#Hurt Jake “Hangman” Seresin

[topgunruinedme]

Screaming in Silence

Summary: If anyone asked Jake how four words had impacted his life, he wouldn't have been able to tell them.

FebWhump Prompt - Day 12: "Can you hear me?".

//

No one questioned Jake about his tattoo, he knew it was weird. It was unusual, worrying for people who didn't understand it. He had been asked to see a psychologist and he had seen the odd looks people give him.

But no one knew the significance behind those four words. The four words that had changed his life forever. The four words that had been the first thing that wasn’t shouted in abuse at him.

From the cop who gently pulled him out from under his bed and wrapped him in his own jacket.

‘Seresin’

The man who saved his life, who took him away from his abusive foster home, who adopted him and gave him a life he had once thought could only happen in a fairy tale. 

It all started with four words. “Can you hear me?”.

It started when he was 7. Hiding under his bed terrified as the police raided the house, his foster parents were screaming and flailing making a fuss. 

Jake held his breath as a pair of black boots stopped In front of his bed. He pressed himself back further against the wall. The shine of the flashlight the man was holding was pointed at the floor.

He watched in bated breaths as the man knelt down carefully and sucked his head under the bed.

Jake stared at him terrified, his chest caving under the stress of breathing and his heart pounded as every instinct in his body told him to run. To fight, to escape this hell he was trapped in. 

“Can you hear me?” The man asked gently with a small smile, he seemed generous perhaps if Jake was compliment he would receive less of a beating.

With a jolty head movement he nodded in his cramped space under the bed.

The man looked around before moving back, providing him more space between them.

Ensuring he didn’t feel crowded, Jake realized in awe.

“Hey bud, can you come out for me?” He asked softly, Jake watched the man lower the flashlight to see him more clearly. It was pointed away from him but the light still made him wince.

The cop grimaced “Sorry buddy, I can’t do much about that. I have to be able to see you”.

He shifted so he was down on his stomach copying Jake's position, urging the boy out softly, both of them attempting to ignore the yelling and sound of things crashing in the other room. It was slightly muffled, as the man extended a hand out to him.

Jake flinched, yanking himself away from the man watching the man tentatively for any movement that could hint towards the man hitting him. He found none. 

The man patiently waited for Jake to examine him before Jake shook his head at him, his eyes filled with terror, no he couldn’t go with him. They would take him, it would be worse, so much worse.

“No?” The officer asked “That's alright we can stay here”. He seemed almost laid back, keeping his hand extended out as an olive branch as he rested his chin on top of his hand just watching. Waiting. “My name is David Seresin, I’m an Officer for LAPD. What’s your name?”

Jake shifted uncomfortably “Jacob” he said quietly biting down the the feeling of a car to heavy tongue and cottonmouth,

“Jacob” David tilted his head “That’s a nice name, so you like it?” 

Thinking through all the abuse and names his fosters had screamed at him, he shook his head nervously. 

David smiled calmly at him “Would you rather me call you something else?”

“Jay?” He requested hesitantly. He had always been ‘Jacob’, ‘that boy’, ‘Foster’. He had never had a nickname before.

“Alright Jay, why don’t we get you out from under there now yeah?” David smiled, wiggling his fingers enticingly.

Hesitantly Jay reached out clawing their hand together letting David lead him out from Under the bed watching the man’s slow calculated movements carefully as the man helped him stand. Shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around him. It was heavy on his shoulders far too big, then again he was far too small for his age.

“Come on kid, let’s get you out of here” David wrapped an arm around him protectively as he led him out of the house that had housed his own personal hell.

He let David walk him out to a new leaf off his life. The better half, the half where David took him in and encouraged his love for flying. It was a slow process but he was there, every event, every graduation without fail, right up until he got shot in the line of duty. 

Jake stood in front of David’s body laying on a slab, his hand pulled back the sheet and brushed the stray lock of hair off his fathers check.

David always hated how wild his hair was, he was cold to the touch. He had gone out saving a friend, a colleague. Just as he would have wanted too, he had saved another person. 

It all started with 4 words, “Can you hear me?”.

[calkale]

any man of mine

[sarahsmi13s]

Rocks Are Allowed to Crack, Stars Are Allowed to Dim

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x fem!pilot!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n nivans, the daggers, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, diego and benny harding (oc father and son)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, language, ptsd, description of accident, panic attack, injuries, descriptions of scars, flashbacks, fear of death, familial death (mentioned), crying, bottling up feelings, please please let me know if i missed any

word count: ~8.0k

a/n: this has been sitting in my docs and on my wheel for at least a year (please forgive the awkward moments). so i figured i'd take a sliver of the wheel and make him a little lighter! i've also been in a funk lately, so i thought getting something out there might help!

quick summary: everyone deserves someone to comfort them in their time of need, even the ones that always lend their shoulder

Ah, yes, dogfight football. Maverick’s way of creating a team. You play offense and defense at the same time. Tackling each other into the sand, sometimes into the water. It may be chaotic, but it’s fun and a great team building exercise.

Which is why you hated that you were running a little behind.

You sighed as you got out of your car and walked over to where Penny was sitting at the table. 

You placed your aviators on your head, “I’m not late am I?” Penny chuckled and shook her head, “Just in time. Want a beer before you go?” You shook your head, “Nah, I’m okay right now. Care to watch my stuff?” 

The brunette gestured to the items in front of her, chuckling, “I’m watchin’ everyone else's. I don’t see why not.” You chuckled and sat your wallet, phone, and keys down, as well as your sunglasses. You slipped off your shorts, folding them and laying them down.

“Nivans!” 

You turned at the call of your last name, brows raised in curiosity. 

 It was Maverick. 

“Hurry up and get down here!”

You turned to Penny, “This is gonna be fun.” You both laughed before you jogged across the sand to meet everyone by the water. 

“Sorry I’m late, Mav.” 

Maverick shook his head, “You’re not late, Rockstar. Can’t be late for fun.” 

“Not gonna take your t-shirt off?” Phoenix asked when you stood beside her. You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good.” 

Hangman sighed, “That’s a shame.” 

You chuckled at him and bent down to throw a handful of sand at him. 

“Watch it, Rockstar,” Hangman said, his voice light as he glared at you playfully.

“Or what, Hangman?” You challenged, eyes narrowed but a smile pulled at your lips.

Now, you and Hangman joked like this all the time. You considered each other best friends, which confused everyone else on base. 

Jake Seresin was an asshole. He was cocky and arrogant. You, Y/N Nivans, were not an asshole. Quite the opposite, actually. 

You were humble while still knowing your worth, but also showing anybody up if they proposed a challenge, and not being sour when you lost. 

Jake went out looking for competition, you let it come to you. 

You were also probably the sweetest thing to walk the planet. Most certainly the sweetest to walk the airstrip. 

You were nice to everyone, always giving someone the benefit of the doubt until they truly proved they were an asshole. 

You also took care of your team, they were your family. You always had the door open if someone needed to talk. Your arms were wide open when they showed up in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare and couldn’t shake it. You were their rock.

So, when you walked into the Hard Deck that first day of the Uranium Mission and hugged Hangman, everyone was confused — except Coyote who knew you from a year prior. But they didn’t verbally question you, choosing instead to ponder in private.

Hangman sighed, “Come on, Rocky. You're giving your enemy the advantage.” He tugged at your shirt and pulled you into his arms. 

You laughed and pushed him away by his chest, “You’re gonna have to catch me first.” Hangman cocked his head to the side, “Oooh, that’s how it is?” You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips, “That’s how it is.” 

You panted as you used your shirt to wipe the sweat from your face. 

When you let go of your shirt you raised your arms, calling for the ball. They threw it to you and you took off for your endzone. 

You felt the sand shift and you knew Hangman was behind you. You had to get rid of the ball, so you called out to your teammate, “Phoenix!” She ran ahead of you and you threw her the ball.

As soon as the ball was out of your hand, Hangman tackled you to the ground. 

You laughed as you laid on your stomach, arms out in front of you. 

“What was that about ‘catching you’?” Jake grunted from above you.

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “Haha, very funny Hangman. Now get off, you’re heavy.” 

“First, ouch. Second, nah, you’re comfy.” You laughed and shook your head, attempting to push off the ground and basically buck him off. 

But, Hangman wouldn’t let you, laughing as he moved and made you fall back down.

In this new position, Hangman was putting pressure on a certain part of your back and panic shot through you. 

“Seriously, dude, get up,” you tried to say with a laugh, not wanting to sound rude or like you were mad at him. He just smiled and rested his chin on his hands. 

You closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, but the waves hitting you pushed you over the edge. 

“Jake, get the fuck off me.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you were panicking.

Jake was surprised by your tone, along with the use of his first name. He immediately got up and held out a hand for you to take but you just got up and ran to the table. 

“Rockstar, where you going?” Maverick asked. You called out while still running, “I need a break for a minute.” 

You got to the table, “Is it unlocked?” Penny nodded, “Yeah, why?” “Bathroom break.” Penny just nodded again and watched you take your sunglasses with you as you jogged inside.

Rooster ran over and hit Jake’s arm, “What did you do, Hangman?” Jake shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He put his hands on his hips and watched you disappear into the bar. 

He felt bad, he wanted to chase after you and apologize but he didn’t know what he did. 

“Well, you seemed to piss her off,” Phoenix said, shoving the ball into his chest. 

Maverick looked at Penny but she just shrugged, meaning you didn’t say much.

You ran into the bathroom, throwing yourself into a stall.  

You leaned over the toilet and waited to throw up. Tears had started running down your face the minute you stepped in the bar. You coughed and sobbed lightly as you tried to control your breathing. 

After a few minutes of that, the nausea subsided and you slowly stood to go to the sink. 

You turned the cold water on and splashed your face. 

