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senawashere · 2 months

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You're still the one..

A/n: This song is so Jake Seresin. And also i realised i messed the time's and date's so be aware of it🫣 This is for @ohtobeleah 's Galentines day!!

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy and giving birth and mostly fluff (minors please still dont interact)

Word count:3,8 K

February 17 2024. 01.34 am

Jake Seresin never thought he would settle.

Jake Seresin never thought he would come home to freshly baked dinner almost every night.

Jake Seresin never thought he would come home from deployment with pure joy.

Jake Seresin never thought he would be a dad.

Jake Seresin also never thought he would be a husband. A great one.

But here he was being the best of him for his family.

One night, with his wife peacefully laying beside him and their two beautiful babies sleeping soundly in their shared room,Jake Seresin couldn't help but reflect on how the story of their love had begun.

As he lay there, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminated the room, casting a gentle aura over the scene. The hushed sounds of nighttime surrounded them, creating a tranquil atmosphere that contrasted with the high-octane tales of Jake’s daring adventures.

His mind drifted back to the Hard Deck, where the neon lights and pulsating beats had set the stage for their first meeting. Jake couldn't shake the memory of that night – the electric connection, the shared laughter, and the undeniable chemistry that had sparked between them. Little did he know that the chance encounter in the bar would evolve into a love story that now filled their shared space with warmth and joy.

August 18 2018:

The Hard Deck pulsed with the kind of energy that seemed to defy gravity, much like the Jake Seresin himself. Bright lights painted the room in vivid hues, casting an electric but also soft glow over the animated crowd. You, just another face in the buzzing sea of people, found solace in the dimly lit corner of the bar.

And then, he swaggered in, a living legend in khaki uniform and aviator sunglasses Jake Seresin, the talk of the town. His sandy blond,sleek hair and the unmistakable cocky grin made your heart flutter unexpectedly. As if guided by some unseen force, he ended up at the bar right beside you.

The air crackled with unspoken tension, a silent dialogue of glances exchanged beneath the pulsating beats. Penny must have noticed the incident because she leaned over to your ear and whispered encouragingly for you to break the ice.

"Fly any cool jets lately?" you asked, your attempt at nonchalance betrayed by the slight quiver in your voice,it wasn't expected.

He shot you a smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and the conversation took off like a supersonic jet. Jake's tales of high-flying adventures and near misses filled the air, weaving a spell that drew you into his orbit. The chaotic sounds of the bar faded away as you found yourself captivated by his world.

“Do you think they are having fun?” Phoenix asked Rooster while sipping her beer.

“Nah,i guess not”

But your and his laughter became the soundtrack of the night, shared stories creating a bridge between two strangers who felt strangely connected.

The Hard Deck, with its bright ambiance and heady atmosphere, became the backdrop to a love story written in stolen glances and genuine smiles.

In the heartbeat of that night, you realized that Jake Seresin was not just a daring pilot but a soul with whom you shared an undeniable connection. The clinking of glasses and the distant hum of conversations faded into the background, leaving only the vibrant chemistry that sparked between you and the real-life Hangman, as the Hard Deck transformed into the unexpected stage for the beginning of something extraordinary.

And both of you were grateful for Hard Deck and Penny that night.

October 10 2019:

Life with Jake was fun.

Life with Jake was an exhilarating journey, an adventure marked by laughter, spontaneity, and a touch of unpredictability. From the moment he entered your world, it was as if a burst of vibrant energy had been injected into the everyday routine, transforming the mundane into a thrilling escapade.

His infectious zest for life was like a magnetic force, pulling you into a whirlwind of excitement. Every day was an opportunity for new experiences, whether it was exploring uncharted places or simply finding joy in the ordinary. Jake's playful spirit infused even the simplest moments with a sense of fun and wonder.

Together, you navigated the ups and downs with a shared sense of humor that made challenges feel more like temporary detours than roadblocks. Life with Jake was a rollercoaster of laughter, a soundtrack of inside jokes and spontaneous adventures that left a trail of fond memories.

What made it even more special was Jake's ability to find joy in the little things. Whether it was a spontaneous road trip, a homemade dinner, or just a quiet evening at home, he had a knack for turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.

It was in those everyday moments that you discovered the true meaning of happiness – the joy of simply being with someone who knew how to make every moment count.

Life with Jake wasn't just fun; it was a celebration of love, friendship, and shared experiences. He taught you that life's journey is not just about reaching a destination but about savoring the joy of the ride. With Jake by your side, every day was an opportunity to embrace the thrill of the unknown, and you wouldn't have had it any other way.

Especially after little over a year, Jake knelt on one knee one morning as both of you were preparing breakfast. As you turned around in your seat to grab the toast, you saw him on just one knee, holding a blue velvet box, delicately opening it to reveal a slim, gold ring with a dainty not so big diamond in the center – a thoughtful choice you knew he had made, understanding how he moved in minimalist jewelry.

"I had a speech, and - aside from the fact that I have a lot of things to say about you but, I don't remember anything else now and more than that but look I'm madly in love with you. And ı can't think of a day where ı open my eyes and not see you or going to bed without you being the last person ı talk to and I just - Screw it, Y/N, I can't imagine a life without you in it, and just - marry me, please?"

His eyes were already shining before taking a deep breath, his lips trembling as he bitten his lower lip, his lips already pink, and there he was proposing in his black fitted shirt and in his red gingham pajama bottom.

You screamed, placing your hands over your heart, shaking your head as you cried, "Yes! Yes, oh my God, yes, hundred times yes!" Before you could even stand up, you found yourself throwing yourself to the floor, where he hugged you tightly.

Also, you remember that celebrating only with close friends and family in your home was very humble.

You didn't know too many people and you two didn't want a huge ceremony. So the backyard was the cutest place to get married.

As your bridesmaids Phoenix, Halo, and Penny took responsibility for decorating the backyard of your shared home with all the decors, illuminating the trees and walls.

The moment Jake saw you in the simple white wedding dress, it became a moment etched forever in everyone's mind who was present.

He was crouched, pulling you inside for a hug before closing his open mouth in disbelief; you were also laughing shyly as you pulled him to yourself.

He wore a white suit, with pink embroidered flowers on the sides resembling the headpiece you wore.

Polaroids were taken, all the photos were captured on film, making everything about the night,everyone was having the time of their lives.

Whole dagger squad was there and they were the life and the soul of the party.

Jake’s sisters,his family and your siblings and family were there.

Even admiral Beau came. Maverick brought him; he also brought Ice.

The night was more fun, more enchanting and more emotional than anyone expected.

“They said, "I bet they'll never make it"

But just look at us holding on

We're still together, still going strong..”

January 30 2020:

Three years ago, on January 30, you remember telling Jake that you were pregnant. Technically, you screamed it out.

Both of you decided to attend Shania Twain’s show at Madison Square Garden, given your shared admiration for her.

He just came from a 4 week deployment and you knew he needed a break, especially during tense times.

So you planned a trip to New York because he loved there but honestly who doesn't love New York?

But something happened almost before 5 days before the trip.

You got sick. It all started with a lack of appetite, and then suddenly, you felt like eating everything and anything. You blamed hormones until morning sickness kicked in.

If there was one thing you absolutely hated, it was nausea. You remember waking up shaking and retching, your body still feeling the need to rush to the toilet despite not having eaten anything that morning.

For the first three days of these incidents, you were alone. Jake was about to return from the deployment.

Not wanting to disturb him and worry him, you didn't tell him anything.

Whenever he asked why you looked unwell, you simply told him it was just nausea and nothing serious.

One day after Jake went out with Bradley, you remember calling your best friend,Phoenix, asking her to bring you a pregnancy test, choosing to avoid any tabloid talk.

Your heart was pounding, legs bouncing,palms sweaty, and nausea had already begun when you followed the instructions, waiting anxiously.

And then it happened; a scream of disbelief, one hand covering your mouth while the other tightly held the test - you were pregnant.

You remember Jake loving many things, many people, and many abstract ideas like love. You knew he loved babies and kids, often talking about them with you, mentioning seeing you both building a family.

So, after visiting the obstetrician and learning you were five weeks pregnant, you were dazed and excited to tell Jake but decided to do it in a different setting.

Four days after your visit, you and Jake were at Madison Square Garden singing along with Shania Twain.

You stood in front of Jake, leaning your back against him, his arms wrapped around your waist, your hands holding onto his arms, both of you swaying to “You’re still the one’ " while his chin rested on your shoulder.

When you moved slightly to look at him, Jake gazed back at you while singing.

“You're still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You're still the one I want for life

You're still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You're still the one I kiss goodnight..”

He kissed your lips and lightly tapped your forehead. Slowly pulling back, he smiled at you.

And then you said it.

"I'm pregnant."

His eyebrows shot up, leaning closer, "I can't hear you!"

You grinned, turning in his arms, "I'm pregnant! Five weeks pregnant!"

His world stopped, mouth forming an 'O' shape as his eyes widened,

"Y/N, are you kidding?!"

With a surprised smile, he asked, lips stretching into a grin, "My love, are you for real?" he asked.

Nodding with joy, you brought his hand from his cheek to your stomach, saying, "You're going to be a dad!"

His breakdown, tears streaming down, biting his lip as he threw his head back, red-nosed,his adam apple bobbing and crying with veins visible on his forehead, hugging you before crying into your shoulder – the only thing he needed to cry into before crying to your shoulder.

His eyes were teary as he held you, feeling him pulling back to rest his forehead against yours, moving his hands to the sides of your neck, "I love you. I love you so much," pulling you back into a hug, one hand moving towards the back of your head, the other on your back, and bringing you closer.

The 9 month pregnancy was smooth and emotional.

The 9 months of your pregnancy were painful, but there wasn't much else to feel aside from your love for Jake's incredible support and assistance and your admiration for your daughter, Emma Seresin.

Since the moment Emma came into the world, you knew she had wrapped her tiny finger around Jake's.

Your daughter was a bond between both of you, but you took pride in her character and personality at such a young age.

When Emma turned 3, you felt proud of how you and Jake could chat with her, even if it was about Jake’s job or hard topics like that and you loved every moment of him talking about how much Emma loved strawberry chapstick or how her nail color was important for her.

On a day when a familiar nausea and change in appetite reminded you of a late period, one question lingered in your mind.

So, over a meal, you brought it up to your husband, who was struggling to eat with your daughter in his lap.

Long story short, you were pregnant – again.

June 26 2023:

You, your husband, and your daughter were sitting in your backyard, allowing Emma to get some vitamin D. While you were writing in your journal, both of you were on the swings, and Emma was playing with her toys and running around, Jake was reading a book beside you.

‘’Mommy?’’

"Yes, sweetheart?"

She ran towards you, putting both of her hands on her knees before looking at your eight-month-pregnant belly and grinning, "What's in there?"

Jake chuckled, putting his book aside to pay closer attention.

"Your baby sibling is in there," you smiled at her.

"But how? Can I sit in there too?"

You and Jake chuckled at her question. "You used to sit in there, darling. But then, you were born three years ago."

Emma frowned, looking at you. "I want to go back in."

You looked at Jake, silently asking for his help.

Before lifting her into your lap, he leaned forward, hands wrapping around her underarms. "But your sibling won't have enough space then."

"I don't care," she whined, crossing her arms and looking down while talking, her lips quivering.

"Your sibling needs all the space to grow up and play with you. Don't you want that?" You asked gently, one hand on your knee.

"But he'll take my toys."

"You can share all your toys with him, sweetheart. He'll share his toys with you too." You chuckled, fearing she wouldn't like her sibling. It was something neither you nor Jake was ready for.

"But, but, you and dad will buy more toys for him.I don't want him." She said with a whimper, arms crossed and looking down, her lips trembling.

You and Jake shared a look before turning back to your three-year-old.

"Emma," Jake gently called her name, looking at her without lowering his gaze, "Sweetie, look at me, please." Emma slowly looked at Jake, allowing both of you to see her teary eyes. "You know Mommy and Daddy love you, and we'll always love you, right?"

You reassured her, saying, 'We love you very much, baby, and nothing will change that,'" you said, placing one hand on your knee, "We're excited for your sibling to meet you. He loves you too."

"Didn't you get excited the other day to show him your room?" Jake asked, rubbing her back gently.

"Yes," she murmured.

"You have so much to show and teach him. You can be his first best friend. Isn't that nice?"

As if understanding what was said, Emma slowly nodded her head.

"We love you, sweetheart. Forever," Jake said, leaning to give her a kiss on the forehead.

Emma turned to her father, crossing her arms and raising two fingers, one for you and one for Jake, "Promise?"

As if your hearts melted right there, you would cry as you locked your pinky finger with hers, watching Jake do the same.

"We promise."

But nobody warned you about the hell you'd go through when your daughter started to envy Calvin.

The day Emma entered the hospital room, holding hands with Javy, and looked at you lying in the hospital bed next to Calvin, making baby sounds as he moved his arms and legs,his eyes wide open, you knew it was somehow going good.

She seemed very welcoming.

Jake sat on the other side of his son, playing with your hair as a non-verbal way to thank you and comfort you after the pain you went through. His lips were fixed in a smile; his heart was pounding with happiness at the addition of the new healthy family members.

Emma looked at her parents, unable to see the middle sibling. She was overwhelmed because she knew she would meet her brother.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Jake grinned at her, bending slightly and opening his arms. Before kissing her cheek, he hugged her tightly as he carried her to sit on his hip, watching her eyes immediately shift to the newborn baby.

"Meet Calvin, buddy." Tired but with a smile on your face, you spoke, hoping she would take the change lightly.

Well, at least you hoped so.

But as Emma threw herself onto Jake, burying her head on his shoulder, crying, it was expected.

Javy and his wife didn't know how to help. Just like Bradley and Natasha.

"Hey, hey, what's the problem?" Jake asked, rubbing her back as she cried.

"I don't like him," Emma said, dragging him, her arms wrapped around Jake's neck.

You both know she wasn't a kid like this and it surprised you both.

Your heart broke, and Jake's smile faded as if triggered by the screams of your daughter, Calvin started crying too. You sat down, gently picking him up into your arms, placing him against your chest, soothing him, and supporting the back of his head as you pleaded for almost everything to be done by him.

Until Jake locked onto Emma after realizing she was causing the crying. He got out of the small room and stopped in the corridor, holding her, bouncing softly to calm her down.

"Come on, baby, please calm down," he said with a sigh, "Why don't you like Calvin?" he muttered, rubbing her back.

Emma sniffled, pulled back, but while keeping her father's head down, she moved her hand to touch Jake's necklace - the one you and Emma gave him on Father's Day, "Because-because-because he's little and needs more attention, and you won’t love me anymore.."

Jake sat in a chair, still holding his daughter in the same way. "What makes you think that?"

"He will have more love because he's little and needs more attention."

Jake took a deep breath and let the words drown him. While it was true that the little one needed necessary and more attention, he didn't know how to explain to the older one that it wasn't the case.

