize it’s not just for his compliment. Or for caring.

For everything.

“Nah, it’s cool.” He seems to get it, if the pensive looks on his face was any indication.

“I know things weren’t always easy between us. We got off on the wrong foot —”

“Oh, I think we got off on the right foot,” he corrects you, somewhat amused, “until you stepped on it, steel-toed boots and all, broke the bones.”

You see the mischievous glint in his hazel eyes—the one that goes along with his corny one-liners— and you laugh. “Come on, will you let me have my moment here? Shit.”

He laughs with you, quiet but warm. It’s probably the first time you shared anything more than a gruff hmph in months, and it feels… nice.

“Okay, okay. You were saying?”

You turn to look at him —really look— and suddenly you’re overcome with the need to hold his hand. You don’t, of course, but you settle for the next best thing. “It’s just… I’m glad that we work well together. Despite everything.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, it’s…” he brushes it off. “I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before either, and it wouldn’t have been the same without you.” His eyes find yours, and you question, is he still talking about flying? “You’re really good up there —I mean, I wouldn’t know shit about acting or directing, but you’re… tough. And efficient.”

It’s a funny compliment, but you take it. It puts you at ease, knowing that neither of you has a good enough grasp of the situation to act cool. “Thanks, Roo-Roo.”

He scrunches his nose, but his smile is palpable. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay,” you chuckle.

“I’m serious, Houdini. It’s bad for my rep.”

“Sure it is.”

There’s no edge to his warning, just as there’s no stiffness in your answer. It’s a light, familiar banter that the two of you so easily fall back into. For a second, you wonder how you’ve gone this long without it. It’s one of the best things about him. This light, affable air around him, whether you’re tumbling in his sheets or flying in his jet.

(Never the former. Not anymore.)

A jet taxis back into the tarmac, fresh from a flight, and the two of you watch John and Fanboy hop out of the plane, talking animatedly as they walk back into the hangar. It warms your heart to see that, knowing full well the buzz, the adrenaline of a flight well done yourself.

“You were right, by the way.” you nudge Rooster’s knee with yours.

“Hm?” He makes no effort to move his leg, and for a nice, quiet moment, you’re just sitting knee-to-knee. Comfortable. As intimate as it can be.

And with the orange sky sprawling outside, you’re ready to admit it,

“It is so much more than clouds and oceans from a tiny window.”

***

v. Melt — Stupid in Love / Taylor Swift — Cornelia Street

Rooster is a friend.

He works well with you at rehearsals in the wooden aircraft mockup, clear as precise as he is on the field. In the air, he stays in his lane —although his dry, off-the-cuff remarks are always a nice addition to your flights.

And in between all of that, you learn new things about him everyday; where his callsign came from, why he thinks tea is just brown garbage water, how he likes musicals and old romcoms —a fact he’s embarrassed about, until you unabashedly admit that you like the same thing.

If that revelation turns into a movie night at your place, and said movie night becomes a regular thing, you try not to think about it too much. In fact, you try your damnedest not to think about it at all. Rooster is a friend, and friends hang out and watch movies together… right? The fluttery feeling in your stomach is completely baseless.

Completely without any valid reason.

“I still think his character is an insufferable fuckhead who takes jazz too seriously,” Rooster turns up his nose, looking at Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone on your TV screen, “But when they started floating and dancing and shit… ugh!”

“I still can’t believe you’re a sucker for this kind of movie,” you shake your head at him with an amused grin.

“Look. With everything that goes down everyday at work, I need something light, low-stake, and as far from my job as possible. And seeing people dance among the stars and all that… it’s like a massage for my brain,” he hums in satisfaction, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What about you?”

“Hm? What about me?”

“You do movies, you’re watching a movie. Doesn’t this still feel like work to you?”

“Well, yes and no. There are times where I watch movies to study, but I also like doing it just for kicks, you know?” you answer thoughtfully. “Besides, I’ve gone through all the stages of grief with La La Land.”

“Why?”