“Shit…” 

You closed your eyes as the tight feeling in your chest loosened. You let out a shaky breath and looked in the mirror, cringing at the puffiness around your eyes. You grabbed your sunglasses and slipped them on before leaving the bathroom.

When you stepped outside you saw Maverick and Penny talking, and when you sat down they stopped talking and looked at you concerned. 

“You alright? Gave Hangman quite the scare for a second,” Mav asked, squaring his shoulders to you. You nodded, resting your forearms on the table. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rubbed your forehead, “Hey Pen-” 

Before you could finish your sentence, a beer was sat in front of you, causing you to giggle, “Read my mind.”

As he continued to play, Jake still couldn’t get over the fact that you called him ‘Jake’ during a day out. 

It wasn’t that you never did, but it was rare that you called anyone by their first name. 

But it wasn’t just that, it was the way you said that really made him worry. He had never heard your voice sound like that before.

He looked at you from his spot on the beach, noticing you didn’t come back to join in the fun. 

Hangman walked up to Phoenix, worried that he had really upset you and wanted help from the girl you were closest to. “You don’t really think I pissed her off, do you?” 

She sighed, “I don’t know, Hangman. Even if you did, I doubt she could stay mad at you for long. She can't be mad at anyone for very long.”

Jake nodded and watched you stand up from your spot at the table.

You finished your beer and stood up, “I’m gonna head out.” 

Maverick frowned, “You sure you’re okay, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just really need to shower. I’ve got sand in places sand shouldn’t be,” you said with a light laugh. 

“Okay, drive safe. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Yes, sir.” You collected your stuff and headed to your car.

Jake noticed you leaving and tilted his head, “Hey…” He patted Coyote on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” 

He jogged up to the table to ask Maverick if he knew anything.

“Is she okay?” Hangman asked as soon as he came to a stop. Maverick shrugged, not looking up at the pilot, “She seemed okay. Said she needed to shower.” 

Jake let out a breath, “So she isn’t mad at me?” 

“I didn’t say that. But as far as I can tell, she’s just tired.” 

Jake licked the sweat off his upper lip, putting his hands on his hips as he looked down. 

“Hangman, honey, just go talk to her. If she’s upset with you, she’ll be honest about it,” Penny encouraged, giving Jake a small smile. He nodded and jogged to go find you before you left. 

You were standing by your car, the door opened as you moved to get in when he approached. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake called as he walked over to you. You smiled, “Hey, Hangman.” 

Jake swallowed, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I was just messing around. I did-” 

You held your hand up, cutting him off, “Jake, I’m not mad at you. I know you were just playing. But your tackle jump started my bladder and I wasn’t kidding when I said you were heavy.” You giggled a bit to show him you were teasing.

Hangman visibly relaxed at the sound, “Okay, good. I know I like to get under everyone’s skin. Sometimes I don’t know when to knock it off. I–” 

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “Jake, I can handle your teasing. Yeah, you can get a little mean. But I know it’s all a big show. Come here,” you opened your arms and made grabby hands at Jake. 

He just shook his head and chuckled, pulling you in by your outstretched hands and letting them find their place around his built torso. 

He rubbed his hand on your back, nearly missing the slight tensing right beneath your shoulder blades before they relaxed. His brow furrowed but he didn’t mention it, thinking that maybe it was you tightening your arms around him. 

He kissed the top of your head before you pulled away. 

“Geez, Jake, you’re sweaty.” 

“You’re not too dry yourself, Rockstar.” You laughed and playfully shoved him away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” You smiled and slid into your car, “I’ll kick your ass tomorrow Hangman.” 

He scoffed leaning on the roof of your car and the open door. “Since when did you get so cocky?” 

You smirked and placed your glasses on your head, forgetting that your eyes could still be red and puffy from earlier. “It’s not cocky if it’s the truth.” 

Jake shook his head and looked back to the shore. “Uh-huh. We’ll see.” He leaned back and patted the top of your car. “Drive safe.” You nodded, and he closed your door. 

He watched you start it up before driving away.

Jake shook his head and made his way back to the group.

Speaking of the group, they had all noticed the change in Jake when you showed up at the Hard Deck a few months ago. 

While he was still his cocky self, having no shame in bragging and trash talking, he seemed to tone it down when you were around.

They also noticed how he always made sure to find you in the crowd, keeping an eye on you. Coyote joked that you had Hangman wrapped around your finger, that he would be at your side with a simple look. 

Jake was painfully aware of the effect you had on him. 

When he met you a year ago, he was starstruck by your dazzling smile. 

So, naturally, in true Hangman fashion, he flirted with you. 

With a toothpick between his perfect white teeth and his bright green eyes shining under the yellow lights of the bar, he walked up to you. 

“I sure hope no one left you alone.” 

When you turned, eyeing him up and down to take in the uniform, beer bottle popping as it left your mouth, his breath was ripped from his lungs. 

“Well, you’re here now. I’m not alone.” 

Seeing your smile up close caused Hangman to blush, and leaving him thankful that his tan could somewhat hide it. 

“Well, ain’t I special.” 

You nodded, giggling while looking down at the bar, “That you are. But, before this can go any further, I’m gonna be honest, I’m more dedicated to my work than anything else at the moment. And I have to be up by 5, so I’d hate to lead you on.” 

Jake shook his head, but you continued, gesturing around the bar, “I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love to get attention from you and give you attention.” 

Jake smiled –not smirked, smiled– while leaning on the bar, “Well, the only one I want attention from is you. Plus, I can’t stay out too late either. Gotta be at work early too, so I guess we’re both clocking in early.” 

None of the feelings that day had been one sided. You also had been starstruck by Hangman. 

He was broad shoulder, tall, tan, and had a voice that could make a girl swoon in a second. But you knew he was a pilot, his uniform gave it away, and you knew how they acted. Except, you liked Jake’s company and decided to talk all night with him. 

Ironically, what you both did for work never came up.

So, imagine the look on Jake’s face when he saw you the next day in your flight suit. 

“You didn’t tell me you were a pilot.” 

You smirked, “You didn’t ask.” 

He shook his head, biting his lower lip to hide his smile but failed. 

You nodded to him, “What do they call you?” 

“Hangman. What about you?” You smiled, “Rockstar.” 

You were able to peg why he earned his callsign very early on but he couldn’t seem to figure yours out. 

Until he had a close call and couldn’t shake it.

The last day of training had just ended, tomorrow you might not come home, and to say you were nervous was a major understatement. 

As you changed to get ready to go out with the squad, you couldn’t stop shaking. You knew you needed a drink… okay a couple drinks.

While you changed, Hangman was walking around, looking for you. 

When he walked past the locker room, he caught a glimpse of you reaching to pick something up.

He turned to walk in, but stopped when he saw that you only had your pants on. But, before he could stop himself, his eyes trailed up your back; starting from above your waistline on your pants and going up. 

Then he stopped, his eyes widening when he saw the large scar that looked fairly new – maybe a year or so old. It spanned from the middle of your left shoulder blade to nearly below your ribcage and was positioned diagonally across your back. 

Jake quickly looked away, realizing that you must have not wanted anyone to see it if you hadn’t told him. 

His brow furrowed as questions ran through his mind. Was that why you freaked out during dogfight football, the other day? Why you always tense up when you get an unexpected touch there? 

Shit… He thought, feeling like a horrible friend for never noticing and never asking. 

Jake took a deep breath and walked away, choosing to approach the locker room differently and pretend he never saw you. 

He put on a smile and walked back towards the locker room, “Hey, Rockstar! You almost ready?” He stopped just short of the door, leaning his back against the wall. 

Your head jerked up as you pulled your t-shirt down. “Uh, yeah, Hangman. I’ll be ready in a second.” 

You finished getting ready and walked out, jumping slightly when he pushed off the wall. 

“Geez Hang, don’t do that!” You punched his arm. 

“Gosh, I forgot how hard you punch.” He chuckled and rubbed the spot on his arm as you both walked to the parking lot.

You all sat in the Hard Deck, drinking and playing pool.

“Dude, she’s kicking your ass!” Payback laughed as he clapped Hangman on the shoulder. 

You were, in fact, kicking Jake’s ass in pool. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the blond narrowed his eyes at Payback. 

“Yeah, you feelin’ okay? You’ve been off your game tonight Bagman,” Rooster commented, smirking as he drank his alcohol. 

Instead of clapping back at the jab, Jake just rolled his eyes and lined up his shot. 

That made you frown, Hangman always had a comeback. Always had sarcastic quips to embarrass the other person. But he was silent. 

You made eye contact when he stood, silently asking if he was okay. He just nodded and moved to sink another pool ball. 

You didn’t want to drop it, but you did for the sake of having fun before facing the chance of death tomorrow.

Sometime later, after a few rounds of pool and drinks, you all stood around and just talked.

“Hey, did you guys hear about that one pilot that saved her WSO’s life when they got shot down?” Bob asked, looking around the group. 

You clenched your jaw slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice. 

“Bob, that happens all the time. It’s kinda what we do,” Phoenix said, squeezing his shoulder. 

Rooster stood up and sat his beer down. “No, not the way this pilot did. Bob, I know who you’re talking about. I read the mission file, the only thing that was classified was the pilot and WSO’s names.” 

You swirled the beer in your glass, not looking up from the amber liquid. “Did the pilot survive?” 

When you finished asking, you looked up, trying to ignore the watchful eyes of Hangman as you met Rooster’s eyes. 

The latter nodded, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, she did. But she had a pretty serious injury. I’m not sure if she was ever clear to fly again.” 

You nodded and looked back down at your glass. 

“And the WSO?” Jake asked, eyeing you as you downed the rest of your drink before looking at Rooster and Bob. 

“He survived. But I don’t know if he still flies,” Bob answered. 

“Well, that’s good that they both survived,” you said, your smile returning to your face. 