"When you were a little baby," he started, looking at her, "Mommy and Daddy were everywhere with you. You wanted your parents,us, with you all the time. You cried when we were asleep, spit up too much on us," Jake chuckled to himself, remembering those moments and realizing how everything felt like just yesterday, "You always wanted your mommy and daddy with you. And we never left you," he finished, "So, what makes you think we'd leave you now, sweetheart?"

Emma didn't respond.

"Your brother can't talk yet. He can't say when he's hurt, he doesn't even know the taste of your favorite blueberry pancakes. And we have to make sure he does all these things just like you. But the thing is," Jake leaned to whisper in her ear as if sharing a secret, "Mommy and Daddy can't do it alone. We can't do it without you."

Emma slowly looked at Jake, her face with furrowed eyebrows.

"We promised, sweetheart. We promised to love you forever. Have we ever broken a promise?" He watched her nod, "And we won't. So what do you say? Can you give your brother a chance? Actually, he's quite funny." Jake smiled at her.

"Is he funnier than you?" She asked.

Jake laughed, "Much funnier! You just have to look closely."

Emma giggled quietly.

"Mommy is so excited for you to meet Calvin, do you know that? She was telling me about all the numbers you can teach him, all the pictures you two will take. And what he'll get you for Christmas."

"Can he get me a book about stars? With pictures?" She asked excitedly.

Jake grinned, filled her face with kisses, and heard her giggle, knowing it was one of his favorite sounds, "Tell him."

When Jake stopped, Emma sighed, lowering her shoulder, "Okay, Daddy. I'll say to him.."

"Thank you." He smiled gratefully, "Shall we go back?"

When your husband hugged your daughter and walked in with her in his arms, you couldn't know what to expect until you saw your them

Shy and embarrassed Emma, after sharing a glance with Javy,and hugged Jake after returning to her place.

Calvin had also returned to his place, and silence had returned.

Emma looked at him again, finally noticing how small his hands were, and got curious. Reluctantly, she leaned down a bit with the intention of poking his hand.

But the moment she touched him, it was the moment Calvin wrapped his fingers around hers, making her smile.

"He's holding my finger!" She squealed with delight, "You were right, Daddy. He is funny."

"Yes, you just need to get to know him a bit more," Jake said, bending down and kissing Calvin’s hand before looking at you and whispering an ‘’ı love you so much’’

He was happy that you were still the one to love.

02.05 am February 17:

There was a tired smile formed on his face after he thought about memories.

Beside him, his wife, you stirred in your sleep, a serene expression on your face.

That made him realize how late it was.

Jake turned to face your sleeping form. Moved some stray of your hair and kissed your soft cheek. and while he was looking at you he noticed something.. Jake's heart swelled with gratitude for the life you both had built together.

Your shared room became a sanctuary, adorned with the echoes of laughter,after some rough night; soft pantings and ‘’ı love you’s’’, sometimes a place where you comforted each other and the soft breathing of your sleeping kids, and the quiet acknowledgment of a love that had deepened with time.

In the stillness of the night, surrounded by the tangible evidence of your shared journey – the woman he loved, you, and the two precious souls you both had brought into the world together– Jake couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected beauty of how their story had unfolded. The Hard Deck, with its bright yellow lights and adrenaline-fueled beginnings, now seemed like a distant, yet cherished, memory in the symphony of their family life.

And he was grateful that you were still the one who he kissed for goodnight.

I loved writing this 🥹

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @floydsglasses @lyn-js @seresinsbrat @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaddie @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist

#jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin imagine #hangman fan fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman top gun #top gun fan fiction #Spotify

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an-unknown-writers-world · 1 year

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Birdstrike

Summary: Hangman comes home to his on-again-off-again partner after Coyote’s G-Lock and Phoenix and Bob’s bird strike induced punch out.

Warnings: Angsty AF(sorry), with a fluffy cheeeeeesy ending - singular use of y/n

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Characters: Mentions of Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Rooster, and Maverick

Word Count: 1372

A/N: This is angsty with the cheesiest ending – sorry not sorry

“Jake,” You called out, hearing the door close, “Babe, is that you?”

“Yeah, doll. It’s me.” You could hear the defeat and exhaustion in his voice.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

He didn’t speak again, but you could tell by the heavy footsteps that he was headed toward you.

You weren’t expecting to see him tonight. Since his first round at Top Gun, you had been in an on-again-off-again relationship with Jake Seresin. The moment he stepped into The Hard Deck all those years ago, you knew it was all over for you. You fell in love with him. You weren’t delusional; he was a naval aviator- he wouldn’t be around long, but that wasn’t going to stop you from falling in love with him.

Jake would still visit a few times a year when he was on leave; he’d even asked you to come to his family’s ranch in Texas a few times. But you weren’t in any kind of serious relationship.

Strong hands wrapped around your waist as you stood in front of the kitchen sink. He kissed the top of your head before leaning to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Everything okay?” You asked, turning the kitchen sink off.

Jake was never this needy when he first came home. Well, not unless something horrible happened. Considering his job, it was always a possibility. But you also knew that there were many times that he couldn’t tell you what was going on.

“Just a long day,” He murmured. “And all I wanted when it was over was to see you.”

“Want me to order dinner, and you can tell me about it?” You turned in his arms to face him.

He nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

“Your usual?”

“Please.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna go shower while we wait.”

You stretched up on your tiptoes and kissed him. His rough, calloused hands found their way under the hem of your shirt as he pulled you impossibly closer and deepened the kiss. That man could kiss you breathless in two seconds flat, and he enjoyed every moment of it. You broke the kiss only when the need for air became too much to ignore.

“Go shower,” You smirked. “If you don’t go now, dinner is never getting ordered.”

He laughed, kissing you chastely. “Yes, ma’am.”

########

You had agreed not to talk about the heaviness of the day until after you were both done eating and could devote all your attention to him. His phone had gone off a handful of times, all Dagger Squad members seeming to check in? It was hard to tell, but you started reading between the lines when Bradley texted you to ensure that Jake was with you and not home alone.

“Babe, I hate to ask this. But does your bad day have anything to do with the reason Bradley just texted me to make sure you weren’t alone?”

“Yes,” He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if I should be worried or impressed that he has your number.”

“All of Dagger Squad does.” You chuckled. “How do you think I keep track of you when you’re not here?”

“Valid point.” He turned and laid his back across the couch, his head on your lap.

“Talk to me, babe,” You ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes closed at the contact.

“I almost lost Coyote today.” He spoke softly. “He was in G-lock.”

Your heart sank. Javy was Jake’s best friend and wingman. They were practically inseparable from when they first arrived on North Island as Top Gun cadets.

When he opened his eyes, he had a thousand-yard stare, “Then Phoenix and Bob had to punch out because of birdstrike.” He continued.

“Oh, babe,” you cooed.

“This was all within minutes of each other.” He continued. “I had to sit in the Ready Room and listen to Maverick call it out over the radio. Over and over, he called out Coyote’s name just to try and pull Javy out of it.” He let out a deep breath, “He almost wasn’t in time.”

“But he was,” you reminded him.

“But what if he hadn’t been?” He questioned. “What if Phoenix or Bob weren’t able to eject in time? It’s happened before. That’s how Rooster’s dad died.”

You had heard the story of how Rooster’s dad died, as well as a few other pilots in the Top Gun program. It was heartbreaking, and every day that everyone came home was a day you were extra thankful for.

“Jake,” You spoke softly, cradling the side of his face. He turned into it and kissed the palm of your hand. “You can’t let yourself live in that thought process. Accidents happen, and you can’t keep reliving those moments. But you can keep the people you care about the most close to you and remind them every day how much you care.”

He was quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that most people never experienced this side of him- the kind, caring, actual human side. A part of you always hoped he would share it with the rest of the world, but that wasn’t likely to happen.

“I guess I don’t do a good job at that,” He spoke so softly you weren’t sure you were supposed to hear.

“Vulnerability is courageous in its own way,” You encouraged, moving your hand to rest on his chest.

He chuckled softly. “And dangerous.”

“At times,” you nodded, smiling at him.

He reached out and grabbed your hand in his. He intertwined your fingers and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “You know that I love you, right?”

You were shocked by the concern evident in his expression, as if you may actually doubt his feelings for you.

“Jacob Seresin, I question many things in the world; but the fact that you love me is certainly not one of them.” The smile that stretched across his face could have lit up the night sky.

“After this mission, I have no idea where they’ll send me next.”

“It won’t matter. You always find your way back here.” You squeezed his hand softly.

“What if we didn’t have to worry about it?”

You looked at him with a scrunched forehead. There was no way this man was considering leaving the Navy, so what on earth could he mean.

“What if you and I never had to worry about where I was stationed. You could come with me.”

“Jake, the only way that would happen is if we were married.” You pointed out the obvious.

“I know,” He looked down at your intertwined hands. The man, confident in everything he does, finally came across a situation that made him nervous.

“Oh,” You let out a heavy breath, completely caught off guard by the direction of the conversation.

“I always knew that this was what I wanted, to marry you.” He spoke again, “I honestly thought I’d ask in a different way. Probably at the beach or back at home on the ranch. But I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.”

You already knew the answer to his unasked question. It was always going to be yes. “You haven’t asked me a question, Jake.”

He laughed and rolled off the couch before kneeling in front of you. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Will you (y/f/n) (y/l/n) marry me?” The tone in his voice and the smile on his face were more confident than a moment ago. He knew the answer. You would haven’t have pushed him to ask the question if you were going to say no.

A giggle escaped your lips as you nodded your head, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissed him.

He pulled back, still smiling down at you. “You haven’t answered my question.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling, as he turned your statement around on you.

“Yes, a million times, yes.”

He smiled, thrilled with your answer and satisfied he could turn your sarcastic response back on you. He closed the distance between the two of you and kissed you breathlessly.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far - thank you so so so much for reading! My Masterlist can be found here. All work is also available on AO3

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thebirdandthebee · 2 years

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Imagine Me & You

A Jake “Hangman” Seresin fic.

First time writing TGM fanfic - please be gentle.

Jake stumbles across a woman on base that seems to enjoy the finer things in life... just like the future he’d like to build - with her in it.

Chapter 2: French 75

A week had passed and now, the base had really picked up. Mia was driving past more and more cars, and seeing more bodies out and about. It was easily the busiest she’d ever seen it since moving to Fightertown nearly eight months ago.

“And what’s the word on the Randall case?” Lt. Gen. Bozek asked, popping his head into her office.

“It’s already off to the notary,” Mia replied, happy to help on the extra project as she worked through processing for several new recruits. The paperwork was tedious but simple once she figured out the reporting structure and approvals process.

“You’re the best, Mia,” He replied before returning to his desk.

Mia slid her phone out of her desk drawer, pulling up the score of her brother’s baseball game.

Indiana 4

Iowa 1

With only two innings left, she’d hold onto hope for a win.

“Hey Mia, would you mind running an errand across base?” Bozek called from his office. Lt. Gen. Bozek was not usually the type to ask for footwork favors, so she didn’t think much of it as she strode over to his office. “Rear Admiral Lorne needs a hard copy of this affidavit and refuses to learn how to fax.”

“Sure,” Mia shrugged, but spared a glance down at her four-inch heels.

“You can take the cart,” He offered.

“Deal.”

Armed with a manila envelope and the keys to the nicest golf cart she’d ever seen, she had instructions and a crudely drawn map of the base and how to get to building 16. As well as the code for an elevator she’d need to use.

Lt. Gen. Bozek had given her a starting knowledge of things around the Miramar base. Pilots were there because they were the best of the best – and while that was still true, there were so many extra bodies on base recently as the station picked up increased operations and catered to even more Navy needs.

It was evident as Mia drove her cart along the appropriate path. There were small groups of pilots going about their business, others going for a run, and the occasional, additional cart zipping by.

She was feeling rather pleased with herself as she drove along, her sunglasses allowing her the freedom to watch it all unfold in front of her. It did feel odd to be one of the few women on base, which had never felt more apparent than it did now.

“So you graduated from a pushcart to this?” Her head snapped to the left to see the Lieutenant from the commissary jogging alongside her cart. “This one you actually do have to be careful with – you could do some damage at 5 miles per hour.”

“Lieutenant Seresin,” she recalled.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he corrected. “Mia.” At least he remembered her name, which was more than she could say.

She couldn’t help but notice the way his Navy shirt stretched just right across his chest and biceps as he jogged alongside her.

“This your boat or should I put out an alert?” He asked, not even metering his breath. She missed the way his eyes lingered on her white blouse and where the short silk scarf tied around her neck teased the curve of her collarbone.

“Lt. Gen. Bozek is letting me borrow it for a special mission,” she joked.

“Where is this special mission taking you?” He asked, following her path as she made a gradual right, Building 16 coming within view.

“To visit Rear Admiral Lorne,” she replied. She really didn’t know if she should have been sharing that information, but they were on the same team, right?

“Interesting,” He commented back, joining as she pulled her cart into a designated space outside of the building. He immediately made his hand available to help her down from the cart in yet a different pair of tall, shiny heels that he admired. Her hand was small and warm in his, and his gaze lingered on her carefully manicured nails.

“Thank you,” she smiled, using the next few moments to unabashedly adjust her outfit, making sure her blouse was still dutifully tucked in all the way around her navy pencil skirt and that her ascot hadn’t blown out of disarray before running a hand through her blonde tresses.

“Perfect,” he commented, though it went unnoticed as she sifted through her envelope to retrieve her map.

“Fourth floor, left elevator,” she told herself. “8212.”

All the while, Jake was picking out the notes of her perfume. Vanilla, musk, sandalwood. Feminine but not frilly.

“It would be my duty to escort you to the Rear Admiral,” He commented, assuming parade rest. The action made her smile.

“You’re kind, but I’m a big girl,” she replied. “I can get there on my own.”

The chink in his ego was small, but there. Had he applied enough deodorant today?

“Well, then I hope the rest of your mission is successful,” He smoothly rebutted.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” She smiled, taking a few steps, the clicks from which sent a shiver up Jake’s spine.

“Please, call me Jake,” he said, holding the door for her. She smiled, grateful for the reminder, before stepping in.

The only thing he had to figure out now was who she was and what she did on base. That, and if the gold band on her finger meant anything.

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

Mia changed her mind. It did seem as if she was doing a lot of favors for Lt. Gen. Bozek recently. Tonight included.

Though, the opportunity to make a new friend was welcome and she felt like she had unlocked a new chapter in her book. New location, new characters, new plot.

The Hard Deck had a comforting vibe in the same way a bar back home in Nebraska would. Locals knew you and newcomers were welcome as long as they didn’t ruffle any feathers.

Lt. Gen. Bozek asked if she’d be willing to meet his niece for a drink – she worked ridiculous hours and was “about the same age” as Mia. Mia wondered if Lt. Gen. Bozek knew how old she was.

On a particularly warm day in May, she opted for a pair of denim jean shorts – artfully distressed – and a pink blouse that flared beneath her bust with small cap sleeves. A French braid of sun kissed blonde left a few face-framing wisps near her temples as she tucked an errant lock behind her ear.

“Mia?” She turned, setting down her Blue Moon to meet who she assumed to be Bozek’s niece.

“Bobbi, hi.” She smiled warmly, sticking out her hand.