You take your time to craft your next words delicately, without sounding like a pathetic humblebrag. “The, uh… director wrote it with me in mind.”

“What?!”

“Yeah…” you wince. “Damien approached me before he even had a script. We workshopped drafts after drafts after drafts… and then the studio decided I wasn’t a big enough name to sell the movie, so.” You shrug lightly. It’s not so much the memory that makes your heart twist, but rather the quiet look of guilt washing over him. It was his choice of movie, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have —you know.”

“Nah, it’s cool. The movie turned out great. And I turned out fine. I mean, look at me, I’m in Top Gun, for fuck’s sake.”

He puts his arm around your shoulders comfortingly, although you feel your pulse picking up from the contact. “And you’re killing it.”

“Thanks, Roo.” You allow yourself to lean on his shoulder. The smell of sunscreen and aftershave is faint this time, but it’s still the same embrace. Same warmth.

Same man.

The featherlight patterns he draws on your bare arm feels so loud in the silence. You can almost see the buzzing heat emanating from your skin. Time slows down, and opportunity presents itself the more you try to repress it. And at this point, you’re not sure you have any strength left to fight it.

Instead, you bury your face deeper into him, pressing kisses along the broad plane of his shoulder. Up his neck. Along his jaw. Chaste. Tender. You half-expect him to pounce on you —to take the reins on this drawn-out affair— but he… doesn’t. He just melts into you. Letting you close the distance to his lips.

It feels like a fever dream. Your body moves on its own accord —deepening the kiss, straddling his lap, touching him everywhere— but your mind… There’s so many thoughts, one conflicting with the other, that you don’t even know where to start.

“God, I want you so bad…” he mutters under his breath, mouthing your breasts over your clothes.

And honestly, why would you deal with the chaos in your head when you can enjoy this?

Roo hikes up your shirt, his rough callused hands gentle against your skin as he tugs it over your head. He unclasps your bra with one hand, mouth hot against your soft flesh and diamond-hard nipples. It’s easy —too fucking easy to fall into this… routine, if you could even call it that. You’ve only been here twice, but he touches you like he knows you.

“Can I taste you?“ Bradley quietly whispers, and you realize, this is the only thing he hasn’t done. “Please?” He tugs at your lower lip with his teeth, teasing. Pleading. “Been thinking about it for ages…”

Jesus. This man is gonna be the death of you.

His tongue slips into your mouth again, filthy and messy and you’d laugh at how much this screams ‘cheesy 80s romance’ if you hadn’t forgotten how words work. “Well?”

You look at him like it’s obvious—because it is.

“Need you to say it.” There’s a smirk in his sing-songy voice.

“Roo…” You blink heavily at him. “Eat my fucking pussy, please.”

His hands are on your waist and the next thing you know, you softly land on your back on the couch. He finds the waistband of your shorts and pulls everything down in one go, yanking them off and throwing it over his shoulder. His mustache tickles you as he kisses your ankle, along your calf, the inside of your knee. Teeth grazing as he makes his way up your inner thighs. Tongue licking up the dripping arousal on your cunt. And just like that, he renders you speechless.

Scratch that. He renders you entranced.

There’s something so sinful about the way he eats you out. You really shouldn’t be surprised —you know he’s a good fuck— and yet here you are. Clutching the back of his head, fingers tangled in his sun-kissed hair, hips chasing —dancing with his tongue as he drinks you in, from your opening to your clit.

The words are lost. There’s just hot breath and the strongest desire to taste him on your lips. And as his hand plays with your tits, you grab him by the wrist, taking it up to your mouth. Kissing his knuckles.

Sucking his finger.

“Holy fuck…” he moans into your pussy, and you swear you nearly come on the spot.

But he takes his hand away, gently, heavily, and brings it down to where he’s ruining you. All wet and ready, his fingers slip inside you, coaxing pleasure with every curling motion. From there, it’s a losing game for you. Then again, if making you come is victory, being struck with aftershocks of overstimulation is not a bad consolation prize. Not at all.