Rooster shook his head a bit, “Yeah, but that pilot pulled a risky move. Saving some like that…” 

Your smile dropped a bit, “People have their reasons.” You raised your glass, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Hangman watched you leave as the conversation changed into something more light hearted. 

Jake took a step to go after you but Coyote caught his arm. “Hey, come on. Play me in a round of pool. Let’s see if you still got your game.” Jake looked from his friend back to you and saw you laughing with Penny and Maverick at the bar. That allowed him to relax a little bit. 

“Oh, I still got my game. Let’s see if you found yours,” he smirked. “There he is!” Coyote laughed and clapped Jake on the back.

As Jake played pool with Coyote, you talked with Penny and Maverick. 

“Are you serious?” 

You nodded, laughing at Penny’s reaction to you telling her how you and Jake met. 

“Pen, why are you surprised? Hangman flirts with every girl,” Maverick said, using his hand to point the direction of the mentioned pilot. You and Penny both nodded your agreement. 

“Sounds familiar,” Penny says, a playful grin on her face making Maverick roll his eyes.

You had become so invested in your conversation with Penny and Mav, that you missed Rooster coming up behind you.

He placed his hand on your back, right on your scar, making you tense and jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya’ Rocky,” he took his hand off and leaned on the bar. 

“You doin’ okay? You seemed a bit…” He glanced back at the group, thinking of the right word. “...tense a minute ago.” 

You bit the inside of your lip, had you really been that obvious? 

Still, you nodded and gave him your best smile. 

But to him, he could see that it didn’t reach your eyes. He may not have been your best friend, but he had seen plenty of your genuine smiles and this one did not make your eyes shine like the others. 

Bradley decided not to press, “Okay…” He turned to Penny, “Penny, could we get another round?” The bartender nodded, “Of course, but you’re reaching your cut off.” 

Penny had set a cut off for drinks for the pilots not wanting them to go into this mission hungover. You chuckled and glanced back at the group, all of them messing around and having fun. “Yes ma’am.” 

You turned to Rooster and then back down to your empty glass. Penny hadn’t refilled it yet, having started a conversation with you as soon as you came over. 

You glanced at your watch, seeing that you had been there for a couple hours. 

Penny sat a tray down, placing the full glasses on top. “There you are, Rooster. Who’s tab?”

Rooster opened his mouth to tell her to put it on his, but you beat him to it, “Put it on mine Pen.” 

“You got the last round, Rockstar,” Rooster argued. You shrugged, “I don’t mind. Plus, I’m closing my tab for tonight.” 

“What? You’re heading out already?” You nodded, sliding Penny your card, “I’m hitting my limit, Roos.” 

Bradley searched your eyes for a moment, looking for any indication that something was wrong.

You were usually the one that made sure everyone was okay to go home and if they needed rides; so leaving early rung bells in Rooster’s head. 

Penny gave you your card and receipt, “Thank you.” “Thanks Pen,” you gave her a smile before turning back to Rooster. 

“Tell ‘em I’m heading out. I know if I do it I won’t be able to leave.” You gave him a one armed hug and turned to Maverick, “See you in the morning, Captain.” 

“See you in the morning, Rockstar.” 

Penny gently squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile as you slid off the bar stool and walked out. 

Rooster, Maverick, and Penny watched you leave the building before turning to each other, concern written all over their faces. 

“Is she okay? She’s been acting a little off ever since dogfight football the other day,” Penny asked the two pilots. 

They both shrugged, Bradley looking up at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

“I’ve noticed, but I thought it was just because Harvard and Yale had to eject the other day,” Mav admitted. “We were all a little shaken up by that…” 

It was silent for a minute. 

“You know… if one person knows anything, it’d probably be Seresin,” Penny said, pointing over to the pilot, who was very invested in the game he was winning, and basically suggesting that they talk to him. 

Bradley sighed, knowing that Penny was right and if anyone knew you the best, it would be him. He grabbed the tray, thanking Penny and walking over to the group.

They all cheered when he sat the tray down, taking a glass for themselves. 

Jake noticed that there was an extra and he frowned in confusion before he realized it was for you. 

He looked up, eyes searching for you in the crowd, panicking a little when he couldn’t see you, “Where’s Rockstar?” 

Rooster sighed, “She closed her tab and left. Said she reached her limit.” 

Fanboy frowned a little bit, “Why didn’t she just tell us herself?” 

Rooster shrugged, “Said if she did it would take longer for her to leave.” 

“Does she seem different to you guys?” Coyote asked, finally voicing his concern that had buit up over the last few days. 

The group shared a look before making small noises of agreement. 

“I mean, she’s still the same Y/N. Still lighting up a room and being there for us like she always has been… I just… I don’t know.” 

Rooster looked at Jake, “Hangman, you’re like her best friend, do you know anything?” 

Jake shrugged and shook his head, “All I know is she’s nervous for tomorrow and the accident the other day shook her up a bit, but she hasn’t said anything else.” 

He took a large gulp from his beer, hoping to swallow the confession of seeing your scar that he wanted to bring to light.  You trusted Jake and he wasn’t about to ruin that by telling the squad what he saw when he wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.

Meanwhile, you walked the beach, taking in the fresh and salty air. You just needed the quiet time before you went home.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, seeing a text from Hangman and laughing slightly at the message.

Hangboy: Hey, I get that I kicked your ass those last few rounds of pool, but you could have told me you were leaving. I would have walked you out. Text me when you get home. 

Also, there was an extra beer. I assume it was meant for you, but you left so I drank it. Don’t worry though, I can handle it.

You shook your head and opened your phone, but not to text Jake.

You went to your contacts and pressed the caller ID, putting the phone to your ear as it rang. 

“Hey, Rockstar, what's up? It’s been awhile.” 

You smiled, sighing, “Sure has been, Tundra. How are you? How’s the little one?” “I’m good. Ben is great, he wants to know when you’ll be by again to visit.” 

You giggled at the fact the 6 year old wanted to see you. “Soon… hopefully.” “Y/N, I know that voice. Is it happening again?” You shook your head, despite the fact that Tundra couldn’t see you. 

“No, no. Well, sorta, but this is different Diego.” You heard him shift, presumably crossing his arms. “What do you mean?” 

You sighed, remembering that you couldn’t share all that much about the mission, even if he was former Navy. 

“I don’t know how much I can tell you. But I got called back to TopGun, and I could be flying out on a mission tomorrow. A dangerous one.” 

“Y/N, do they know?” 

You shook your head again, this time to fight tears. “No, but I’m scared that mid air, I’m gonna freeze. I don’t wanna freeze, Diego. I haven’t frozen since our incident. But I don’t know what’s been wrong these past couple of weeks. I can’t seem to shake off this dread… this-this fear. I do-don’t-” 

He cut you off, “Have you talked to anyone recently?” 

You were silent and he took that as a no. “Y/N, you have to talk about it if you ever want to move past it.”  “I did though. I had mandated therapy for my entire time in recovery.” “And have you been since you recovered?”

You threw a hand up, frustrated, “I thought I was past it! I hadn’t had an attack in a year, not until we were playing football. I-I thought it was just a one time thing, and then something happened during training and I just-” 

You were cut off by a small, tired voice. 

“Is that Aunt Y/N?” 

“It is. Do you want to talk to her? I think she needs to talk to you.” “Yes, please!” You smiled as you heard the phone go to speaker and then be passed to the little boy. 

“Hey, Aunt Y/N!” 

You smiled, tears finally falling, “Benarino, hey buddy.” “I miss you. When are you coming to visit?” You wiped at your eyes with a shaking hand. “Soon, buddy. Really soon,” you sniffled. 

“Aunt Y/N, why are you crying?” 

You laughed, coughing a little at the end, “I just really miss you Benny. I can’t wait to see you.” 

You looked back at the Hard Deck, seeing your fellow pilots laugh and sing. 

“I’m gonna bring a friend too. If that’s okay with your mom and dad?” “That’s alright with me, Rockstar. I’m sure Lila won’t mind.” 

“Who is it?” 

You brought playfulness into your voice, “You remember the pilot I told you about? The one that thought he could fly better than your Aunt Rocky?” 

The little boy giggled, “Yeah!” “Well, I think it’s about time you brought home the boy that stole your heart.” 

“Diego,” you hissed. “We are just friends.” “Mhmm, sure.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “You should probably get Ben to bed before Lila wakes up.” 

You heard Diego grunt as he picked up his son, “Goodnight Benny Boy.” “G’night Aunt Y/N.” 

“Call me when you make it back.” You nodded, hand sliding into your back pocket, “Yeah, of course. Night Tundra.” “Night Rockstar.” 

The call ended and you slid your phone into your unoccupied back pocket.

You took in a deep breath, trying to relax again. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. 

On an inhale, the scent of smoke filled your nostrils and it made you hold your breath.

Quickly looking around, you spotted a bonfire a couple yards away. Realizing it was harmless, you let out the breath and tried to relax your shoulders.

But, despite knowing it was completely harmless, your body went into a state of panic. Your chest tightened, limbs went numb, pain spread through your back, and tears filled your eyes. 

You held a hand to your chest, the air stopping just before it made it to your lungs, and stumbled to your car as fast as you could, hoping you weren’t seen by your friends inside the bar.

Jake looked at his phone as he left the bar. You hadn’t texted him, and by now you definitely should have been back to your on base bungalow. 

Hangman wasn’t going to panic, he knew you well enough that you would have texted or called him if something bad happened. Of course he felt anxious, who wouldn’t, but he was going to remain calm. 

The reason you hadn’t texted him when you got home was because the moment you fumbled yourself into your place, you booked it for the bathroom. 

Your knees smacked into the tile and you threw up whatever alcohol you had consumed before the strangled sob ripped itself from your throat. You crumbled to the tile as your chest refused to let air in. 