“Hi, so sorry I’m late,” Bobbi gushed, taking the seat across from Mia and dropping her purse strap across the back of her chair. “Family court ran long today and my client was nearly a no-show.” She sighed. Bozek mentioned that Bobbi was a family and child welfare attorney and often worked late.

“No problem, if there’s anyone that understands, it’s me.” Mia reassured. That, and she was glad for a change of scenery.

“Have you been here before?” Bobbi asked, checking her phone quickly before setting it down on the tabletop between them.

“First time!” Mia said, “to be honest I don’t get out much aside from the beach.” She confessed. “I’ve been here about eight – almost nine months and work keeps me pretty busy. I fly out to Indiana when I can to visit my brother or head to Del Mar for the weekend.” She explained.

“Well I’ve been coming here since before I could walk,” Bobbi laughed. “That being said, let me grab a drink quick – I’ll be right back.”

Mia liked Bobbi – she seemed pretty normal and was certainly kind enough. She went on to explain that the bar owner was like a second mother to her – a woman named Penny - as she grew up on base under the watchful eye of her Uncle that raised her.

“So you mentioned going to Indiana – does your brother go to school there?” Bobbi asked, now on her second beer.

“Yes, my brother Jack plays baseball for the Hoosiers,” Mia replied proudly, pulling out her phone.

“Wow, handsome!” Bobbi smiled. Mia happily swiped through a handful of photos of Jack. She really was beaming with pride. “Tall,” she added.

“He’s eight inches taller than me,” Mia laughed. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t take me seriously because of it.”

“I always wanted siblings,” Bobbi smiled. “Will you get to see him soon?” She asked.

“He’s coming out to visit in about four weeks,” Mia explained. “He has an off week from baseball and will be done with summer semester classes.”

“That’s so sweet,” Bobbi took another drink of her beer before one of the male bar hands could set down two fresh drinks at their tall top.

“Courtesy of the service khakis,” he tilted his head back to the back wall of the bar, closest to the beach. Mia and Bobbi looked back to see a small group of aviators by the pool and darts, who raised their drinks in a toast. Mia held up her fresh beer and toasted them back.

“Lord, here we go,” Bobbi laughed.

“I feel too old to be getting drinks from these guys,” Mia winced.

“First of all, you’re not.” Bobbi stared, “because I think we’re the same age and if you’re old, I’m old, and I am not old.” She took a long pull of her beer. “There’s just a lot of horny young guns on this base who have been told for the past three months they’re the best in the world at what they do – full of ego and adrenaline.”

“A simple way of putting that,” Mia laughed.

“Ma’am,” her attention was pulled over her shoulder, where a young man in service khakis appeared. Blue eyes, brown hair and a uniform you could bounce a quarter off of.

“Thank you for the drink,” Mia smiled politely.

“It’s my pleasure, Ma’am,” He replied. “I’m Gene,” he introduced.

“Mia,” She replied, placing her hand in his.

“Bobbi,” Bobbi said, sticking her hand out, “Bobbi Bozek.” She elaborated. The pilot’s eyes flickered in recognition.

“Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” he gulped. “Would either of you be interested in joining my team and I for some pool?”

“That’s really kind of you, but we’re just chatting,” Mia said softly. The young pilot was no match for her honey-golden eyes.

“I was thinking, maybe, if you were up to it – ”

“Lieutenant West,” Mia placed the voice.

“Hangman,” the brunette stiffened, eyes tracking as his superior’s arm came around the backside of Mia’s high top chair.

“Everyone having responsible fun?” He asked, a toothpick sitting carefully between his textbook perfect teeth.

“As much as we can,” Gene responded.

“Thank you for the drink,” Bobbi gave a big smile, tilting her head to the side and tapping her beer glass against his. The pilot took the hint and retreated back to his team.

“Ladies,” Jake smiled, coming around to stand aside their table.

“Hi Lieutenant Commander,” Mia replied.

“Mia, Bobbi,” he greeted. “You don’t strike me much as a beer drinker,” Jake commented. “And what do I strike you as?” Mia asked, taking a small sip of her brew.

“I’d err on the side of… a French 75.” He countered. Mia’s brow raised.

“You are astute.” She grinned.

“Some would say it’s my job,” the corner of his mouth pulled up into an attractive grin.

“Jake, can you go spray some cold water on your ducklings over there?” Bobbi asked, crossing her legs. “Are they being bothersome?” Jake asked, pulling up his own chair to the table.

“Like dogs in heat,” Bobbi replied, wiping a smear of foam from the corner of her mouth.

“You ladies just tell me if anyone steps out of line,” he commented.

“Was last week like back-to-school weekend?” Mia asked, tucking one foot behind her other ankle below the table. Another pair of heels for the blonde. Jake’s eyes took in the lines of her clothing and the simple elegance of her French braid and the diamond studs in her ears. The skin on the back of his neck prickled at the sight of the small gold ‘J’ in the hollow of her throat.

“Something like that,” Bobbi said, “it feels like they’re coming droves these days.” Her attention turned to their guest. “Jake, how do you know Mia?” She asked.

“I nearly ran him over at the grocery store.” Mia replied.

“Commissary,” Jake corrected.

“Commissary,” Mia agreed. “You two know each other?” Mia asked.

“For years,” Bobbi nodded. “Dated one his buddies for five years, actually,” She pursed her lips as she took another drink. Mia’s eyes cut to Jake, who was already looking at her.

“Buddy is putting it generously,” Jake replied. “Mia you’re not from here,” he said, turning his attention back to the blonde and watching as her eyes trailed across his features.

“Nebraska,” she replied. “Omaha specifically.”

“Flyover state.” Jake commented.

“I think to a pilot every state is flyover, no?” She asked, gently raising one brow as she sipped her beer. Jake grinned. “Jake’s a cowboy,” Bobbi commented. Mia’s eyes shifted back toward the blonde. He was wondering what her lip-gloss tasted like. If they’d have two kids or three – and what kind of wallpaper would hang in the nursery.

“Yeehaw,” Mia said, raising her glass to him before draining her drink. She took one look outside to see the darkness looming. It was coming up close to nine and she had a good twenty-five minute drive back to her apartment. “I hate to cut the night short, but I’ve got to start my hike back.”

“Let me get your number so we can do this again,” Bobbi insisted. Jake felt shafted, he had just arrived, but he did get to gather more intel, and that felt worth it.

Mia rattled off her cell, which Jake committed to memory.

“Jake, walk her out.” Bobbi insisted, “I’m going to go bother Pen.” Jake gladly offered his hand as Mia climbed down from her high top in those heels. He wanted to sink his teeth into her calves.

“Thank you,” she smiled gently, grabbing her saddle brown designer clutch from the table. Jake held the door as she walked through, sifting through her bag to grab her keys.

“Now this…” Jake whistled lowly, taking in the sight of her vintage Jag. “This is art.”

“Thank you, I quite like it myself.” She smiled, using a key to unlock the driver’s side of the red convertible.

“A woman of refined taste,” he replied, though that was evident in every other aspect of her that he had witnessed already. As a person of particular taste himself, it was stimulating to see a woman who carefully curated her presence as well.

“Thank you again for the escort, Lieutenant Commander.” She said, the engine of the convertible purring to life.

“It’s Jake.” He reminded.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fan fic #jake seresin fic #hangman fan fic #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick #hangman x ofc #jake seresin x ofc #fan fick #top gun maverick fan fic

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loverhymeswith · 2 years

Note

I’m very late to your follower celebration but I rarely send asks anywayssss so here’s me stepping out 👀

Hangman, mutual pining, fluff or smut, annnnd ocean 💜💜 congrats on the milestone!!

It’s You | Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader | Part Two

Part One | 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: You can't avoid Jake forever... Reader’s callsign is “Vixen”.

Word Count: 1.6k words

A/N: Thank you for the request @marvelousmermaid. I had this chapter already in mind and realised it would work perfectly! Thank you to @sociiallydiisoriiented and @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta-reading! <3

It’s sometime after midnight. Sleep has been reluctant to claim you, thanks in no small part to the way Jake’s words are playing through your mind.

“...if I'd known you felt even a fraction for me of what I feel for you…”

But what exactly does he feel for you? And why weren’t you brave enough to ask? He was kissing you and then Mav appeared, and now you’re too scared to face him – terrified that in the hours that have passed, he’ll somehow have changed his mind.

It was decided you would stay aboard the aircraft carrier until the powers-that-be could determine whether the threat of retaliation had faded – a decision that was just as expected as it was unwelcome. By now, everyone is more than ready to go home. Your avoidance of Jake during this time wasn’t intentional, at least not at first. Maverick proved to be the first of many to want a private audience with the cocky pilot, and despite your frayed nerves and reeling thoughts, you’d quietly slipped away to reunite with the rest of the dagger squad. If anyone other than Jake noticed your hasty exit from the flight deck earlier, they hadn't bothered to mention it.

As the minutes and hours ticked by, the ghost of Jake’s kiss continued to linger on your lips and in your mind, until the idea of facing him again was too much to handle, especially should you cross paths in public. After all, you've never been much of a poker player. Thanks to your revelation – and his – the only thing certain when it comes to the two of you is that nothing will ever be the same again. So, as the sun began its inevitable descent beyond the horizon, you'd finally snuck away to your quarters, safe in the knowledge that Hangman had no idea which room was yours.

You've been lying here atop the covers for what feels like hours, reliving your last moments with Jake, when eventually you surrender; it's clear you won't be getting any sleep tonight. Instead, seeking fresh air and some kind of distraction, you quickly dress and make your way back across the abandoned flight deck. Strictly speaking, you shouldn’t be out here at such a late hour, but when it comes to breaking rules today, a precedent has already been set.

Cutting through the rows of F-18s, you head to the side of the carrier, where the eerie stillness of the ocean's ink black surface greets you. The chaos from earlier is little more than a memory now, but the roaring of the jet engines continues to ring in your ears, as does the thumping of your heart when you consider how close you came to losing Jake. You suspect that fear will never fully leave you.

"Couldn't sleep?"

You've barely had the chance to catch a breath when he tracks you down. Before you can turn around, he's caging you against the rails of the carrier, his broad chest only a hair’s breadth from brushing your spine. Silent on his approach, you can't help but wonder if he's been lurking around in wait for you all this time. If you’re completely honest, perhaps you were hoping to find him out here, too. Hoping for some kind of resolution to your unfinished business.

"Something like that."

“Me neither.” Leaning in just a fraction closer, his warm breath tickles your cheek. “You’ve been avoiding me," he accuses in his lazy southern drawl, hands tightening almost imperceptibly around the railings.

“Haven’t," you mutter into the gentle breeze, but the lie catches on your tongue.

When he doesn’t immediately reply, you find yourself twisting around so your back is against the rails. He’s too close. The glow of the carrier lights illuminates his smooth, golden skin and only serves to emphasise the mischievous sparkle in his green eyes. Under his knowing gaze, your heart suddenly feels too big for your chest. “What do you want, Hangman?”

A flash of white teeth and then, "Was hoping we could finish our talk.”

“Our talk?” Your brow rises faintly, but no amount of sarcasm is going to disperse the butterflies currently swarming in your stomach. Whatever occurred between the two of you back in the hangar has clearly robbed you of your ability to go up against him toe-to toe.

“Amongst other things.” He shifts subtly from one foot to another, the only indication that this conversation – or your presence – is affecting him in any way. The knowledge sends an unexpected rush of warmth through your body; the very same heat that he ignited within you while kissing you all those hours ago. Perhaps you might have been hasty to assume he had changed his mind.

Instinctively, your eyes drift over the expanse of Jake’s shoulder, but there's no one around to bear witness to your encounter this time. Proving himself as capable of reading you as ever, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “If you’re worried about Maverick, he won’t say anything. I know all about his fling with Penny. The guy can’t creep around for shit.”

Returning your attention to the handsome man before you, you frown at his smug expression. “Everyone knows about the two of them.”

The hint of triumph remains in his smile. “Yeah, but Mav doesn’t know that.”

A beat of silence passes and Jake is watching you intently. Suddenly scared to meet his eye, your attention drifts to the corded muscle of his arms, where they continue to trap you against the side of the carrier. Just like you, Jake has ditched his flight suit. Even in the dim light, his tight black t-shirt is an alarming contrast against his tanned skin. You've always thought him a beautiful man, but tonight he's practically glowing.

"Don’t go quiet on me Vix," he murmurs when it's clear you're not going to respond. "I'd say we still have a lot to discuss. Wouldn't you?" When you still refuse to meet his gaze, he reaches out and in an unexpected and completely uncharacteristically gentle gesture, he brushes a lock of hair from your cheek. "Or did I misunderstand?"

Jake's fingers linger for a beat too long against your skin as he waits for a response. Every nerve in your body seems to vibrate at the contact. Resisting the urge to melt into his touch, you finally find your voice. "You didn't misunderstand."

When you force yourself to look at him again, the rawness of his expression startles you. All traces of Hangman's trademark cockiness have faded. Instead, he assesses you with pure, unfiltered hope shining in his bright green eyes.

"Then what are we doing here?" he wonders aloud.

You're not entirely sure that he's expecting an answer this time. You doubt you'd be able to give him one anyway. It feels like you're caught on a precipice, inches away from falling. Whichever way you turn, uncertainty awaits you and with the weight of silence becoming too much to bear, you find yourself biting your lip. "I don't know, Jake." What you do know, is that you'd rather fling yourself overboard the carrier right now than risk losing him.

“I meant every word I said earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you.” A crease forms between his brows. “I’d never do anything to hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

There’s more than one meaning behind his words. He’s asking you to trust him. At face value it’s a big leap: to trust the arrogant aviator famed for taking home a different woman every night. But he speaks with such conviction, you can feel your chest constrict. Up in the air, you’ve trusted him with your life time and again, why should your heart be any different?

The beam of a torchlight suddenly blinds your view. "Hey! What are you two doing out here?"

Just as rapidly as you freeze, Jake releases his grip on the railing and pivots around. Although you can only see the back of his blonde head, you can perfectly picture the Hollywood smile he's shooting towards the owner of the gruff voice. Charm and confidence lace his own words when he calls back across the carrier. "No need to panic, we were just leaving."

“Seresin, is that you?” Peeking around Jake, you can now make out the approaching figure. Judging by his brightly coloured jersey, it’s a member of the flight deck crew.

Under his breath, Jake makes an impatient noise, no doubt thinking exactly the same as you: interrupted again. Ignoring the officer’s question, he glances over his shoulder and shoots you a pained look which slowly but surely morphs into a mischievous grin. “How’s your cardio these days, Vix?”

Ignoring your quizzical expression and without waiting for a response, he grasps your hand and takes off, sprinting away from the carrier's edge with you in tow. You just manage to catch a glimpse of the officer’s startled expression before Jake weaves between two F-18s, putting the pair of you firmly out of sight.

“Where are we going?” you demand as he shows no signs of stopping. In a flat out race against Jake you wouldn’t stand a chance, but tonight he sets a pace you can easily keep up with.