“Fuck. Please…”

“Please what? Please stop?” He kisses your cheek, slowing down the torture of his hand but not quite stopping. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the coy smirk in his voice. “Or keep going?”

Fuck him, you think to yourself. But instead, what comes out of your mouth is a plea. “Fuck me, Roo…”

Your eyes meet in a fleeting moment of wanting, and for a moment, the two of you move in a frenzy of lascivious kisses and hands groping and discarding whatever articles of clothing he has left. You unbutton his jeans, taking in his strained groan when you palm his hard-on through the offending material, when he suddenly stops.

“Wait. Shit, I don’t have a —”

“I do,” you quickly cut off. Then, pulling him up to his feet, you lead him down the hallway, “Bedroom.”

“Show me the way, honey.”

Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity, or maybe it’s what he called you, but something sobers you up. Not completely, but just enough that the nagging voice in the back of your head starts sounding off.

He seizes you from behind when you get to the foot of the bed, turning you around and kissing you. “Hi,” Roo smiles into your lips. It would’ve given you sweet butterflies, if your stomach wasn’t already twisting all of a sudden.

“Where is it?” he asks, and it takes you a second to remember what he was referring to.

“Um. Top drawer on the left.”

You’re sure he’s taking off his pants, finding the condom and putting it on in record time. But even then, it’s plenty of time for your mind to spiral. What does this mean? Are we gonna go through that awkward phase again? What are we?

He pulls you into his lap, and you hardly notice him settling on the side of the bed. His cock is lined up at your entrance and his lust-blown eyes gazing up at you. “Ready?”

Ready for what?

You barely sink down on his cock, when the words somehow just come out. The words that you didn’t even know were in the back of your mind. “We should wait.”

“What?” His voice is airy, like he’s not entirely here with you, but it’s immediate —as is the way he stops moving into you.

“We should wait before we decide if we really wanna do this.”

“As in fucking?” he looks at you, hazy. Confused.

“As in… whatever arrangement we’re getting ourselves into here!”

“Oh.” He pauses, thoughtful. And then, “Okay.”

“Okay?” you echo. It can’t be that easy, right?

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not just saying that because you wanna fuck?”

“No. I mean, I do, but…” he swallows heavily, “I like you. A lot. But… Jesus, can we not do it while I’m halfway inside you? It’s really hard to focus.”

A chuckle escapes you as he drops his forehead onto the crook of your neck. Your hand caresses the back of his neck gently. “Okay, okay, okay.”

But he lifts his head again —concern written all over his face as he asks you tentatively, “Unless you don’t wanna do this?”

“No, I do. I do.” And you mean it. His length stretches your inner walls and flexes inside you so invitingly. But the more you try to brush it off, the more persistent it stays in the forefront of your thought.

He lifts you just enough to pull himself out, and then he sits you back down again on his lap. Hands secure around your waist. “Talk to me, Houdini.”

There’s no perfect time to have this conversation. But that night, sitting naked in your bed, joined together but not quite, is probably as good as it gets. You take a heavy breath to brace yourself before you ask the ultimate question.

“What do you want out of this?”

He smiles simply, and it terrifies you that there’s hardly any hesitation in his answer. “I just want you. In every way I can get. I don’t think you ever knew that.”

And the fucked up thing is, you do. You would never admit it —not even to yourself— but part of you always knew. It’s just easier not to acknowledge it, considering everything at stake.

“This is too important to me. Relationships are complicated and messy and… what if we fuck up along the way? We’re just gonna get stuck in the cockpit in shitty silence for the rest of the shoot? We have six months left, Roo. I can’t—we can’t. We shouldn't.”

“Okay.” If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He simply remains thoughtful, careful. “But don’t you think sex will make things complicated and messy, too?”

“Possibly. But at this point, I don’t think I can stay away from you anymore,” you quietly admit. Then, as soon as it comes out of your mouth, it hits you. “Bleargh, that’s so corny.”

“It rolls off the tongue really nicely, though, right?”

“Yeah, it really does.”