Your skin felt hot and sticky, sweat coating it as you laid on your bathroom floor. It wasn’t helping you, your damp, hot skin sending you back to one of the worst days of your life.

So, in a frenzy, you ripped off your shirt and kicked off your shoes and socks before yanking your pants off, not even loosening your belt. 

You crawled over the tub wall, too dizzy to properly stand, before fumbling with the knob to turn the water on. 

Once you got it turned on, you jostled the faucet switch, a desperate sob escaping as it kept falling down before it finally stuck, turning the shower on and drenching you in water.

And that was how Jake found you.

Jake decided to stop by your place and check on you, that being his only option to get his anxiety to go away. 

When he pulled up to your place and saw your car there, he let out a breath of relief. 

He parked his truck behind your car and ran to your door, his chest lighter than before.

But his chest became heavy again when he made it to your door only to find it unlocked. You rarely left your door unlocked, if ever.

He cautiously pushed it open, looking around to see if anything was out of place. 

Your keys were on the floor, your phone and wallet not too far from them. 

Jake walked further in, making sure to close and lock the door behind him. 

He held his breath as he looked for you. But his search was cut short when he heard the shower running. 

He exhaled and had to take a minute to calm the drumming in his chest. 

He cautiously walked to the bathroom, making sure to knock before walking in. He kept his head down so he didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to… again. 

“Hey I was-” 

The door stopped, hitting something on the floor. 

Hangman squinted his eyes in confusion. It was your shoe. He kicked it out of the way and pushed the door open enough for him to just step in and close it. 

He stopped with his hand on the door, realizing that the room didn’t feel like a sauna. There was no fog covering the mirrors and steam wasn’t filling the small space. You always showered hot, and right now the bathroom was freezing. 

Jake finally looked up and saw you curled in the shower, the water cascading from the faucet and hitting your back. It was obvious you had been there for a while because you were shivering. 

Jake sat on the edge of the tub cautiously, not wanting to startle you.

His heart broke at the sound of your quiet crying and the puffy redness of your eyes was a sight Jake never wanted to see again.

The eyes that usually held the brightness of the stars and a kindness that was unmatched, were now red, distant, and constantly filled with tears that fell over and mixed with the water drenching you. 

He hated it.

Jake held his hand under the water and recoiled at how cold it was. 

“Shit,” he cursed as he quickly turned it off. 

When you didn’t react, he knew you truly weren’t in this reality. 

“Y/N,” he spoke gently and touched your arm. He sharply inhaled when he discovered how cold you were. “Y/N, darlin’, we need to dry you off and get you in some warm clothes. You’ll get sick.” 

Jake wasn’t sure if you heard him because you just stared ahead, biting on your nail. He sighed and pulled your hand away from your mouth. 

He moved to pull his hand back but you grabbed it, your freezing cold hand latching onto his warm one. “Please don’t… Jake, please don’t leave.” 

Your voice was quiet and broken, raw with fear. And he was sure that sent a shiver up his back.

Jake quickly shifted to kneel beside the tub, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand. “I’d never leave you hangin’.” 

He looked you over, “Can I pick you up?” You nodded, letting his hand slip from your grip and feel it wrap under your legs.

He awkwardly shifted to lean over and pick you up, grunting a little as stood up. He was too pressed about his clothes getting wet, he’s sure he’s got pants somewhere around here.

Jake managed to open the bathroom door and walked to your bedroom. 

He sat you on the bed and quickly grabbed the towel on the back of your desk chair. 

Wrapping it around you, Jake kissed the top of your head. “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he spoke gently against your hair.

He pulled back and watched you bite your lip to keep your tears hidden.

You avoided his eyes, looking at your shaking hands. 

“I’m gonna get you some clothes, okay?” You slowly nodded, lip trembling before you bit down on it again.

Your eyes didn’t follow him as he walked around your room, but your ears were very aware of Jake’s noises; everything from his footsteps to his mumbling. 

In under five minutes, neatly folded clothes were placed beside you and Jake kneeled in front of you, his large hands resting on your biceps gently. 

“Do you want me to stay while you change?” 

It took you a second to register what he had asked, but he was patient and rubbed reassuring circles on your arms with his thumbs. 

You inhaled, the familiar scent of his cologne calming you down a bit. 

You were tempted to say yes, you didn’t want to be alone but you also didn’t want Jake to see you any more vulnerable than he already has. 

You shook your head, unconsciously pulling the towel tighter around you. 

Jake noticed it and nodded, “Okay, I’ll go tidy up your bathroom and throw some blankets in the dryer to fluff them up and get ‘em warm.” He gave you a small smile and stood, leaving the room and the door open just a crack.

You managed to peel off the wet bra and underwear, drying off before changing. 

That simple task was exhausting. It felt like your bones had turned to rocks and your muscles no longer existed. But eventually, you did it.

You haphazardly dried your hair, basically just dry enough to where it wasn’t dripping, and walked into the small living room. 

You sat on the couch, deciding to occupy your hands with your oversized shirt while you waited for Jake. 

Minutes later he was on the couch beside you, wrapping you in the fresh-out-of-the-dryer blanket. 

“Thank you…” Your voice had a rawness to it that made Jake shiver, something was really wrong and he didn’t know how to help.

He nodded and rubbed your upper back, “Of course.”

He sat there for a moment, just listening to your sniffles and weeping exhales, before finally turning to face you. 

“What’s going on? ‘Cause this-” He gestured to you and your current state. “-is way more than just nerves for tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be-” 

“If you say ‘fine’, I swear,” he sighed to control his volume. “Y/N, you are not fine.” 

“Jake…”

The blond pilot took a deep breath, looking at the sliver of couch cushion between you. “I saw it…” 

If you weren’t going to be honest, then he needed to be. Maybe what he saw is connected to what was shaking you to your core all of a sudden.

He finally looked up at you and watched your breathing halt as fear filled your eyes. 

Jake continued, making sure to keep his tone even, “I didn’t mean to. I was just looking for you in the locker room today and I-” He stopped talking when you choked out a small cry. 

He immediately pulled you into his lap, one hand going to the back of your head and the other arm wrapped around your lower back. “I got you… I got you.”

Jake closed his eyes and rocked you a little as his mind went back to the day these roles were reversed.

Jake had sat in the locker room, flight suit half off and tied around his waist. His knee bouncing as his eyes went in and out of focus. 

“Hangman!” You called as you ran down the hall. But he couldn’t hear you with the blood still rushing in his ears. 

“Hangman! Hang- There you are!” You jogged to him and saw that his emerald eyes were blank, not the playful or confident eyes you normally saw. “Hey, Hang- Jake what’s wrong?” You knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his bouncing knee to stop it.

Jake looked at you, the concern swimming in your eyes breaking whatever resolve he had left. 

The tears he tried so hard to hold in finally spilled down his cheeks. 

You instantly cupped his face in your hands, wiping them away, “What’s got you so shaken up? I’ve never seen you like this.” 

He shook his head, pushing your hands away as he sat up and leaned against the locker. “You’re not supposed to.” 

You sighed and leaned back on your heels, “What happened up there?” 

Jake wiped the still flowing tears, shaking his head, “I don’t know. I guess- Fuck I don’t know, Rockstar.” 

You stood, “Talk to me, Jake. Please, I’m your friend and I want to help.” 

Your tone was desperate and worried. This was a new version of Jake that you would have never seen if you hadn’t followed him off the tarmac.

Hangman finally got the guts to grab your hand and squeeze it. He took a deep breath as he tried to collect himself. 

“I almost lost you up there. You’re one of my closest friends, we’ve only known each other for a few months and I feel like we’ve known each other forever. I never let myself be that close to anyone, but you made it so easy.” 

His voice was raw and shaky. He was scared, but you couldn’t blame him. What just happened to you both was really intense and it was scary. But you were both okay.

You squeezed his hand back, giving him a soft but encouraging smile. 

“Can we just- Shit this is gonna sound so weird…” 

You knew where he was going, so you straddled his legs and wrapped him in a hug. “I got you Jake, I got you.”

That was when Jake realized the backstory to your call sign. You were everyone’s rock. You kept everyone sane, even at the expense of yourself.

Which is why you were currently shaking and sobbing in his arms. You never sought out comfort for your problems, a bad habit you picked up in high school. You always put everyone first, and you had it in your head that you couldn’t be vulnerable. 

You pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes, “I’m sorry…” 

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” 

“Because I-” 

“Because you’re being vulnerable in front of someone?” You nodded, unconsciously playing with your fingers. “Look at me, please.” You did, biting your lip to hold your tears in. 

“You are allowed to be vulnerable. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to be scared. You shouldn’t have to hide your feelings from your friends. I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us.” 

You nodded, staying silent, focusing on how Jake had moved his hand from the back of your head to your cheek to rub his thumb back and forth on your cheekbone. 

Your silence broke his heart a little bit, making him think you didn’t trust him. But he knew he had to be patient with you. 

He goes to move his hand away but you hold it there. “I thought I was over it…” 

“Over what, Sweetheart?” 

“The accident…” 

Jake pushed some hair behind your ear, “What accident?” 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He wiped them away as he spoke softly, “Take your time…” You nodded, swallowing as you tried to catch your bearings. 

“A year before I was stationed with you, I was flying a mission. It was dangerous, but still fairly routine. On my way out, I got hit. It completely destroyed my weapons system. Before I could get back up, I was hit again. This time it took out my engine.” You took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. 

“We were dropping altitude fast and my WSO and I had to eject. We landed on a beach, we unbuckled so fast,” you chuckled, remembering the relief you and Diego felt before the shit hit the fan.

Jake smiled a little bit at the sound, but dropped it when you started talking again.

“However the jet had also crashed onto the beach too. The fuel had leaked and caused an explosion. I covered my WSO, and a piece of scrap metal lodged itself into my back.” 