The mischievous grin is back as he tightens his grip on your hand. “Somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”

Somewhere turns out to be Jake’s quarters. He doesn’t let go of your hand until you are safely over the threshold and then he locks the door behind you. Adrenaline from the run courses through your veins as you lean against the wall and catch your breath.

“That was fun,” Jake grins back at you.

You arch your brow. “He recognised you.”

Jake shrugs. “His word against mine. Besides,” he takes a step closer. “I’ve got an alibi. If anyone asks, you can just tell them we were in here together the whole time.”

You can’t resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I’ve always admired your confidence, Hangman.”

To be continued…

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #hangman #hangman fan fic #glen powell #follower celebration

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birdy-bat-writes · 1 year

Text

You've Got the Real Thing Right Here

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

A/N: I kid you not, I wrote this in 30 minutes in a Gatorade-induced, TikTok-fueled romantic fit of filthy feelings. So…it’s probably not edited well and I’m so sorry haha. But I hope you like it:D

Summary: You come across a scene in a book and wonder, is this really attractive? Luckily, your boyfriend is there to show you that it really is.

Content Warnings: almost smut, really borderline smut, fluff, Jake being a sweetheart, Jake being way too hot to handle, and some swearing. Let me know if I missed anything :D Minors DNI!!!!

Word count: 1047

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You didn’t usually get many days off, so today was a rarity. Your boss left for a personal vacation and since there was nothing to do at the office, you were told that you simply didn’t have to come in. It was impromptu and random, but you knew exactly how you were going to spend it. There were only 8 more chapters left in your book, and you’ve been dying to find out of the two love interests finally get together.

It was a little cold out today in San Diego, another rarity. After a warm shower, you slipped into some cozy leggings and your favorite of all your boyfriend’s sweatshirts; a gray and burnt orange Longhorns crewneck subtly scented with his cologne, your perfume, and the smell of brownies from your shared baking excursion last weekend. You opted out of wearing anything under the sweatshirt because why not? It was your day off, after all. With a cup of hot chocolate, you sat down by a window and opened your paperback to its little crocheted bookmark and let yourself sink into the story.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed by the time you closed the book and placed it on the coffee table. You started at 10:00 am and now it was 3:00. Emotions were swirling within you, and you couldn’t help but twirl around your living room, smiling. They finally got together! Oh god, that was so cute—and a few pages later, so hot. Still grinning like an idiot, you decided to head on over to the kitchen and grab lunch. You microwaved last night’s leftovers and let your mind wander. Every romance book you’ve read has the same scene; the guy leaning on the doorframe and looking down at the girl. What’s up with that? It makes you feel warm every time, and you just know that whatever scene comes next is bound to be good but what the heck makes a doorframe attractive? It’s just leaning; something you do every day.

Your thoughts were interrupted by keys jangling at your door. Jake was home! You leant over in your chair, putting yourself in his line of sight. “Hey, Babe, welcome home.” Jake could hear the smile in your voice.

“Why, thank you, Darlin’. What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked, walking over to you and placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Nothing much,” you replied as he walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade. “How was work?” Jake started talking, and you’re sure you heard some of it but from here on out, another thought consumed your mind entirely. Jake isn’t that much shorter than your kitchen door….

“…so I told him that was crazy. Right?” Jake looked to you to find you absolutely spaced out. “Y/N? Everything okay…?”

“Uh, yeah! Sorry, what were you saying?” Jake grinned, amused at the light blush that was dusting your cheeks.

“No, no, what’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing, I promise.” You insisted, standing up to join him in the kitchen entrance.

“Sweetheart, you’re great at a lot of things,” he started, putting his hand in yours, “but you’re a shit liar.” You giggled with him and looked down.

“Okay, okay. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Alright, uh,” you didn’t expect to suddenly get as shy as you did. “Could you just put your hand up here, on the doorframe corner and like, lean over a little?” Jake, with his Gatorade still in hand, looked down at you, confused, but still did it anyway.

“Like this?”, he asked.

“Yeah! Now, bend your elbow a little. Lean naturally into it.”

“Is there a reason for this or…?”

“Satisfying my curiosity.”

“Gotcha.”

“Okay, perfect.” You took a small step back, one hand still on Jake’s chest to get a look at the full picture and…woah. Okay, now you get why curiosity killed the cat, and why every book had this scene. It was freaking hot.

Jake’s green eyes were darkened by the shadows of his lashes and his lips had the slightest shine from the Gatorade. God, you bet he tasted like lemon-lime right now, and his posture…you knew he was tall, but did he really always tower over you like this? His biceps were on full display along with the tan skin of his neck and, god, he was so close, and so big and his cologne was intoxicating. You felt hot.

Jake saw it immediately. He knew that look; he saw your lips part and the way your legs squeezed shut. Oh. He took a long drawn-out look at your figure up and down and he knew you were done for.

Smirking, he asked, “Y/N, Honey, you okay there? You look a little red.” A teasing tone lacing his voice. He reached toward the coffee table to put down his Gatorade and he saw it. It’s that book you’ve been reading. There it is. Jake curled his hand around your waist, snaking it under your his sweatshirt, making you shiver as he pulled you close. His fingers were icy against your hot skin from holding the cold bottle. You gasped when he pressed you flush against his chest. “All this because of a book?” he took his other hand down from the doorframe to place it on your cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb. “Baby, you’ve got the real thing right here.” He whispered, lips ghosting over yours before pressing into you for a rough, heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his waist while his fingers pressed into yours. He peppered kisses along your jawline, feeling the warmth of your skin on his. The sensation of his stubble on your neck went straight to your core and made you whimper, an act that tore down what little resolve Jake had left. He pulled away and took you by the hand out of the kitchen.

“Jake, why’d you stop?” You uttered, breathlessly.

“I didn’t. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“The bedroom. Oh,” he took two steps back to the coffee table and reached for the bottle of Gatorade. “Better take this. You’ll need it by the time I’m done with you.”

Moral of the story? Read books, stay sexy.

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Taglist: @glorified-red

Please let me know if you'd like to be on my permanent Top Gun or general tag list :)

Tagging some friends, no pressure to interact y'all:

@tongue-like-a-razor @roosterbruiser @roosterscock @girl-in-the-chairs-void @bussyslayer333 @roosterforme @glen-powells @roosters-slut @callsign-fangirl @roostersrooster

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ohtobeleah · 4 months

Text

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Four: [Parental Guidance]

Summary: Jakes Mother simply cannot understand what he saw in you, your mother simply cannot comprehend why you left Jake.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Overbearing mothers.

Word Count: 4:1k

Author Note: Mothers…Especially boy mothers can just be the worst when they’re in LOVE with their sons.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

November 1st

Bradley Bradshaw never thought he would be the person Jake Seresin called when he was in a situation and needed help, but here he was. Sitting in his Bronco outside the house of a woman he didn't know in the early hours of the morning watching Jake stumble down the small overgrown cobblestone path. The Halloween costume Rooster had seen Jake in early that night was long forgotten as the fighter pilot wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs with his wallet and keys in the palms of his hands.

Immediately as soon as Jake sat in the passenger's seat of Bradleys pride and joy, he could smell the liquor trying to expel itself from Jake pores.

“You smell like a distillery and we have a HOP at 8am.” There was a very evident disdain for Jake's current state in Roosters' tone, Jake wasn’t drunk enough to miss that. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night to pick you up anyway? What did you do this time to warrant getting kicked out?” Jake didn't respond right away as he kept his eyes staring blankly out the window, the two had only just recently been given new orders to remain in North Island permanently. But when he did speak up, Bradley's heart ached.

“I accidentally said my wifes name while uh–yeah.” Jake didn't think he needed to explicitly tell his wingman that, during one of the first and what Jake would consider the last one night stand he’d engaged in during your separation, he’d called out your name. “Vanessa didn't really like that.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Bradley agreed as he drove down the street. “That's rough dude.” Bradley knew of yours and Jake's separation, Jake had told him one night at the Hard Deck after he’d asked how the family was. The two hadn’t always been on good terms but Rooster liked to think you and him were close enough to send Christmas cards to. When Jake had told him you’d left? Bradley didn’t reach out—he assumed it was for the best all things considered.

“Yeah—but you know what’s rougher?” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the headrest.

“What’s that?”

“Knowing your wife won’t ever believe you’ll change.” Bradley knew without even looking at Jake that between the mix of alcohol and his desire to win you back that the naval aviator sitting with slumped shoulders beside him was holding back tears. “And proving her right by sleeping with some badge bunny who looked an awful lot like her.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Your home had never been so quiet with all three of your children gone. You stood in the foyer of the entryway just looking around at the mess that had been left behind. Forgotten toys yet to be put away, discarded shoes, dirty plates and cups. Pine needles that fallen from the faux Christmas tree that was essentially hanging on by its last thread. The reminisce of three young children that were allowed to be children inside the safety of their own home.

As you wiped away the tears that you had let fall freely down from your puffy eyes, you made an effort to tidy up the house you’d be leaving in only a few short hours to leave for the hospital stay you had planned. Tiny shoes with no feet to fill, toys left unattended over the holidays simply to be replaced by newer shiner ones.

Between now and new years while Jake had the kids in Texas your treatment plan would increase tenfold. You were scheduled for aggressive rounds of IV chemotherapy that you knew you’d have to stay in hospital for to go through, your body was barely tolerating the oral medication as it was. You were scheduled for a double mastectomy in your time at the hospital which would hopefully stop any cancerous cells from spreading to more lymph nodes and areas of your body that remained untouched. Did you have high hopes? Not particularly. But you were ready and willing to do just about anything the oncologist assigned to your particular case had recommended.

It was going to be a rough stint, but hopefully by the time Jake returned with your children, you’d still be able to mask your diagnosis. How you were going to explain the symptoms like hair loss and suddenly having no breast tissue to Jake was something you had yet to come up with.

But ‘New year, New me’ was looking like the best possible explanation. Maybe the new look would get him off your case a little when it came to working on your marital issues.

As you put things back in their rightful places and tidy up, you felt your phone ringing in your back pocket. The call ID immediately made you want to cry even more than you already had been.

“Hi mum—“ You cooed softly as you stood alone in your empty home. “I uh, I just got home.”

“How was Jake?” Your mother asked as she drove over to yours, you could hear the difference in her voice because of the shitty ass bluetooth system she barely knew how to work properly. “Did the kids kick up a fuss?”

“Jake was–” You would never be able to find the right words to describe your husband, well, ex-husband. “Jake was Jake mum you know how we are right now.” Your mother knew about your diagnosis. She had been the one who urged you to see a doctor after you told her you had found a rather large lump on your left breast. “And no, actually the kids were super excited to go with their dad for the holidays, I think they still don't really understand that I'm not gonna be there at all, maybe they just think I won't be there for a day or two, but uh–yeah, they were good.”

“And how are you feeling?” It was surprisingly a rather hard question to answer as you sat down on the lounge. For the longest time you had always put your family first, made sure all their needs were met before your own. From your kids to your husband they always came first, but now? Now you had to focus on your health and put yourself first if you had any chance of getting through the next few weeks.

“I threw up this morning–” It was your way of saying you werent travelling well at all. “After I slept with Jake–” You knew your mum would be shocked at your admission, so you closed your eyes and braced for it. The scolding, the “never sleep with an ex speech” But it never came. All that came was a sigh you couldn't tell was laced in disappointment or approval.

“You need that man in your life darling, he's a good man, the two of you just need to work on your differences.” Your mother had always had a soft spot for Jake Seresin, for a few weeks after your initial breakup he stayed in her spare room. Jake loved your mother like his own and you knew that if you ever gave her a moment on the soap box, your mum would scream it to whoever would listen just how much you and Jake were made for one another.

Which in your opinion was a little shitty. Jake had his own mum. You needed yours.

“I know he's a good man mum, that's why I married him to begin with.” You sighed heavily as you laid on the lounge to ward off the dizzy spell that was threatening to throw you off balance. “But I haven't been his priority in a hell of a long time, and I owe it to myself to not go back to being a married single mother.”

“Okay okay, well–” You knew your mum was only trying to help but it felt like the two of you had this very same conversation every time you spoke, it was like deja vu. “He won't wait around forever darling.” That fact you also knew, according to Jake himself her name was Violet or Vivian or Vanessa. Something that started with a V. Either way you knew very well that Jake wouldn’t wait around for you to take him back on his hands and knees begging.

But at the end of the day you weren’t sure if you even wanted him to wait for you. Of course you loved Jake, with your whole heart. But right now nothing made sense to you, you were dying after all.

“Trust me,” You rolled your eyes thinking about how Vanessa or Vicky or Veronica looked. If she looked anything like you or maybe completely different. If she had blue eyes you'd surmise that he probilby date her. “I know he won't, but he's not the priority right now, my health is.”

“I'll be there in about an hour or two depending on traffic.” For a split second you wished it might take a little longer. Although you loved your mum dearly and appreciated everything she ever did for you, her favouritism towards your husband made your blood boil.

“Okay, I might have a bit of a nap while I'm waiting for you, I'm feeling pretty shattered.” No word of a lie was spoken, you were exhausted to say the very least. Finally being alone and not having to be in constant caregiver mode for three young children truly had your body calling it quits. You needed sleep and so much of it.

“I'll see you soon alright?” You mum spoke through the bluetooth that crackled and broke with the failing reception, but you heard her just barely.

“Alright, bye mum.” You paused hesitantly as you let your eyes close “I love you.” It had been a while since you told anyone you loved them besides your kids, and for a second you wished it was Jake on the other end of the line. You did love him, probably more now than you ever had. Everything was just so messy, it wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

“Bye Darling.” Your mum replied. “I love you too.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“My babies!!” Janeen Seresin was in Jake's opinion, one of those women who never should have had kids, let alone four of them. Jake was the youngest of four Seresin children and the only boy. His father, Rodney, was a hard task master who no matter what Jake accomplished in his career or personal life, never seemed to be proud of the man he had become.

“Hi Ma.” There was a pretty simple explanation for that, Jake never took a beating without getting a few punches in himself. He wasn't the kind of guy who you could beat into submission even as a teen. “Merry Christmas.”

“Jacob oh my boy it's so good to see you.” Janeen took her youngest child in her arms in the threshold of the Sersein estate. Lavish gardens surrounded the old exposed red brick home that had been in the Seresin family for generations. Jake knew when his parents died it wasn't going to him, but to his eldest sister Julies. “Come in come in! You guys must be so tired after your flight.”

Jake, despite being a fighter pilot who had flown some of the most suicidal missions, was a nervous flyer when he wasn’t in total control. Commercial flying wasn't something he typically enjoyed. It made him anxious at the best of times and whenever he added his children to the mix he was sure that the way his heart pounded inside his chest during takeoff was early signs of an underlying genetic heart condition he probably inherited from his father.

“The kids are definitely a little tired, I think Sam's ears haven't really pooped either.” Jake cooed as he and his kids entered the house Jake grew up in, the overly eccentric, far too big, the annoyingly in your face house he knew you always hated. It always seemed to exemplify the two worlds you and Jake grew up in as children.