You share a quiet chuckle together, a small moment of reprieve amidst the tension. It’s nice to know that, even stripped down in all senses of the word, things haven’t changed that much. You’re still… you.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

You straighten up, switching back to serious mode. “If we fuck, we fuck. But that’s it. This is not a relationship. We’ll decide if we still want that by the time we’re done filming, or if we wanna just…” you make a motion of parting ways. “But we wait until the end of the shoot, you hear me?”

“Okay.”

It’s too easy, and as honest as he seems, you almost don’t want to trust it. “Promise me. Not a moment sooner.” You cup his face, so he’ll look you in the eye and give it to you straight. “Roo-Roo.”

But then his eyes pierce through you, so sweet and tender, and you hope to God he’ll keep his words because you sure will. “You need to stop calling me that.” he gently, harmlessly chides you. “But yes,” he sighs, tucking your hair behind your ear and leaning into your lips,

“I promise.”

***

vi. Zoo Culture — Sundress

It’s been three years in the making, with COVID delaying the release multiple times, but you’re finally sitting alongside your co-stars in front of the live audience of Graham Norton, promoting the movie before the London premiere tonight.

“So Y/N, we’ve talked about pushing the boundaries of cinema and the insane stunts you did in this movie —but that’s not all. Your husband is actually the real pilot flying your plane in those aerial sequences.”

“Well, he wasn’t my husband yet at the time. But yeah, that’s how we met.” Your eyes flicker towards the audience, knowing the person in question is sitting in the back row.

Graham gapes at you. “That’s amazing.”

“Love was literally in the air,” your co-star Jordan Fisher comments, earning a laugh from the studio audience.

“So, how did it happen? Did you guys just cozy it up in the jet or what?”

“There’s no room to cozy up in the jet.” You chuckle. “I mean, we spent about a year, training and rehearsing the sequences on the ground and filming the actual thing, so we’d gotten to know each other a bit.” It’s a gross understatement, but a necessary paraphrase. “But on my last day, we were in the air and —I just finished my very last take— and right after I turned off my camera and mic, he said through the comms,” you put your hand over your mouth, mimicking the static over your best Rooster impression. “‘Hey Houdini. How ‘bout I take you out for dinner when we get back on the ground?’”

“And what did you say?”

“‘You smooth motherfucker!’”

The whole studio erupts into laughter and applause. That line is true, and Roo still rolls his eyes playfully whenever you reach this part of the story.

“That is a Hollywood romance plot right there,” Graham gushes excitedly.

“Listen, he’s seen me puke my guts out, pull myself together, and then go back to pretending to do his job for a living. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” you say matter-of-factly, “He was like, ‘Yep, she’s the one.’”

Graham turns to your co-stars Jordan and John Cho. “And did you guys know about this? Did you see sparks flying?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure,” Jordan replies without missing a beat. “I don’t know if they knew what was going on at that point, but we knew it was gonna be a thing,” he says, as John nods vigorously in agreement.

“That’s not entirely true,” Roo casually comments as he turns off the TV, striding into the ensuite hotel bathroom.

“What?” You look up and meet his gaze through the mirror, as you take off all your jewelries —the earrings, the bracelets, everything save for the

He strides closer to you, bow tie undone, sans blazer, helping you take off the many necklaces you’re wearing. God, he looks good. “What you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?”

“You never threw up in the cockpit, ever. And we weren’t technically just friends when I asked you out that day,” he points out. “I distinctly remember you calling it a ‘situationship’ back then.”

It makes you smile and turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck while he holds you by the waist. “Let the public have those funny anecdotes.” Toying with the soft strands on the back of his head, “The real version, our version, is… classified.”

He pulls a face. “Bleargh. Who taught you to be so corny?”

You scoff, swatting his chest for ruining the moment. “You did, asshole!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Rooster giggles, kissing your face all over. “No take-backs now. You’ve told the world that I’m your guy. You’re stuck with me forever.”

He may put on a smug grin as much as you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance, but you both know two things: that you are stuck with each other forever, and that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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