Jake’s eyes widened, more dots connecting in his mind, “You’re the pilot the squad was talking about at the bar…” 

You nodded, wiping your eyes, “Jake, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just… when I was in recovery, if I wanted to fly again, I had to go through therapy. And I haven’t had an attack in a year…” You got choked up again, hot tears rolling down your face, “Hang, I’m so sorry.” 

He shook his head, using both of his hands to wipe your face, “Hey, don’t be sorry. Do I wish you would have told me sooner? Hell yeah, but I understand why you didn’t.” You just nodded and relaxed into his hands.

“What happens when you have an attack?” 

You took a sharp inhale through your nose before sighing it out, “It depends. I sometimes get flashbacks of the beach, everytime I close my eyes I just see fire and it’s fucking terrifying. Other times, when it gets really bad, I can feel pain in my back, but that’s rare.” 

You bit your lip a little as you looked away, and Jake knew, “That happened tonight didn’t it?” You nodded, coughing a little bit, “Yeah, uh, yeah it did.” 

“Was it because we talked about-” 

“No," you said quickly. "W-well, I mean kinda… yeah. But there was a bonfire happening on the beach, and just the two things… my brain went into panic mode. Before you ask, I don’t really know what triggers it. But during dogfight football-” 

Jake’s eyes widened and he dropped his hands, “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” 

“Exactly, Jake, you had no idea. It’s not your fault. It was just the pressure on my scar made me panic, and I was back on that damned beach. But I’m not mad or upset with you because you had no idea. So don’t beat yourself up, please.” 

Jake nodded, bringing you into a hug again, being mindful of the scar. “Jake, you can touch it. I know I’m safe.” He said nothing and brought a hand to run over the covered scar before tightening his hug. 

“Can you tell me about him? Your WSO?” 

You nodded, “Diego Harding, call sign Tundra. He has a wife and a son.”

“That’s why you-” 

“Yeah, that’s why I covered him. He had a family to go back to.” 

“What about you?” 

You sighed again, using Jake’s shoulders to sit up, “Most of my family served. My dad was killed in action when I was young. My mom died when I was a teenager, leaving Piers to raise me for a little bit. Then Piers goes and sacrifices himself… so I didn’t have anyone to come home too.” 

You shrugged and got off his lap, but snuggled into his side.

He rubbed lazy circles on your bicep. “Well now you do.” You looked up at him confused, “What?” 

“You’ve got me to come home to, and I’ve got you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Don’t get sappy on me, Seresin.” He just chuckled.

It was silent for a moment. 

“Promise me that you’ll do your best to fly back to me,” he asked in a hushed whisper as if he were telling you a secret.

“Only if you do,” you whispered back.

He held out his pinky, “I promise.” You nodded, interlocking your pinky with his, “I promise too.” 

“Can’t break that now, you know,” he chuckled, squeezing your pinky a little. You giggled a little before yawning, “I know, cowboy.”

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[pollyna]

Hangster prompt that could go two ways when Jake, exasperated, tired, a little drunk and a little heartbroken, asks Bradley - in front of everyone and Penny, during one of their nights out at the Hard Deck - what he knows about:

Prompt A: unrequited love and Bradley answers with the description of two men looking at each other from the opposite side of a piano, while a kid tries to learn a new melody, telling each other they are in love for then never talking about it again just for the love to find space in every aspect of their life but never ever in the way it was supposed to.

Prompt B: love. What the hell does it know about love. Just for Bradley to stop in the middle of a sentence to look up at Jake, smiling softly and asking him if he's really ready to hear all that Bradley does know about love, and if he has a little more time to spear, he could tell Jake what he doesn't know about it.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

I've Got You

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 25. Betrayal, "How could you?" Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader Summary: A night at The Hard Deck takes a dire turn when you realize someone has slipped something into your drink. As the drugs begin kicking in, you turn to your pilot for help. Word Count: 2326 TW: Reader is Hangman's Backseater, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drugged, Spiked Drink, Betrayal, Jake Carries Reader, Fighting, Implied Future Sexual Assualt, Language, NOT ALL TWs LISTED READ AT OWN RISK  Notes: Thank you to @ohtobeleah for looking this over 💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

For the third time, you jammed your fingers down your throat trying to expel whatever drug had entered your system into the toilet in front of you. Yet as hard as you tried, nothing else was coming up. You collapsed sideways and dragged yourself over to the back wall. There, wedged between the toilet and the side of the stall, you tried to figure out what to do next. Your head was growing foggier by the minute and your body was becoming so heavy that it was a struggle to even lift your hand or hold your head up. 

Using what little strength you had left, you dug your phone out of your pocket, and, with it lying on the floor beside you, you typed the words “help. bathroom. now.” into your last text chat and pressed send. Then all the tension left your body as you slumped limply against the toilet.

You had no idea how long you waited like that, but eventually, you heard a soft knock at the stall door. “Sunshine? You in here?”

“Jake…”

That was all he needed to hear. You only ever called him Jake when you were being one hundred percent serious or the situation was dire. There was a second of silence before the door smashed open, the lock shattering as the full force of Hangman’s foot slammed into the door. He looked around before he noticed you wedged in the corner. His eyes grew wide and his tanned skin paled in the fluorescent lighting as he dropped to his knees in front of you. 

“Oh my god…” He grabbed your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to get a better look at your eyes. “Your pupils are huge. What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

“Drink…” You swallowed and tried to claw your way out of the darkness you were slipping into. “S-someone put something in my drink.”

“Fuck…” Jake muttered, glancing over his shoulder. Then, his attention returned to you as he leaned in, his beer-scented breath breezing across your face. “Who were you drinking with? Sunny, stay with me.” He gently slapped your cheeks to get you to open your eyes. “Who was it?”

You tried to think but the fog rolling through your mind made it hard to focus. Finally, you recalled, “Frogger. Frogger and Screwball.”

“Okay, good.” Jake ran his hand up and down your arm, trying to keep you awake. “We need to let Penny know and have her call the cops. And probably the MPs. I won’t let them get away with this.”

“Thank…you…” you muttered, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time since you realized what was happening, you felt safe.

“I’m not gonna let someone mess with my backseater, now am I? Only I’m allowed to do that,” Jake smiled back, ruffling your hair. Then he placed his arms under your arms and legs and lifted your limp body off the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Now, let’s get outta here.”

With your head carefully tucked against his chest, Jake carried you from the bathroom. Your eyes were half-lidded and your vision was still tinged with darkness but at least it wasn’t getting worse and you were no longer fighting to remain awake with everything in you. You were still having trouble moving your limbs or lifting your head, however, it didn’t matter as you were safely gathered in Jake’s arms. 

As soon as Jake walked into the main room of the bar, Penny noticed the two of you and gasped. Tossing her bar rag onto her shoulder, she hurried to Jake’s side, placing her hand on your cheek as she asked, “Oh my god! Is she alright?”

“She will be. But you need to call the cops.” Jake nodded towards the end of the bar where Frogger and Screwball were still sitting next to your empty seat. “Those two bastards spiked her drink.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Seresin?” Frogger demanded, sliding off his bar stool as his face grew red. “We didn’t do anything to her! We were just flirting a little.”

Screwball looked like a deer caught in headlights as he glanced from Frogger to you and back to Frogger. “Frog—”

“Shut up,” the other pilot growled under his breath. Then, turning back to Jake, he said, “I don’t care what the bitch says, we didn’t touch her or her fucking drink. You’re not pinning this on us. I’m not going down for something I didn’t do.”

“You were the only ones with her since she got her drink,” Penny snapped, her hands on her hips. “And I sure as hell didn’t drug her when I served her.” 

Screwball jumped off his chair and took off for the door, but before he could get more than a few steps, Rooster, Coyote, and Payback blocked his way. All three men had at least four inches and twenty pounds on the small pilot and they all looked out for blood after an attack on one of their own. 

Screwball whirled around and pointed a trembling finger at Frogger. “It had to be him! I just wanted to play some darts but he’s the one who insisted we chat up Sunshine. He has to be the one that did it!”

“You son of a bitch!” 

Frogger turned and launched himself at Screwball, knocking both men to the floor. Before anyone could react, Frogger began pummeling Screwball in the face as he yelled, “Take it back, you fucking traitor! I didn’t do it!” 

The three pilots who had been guarding the door dove into the fray and pulled Frogger off Screwball even as he continued kicking and cursing. Screwball curled into a ball and sobbed, alternating between cries of pain and cries of his innocence. 

Penny had momentarily vanished in the scuffle but reappeared back at your side with her phone and a water bottle that she held out to you. “Here, honey, drink this. It’ll help flush whatever they gave you out of your system.”

With her help, you took a few big sips out of the bottle, spilling some of it down your shirt. However, the cool water felt refreshing on your feverish skin and you relaxed into Jake’s arms with a sigh. 

Penny smiled, tucking the water bottle between your arm and Jake’s chest. Then she dialed 911 and waited for someone to answer. Glancing at Jake, she asked, “Should I have them send an ambulance too?”

“No, it’s okay.” Jake shifted you slightly so he had a better hold on you, then began heading towards the bar’s exit. “I’ll take her to the hospital, make sure she’s alright.” 

“Thank you, Jake,” Penny smiled, the phone still up to her ear. Pointing at him as Bob held the door open, Penny added, “All your drinks are on the house for the next month.” 

“I’m gonna make you regret that,” Jake chuckled, then he carried you out into the night.

It was a short walk across the parking lot to his truck. Once there, Jake settled you into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side and climbing in, placing your water bottle in the cup holder. When he started the engine, he cracked your window so you could get a little breeze then he pulled out of the parking lot. 

Between throwing up, the cool night air in your face, and the water Penny gave you, you were starting to feel more alert. The world around you was still swimming slightly, but you were able to sit up and lift your head. 