“Grandma!” Lucy interrupted. “Mum said that Santa will know exactly where we are if we put out cookies and milk for him and carrots for his reindeer like we do at home.” Janeen chuckled at her granddaughter as Jake placed Sam on the ground to walk off with his brother to explore the mansion style home that was far bigger than the one they were used to.

“Your mother would still have you doing those silly little things wouldn't she?” Jake bit his tongue as he watched his mother soothe a hand over his daughter's head. “Of course we can put out cookies and milk, but if I get ants you better be ready to clean them up little miss.” Lucy simply smiled and nodded in response, the dig had gone right over her six year old head.

“God Ma you'd think you never had kids of your own before.” Jake argued in an attempt to remind his mum that his kids were only young. The magic of Christmas was important to you and him. “I'm sure Santa won't leave cookie crumbs all over the house.”

“Santa isn't who I’m worried about making a mess–” Janeen tried to say the loud things quiet while around Jake's children, but the intent in her words was still as loud and as obnoxious as ever. “How is your mother Lulu? I’m sorry she won’t be joining us for Christmas and new years.”

“She’s been sick the past few weeks.” Jake frowned at his mothers smile, she left little to the imagination about her opinion of you. “But she’s better now.” Jake wasn't so sure of the statement his daughter made, the way you were only on your knees this morning throwing up into the toilet bowl made him frown in response. Jake had this gut feeling he couldn’t get rid of it no matter how hard he tried not to think about it. Was something wrong with you? Like, more than just a long winded flu? Who even gets the flu for three weeks these days?

“Oh I’m sure she is dear, right before her big trip away hey?” Ever since you and Jake separated, Janeen Seresin had been pushing for Jake to file for divorce and full custody. No one got to leave her perfect angel boy. In her eyes Jake could do no wrong, he was her angel, her precious baby boy that no woman could ever be good enough for.

“Yeah! She’s going to the snow with a bunch of her friends Grandma.” Lucy replied, she didn’t understand her grandmother’s resentments just yet. That or it went right over the little girl's head, either way Jake was thankful for her innocence.

“Oh I know your dads told me all about your mothers grand plans.” Janeen rolled her eyes pretty heavily at the idea you were off whoring yourself out on a ski trip out of the country while her son was tasked with looking after the three children you had with him.

“Ma, drop it will you?” Jake urged. “She’s allowed to go away for the holidays, she’s pretty much had the kids all year.”

“And why is that?” Janeen retaliated as little Lucy walked off to find her brothers. Jake followed his mother into the dining room where festive decorations dressed the dining table. Perfectly set and prepared. A stark contrast to your old chipped four seater dining table that had soggy cheerios spilled on the top just this morning. Jake much preferred the cheerio-covered table to his mothers perfectly decorated one.

Fuck, Jake thought to himself the more he looked around. His kids were about to mess this place up. He knew deep down that would bring you a little solace. You knew Janeen was sour on you. The idea of the kids making her life just a little more chaotic would normally make you chuckle.

“Because I live and work in North Island now, I don’t have the proper work schedule to take three kids on by myself.” That was the appropriate and only answer, but Jake knew his mother saw it differently. “I don't have to means to look after them myself–Y/n does, we both agreed on that when he split.”

“She’s keeping those kids away from you sweetheart.” Jake couldn’t have rolled his eyes harder if he tried, he’d been home for all of what? five minutes and already his mum was disrespecting you. “You don’t see those kids nearly as much as you should and it’s her—“

“Don’t you think that’s more on me then it is on her?” Jake argued back. “Come on ma you know exactly why we separated, I wasn’t putting in what she was giving and it damn near killed her. The last thing she needs is a custody battle.”

“What you ever saw in that woman I’ll never understand sweetheart.” Janeen cooed as she reached up to touch her son's cheek. “I always knew she was never good enough for my baby boy.”

Jake wanted to argue, he really did, but it was Christmas and his entire family would soon be filling the Seresin estate. So Jake pressed his lips together and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his mothers head. He didn’t want to ruin yet another family holiday. He didn’t want to be dubbed the family disappointment because of his separation. Although he knew that's exactly what he was.

He just wanted to be loved. And at this point Jake was gonna take that love whenever the hell he could get it from.

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Y/n–” At first you didn't respond, but as your mother shook you as you slept on the lounge and called your name a few more times, you finally woke up. “Y/n, babe jesus have you been asleep since we got off the phone.?” It took you a moment to come back into your body as you wiped the dry drool that had leaked from your mouth onto your cheek. The discombobulation was clearly evident to your mother as she stepped back a little to give you some space.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You mumbled as you sat up. “I'm just really–” The all too familiar feeling of bile rising came hard and came quickly. “Oh god mum, get me a bucket!” The look of panic written in the tired lines on your face was enough for your mum to realise what was going on.

“Oh shit hang on.” Your mother hurried into the laundry nearby and searched high and low for something you could use, but you decided soon thereafter that it was quicker if you booked it into the kitchen and puke right into the kitchen sink. “Y/n! Oh god are you alright darling?”

For a single mother of two children, yourself and your older brother Carson, your mother did alright for the hand she was dealt. On the younger side, your mother always seemed a little ‘Childish’ in her nature and mannerisms. But she was your mum and you wouldn’t change her for anything.

“I'm fine–I just–” You couldn't keep anything down to save your life right now, so when your body wanted to expel any form of bile it was just stomach acid and remnants of whatever you had most recently eaten. Your mother did her best to comfort you as you coughed and splatted your gagged in the kitchen sink for dear life, she could tell your body was weaker than it ever had been just from the way you trembled under her touch.

It broke her heart to see you like this, so sick and fragile. You did well to hide it though, for what it was worth she thought you looked relatively healthy still. But it was still early on in your journey.

“I'm so scared mum.” You cried out through gags as you stayed bent over the sink coughing and crying. This wasn’t fair, you had a family to think of, kids to watch grow, a husband to hopefully fall in love with all over again. How could whatever god was up there do this to you? Why did this happen? Why you? What had you done so wrong to deserve this untimely fate?

“It's okay I've got you baby.” Your mother cooed as she rubbed circles into your back with her open palm. “Im here, I’ve got you now, let's get you ready to go up to the hospital hey, you wanna take a shower or?”

“Let me just brush my teeth–” You sighed as you spat into the sink to clear your throat. “I should ring Jake, make sure they got in safe.”

“I'm sure they’re just fine, he’d call if there was a problem, let's just focus on you for once.” You didn't want to feel like you were neglecting your children but you already felt like you were. They were your entire world, putting yourself first just wasn't in your nature. But as you thought about calling, thought about just sending a text, you looked at your phone to see a missed call from Jake about twenty minutes prior and a few text to follow.

:Lover: “Kids and I are here safe, ma’s on her fuck the ex campain already and dads nowhere to be seen.”

:Lover: “Hope you're enjoying your kid free afternoon, safe flight tonight, text me when you get into Calgary.”

You couldn't help but to smile as you pocketed your phone, you'd call Jake later once you were settled into your hospital room. Right now you just needed to finish packing, brush your teeth and get over to the hospital for your admission time.

“He loves you so much.” Your mother reminded you as she followed you up to your room to help you finish packing.

“I know he does.” You really weren't in the mood to be discussing the state of your marriage right now. “He deserves better, someone not riddled with cancer cells.”

“Is that why you won't even consider the idea of getting back together?” Your mother was nearly flawed when you silently nodded in return. “Y/n, don't you dare–” Again, you didn't want to talk about it. Between Jake's mother not being your number one stan and your mother playing devil's advocate what seemed to be twenty four seven, you were just over everyone having an opinion.

“Mum! He didn't care about me enough when I was healthy and happy and his wife! What makes you think he’ll care now that I’m literally dying!” You shouted as you threw a pair of extra soaks into your luggage bag. “It's not fair, none of this is, but I left him well before I got sick and me getting sick doesn't change the reason I left.”

Your mother didn’t respond, all she did was stare at you worryingly from across your bedroom room in silence. It looked as if she was trying to figure something out, read your face, understand what was going on. Then, after a few short moments of silence she spoke.

“Your father and I went through something very similar before he died.” Your parents had been divorced for three years before your dad died in an awfully unexpected car accident. It shattered your mum, you knew it did. “We never did get to a point where we could resolve our differences.” She explained softly as she walked over to help you pack the last few items. You let her help you fold some T-shirts, Jake's old T-shirts, as she spoke. “This past year watching you and Jake go around in circles about how much you both still love each other and how desperately he's willing to change in order to keep you is so infuriating because you, my baby girl, have already decided you're not worth loving because you’re unfortunately going through something I can't even begin to comprehend.”

“He couldn't love me before mum.” You simply sighed in defeat, god it was like you were going around and around on a ferris wheel. “What makes you think this changes anything?”

“That man has never stopped loving you Y/n, he just got a little lost, we all do.”

“If you had a chance would you take dad back?” It was a question you'd never asked before purely because you were afraid the answer would be no. now? As you tried to navigate the best thing to do for yourself, you desperately hoped the answer would be yes. Perhaps then you wouldn't feel so torn about hating to love Jake Seresin and his ability to captivate your entire being.

“Without a shadow of a doubt my dear.” You’d never seen your mother have to hold back tears so hard before in your life. She was watching her only daughter go through a battle she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy as well as trying to help you through your separation. Although sometimes unwarranted and unsolicited, she was still your mother.

“Without a shadow of a doubt.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional l @jessicab1991 91 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove ve @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #tw: breast cancer #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman fic #topgun maverick #top gun fan fiction

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ussgallifrey · 4 months

Text

Home for the Holiday | Part 3

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 9.9k

✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.

[Master List]

You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.

The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.

“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”

You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.

The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.

“What’s with the iron?”

There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.

“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.

Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”

He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”

Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.

“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”

“Got it.”

He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.

For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.

“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”

His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.

“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”

His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”

After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.

No, this was nice.

And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.

“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”

He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.

Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.

Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.

His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.

“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.

“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”

His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”

And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.

And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.

Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.

Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.

Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.

Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.

Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.

“Well, what do you think?”

You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.

And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.

“You look good, by the way.”

Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.

“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”

He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.

“You ready to go?”

Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”

With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”

Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.

Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”

“Ha,” he chuckles. “Come on, I know a better place.”

Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”

Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.

“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.

“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.

He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.

Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.

There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.

“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”

He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”

Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.

“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.

“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”

Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."

After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.

“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”

He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.

“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”

You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”

Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”

Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.

Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.

“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.

He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”

“Compared to yours?”

That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”

From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.

So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:

“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”

His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.

“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.

“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”

Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.

After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.

“Yeah, probably.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.

“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”

Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”

The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.

Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.

You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.

Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.

And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.

As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.

In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.

“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”

Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.

“Do tell.”

You chuckle as he turns the wheel.

“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”

“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.

With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.

“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”

You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.

“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”

“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”

With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.

“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.

“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.

“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”

You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.

“Sure know how to distract a guy.”

With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”

Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.

“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”

That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.

The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.

Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.

And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.

The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.

You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.

“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”

With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.

“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”

With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”

“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.

“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.

He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.

You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.

Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.

With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.

You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.

As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.

Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.

“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.

“Mhmm,” you manage.

A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.

“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.

With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.

To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.

“Uncle Jake!”

Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.

“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.

A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.

Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.

From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:

“Who’s that?”

You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.

“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”

The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”

Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.

“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”

“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”

Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.

If you had to take a guess...

“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.

Bingo.

As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.

“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”

Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.

“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.

Ah, brother number two.

“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.

You offer your hand in return, along with your name.

“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”

Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”

Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.

You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.

Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.

The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.

From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.

Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.

Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.

Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.

“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”

Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.

With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.

A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.

“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.

Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.

“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.

Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.

“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”

He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.

You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.

Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.

It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.

Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.

Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.

The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.

You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.

“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”

Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.

Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.

Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.

You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.

“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.

When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.

“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.

“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.

“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.

After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”

You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.

Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”

“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.

The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?

“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”

Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?

He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.

You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”

But Jake doesn’t.

And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.

“Something you wanna say?”

The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.

She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.

“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”

“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.

“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”

The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.

“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”

Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.

Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.

As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.

“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.

The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.

Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can say in return.

“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”

With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”

She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”

Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.

“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”

For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.

He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”

Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.

“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”

“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”

You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.

“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”

Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.

Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.

You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:

“Baby?”

With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.

Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”

But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.

Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.

Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.

Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.

You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.

Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.

Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.

But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.

This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.

With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”

It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.

“What?”

“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”

The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”

His brow raises ever so slightly.

“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”

With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.

“Oh, absolutely.”

When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.

“God damnit, you’re right.”

You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.

He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.

“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.

But he presses forward despite it.

“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”

He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.

“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”

Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.

“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”

“Jake...”

Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.

“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.

Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.

“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”

And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.

“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”

“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.

With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”

“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.

Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.

He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.

But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.

Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.

While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.

Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.

June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.

The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.

“Out like a light.”

“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.

The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.

“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”

You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.

“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.

Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.

“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.

“Same for you,” he adds a second later.

Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.

“How long have you two been flying together?”

Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.

“Three, almost four years now?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”

Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.

“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.

“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”

At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.

“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”

That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.

Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”

“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.

At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?

And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.

You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.

“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”

Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.

“You. You’re worried about him.”

“Comes with the job,” you say.

A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.

“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”

Your brows pinch, “That bad?”

He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”

You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.

He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.

Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:

“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”

You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.

“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”

Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.

“Okay.”

As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.

Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.

“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.

“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.

“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”

A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.

“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”

Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”

Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”

Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”

The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.

“And Pita too?”

Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.

“Yeah, her too, honey.”

Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.

Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.

The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.

When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.

But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.

His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.

After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.

And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.

“Should have never did this to you.”

You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”

It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.

“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.

Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.

“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”

Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.

“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”

Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”

Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.

“Well... at least it’s over.”

You hum in response.

Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...

Your stomach turns at the thought.

Alone.

After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.

Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:

“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”

You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.

“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fan fic #series: home for the holidays #my fic

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enthyrea · 1 year

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a commission for @floydsin! they requested the post-superbowl scene from their hangster NFL AU fic, unsportsmanlike conduct!

i absolutely love this fic to bits and i was SO honored to draw this commission !! thank you so much❣️

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horseshoegirl · 22 days

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Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black

📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...

Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.

Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀

#8k <- yes, i know

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

*Halloween Four Years Ago*

Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo!

Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day.

You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort.

Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much. Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock.

Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such.

You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile.

His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus.

Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear.

Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know.

But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn.

You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.

Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.

He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick.

“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.”

You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly.

"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!"

He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly.

He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both.

Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most.

Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind.

Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected.

“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process."

He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars.

He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.

You hoped he did.

But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment.

Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest.

It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice.

He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role.

And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.

However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were.

A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more.

He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of.

All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart.

But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed.

Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same.

He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride.

“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet.

It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon.

And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it.

How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to.

But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him.

You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head.

Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight.

It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin.

In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised.

You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far.

People were weird when it came to shit like that.

Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.

Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary.

The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.

You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket.

"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down."

Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?"

You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity.

"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants."

"To get into them or to get out?"

With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?”

Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as.

It made your heart flutter inside your chest.

“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner.

Liar. Oh, you horrible liar.

Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased.

You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot.

Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.

As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake.

They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further.

When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric.

"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.

“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.”