Jake must have noticed because he grinned as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Hey there, Sunshine. How you feeling?”

“Better,” you mumbled, blinking a few times to try and clear your vision. Smiling softly at him, you said, “Thank you, Hangman. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“It’s what I do, Sunny,” Jake said. “I’m your pilot. I’ve always got your best interest in mind.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, leaning your head back against the door to get more air. “I guess you do.”

The two of you drove in silence for a few minutes and you were just about to drift off when you realized where you were. Sitting up, you asked, “Wait, I thought you were taking me to the hospital. Wasn’t that the turn?”

Jake shrugged. “Yeah, but they are doing construction down that road. I can turn up here.” He grabbed the open water bottle Penny had given you out of the cup holder and held it out to you. “Here. Drink some more of this. It’ll help.”

Taking it from him, you downed it in one gulp. You didn’t register the bitter sting on your tongue until after you had swallowed yet you recognized it immediately as the same taste that had initially alerted you that something was wrong back at the bar. But you had drunk half the water bottle when Penny first gave it to you without noticing anything off. Which could only mean…

Slowly, you raised your eyes to look at your pilot, the man you trusted with your life on a daily basis. “You wouldn’t…”

A smug grin spread across Jake’s face as he continued to stare at the road in front of him. “You know…I was so sure you had figured out it was me when I got your text. I thought you noticed me slipping the drug into your drink when I came up to the bar to grab my beer and that the game was over before it really even began. But then when I looked at you, huddled there on that disgusting floor looking so pathetic, I realized things had gone better than I hoped. I knew you’d tell someone what happened—probably Phoenix or Bob—then I’d step up to drive you to the hospital. I just never imagined I’d be the one you went to for help. Not when we weren’t on the clock.”

Tears slipped down your face, your voice quivering as you whispered, “How could you?”

“Come on, Sunshine. We both know you’ve been teasing me for months now, just begging me to make a move. Like I wouldn’t notice that perfume you’ve been wearing just for me? How I catch that faint trace of it in the cockpit when you shift in your seat behind me? Or how you always tie the arms of your flight suit around your waist when we’re going through after-training checks, showing off those perky breasts beneath that thin white tank top? Bending over in front of me rubbing that perfect ass in my face? You know how many times I’ve almost pinned you to the side of our plane and had my way with you? But no. You wanted to play the game, so I played the game. Now I’ve won, I’ve got you, and I’m ready for my prize.”

Horrified, all you could do was stare at this stranger with your pilot’s face. This was not the Jake Seresin you had been flying with for the past six months. The one who would flirt with almost any woman who crossed his path, yes, but who would never cross the line or hurt anyone…or so you thought.

Even as your body began to go slack in your seat as this new round of drugs kicked in, you tried to reason with him. “Jake, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression, but I don’t want this. I-I was just doing my job. I wasn’t trying to tease you or lead you on. And it’s not too late. P-Please, stop this now and we’ll just forget everything that happened tonight.”

“Oh, I know you will.” Jake’s grin took on a sinister edge as the shadows between street lights flashed across his face. “That’s the best part of this drug. You won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

“What?” you breathed, a whole new level of terror settling in at this revelation. 

“But don’t worry, Sunny,” Jake purred as he turned into the driveway of a house you vaguely recalled visiting once to pick up some paperwork he forgot to file. “That just means we can play this game over and over and over again.”

He threw the truck into park and jumped out. A second later, your door opened and you tumbled out into his arms. Before in the bar, Jake had carried you so carefully, making sure you were positioned comfortably in his arms. There was no care or regard for your comfort this time. Now, he placed his arm under your knees and shoulders, letting your head hang down loosely and making the world turn upside down as he lugged your body around like a lifeless sack. 

Whatever he stuck in the water bottle must have been slightly different from what he gave you in the bar because while you couldn’t even manage to turn your head or lift your finger, your head wasn’t swimming like before and your vision was clear. 

Tears rolled up your face and up into your hair as Jake carried you up the driveway towards his front door. You were too weak to call out or struggle against him and, once he got you inside his house, you knew there was nothing to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you. 

As he opened the door, you silently prayed that what he said earlier was true. While you knew you needed to know what happened tonight to recognize the monster hiding behind the toothpick and perfect smile you saw in the seat in front of you every day, you didn’t want to remember a second of what he was about to do to you.

Jake stepped into the darkness of his house and the door slammed behind you.

[sunlitsunflowers]

A Little Bit Easier

Jake Seresin x reader

Word Count: 893

Warnings: descriptions of feeling overwhelmed

Summary: you get overwhelmed at the hard deck and Jake comforts you

The Hard Deck was busy, a sea of bodies all packed into the space. People jostling each other trying to move around, practically shouting to hear each other over the music and other patrons.

You were trying to focus on your friend group, on the game of pool Fanboy was spectacularly loosing, you really were. But you could hear it all. Each conversation, the loud obnoxious laughter, the clinking of glass. Hell you could even hear the buzzing of electricity coming from the overhead lights and the odd clicking of the ceiling fan that was spinning lazily. It was a lot.

It was too much.

You turn to Bob who was perched next to you watching the pool game unfold.

"Hey, I'm just going to head outside for a minute. I need a bit of air" you say trying to keep your voice light and an easy smile on your face. Bob looked at you concerned, you definitely didn't succeed on pretending you were all right but you were hoping Bob would let it go.

He was about to open his mouth when Coyote's voice jumps out of the crowd, "I need some actual competition here and seeing as Hangman isn't playing. Bob you're up!"

A pool cue is thrust into Bobs hands and you take that as the perfect opportunity to make an exit. What you didn't realise was a certain blonde pilot had been watching the entire interaction. To be completely honest Jake had been watching you the entire night. He couldn't help it, his eyes look for you in every room he walks into. But he'd seen the shift in you when the bar started to get more crowded, the voices a little louder. He saw the way you drew back from the group, the way you were gripping onto your drink like it was the only thing keeping you tied to the floor, the way you would flinch when a particularly loud laugh would cut through the crowd, the panic in your eyes as people pushed passed. He saw it all.

Jake waited a minute as he watched you weave your way out of the bar before placing his drink down and following your path. When he got outside what he saw broke his heart.

You leant against the wall of the Hard Dark; your hands clenched, body shaking, breaths coming out in rapid puffs. Your eyes screwed shut as you desperately willed for your breathing to slow, you didn't notice the concerned Jake who stood before you.

"Sweetheart" Jake said, his voice low and smooth as he tried not to scare you. Your eyes snap to his, wide and brimming with tears, the panic evident.

It hurt Jake to see you like this. Slowly he took a step towards you, "oh, sweetheart."

He itched to reach out and pull you into him but he didn't know whether that was what you needed. But your body seemed to have made the decision for the both of you because as Jake stepped towards you, your body jerked off the wall and stumbled into him. Jake was quick to steady you as he wrapped his strong arms around you.

"There we go, I've got you. You're okay," he spoke into your hair.

Jake continued to speak reassurances, while tracing slow circles on your back. You don't know how long you stood there, but wrapped in Jake's arms the noise from the bar slowly fades as the rest of the world disappears.

"Jake" you breathe out, your voice barely a whisper. Your face pressed against his chest and all you can hear is the steady beating of his heart which is helping to calm the racing of yours. The soft rise and fall of his chest helping you to even out your rapid breaths. You're about to say his name again, thinking he didn't hear you when he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Yeah, darlin'," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your forehead.

"I just wanted to say thank you." You take a deep breath, allowing the smell of Jake's cologne and the sea air to fill your lungs.

"You make breathing a little bit easier" you whisper so quietly you doubt Jake could even hear them. You weren't sure if you wanted Jake to have heard you. To hear you breathing out a secret whilst wrapped in his arms.

You go to pull away, to head back into the busyness of the bar, but as you do Jake draws you tightly into his chest, trying to squeeze out any amount of space between the two of you. He presses his lips to your forehead, as his arms pull you impossibly close, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You burrow into him further, even though there isn't any further for you to go, hoping that he understands that you aren't going anywhere.

"I love you" the words so quiet you barely hear them. Words that fill you with warmth. Words that make you want to dance around because Jake Seresin loves you. You don't, instead you turn and place a kiss over his heart.

"I love you too" then turning your gaze back towards the ocean you smile; happy to stay here forever. The steady beating of your hearts sharing the same rhythm.

[friend-lover-traitor-narrator]

Flufftober 2024 - Masterlist

Day 1: Rainstorm

Day 2: Fireplace

Day 3: Sweater

Day 4: Apple Cider

Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

Day 6: Cuddles

Day 7: Protective

Day 8: Secret Relationship

Day 9: Sickfic

Day 10: Pumpkin Patch

Day 11: Hugs and Kisses

Day 12: Blankets

Day 13: Harvest Festival

Day 14: Coffee Shop

Day 15: Ghost

Day 16: Sweet Treat

Day 17: Breakfast

Day 18: Nostalgia

Day 19: Scary Movie

Day 20: Reunion

Day 21: Sleepy

Day 22: Whisper

Day 23: Finally Safe

Day 24: Confession

Day 25: Holding Hands

Day 26: Monster

Day 27: Cleaning up

Day 28: Embarrassed

Day 29: Leaf fight

Day 30: Road trip

Day 31: Found Family

--

Flufftober challenge by @thepenultimateword

[whohasthecards]

What if Hangman has a shitty family, right? Sure, he had a relatively happy childhood, but they weren't happy with his career choices.

A day before an important mission, he visits them. Hangs around with his mom, messes with his siblings, plays with his nephews and nieces, and even talks to his dad a bit.

His dad got pissed though, and asked him why the hell is he crawling back.

Hangman was tense before he simply said that he wanted to spend some time with them. He left a bit after that, his dad scoffing at his son's typical behavior.