She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.

“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara.

“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold.

“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”

You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?”

“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?”

You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.”

“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.”

You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity.

“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.

“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked.

Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"

Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely.

Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it.

"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on."

Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!"

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.

Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough.

Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror.

You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.

The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.

You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain.

Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace.

You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours.

And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach.

You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party.

Right?

———

The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.

He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't.

He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it.

Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out.

Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!"

Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?"

Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve."

As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting."

Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?"

"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning.

"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance.

"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself."

Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought.

"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know."

"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before."

Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like.

Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head.

"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both.

She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?"

Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?"

Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off.

"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude."

Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did.

“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."

Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides.

Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice!”

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked.

“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it.

Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it.

He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced.

To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you.

Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight.

"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.

“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.

“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”

You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”

Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.

"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."

You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points.

"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.

He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you."

You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return.

Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—-

This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.

Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.

Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start.

You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude.

Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.

Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now.

You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.

You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either.

You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself - an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.

But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations.

After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element.

You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress.

"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.”

But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"

His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.”

You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place.

Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since.

You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.

Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to.

Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat.

Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety.

She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close.

Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily.

Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.

“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her.

“Have you seen Jake around?”

Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?”

You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.”

“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh.

“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.”

Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit.

“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.”

“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.”

“Ahm...”

Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it.

“That,” you offered.

“I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight.

Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room.

It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another.

After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked.

You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.

It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin.

The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.

You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall.

You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little.

Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow.

The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach.

“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his.

There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair.

You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view.

You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight.

"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered.

"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.

At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes.

You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you.

What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else.

Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.

"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."

You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe.

"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."

Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this.

Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet.

But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear.

You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.

How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.

The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.

Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.

"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights."

Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"

Your eyes burned. The girl giggled.

“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.”

Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?”

His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier.

“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?”

“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.”

There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.”

Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."

Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.

“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.”

Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss.

“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.”

Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.”

You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it.

The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.

That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!

To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat?

If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be.

Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place.

But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.

What if he was right?

What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.

No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had.

Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple.

But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut.

You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.

You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.

But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do.

Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you.

A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again.

Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place.

It never opened the rest of the night.

NOW YOU KNOW....

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topguncortez · 5 months

Text

Are You With Me? |

| A Jake x Shy!Wifey Series

synopsis: it's been a whole year since Jake reluctantly signed the divorce papers from Y/N. A year of pretending like there wasn't a huge hole in their hearts. A year of pretending like everything is okay. But when one of their children faces the biggest fight of their life, Jake and Y/N must relearn to rely and trust one another. Can they do it? Or will this officially be the end of Jake and Y/N Seresin.

warnings: angst, childhood cancer, chemo therapy, cheating, inaccurate medical terminology, smut, miscarriage, pregnancy, cursing, death (minor character), fighting, divorce.

opposites attract masterlist || Jake & shy!wifey masterlist

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

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saintlike78 · 2 years

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The only one for me [J.S]

Navigation

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

Words: 2k

Summary: Other women just don’t seem to care that you’re Jake’s wife or the fact that you’re sitting right next to him whilst they flirt with him

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, slight insecure reader, Jake’s a whole softie, making out, some sexual implications but not really.

It’s not his fault and you know it. It’s not as if he’s purposely picking out other women and flirting with them in front of you; it’s just his personality and the way he is - too friendly for his own good and too good-looking for his own good - so every interaction just happens to be mistaken for flirting. It’s also obvious that he’s with someone, he has you pressed up against him in the booth, his arm thrown protectively behind your back to squeeze you and to show every man in the Hard Deck that you’re his.

You only wish the women had half the decency that the men had not to flirt with your husband right in front of you.

It would be impossible for any man to try and flirt with you in front of Jake, a hard stare and maybe even a ‘back off, man’ would be all they would get. You, on the other hand, do not possess the skill of a hard glare or even to interrupt whatever lady that sat down right beside Jake, twirling their hair and batting their lashes as if you weren’t sitting right there under Jake’s arm.

It’s not as if he indulges in the flirting, he’s just friendly - much to your dismay.

You try not to let it bother you - you really do - but it still does. The stupid pit of jealousy sits in your stomach and gnaws at it until you feel sick; you feel sick of watching these women ignore you and talk to Jake like he’s up for grabs.

Maybe that’s another thing, they do it because they don’t see you as a competition. They’re all beautiful and confident, batting their lovely eyes at Jake because he’s gorgeous and you’re just so painfully you.

You nurse the drink in your hand with a pitiful look on your face, leaning into Jake’s side as he talks idly with the woman sitting so close to him he can’t move anywhere.

It feels horrid to feel so icky because Jake’s not the one doing anything wrong and it’s not as if you could ban him from speaking to another woman again, but god, you want to just tell her to fuck off - but you never would.

The woman laughs loudly at something he said, hitting his arm, “you’re hilarious! I love a man with humour,” she says, winking at her last statement.

She could’ve just come and hit you in the stomach and poured your drink over you because her words had the exact same effect. You rolled your eyes involuntarily, not even the tiniest bit nervous about her seeing it, her eyes were glued to Jake.

“Gotta keep the missus happy somehow,” he smiles politely, squeezing you against him, “ain’t that right, baby?”

He laughs a little at his own words as he looks toward you, only for his smile to be wiped off his face as he takes in the solemn look on your face; the way you stare at the empty glass in your hands, obviously not paying attention to his conversation or words.

The woman laughs awkwardly, giving you a dirty look that you didn’t see, “I didn’t realize you were married.”

Jake doesn’t answer her, instead, he lowers his head to nudge your temple with his lips and whispers in your ear, “baby?”

The affection pulls you from your trance and you hum, looking from your glass to his face, a concerned frown pulls at his lips and brow - you reach up to smooth over the crease that has settled and his eyes soften.

“You okay? You wanna go home? Too loud?” He asks and if you could melt into a puddle you would at the genuine concern etched in his words and how he would drop everything just to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible and having fun.

“Only if you want to, I don’t mind waiting till you’re done,” you whisper back, leaning into his body and his soft touches.

He smiles and shakes his head, leaving a kiss against your hair, “I’m done now then.”

Before you had the chance to say anything more he’s already politely asking the stunned woman to move, sliding out of the booth with your purse and jacket on one arm and the other reached out for you to take.

It takes you a moment before you’re grabbing ahold of his arm, purposely ignoring the dirty look the woman gives you before she’s huffing and storming in the opposite direction. You sigh in relief, gripping Jake’s arm tight as he leads you by his fellow pilots to wave goodbye and then out the front door of the Hard Deck.

Jake keeps an eye on your face, smiling at the way you cling to his arm, “you’re sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” he asks when you reach his truck.

Before you have a chance to open the passenger door, he had you caged against the vehicle, arms on both sides of your body as he looks down at you with a certain look, waiting for you to answer him.

You let out a sigh, placing both hands on his biceps, “I just wish they would see me as a threat.”

“Who?” His eyebrow is raised and if he wasn’t so confused you’re sure he would’ve laughed because of all the things you were, threatening was probably one of the last things on that list - probably not on the list at all.

“The women… all of them that come and talk to you… none of them takes me seriously when I’m sat next to you and that’s why they flirt with you right in front of me,” you sighed with a squeeze of his biceps, avoiding his eyes and missing the way they soften.

You don’t have time to react before you were smushed against his hard chest, his arms around you in a tight embrace. You inhale the musky scent of his cologne, the scent calming you instantly.

“You should’ve told me it bothered you, honey. I never would’ve talked to them if I knew you felt like that,” he said with a sweet smile that you couldn’t see, you could only feel his lips against your forehead as he spoke.

“It’s not what you do that bothers me, you’re just being nice… it’s them. They’re so persistent just because they’re prettier than me -“

“Hey! Don’t say that,” Jake pulls your face from his chest, his eyebrows scrunched together again with a frown, “they’re not. You know you’re the prettiest girl in the world to me.”

You sigh, smoothing out the crease again out of instinct, “I know, but they don’t think that.”

“Honey, I don’t care what they think, it’s what I think that matters and I happen to think you’re the most exquisite creature I’ve ever seen,” he spoke matter-of-factly, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

You chuckled lightly, trying but failing to hide the heat that crept up your neck.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you have a crush on me, lieutenant Seresin,” you grinned, eyes crinkling with the pinch he left on your cheek.

Jake smirked, leaning down to brush his lips against yours in typical teasing Seresin manner, his breath fanned across your lips as he spoke, “oh I have much more than just a crush on you, baby.”

His muscles flexed underneath your hands as they glided up to hold him around his neck. He was bent down to be right in your face and you knew that if he were to straighten up you would be dangling from him; if he was uncomfortable in the way he was bent he didn’t let it on, instead he brushed your lips with his so achingly slow you couldn’t help the needy whine of his name that slipped from your pouting lips.

“Just kiss me already, Jake,” you whined like an impatient child, almost stomping your foot on the ground for added effect, but decided against it.

Jake only smirked, moving his hand up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place for him, “you wanna say that again, you little brat?”

You swallowed the stone-sized lump in your throat, trying to close the minimal gap between your lips, but Jake kept you in place with his strong hand.

“Please, kiss me… I love you,” you whispered, adding the last part to seal the deal because you knew Jake could never resist you when you played your sweet loving wife card.

Which is why you didn’t have time to even take a breath before Jake’s lips were on yours, trapping you firmly against his truck with his firm body. He moved skillfully against you, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, silently asking for permission; your lips parted instantly, allowing him entrance to slip his tongue in and tangle with yours. Your breaths mingled and your noses bumped one another. The kiss was bruising, to say the least, and his grip on you even more. His muscles moved under your touch, your hands sliding from his biceps to glide up his chest, finding their final destination tangled in his soft blond hair; your fingers scratched at his scalp and tugged on his locks electing soft grunts of satisfaction to fall from his parted lips.

One of Jake’s many talents was definitely kissing because somehow, no matter how many times you two made out, it always made tingles and goosebumps rise along your entire body. It was like being bathed in warm honey, his kisses sweet and always desperate for you. His hands explored you entirely like if he wasn’t holding you as close as possible you would vanish from him.

“You two haven’t left yet?”

Your kiss broke with a startled gasp as you peered over Jake’s shoulder to see a very amused Rooster and Phoenix, both with raised brows and sly grins. Your face felt like it was on fire especially with Jake’s hand cupping your face, thumb rubbing the soft skin slowly.

He didn’t turn fully, only looking over his shoulder to answer, “we were just about to.”

Phoenix hummed, “sure.”

“I was just helping my girl into her seat,” Jake smiled, sending you a quick wink.

Rooster barked out a laugh, “were you gonna stuff her through the door?”

Jake huffed, “I was just trying to be a gentleman… kissing my lady before helping her… not something you’re familiar with, huh, Bradshaw?”

“Dude, it looked like you were inhaling her… or crushing her,” Phoenix scoffed with a chuckle.

“Okay, not that I’m not enjoying this conversation because I really am… we really should leave now,” you spoke, burying your face in Jake’s shoulder.

“Alright, we’ll leave you to it… later lover birds,” Rooster saluted, turning with Phoenix back towards the bar.

You let out a laugh feeling Jake huff against the top of your head, “that guy.”

“Alright, lover boy, let’s go home.”

Jake looked down at you with a sheepish smile, “just a moment, sweetheart and then I’m good to go.”

“What’s wrong, are you okay?” you reached up cupping his cheeks, looking him over with wide eyes.

Jake let out a small chuckle, “I’m fine, honey… it’s just difficult driving when my pants feel a little tight.”

Your eyes widened as you looked down, and sure enough, his pants did look a little tighter, “oh… I thought your phone was poking me.”

Jake laughed loudly hugging you tightly, “my sweet girl.”

“What?? That was a completely valid thing to think,” you argued, wiggling in Jake’s grasp, but to no avail.

He hummed, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You’re the only one for me, ever. You know that right?” he spoke against the top of your head.

“I know,” you smiled against his chest, burying yourself further against him, “and you’re the only one for me.”

“Damn right I am,” he exclaimed, making you laugh.

A/n: to be notified of future writing follow @saintlike78slibrary and turn on notifications ☀️

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman fic #top gun maveric fan fiction #top gun maverick

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an-unknown-writers-world · 1 year

Text

I Want One

Warnings: Cheese with a hint of angst.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 551

A/N: This is so cheesy and basically wrote itself. I debated posting it, might delete later. I hope you enjoy it.

Jake’s arms were wrapped around your shoulders, your back pressed to his chest, and your hands holding onto his forearms. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you watched your brother and sister-in-law load their two kids into the truck.

“I want one,” Jake spoke, breaking the silence.

“Babe, you just got a new truck a month ago.”

“Not the truck,” he laughed.

You looked up and followed his gaze, your six-month-old niece giggling in your brother’s arms. “A baby?” You asked, shocked.

He smiled, the breathtaking kilowatt expression that exposed his dimples and crinkled his eyes. “Yes,”

“Oh,”

This was a conversation you had both had a dozen times. You’d never wanted kids before you met him. You had a rough past; you never felt stable or safe enough to consider having a baby before you met him. But Jake came in like a wrecking ball. Every boundary or plan you had set dissolved without a second thought. He didn’t push them or tell you anything negative about your plans. They just no longer mattered. He was safe. No matter where you were or what was happening in the world, he was your home, peace, and sanctuary.

“Babe,” He spoke softly, kissing the top of your head again, “hey,” he whispered, “look at me.”

You pulled back and looked up at him, and he wiped the pooled tears from under your eye. You hadn’t realized you had started to well up.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Shaking your head, you smiled, “s’not that,” you kissed him chastely. Hoping he’d let it go.

“Hey, talk to me,” He soothed, his hand cradling the side of your face.

You leaned into it, kissing the palm of his hand. “Just never thought I could be this happy. Happy enough to actually want to have a baby with you.”

He chuckled and kissed you again.

“Get a room!” Your brother yelled from the truck window smiling at the sight of you and Jake.

You pulled away from each other, both laughing. Jake’s hand coming to rest on your lower back, keeping you tucked into his side.

“Go home then!” You shouted back.

“Yeah, we have a baby to make!” Jake shouted.

You buried your face in his chest. Laughing and blushing. Your sister-in-law cheering in the background.

“Bout time!” Your brother yelled back. “Love you guys!”

“Love you!” You yelled back. Both you and Jake waved as they pulled down the drive.

“I like him,” Jake smiled, referring to your brother.

“He likes you too. Which is pretty impressive.” You agreed.

Silence passed between the two of you for the briefest moment as you watched your brother and his family slip down the road.

“I can’t believe you just told my brother we were going to make a baby.” You laughed again.

“Well, we are, aren’t we?” He shrugged.

“Yes, but you basically just told my brother to leave so we could have sex.”

“And?” He smirked

You rolled your eyes, smiling. It was a pointless, silly argument that you’d never win. “Take me to bed, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder, a gentle swat on your butt.

“Jake!” You exclaimed, laughing.