Hangman gets shot down on the mission.

When James Seresin opens the door, it's to two Naval officers in dress uniform. A Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and a Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, with grim expressions asking if they can come in, and if Jake's sister is here.

James, his wife, his daughter, and his son, all sit on the sofa, as the two men explain that Lieutenant Jacob "Hangman" Seresin was shot down in active combat, no parachute, no possible chance of rescue, no body, declared missing in action, presumed dead. They are sorry for their loss.

"The kid was a good man, a good friend, if only I had more time," Mitchell would say evenly. "You're lucky to have had Hang-- Jake as a son."

"He talked about you guys, a lot," Bradshaw would say softly.

James couldn't believe it, he just saw his son a few days ago, right?

[crooked-jes]

Jake’s warm like a lifeline and bright like a lighthouse, and Bradley knows it’s unfair to steal his warmth, put his clumsy hands on Jake’s waist and tug. Yet, he can’t help being selfish this once, just like he couldn’t help it the last time and the time before that. 

written for topguntober day 26, prompt {rain kiss} :)

[yeagrave]

groovy baby

[ click image for better quality ]

once again inspired by @hangmanbradshaw’s nfl au, so good😭

some close ups🫶✨

[missathlete31]

Someone In Your Corner

Summary: Hangman, struggling to deal with his nightmares after the mission, goes for a run in the California heat. When he gets himself into trouble he finds a surprising ally on his side.

Aka if Maverick is MavDad meet DaggerMom

Hey look, yet another Jake Seresin Whump/Angst fic….. also known as the only thing I know how to write lol! Enjoy!

Two week after the Uranium mission and Jake "Hangman" Seresin was struggling. The Navy had given them all a month's worth of leave, a ridiculously long time in Jake's opinion but extremely sought after for all the others. There was a mandatory week of debriefs and discussions, most of which Jake hovered in the back and only answered when he was addressed directly, but then they were free to go. The whole squadron seemed to have gotten plane tickets to head back home, the suicide mission making a lot of them place things in new perspective. Jake of course would rather perform ten suicide missions than even think about going home to Texas. Javy had invited him back to New Orleans with him and his family but Jake declined. He loved the Machados; he spent enough holidays over there to think of them as the closest thing he'd ever get to a real family, but he knew Javy was still shaken up from his G-Loc incident and the mission in general. He deserved a chance to decompress with his loved ones instead of trying to entertain Jake.

So Jake waved his best friend off at the airport on the third day after the start of their official leave and went back to the barracks to find a notice on his door. It seemed that the temporary living quarters they were supplied for training was being revoked now that everything was over. Jake had vaguely heard one of the others talking about it at the bar but he didn't realize it applied to those that weren't going home as well. He assumed he would be allowed to hang around base, maybe convince Admiral Simpson (or at least the more agreeable Admiral Bates) to let him jump into a few hops to keep his skills sharp. Those plans were scrapped though as both Admirals informed him in no uncertain terms that none of the Daggers would be allowed back in the air until they were given the all clear from both medical and psych. Jake was already cleared on the medical end but all psych evals were to be conducted after the team returned from leave. He wanted to push to get his moved up but Cyclone only gave him that un-amused look that he usually reserved for Maverick, and Jake figured it wasn't worth the fight (he was still on shaky ground for disobeying direct orders on the carrier that day- and for getting the rest of the flight crew to go along with him).

So now not only was Jake alone on North Island, he was also forced to find new housing. With no real other options, he checked into a random motel that was far from luxurious with its outdated decor and questionable activities for it's by the hour patrons. Jake found he didn't mind though as long as he used his own sheets. Also besides a few quick visitors a few doors down, Jake was virtually on his own in his section. This was a huge benefit for the blonde pilot as he found himself dealing with an added difficulty now that the mission was over: debilitating nightmares.

It was embarrassing for him to admit but Jake had always struggled with nightmares. As a child in an abusive household he was always so tense and on edge, especially at night after his father had had a couple of drinks in him, that he found his dreams were filled with running away from monsters that looked vaguely like his parents until he woke up screaming. After receiving punishments for waking anyone up with his pathetic cries, Jake learned to muffle his terror to much quieter levels, though the nightmares always held a grip on him for those formable years. As he got older and into his teen years, Jake's real world seemed to be worse than any dream ever could be and sadly that was what quashed his night terrors for a few years at least. When he left home and joined the Navy he felt freer than he ever had in the world and he finally learned what the term 'sleep like a baby' really meant.

It didn't last for long though because after his first confirmed kill, Jake's nightmares came back. He was forever dreaming of being back in his plane, sometimes shooting down the Bogey, other times the Bogey catching him first. He had nightmares where he shot his wingman down instead, his whole squadron condemning him for the action. Other times it would be his squad shot him down because they were protecting themselves from Hangman leaving them like his call-sign dictated. These dreams circled through Jake's sleep cycle for weeks until Javy caught on before he was sent to ship out again and noticed the dark bags under his best friend's eyes. Though Javy knew better than to push Jake towards any sort of professional therapy from the Navy that could ultimately keep him grounded, he did force his best friend to talk to him more about what was troubling him and to find healthy outlets for his anxiety, fear, and guilt. Jake's favorite method became running.

Jake already enjoyed running from when he was a kid and needed an escape at home so using it to relax from work stress as well came fairly easy. He took to jogging around bases in the morning, night or whenever he just felt a little overwhelmed. Javy would join him if he was able, though normally he cut out about half the miles while jokingly calling Jake a robot for being able to run so much. It was therapeutic and it worked, especially when he ran at night, as Jake felt his body become so tired he went off to sleep without any dreams at all.

But then this mission happened.

First it was Coyote's G-loc; the sounds of Maverick trying to stir his best friend back to consciousness before he crashed into a mountain staying with Jake even during waking hours. In dreams it was worse, Maverick never getting tone in time, Coyote's scream over the radio before he burned up in his jet. Jake would wake up each time with tears in his eyes and would struggle to not call his best friend right there and then. Jake also dreamed of the bird strike. Though he pretended to be indifferent, he really did care about Phoenix, she was one of his oldest friends, dating back to his Flight School days. That nightmarish day, after being so close to losing Javy, to then hear her and Bob forced to eject, it broke something in Jake. His dreams featured the two not ejecting in time, or sometimes different pilots were up there but with the same results. The worst nightmare was when Jake was in the air with them and he listened to Phoenix scream at him that because he left them hanging, the birds hit their plane instead of his. Both Bob and Phoenix's last words were wishing it was Jake instead. Maverick would share the sentiment on the radio as the two planes watched the other go down. When Jake woke from that particular dream, he usually felt so gutted all he could do was sit up in silence.

There were moments from the actual mission that attributed to his night terrors as well of course. First it was Dagger one going down, the others blaming Jake for not being good enough that Maverick had to take the spot of team leader to ensure the others survived and therefore sacrificed himself. Then he would hear Dagger Two going down and there was the guilt of having Bradshaw die after all the mean things Jake had said and done to him. But the worst was Jake's rescue of Maverick and Rooster. Jake couldn't count the times he would close his eyes (both awake and asleep) and see the damn missile that was headed right for that old F-14. He never told anyone outside of his debriefs with the Admirals but that missile was shot and deployed and not even seconds away from killing both Captain Mitchell and Bradshaw. He had had no time to spare.

Every night during the week of debriefs Jake would dream of being too late, of watching that missile kill his CO and his wingman in a fiery blaze as bright as the sun. Jake would be forced to call on the radio that he hadn’t reached them in time, would land on the carrier not to celebration and hugs but dirty looks and tears. One night the nightmare was so bad, felt so real, that Jake actually called Rooster just to hear his voice. The groggy other pilot thought it was some kind of joke and didn't respond incredibly kind but Jake hung up the phone with tears of relief in his eyes anyway. He would take a sarcastic Rooster over a dead one any day.

Last night Jake dreamed of the man he shot down. His second confirmed kill but it wasn't any easier. He dreamed of the man's family, his children growing up fatherless like Rooster did. A whole family lineage cursing him for taking away the man they loved most. When he woke up Jake only had a few seconds before he was puking in his toilet, no chance of falling back to sleep again. His count of hours slept in the week at a sickening level. He knew he should be worried, knew that he should address his problems with someone but everyone else was dealing and he didn’t understand how he couldn’t. He wasn’t one of the Daggers, he wasn’t the one completing the suicide course. He didn’t go into G-Loc or get hit with a bird strike. He wasn’t shot down and he wasn’t stuck behind enemy lines and scrambling to get home. Jake was just the spare; sure he had a lucky shot, but he did nothing more. He didn’t deserve to bother anyone with his lack of sleeping. He would get it sorted, just like he always did.

As the day progressed and Jake's lids got heavier he thought about his techniques to combat his nightmares in the past and looked for his running gear. He hoped to kill two birds with one stone, run enough to clear his mind but also to make himself so exhausted he would fall asleep right away. The pilot put on his sneakers and reached for headphones before heading out the door. He knew it was going to be hot but the minute he was outside he felt like a wall of humidity was surrounding him. It wasn't the ideal running conditions but Jake grew up in Texas where heat was a part of everyday life. He threw off his shirt knowing it would be soaked in a second and headed out.

—————————————————————————-

Penny Benjamin wiped another hand across her brow as she turned to another box. She knew she shouldn't have chosen Tuesday to do inventory especially when the weather forecasts all called for the height of the heat wave to hit, yet here she was sweating in the back rooms of the Hard Deck anyway. She wished Maverick was around to help, though he was abnormally chaotic in a tight setting, at least the man could have helped with the lifting. Pete however, had taken Bradley for a 'getting re-acquainted trip' aka a 'get our crap together' trip up in Northern California. Penny was so happy to see the two trying to make things right and she knew it meant the world to Pete.