It was going to be a long night.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far - thank you so so so much for reading! My Masterlist can be found here. All work is also available on AO3

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thebirdandthebee · 1 year

Text

Aw Honey Honey (18+)

A Jake “Hangman” Seresin one-shot based on the above prompt + “Does he not know that we’re together?” This is unedited and a little corny, but I think it turned out cute! Smut and fluff ahead! 18+ only. If you enjoyed it, please don't keep it to yourself :)

Title: Aw Honey Honey Jake Seresin isn’t sharing his Sugar. WC: 3085

To some people you were the cute girl who worked in the corporate office of community engagement on base at Miramar. To others, you were Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin’s very serious, long-term girlfriend.

While you weren’t enlisted, you felt spoiled that you had an office on base, but weren’t tethered to quite the same rules and restrictions that your boyfriend, or his group of friends were obligated to abide by. Sure, you didn’t have free reign, but you often used your office as a hideout for your friends and colleagues during the day when they needed a place to relax for a few minutes.

Of course, there was work to do as well. You were in the thick of scheduling sailors and aviators alike to visit classrooms at elementary schools next week for Read Across America Day. Everyone got a class to visit from kindergarten through fifth grade, would read a Dr. Seuss book out loud, and then left a copy for each child to take home. It was one of your favorite days of the year.

“Knock, knock,” looking up from your computer, you saw Dean ‘Hooper’ Lennox, one of the newest aviators to join the elite fighter weapons school – or Top Gun.

“Hi Dean,” you smiled warmly, gesturing to the open seat across from you desk. “How ya doin’?”

“I’m good, how are you?” He asked, forgoing the chair and leaning against your desk.

“Happy it’s Friday,” you replied, leaning back in your chair and crossing one leg over the other, missing the way he glanced at your bare legs.

“Big plans this weekend?” he asked, reaching over flicking this finger across the top of your pen cup.

“I think some friends and I will hit The Hard Deck tonight,” you replied, opening up a desk drawer to pull out a Milky Way, breaking it in half and handing the other over to him. He grinned as he dropped it into his mouth as you enjoyed your treat as well.

“I’m sure we’ll end up there, too,” he added, eyes zeroing in on a thread of caramel on the corner of your mouth. “Maybe I can buy you a drink,” he reached down, running his thumb over your soft skin. You blushed with embarrassment; you must have looked ridiculous with candy on your face.

“Never say no to a free drink,” you laughed.

“Hey there,” you looked around Dean’s body to see Natasha’s head in your doorway.

“Hi Phee,” you grinned, “we’re having a candy break,” you explained.

“Love some sugar, huh Hooper?” Phoenix asked, “I think Rooster’s looking for you,” she added.

“See ya tonight,” Dean smiled, giving you a wink before disappearing from your office. Phoenix dropped into the chair opposite your desk.

“Milky Way or 100 Grand?” You asked, opening up your drawer.

“You know I want the Milky Way,” Phoenix replied with a flat look, opening her hand palm-up. You tossed one her way and she easily caught it, tearing it open. “Hooper visit you often?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah once and a while,” you shrugged.

“He always get right in your space like that?” She followed up.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged.

“I miss candy hour?” Jake asked, standing in the open door way.

“Hi babe,” you greeted, “candy hour is just starting,” you insisted, opening your drawer once again and fishing out a Baby Ruth bar.

“Thanks Sugar,” Jake said, walking over and kissing your cheek gently as he took the treat from you.

“You just missed Hooper,” Phoenix announced, giving her teammate a pointed look.

“Big loss,” Jake commented, not having a particular taste for the newbie.

“Yeah, he was getting some sugar from your Sugar,” Natasha added. You rolled your eyes with a laugh. Jake whipped around to look back at you, taking a bite out of his candy bar.

“Does he not know that we’re together?” He asked, his green eyes looking rather focused.

“Well it’s not like I introduce myself as Jake Seresin’s girlfriend,” you laughed, flipping your laptop back open.

“Well you could,” Jake said as if it was the obvious thing in the world.

“Phee, back me up here,” you said, looking for some female solidarity. Phoenix shrugged, planting her feet back on the ground and standing up.

“I don’t know, I think he wants to fuck you,” Phoenix said, “but I’ve got reports to file, so that’s my cue – see you all tonight.”

“Bye Phee,” you sighed, looking back up at Jake whose gaze had really focused back on you.

“Why does Phoenix think Hooper wants to fuck you?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Baby, he came in here to get some candy and asked me if I had any weekend plans,” you said plainly, standing up from your desk, “Phoenix is being ridiculous – besides, what do I care what Dean thinks?” You wound your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest. “I’ve got you,” You smiled, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

Jake gave in, draping his arms down over your shoulders and hugging you against him.

“Is it the weekend yet?” He asked, lacing his hand up into your hair, giving it a gentle tug.

“Tonight will be fun,” you insisted. “But for now, back to work, Hangman,” you laughed, landing an open palm on his ass.

“I’m reporting you,” Jake frowned, leaning down to press a hot kiss to your mouth, “see you at home.” He gave your hair one more little tug before disappearing. Dropping back down to your desk, you glanced at the clock. The workday couldn’t end soon enough.

You beat Jake home that afternoon, immediately changing out of your work clothes and into a pair of Jake’s shorts and a tank top. You were throwing together a cheese quesadilla in the kitchen when you heard the front door open again.

“Sugar?” He called out, “where ya hidin’ baby?” he wandered into the kitchen, already unbuttoning his khaki shirt.

“Hi handsome,” you grinned, greeting him with a kiss. “Want a lil snack?” you asked, brandishing your spatula in the air.

“I got a lil snack right here,” he said, chasing your lips with a kiss.

“What time are we meeting everyone?” You asked, “do we have time for a quick shower?”

“Sugar, you know we always have time for a shower,” Jake grinned.

“Split this with me,” you commanded, transferring the quesadilla to a plate, the cheese gooey and hot. Carefully cutting it in half, Jake gladly let you feed him bite by bite.

“How about we go away next weekend?” Jake said, gladly chowing down on the snack you made.

“Where do you want to go, babe?” You reached up, swiping at the corner of Jake’s mouth with a napkin.

“Go up the coast, stay in Malibu for a couple days,” he said, “get a little tan.”

“I’m in,” you nodded. “Love seeing you in those little euro swim trunks,” you winked. Jake scoffed with a shake of his head, tossing his plate in the sink and taking your last bite.

“You have ten seconds to strip and get in the shower,” he pointed to the bathroom down the hall. When Jake meant business, he meant business, so you skedaddled through the house, losing your shorts and top along the way. He’d grab them anyway, Jake Seresin was an unbearable clean freak.

You’d just stepped into the stream of water when you felt Jake’s hands on your waist, shortly followed by his breath in our ear.

“Hi Sugar,” he whispered, holding back the shower curtain as he stepped in.

“Hi Jake,” you grinned, turning to face him, the hot water beating down on your back.

“You been a good girl today?” He asked, pushing your hair back from your face.

“Always are,” you insisted, giving him those big doe eyes he always loved.

“Don’t like you being sweet to Hooper,” He said, walking you back to press you against the shower wall. The tile was cold and he welcomed your arched gasp, pressing your body against his hips-first.

“Can’t help being nice, babe, it’s my nature,” you reminded, “seem to recall when you enjoyed me being so sweet to you.” You’d met Jake two years ago around this time, when he came barreling into your office about a community event, asking a favor for support, when he stuck around for some homemade caramels.

“Your sugar is just for me,” he said, fingers trailing down your stomach to your sex, swiping two fingers through your wet folds before bringing them up to his mouth. “My favorite,” he complimented. “Let’s see if you’re sweet everywhere.”

Your hands found purchase in his blonde hair as his lips traveled from your lips to your jaw to your neck. Sucking gently, you gasped as his teeth grazed your delicate skin.

It was all you could do to run your hands up and down his sculpted back, water cascascading across his muscles as he traveled around your neck and collarbone.

“Jake,” you whined gently, impatience thick in your throat.

“Come on, honey girl,” he hoisted you up, hands planted firmly on your ass as he forced your legs around his waist. When he slid his cock home, you sighed with relief. “There you are,” he huffed into your ear, “there’s my sweet girl,” he could feel his lungs expand in his chest.

“I gotta shampoo,” you reminded, eyes going cross for a moment as he stroked up into you. “Are you seriously thinking about shampoo right now?” Jake asked.

“No, baby,” you giggled at his affronted tone, but gasped as he doubled his efforts, hitting just the right spot inside of you relentlessly. “Jake,” you moaned.

“That’s better,” he grit out, legs shaking beneath him. He liked to think he was in fairly good shape, but the way your sex clenched around him had Jake second-guessing himself. “God you feel incredible, Sugar,” his brows knit in concentration.

Acclimated to the temperature of the tile against your back, you returned your hands to his hair, soothing the lines of his forehead from pure concentration.

“Fucking me so good,” you encouraged, head tilting back against the wall. “Always fuck me so good,” your hand gripped the back of Jake’s neck, fingertips stroking the fine hair there.

“Come on baby, give me that sugar,” he grunted, fingers returning to your clit, making you jump. Jake knew your body better than you, and he could tell, as your right heel dug into his lower back, that you were close. He pressed his forehead into your neck as he came, hips stuttering erratically, mindful to fuck you through his orgasm. With shaking hands, he swirled around your clit just right, shouting as you came, squeezing him in a way that caused black spots in his vision.

Jake, on unsteady legs, gently set you down, the shower filled with billows of steam.

Lazily looping your arms around his neck, he kissed you slowly, savoring the taste of your mouth.

“Lemme shampoo you,” you whispered, making him honk out a loud laugh.

“I swear you love your shampoo more than me,” He said, pressing a firm kiss to your lips.

“Baby, not more than you,” you murmured, “just as much.” A loud squeal ripped from your mouth as he slapped your ass.

Twenty minutes later, you were throwing a summery strapless maxi dress on, tying your hair back into a low bun.

“Babe?” You called for Jake, who was grabbing fresh clothes from the laundry room. He dutifully stepped into the bedroom, taking your necklace and clasping it around your neck wordlessly – a habit he was all too accustomed to. Appearing in the bathroom mirror, you frowned as you saw how red and splotchy your skin was from Jake’s ministrations, but applied minimal makeup nonetheless.

“Your boobs look good,” he commented, stepping behind you, hands cupping your breasts over your dress.

“Jake,” you laughed, “get out of the way or I’m going to get perfume on you,” you warned. He gave your breasts a quick squeeze before heading down the hall.

You still had twenty minutes or so until you needed to leave, so you’d grabbed the mail and sorted through a few items before picking up the living room and packing your purse for the night.

Jake busied himself in the office before Coyote text him that they were leaving quarters to hit the bar.

“Sugar, time to leave,” he instructed, pulling you from your pile of newspaper coupons. He held your hand as you stepped into your shoes, bringing you a little closer to his height.

You rode alongside him in he car, leaning into his side with an arm over your shoulder. You were grateful for the weekend and the chance to unwind. Planning for the reading event had taken a lot out of you this week and you were ready for the chance to decompress.

Upon arriving at The Hard Deck, Jake grasped your hand, leading you inside. It was already packed for the night, Fridays being the most popular time, and Jake spotted Coyote over near one end of the bar with Harvard and Fritz.

“Oh, there’s Tasha – I’ll meet you,” you assured, rocking up to your toes to peck Jake’s lips. “Buy me a beer?” You asked, already crossing the bar. Jake shook his head with a smile, knowing he’d get you anything you asked for.

“What the hell happened to you?” Natasha asked as a greeting. You looked back over you shoulder, wondering if she was talking to you.

“What?” You asked, brows furrowed, “me?”

“You look like you got fucking mauled,” she laughed sardonically, eyeing you up. Looking down, you could see the faintest yellow mark just below your collarbone. Grabbing Natasha’s phone, you flipped the camera to selfie-mode. Over the last half an hour, your red splotches had developed into yellow-green bruises all of your neck and collarbone. “What the fuck?” you laughed, rolling your eyes, “Jake.” You supplied as an answer. “It’s your fault actually,” you said pointedly, angling your body away from the bar.

“My fault?” Natasha asked, eyes wide.

“Yes! Jake got all in my business after you told him Hooper wants to fuck me,” you gave her a meaningful look.

“Well Hooper does want to fuck you,” she said plainly. “Here,” she grabbed her jean jacket off the high top next to her. “This will piss Jake off,” she grinned.

“I don’t really care what he thinks, I just look ridiculous,” you shrugged it on – letting it rest on your shoulders without looping your arms through the sleeves.

You and Natasha caught up for a bit longer, you leaning an elbow against the countertop.

After a good fifteen minutes, you noticed Hooper approaching from over Natasha’s shoulder, and you stood a little straighter.

“No drink in your hand?” He asked with a wide smile.

“Oh, her friend is getting her one,” Natasha smiled knowingly.

“Sure I can’t buy you one? I did offer,” he said, giving her a smile like butter wouldn’t melt. Maybe he was flirting with her after all.

“You’re sweet, but I’m all set,” you reassured.

“Can’t wait for the Read Across America event next week,” he said excitedly, a genuine smile reflecting in those blue eyes. You weren’t blind – Hooper was an attractive man - ocean eyes, fluffy dark brown hair and a chin cleft that harkened back to old Hollywood. He just wasn’t your Jake.

“Yeah, you been practicing your ABCs?” Natasha asked snarkily. You tossed her a look that screamed be nice!

“I’m glad! Not everyone jumps at the chance to entertain a class of 20 six-year olds,” you smiled.

“I’ve got a big family, lots of siblings – I also volunteer as Big Brother out of the San Diego chapter of Big Brothers Big Sisters,” he elaborated, watching the smile on your face grow.

“Yeah, you read to orphans, too?” Natasha asked, sipping her beer. You caught her eye, just to see her expression change and a feline grin take over her face.

“Hi there,” you could spot Jake’s voice anywhere. “Brought your favorite,” he said, setting a summer shandy down on the counter next to your elbow.

“Thanks Jake,” you smiled. “Dean was just telling us about how he volunteers at Big Brothers Big Sisters, isn’t that just the sweetest?” You asked, looking up and over your shoulder at him.

“The sweetest,” Jake grinned that cocky smirk that made you wonder what he was going to do next. “Sugar are you not sweatin’ in here with that jacket on?” He asked, gingerly taking the shoulder seams in his hands and dragging it off of your body, folding it in half and tossing it over the same chair it originally laid across.

There was no missing Hooper’s expression as he eyed up the gallery of color across your neck and décolletage.

“Yeah, I um –” He watched, clearing his throat as Jake snaked his arms around your waist from behind, dropping a kiss down on your bare shoulder. “Started back at my old chapter in Kansas City, but transferred here… when I moved.” He finished lamely.

“That’s so kind of you, I wish I could do more philanthropically, but I get to fill that cup through work, so it’s a big bonus,” you smiled, Jake’s body pressed so tightly up against your back, there wasn’t room for even a piece of paper to slip between you. Natasha’s grin was downright wicked from behind the rim of her glass, the glint in her eyes absolutely entertained.

“She’s a real sweet girl,” Jake commented. “Sugar sweet,” he finished, squeezing your waist in hand.

“I think Tanker and Mad Dog are starting up a game of pool,” he said, eyes darting all around – “I’ll see you guys later, have a great night.” He practically left a cloud of smoke in his wake.

“Jacob Seresin,” you scolded, turning in your boyfriend’s grip. Natasha burst into laughter.

“Yes?” He asked, tipping his chin up to look down at you, that same cocky smirk on his face.

“You’re unbelievable you know that?” You asked.

“Better believe it,” he grinned.

“And what is all this?” You gestured to your colorful skin.

“I think it turned out quite well, wouldn’t you agree, Phoenix?” He asked.

“You’re a real piece of work, Bagman,” she shook her head, but smiled nonetheless.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?” You asked, leaning forward.

“You can start by giving me some sugar.”

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Aw Honey Honey, you might also like Mighty Fine!

#Jake Seresin imagine #jake x reader #jake seresin fic #jake is a simp #jake seresin #Jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #hangman #hangman smut #hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman fluff #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fan fic #Top Gun fic

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disturbedbeautywrites · 1 year

Text

Cowboy Casanova

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: suggestive language, some swearing

The air in the bar was electric and thick with smoke; the speakers blaring footloose as you watched a big majority of people go to the dance floor. You were sat at the bar with your best friend, talking and catching up. Your head was thrown back in laughter, alcohol coursing through your veins.

“I’d like to buy these two ladies two shots of what they’re already drinking. Add it to my tab.” You heard an all too familiar voice come up to the bar beside you. The shit eating grin of Jake seresin met you as you turned your head, a mumbled swear leaving your lips. “I’d also like you guys to come and hangout with my buddies and I, if you guys are interested.” Damn it, you forgot the pull he had on you.

You took a deep breath, immediately saying no as your friend said yes. You caught a look of confusion flash across Jake’s face before he regained his composure. “Well, we’re right over there whenever you two make up your minds.” He tipped his hat before he turned and walked away.

Your friend looked at you incredulously, her mouth hanging open. “What the actual hell are you thinking? He’s fine as hell!” She looked at you as if you had two heads, waiting for your answer. She had you by the arm as she pulled you away from the bar.

You just shook your head and sighed, looking back at her. “Him and I have history. It’s.. complicated.” You didn’t want to admit that you fell for your on again off again friend with benefits, but it had happened. Then, he had left with the navy for almost a year, and you hadn’t heard from him since and you were a tad bit jaded about all of it. “He’s just bad news. Trust me on this.”

She just gave you a look, debating on asking before she just shook her head and accepted the answer. “Well alright then. But, I’m telling you right now he can’t keep his eyes off of you.” Your friend was now facing the opposite direction, her gaze directly on Jake and his friends before she saw you try and slap her playfully. She just laughed, winking at you before she walked off to the dance floor.

You let out a small sigh as you decided to turn around, your gaze immediately meeting Jake’s as he motioned you towards him, mouthing “come here.” You hesitated for a second before walking towards him, leaning against the wall beside him.

His bigger frame was soon in front of you, his arm placed against the wall above your head as he leaned in towards you. It was his favorite position to have you in, especially in busy places like this. “Well, hi darlin’.” The way he called that was enough to make your knees weak, your voice catching in your throat.

“You look good. The navy is treating you well.” You decided to skip the small talk and get into a rhythm of banter that you were more familiar with. You felt his green eyes staring into yours, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth before you said your next words. “I bet you have girls throwing themselves at you in San Diego.”

He just chuckled and smirked, a cocky glint in his eye. “I mean, I do. But, there’s something about this damn girl in Austin. She’s all I can ever fucking think about. No matter how long I’m gone.” His lips were close to your ear now, closing in on the sensitive skin right under your earlobe. It caused you to gasp, balling his shirt up in your fist as you let out a small squeak of pleasure. “And tonight she’s playing hard to get.”

You swallowed thickly, practically melting into his touch as he moved his free hand down to push your shirt up a bit. He moved his fingers to the exposed skin of your hip, drawing circles with his fingertips. “Y-you’re lying.” You managed to squeak out before he chuckled again, moving his lips back up to your ear.

“Sweetheart, if you haven’t noticed what you do to me yet, you’re blind.” His voice was husky and laced with lust, his lips moving to ghost over yours once, twice, three times. “You drive me absolutely insane.”

You let out a groan of frustration, standing on your tiptoes to let your lips meet his. “I want you all to myself. Especially tonight.” The words left your lips with a hint of desperation, Jake chuckling and smirking as he pulled away from you.

He reached up and took the cowboy hat off his head, setting it down on yours. “All you had to do was ask, baby girl.” Your eyes scanned over him as you heard the words he told you the first night he met you. You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy. Not that you ever had a problem with that. In fact, everytime you saw him you managed to steal his hat for that exact reason. “Now, get your friend home safe. Then we’ll meet up tomorrow. Keep the hat until then. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

You smiled as you readjusted the hat on your head, running your hands down his chest briefly as you decided to get him even more riled up. “I mean, I gotta abide by the hat rule now. The hat stays on during that, by the way.”

“Trust me, I 100% agree. That hat is staying on all night tomorrow.” He sent a wink your way before you felt his fingers on the waist band of your shorts, a piece of paper being slid between your underwear and your waist band. “Oh, and when you can’t stop thinking of me later, there’s my phone number.” You swore under your breath as he pressed his body against yours before he winked and backed away, leaving you sexually frustrated and aching for him.

Oh, you definitely would be using that phone number later.

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sappy-seresin · 1 year

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I was Born to Love You (J. Seresin)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Summary: You're the one Jake was born to love, and he creates gentle moments to remind you. Based on Ray LaMontagne's "I was Born to Love You."

Warnings: None, honestly just toe curling fluff.

Word Count: 2k

A/n: MY WORK IS ORIGINAL AND IS NOT TO BE COPIED OR REPOSTED. Be kind and don't steal other people's writing, thank you.

Gif creds: @unicornships

You’re in the kitchen of your and Jake’s shared home, knee deep in making dinner while Jake clinks around in the living room, having said something about music making the already soft atmosphere better. You smile to yourself as he clicks through several songs, imagining his tongue slightly jutted out of his mouth in concentration as he searches for the perfect melody to set the tone.

“There it is,” you hear him mutter after a lull of silence. Being focused on the task at hand, you miss the sound of Jake’s feet padding closer to you.

"Our song?" You point out, a fond smile tickling the corner of your lips as you glance at Jake over your shoulder. Butterflies dance in your stomach at the effortless elegance surrounding him. He's wearing a content grin, a hum of affirmation rumbles from his chest as he melodically approaches you with an outstretched hand.

"Dance with me," though it's a request, it comes out as more of a statement and you know 'no' won't be an acceptable answer.

"I'm making dinner," you remind him, a slight whine lacing your voice. You love treating him to home cooked meals when you have a night in, and he loves it when you do so, but sometimes, he just wants to dance with his favorite girl on his arm.

"Dance with me, Darlin'," he murmurs in your ear, catching you in his arms with his chest flush against his back. His lips graze your ear as he speaks and he promptly presses a chaste kiss on the skin just behind it, knowing you're always putty in his hands when he does that. "Dinner can wait." You sigh, melting into his chest, letting him know that he's won. His gently spins you around in his arms, wordlessly guiding you to the middle of the dimly lit living room. Unbeknownst to you, he lit several candles and turned down the lights while you were distracted in the kitchen. The simplistic romantic setting has you swooning further as Jake guides your hands to rest around his neck, promptly sliding his to rest just above your spine while he smiles down at you, humming with the beginning lyrics of Ray LaMontagne's, "I was Born to Love you" playing through your vintage record player.

You give me a sign, you give me a lift Take me home when I've done my shift. You give me a loan when I'm stone cold broke Get me high, when I need a toke.

"You're quite the charmer, Lieutenant," you smile, tracing circles across the exposed skin on the nape of his neck as you sway to the music, following his lead. A blush tints his cheeks, partnered with the bashful smile you love to be the reason behind.

"Only for my favorite girl," he admits, his voice is husky as his breath ghosts your face. The glimmer in his eyes makes your knees feel weak, just like it does every time you catch it being directed at you.

"I was born to love. I was born to love, I was born to love. I was born to-" plays through the speakers, adding to the warm hue covering the room as the two of you lose yourselves in each others eyes and rhythmic movements. You're both engrossed in each others company now, lost in each others eyes as you whimsically move through the candlelit room, enjoying the way the lighting lights up each others features in the simplest, most beautiful way.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the look in his eyes. You've been together for years, and aren't new to the awe that twinkles in his green orbs as they drink you in, but that doesn't mean the gesture doesn't have you feeling like a puddle of goop beneath his feet every time you witness it.

"Times were tough, we made it through. We tasted the rough, so let's save the spoon," Jake sings along with the song, effortlessly twirling you before bringing you safely against his chest again. "All the time I was hurting you, got to believe that I was hurting, too." You're convinced that your own lovesick smile can't get any wider as you drink him in.

This song immediately carried significance in your relationship the first time the two of you heard it while slow dancing at a mutual friends wedding shortly after you started dating. The two of you knew that you loved each other, to a certain degree, before you heard it, but the lyrics immediately affirmed how you'd both been feeling after months of tiptoeing around it.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I think you're my person," he'd confidently, yet bashfully, uttered halfway through the second verse. His cheeks were tinted with nerves and whiskey as his eyes blearily captured your content exterior. Your eyes were doe-like as you blinked up at him in adoring surprise upon hearing his confession, but they quickly filled with tears of astonishment when he finished his next though. "I think I was born to love you." His expression was hopeful once he'd gotten the words out, dread dancing through his chest at the chance that you didn't feel the same way. Feeling vulnerable and out in the open wasn't something that Jake Seresin was used to, but he brought his heart out on full display in the moment, leaving himself exposed while awaiting your response. Taking a few seconds to process what he said, your hands cupped his cheeks to pull his attention away from the self doubt you could feel wafting off of him.

"Jake Seresin, I think I was made to love you too," you promised him with a tearful smile, losing your breath when he kissed you so passionately that your head spun.

"Sing with me baby," Jake requests, pulling your attention from the flashback. You easily tune back into the song, leaning your head against his toned chest as the two of you softly sing along with the chorus, the lyrics pouring from the two of you so easily that an outsider looking in may believe that you'd written them yourselves.

"I was born to love. I was born to, born to love, I was born to-." The two of you sing in whispered voices, further soaking each other in as you melt into him again.

"You're the only one I can talk to The only one I can really read I know you give because you want to Don't you think it's time you learn to let yourself receive?" You press a chaste kiss to his neck after the verse finishes, letting your lips ghost against his skin as you continue murmuring the lyrics to him, enjoying the way they sound through his Texan accent. His chins rests itself on top of your head as he recounts the way those words always make his heart clench due to their unwavering truth.

This specific verse is one that Jake has always connected with on a deeper level. You've been his safe place ever since he met you, and are the only person he's let see even the most broken parts of him. He's the same for you, and has been reading you like you're his favorite book that he can quote without skipping a beat.

Knowing that intimacy wasn't one of Jake's strong suits, you willingly jumped in and began showing him that he didn't have to carry the pressure of being the strong one all the time. You catered to every need that he'd allow you to without even blinking, because if you knew anyone that needed unconditional love, it was Jake Seresin. He quickly carried an immeasurable amount of gratitude for that, and swore to himself that he'd return the favor as soon as you'd let him and willingly receive love yourself.

"Can make you smile, can make you sing Just wanna give back a little bit of what you give me. I could sing you a song, play you a tune I know it's just a little thing, but it's something I can do."

Having been friends for a season prior to diving into each other, Jake had witnessed a small portion of your previous relationship, which tainted your own ability to accept love, though you never faltered in gifting it to others. You've always seen the value in caring deeply for other people's hearts and exemplifying that fact through your actions, but situations and relationships in your own life made it nearly impossible for you to return that favor to yourself. Jake made it his sole purpose to help you realize that you were just as deserving of love as the people you care about, if not even more. He wanted to give back all the love that you'd given him and, more importantly, he wanted you to be able to give that same kind of love to yourself. He did everything in his power to see it through.

"I was born to love, I was born to I was born to love, I was born to"

As soon as your friendship shifted into a hint of more, it was impossible for other people not to see that you were meant for each other. The way that you complemented each other so effortlessly never went unnoticed.

You know that couple that captivates everyone's attention due to their aura every time they walk into a room? That's you and Jake. Hell, that's been you and Jake before you and Jake fully existed. The eye-catching chemistry between the two of you has always melted the hearts of bystanders graced by your presence. The two of you carry the type of love that most people only dream of experiencing as you waltz through this life together.

I was born to love you I was born to love you.

The song finishes, but the two of you continue swaying in each others arms, not quite ready to let the fleeting moment pass just yet. Jake's hand cups the back of your head as he pulls away far enough that he can see your face in its entirety. Feeling shy under his attention, you glue your eyes to the floor, your entire head moving in an attempt to hide the emotions swirling in your chest.

Jake tuts his tongue, hooking his forefinger underneath your chin and dragging it upward so that your eyes lock on his again. He pauses, admiring the gentleness of your face, allowing his eyes to speak for him.

"I was born to love you, Y/n Seresin," he gushes, voice sultry and true, as he captivates you with his endearing expression. His thumb slides across the soft expanse of your cheek, resting at the space between your jaw and your neck.

"I was born to love you, Jake Seresin. And I'll gladly spend every day proving it," you promise, grinning at him now. He sucks in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the love practically oozing from both of your pores. It takes a lot to render Jake speechless, yet you manage to do it every time you remind him just how loved he is by you.

Another beat of silent pining takes place before Jake's pulling you in for a brain scrambling kiss. His lips are soft against yours, molding together so easily that you can't help but believe they were sculpted just for you. You melt into him, each of you losing yourselves in each others kisses. You fall limp against his brute chest, merely putty in his mans hands as he lock his words in with his mouth, letting it do all the talking now. A new song queues itself up, but it's unnoticed by the two of you, the songs long forgotten as the dinner you were working on grows cold on the stove. Minutes feel like hours as you drink each others existence in, letting everything else fade away as though nothing else matters.

Nothing else matters to you as long as you can feel Jake's heartbeat thumping to the same rhythm as your own, your mind jumbled by even the simplest of kisses from him, and vice versa.

When you've found the person you were born to love, everything else in the world changes. Colors appear brighter. Aromas feel stronger. Darkness goes unnoticed. Somehow, love has the power to both amplify and extinguish everything around those lucky enough to experience it. You and Jake wouldn't have it another way as you bask in each others company, swaying gently to a never-ending stream of melodies as the world around you fades away.

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A/n: One of MANY Valentine's/fluffy fics in my drafts. I had this whole plan to spend the day making mood boards and posting fics, but got sidetracked by inspiration for a personal photoshoot. I will be posting more Valentine's Day inspired fics over the course of the next few days, this is just the one that I finished last night and wanted to post before the day was over. I hope you enjoyed it!!

Tags/moots: @atarmychick007 @b-radbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @fanboygarcia @bradleybeachbabe @rosiahills22

My taglist is still a work in progress, lmk if you want off of it, and I'll make sure not to tag you anymore!

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