It did leave her alone though and with all the other pilots of the squadron gone on leave and Amelia visiting her father, Penny hated the quiet. Even doing normal chores around the bar made her ache for the loud and boisterous group she had grown to love. She hoped they were at least all trying to heal like Maverick and Rooster. She wasn't given all the details from the mission but she knew there were a lot of close calls and that for everyone to return was lucky, bordering on miraculous. Penny felt lucky herself every time she got to see Pete's smile again.

As the morning progressed and the heat got too much Penny opted to go over some sales numbers and to save the inventory for later. Grabbing her books, she headed for her usual table outside, the umbrella giving only the most miniscule relief from the heat.

She looked up as she watched a man run on the beach. He looked vaguely familiar but it wasn't until he was a bit closer that Penny realized it was Hangman. She had been surprised this morning when she saw the man arrive at the beach to run. She had assumed Hangman like all the others had gone away for leave. Clearly this wasn’t the case as the pilot putt his ear pods in and started his jog just as she first opened up to do inventory. Penny glanced at her watch and saw it was close to an hour later then since she had first arrived, and yet Hangman was still running. A hint of worry bubbled in her stomach but she learned that Top Gun pilots tended to be work-out fanatics, Hangman no exception.

As the man neared, Penny raised her hand, "Hangman!" she called but she wasn't surprised when the man kept running, no doubt lost in his music and training. She watched him for a minute, not immune to admit that the sight of the muscular shirtless blonde running along the beach wasn't the worst thing she's laid her eyes on. She shook her head at her silliness and turned back to her sales book figuring she would chastise the man for ignoring her later when he came in for some beers tonight.

Thirty minutes later the same figured appeared for the third time since she sat outside and Penny's brow furrowed. She knew Hangman liked to run but this was getting a bit excessive. She was familiar with his two mile loop, she had walked it with Amelia many times herself, but never this many times, nor in this kind of heat. When she included the time she was in the basement, she knew Jake was running much more than was normal or healthy on a day like today. It was nearing noon, the heat for the day was at its worse and she had heard an air quality alert on the news this morning. Jake ran with no water bottle, no shirt and if she had to guess no sunscreen. He just ran, and ran, and ran.

Perhaps it was the mother in her or perhaps it was just the concern for a pilot she had grown to care about over the years, but Penny refused to let Hangman run past again without at least taking a little respite. She stood herself up from the table and headed towards the sand, waving a bit to not startle the runner. As she got closer she noticed Hangman's gait was off, he seemed to be listing to the side with each step. Her concern mounting, Penny hurried forward a little faster, her heart dropping when she noticed Jake had started to stagger. "Hangman you alright?" the barmaid hollered, but instead of a verbal response Jake fell to one knee. "Jake!" Penny called as she watched the blonde collapse complete to the ground. He landed face first in the sand and the older woman felt herself fall next to him, a gentle hand reaching for his shoulder to help roll him over.

The man lying before her looked so far from the Hangman she knew that Penny gasped. Jake's normally lively green eyes were closed, his skin pale and his breath raspy. She gently nudged his face, trying to stir some kind of reaction and felt her heart relax a fraction when Jake gave a low groan and took a wobbling hand to brush hers away.

"Hey Hangman you with me?" she tapped his cheek again, worry increasing when she felt how warm his body was and yet she didn't notice much sweat on his body. Familiar with signs of overheating but in no way a doctor, Penny looked back towards the Hard Deck and hoped to see someone around that could help her. Unfortunately it seemed they were alone. She turned back to the blonde and saw his eyes were still closed though his body seemed to want to move. “Jake honey, can you hear me?” she asked again.

“P-Penny?” Jake murmured and finally those green eyes were open if barely past slits. He seemed to take a good look at the woman leaning over him before all the rest of the color in Hangman’s face disappeared and he rolled over to his side. As he retched out what Penny disgustingly assumed was his breakfast, she tried to run a soothing hand over his back but again she faltered at how hot his body temperature seemed to be. She reached to pull him back to face her carefully, allowing his back to land back in a clean portion of sand before trying to meet his eyes, “Jake, you with me? Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, yeah” he didn’t sound convincing, “’ll good.”

“I think you’re overheated, I need to get you inside.”

“No-“ he shook his head weakly, his voice low and gravelly, “-m fine…. Just-… just overdid it a bit. ”

Penny moved to brush back his damp hair from where it was plastered with sand to his forehead, “You really over did it, okay” she tried to give a reassuring smile but her concern was too great and it became more of a grimace, “you need to get out of this sun and get some water in you. You think you can stand?”

It didn’t look like Jake would be moving any time soon but when Penny gave him a small pull the pilot managed to follow the momentum enough to get himself standing. It wasn’t pretty and Hangman looked ready to puke again at least three different times, but he held it in and allowed Penny to throw his arm around her shoulders. The two took a moment to gain their balance before they started with small and slow steps all the way back to the Hard Deck.

The walk was long and tedious. With each step that they got closer Jake’s movements got sloppier and the weight Penny had to support seemed to double. When she finally got him inside, Penny deposited Jake to the nearest booth and ran for a cold water bottle and some towels. She ran them under the coldest water she could get and started to place them over Jake’s chest, his neck and his forehead. The man didn’t even flinch. “Keep those there” Penny ordered as she moved to grab more water bottles, “and take small sips of water.”

Jake tried to follow orders but when he moved his hands to open the bottle, they were shaking so bad he dropped it. He went to get his body to pick it up but instead he slid down to the floor, his back against the table’s leg. Penny heard the commotion and came running, finding the pilot out of it and on the floor of her bar. “Jesus Jake, I think we need to get you to the hospital” she told him, “This is way worse than over heating-“

“No” Jake shook his head, his eyes unfocused, “’m –ok-“

“Honey” she got him standing again, “no you’re not. Hang on, take a seat for a minute and let me get my keys. I have to lock up the basement and then I will take you.” She led him back towards the booths but didn’t wait for him to sit, instead running to her bag and car keys.

Meanwhile the blonde had teetered after her, following towards the bar and knocking over a stool followed by another, "shit” he cursed, “’m sorry. Y-you can just call m’ an uber" Jake slurred softly, now leaning heavily against the bar, “’t’s no bother.”

"Absolutely not, and I said to sit Jake" she ordered, manhandling him towards the booths, "sit before you collapse again."

"'M -fine-"

"No you're really not." Her eyes must have shown her anger and concern because Jake seemed to melt into the cushion of the seats. Penny gave a nod and then ran to lock up her basement door and lock the inventory room. When she got back to the bar she noticed Jake’s head was leaning down on the table. “Hangman?” she questioned, but the man didn’t stir, “Jake?” When she still got no answer, she hurried over and took one of the water bottles, emptying it over the man’s head in a frantic shake, “Lieutenant Seresin!” she yelled and was luckily awarded with a dazed Jake shaking his wet hair out in confusion. “-enny?” he murmured sleepily, “did it rain?”

“Something like that” Penny lied, moving to grab the man out of the booth once more and get him towards the exit, “now come on honey, we’re going to the hospital.”

“-Don’’ feel so g-good.”

“I know, but we’re going to get you all fixed up” she promised silently praying that she could deliver on such a statement. If she was honest with herself Jake’s condition was really starting to frighten her. He collapsed three times already, he threw up on the beach and his body temperature was frightening high. She had tried cold compresses but they didn’t seem to make a difference. He was incoherent and confused; his body a shaky and unstable mess when he was normally frighteningly in control.

They got to Penny’s car quickly; fortunately she parked in the closet spot this morning. She helped lay Jake out along the back seat, sparing a second to take a hand to his forehead where she still felt the heat radiating off his skin. She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything, instead starting her car and cranking the A/C, hoping that it would help cool the pilot down.

For the first few minutes of the ride, Jake stayed silent and if it weren’t for Penny looking towards him in the rear view mirror every few seconds she would have thought he was unconscious or worse. Instead she watched as the man took shallow wheezy breaths, praying they get to the hospital quickly so he could get real help.

After a few more minutes of silence, Penny heard what sounded like a throat clearing in the back seat. Jake’s voice sounded fractured when he finally spoke up, "'why-you helpin' me?" he whispered from the back, 'm a bad person. A bad person with no one left.”

"No you're not honey" Penny immediately argued back, watching as Hangman’s eyes closed and his face scrunched up in pain, "you're a good person. I know that and so do the others."

"Asshole to them.... always a jerk..."

"I think they've started to see all that for what it is.” And she really believed that. The Hangman that strutted around the Hard Deck all these years was a show, meant for entertainment and for keeping people at arm’s length. Penny, no stranger at pushing people away herself, could recognize the signs easily though she knew it took the others a while to see. “You earned your teammates’ trust” she continued with what she hoped sounded reassuring. Jake didn’t seem to react to the words though, so Penny tried to push a bit more remembering what Maverick had told her the night he returned after the boat docked, about how Jake had saved his life, “you showed them the true Jake Seresin during the mission. They see it now.”

“They all left, ‘m alone again.”

“You’re not alone sweetheart”

“I should be, ‘ve killed people” Jake announced next and in the driver’s seat Penny stilled. It’s not that she doesn’t know this fact, she’s heard Hangman address it before but hearing Jake speak the words so matter of factly while he himself was so broken, exhausted and barely conscious, Penny’s heart clenched. “You were just doing your job, Jake, it’s different.”

“No” he shook his head minutely, “’t’s not.” He sniffed back what sounded like a sob, “can’t sleep, just see it again and again… All my mistakes... all the early graves… all my fault.”

“Nothing was your fault Jake, you saved lives that day. You saved Maverick and Rooster-“

“see them die every night…. ‘m pathetic-“

“No you’re not, you’re so brave honey” she felt a tear fall down her cheek as Jake let out another raspy sob, “so, so brave.”

“’ can’t even sleep anymore” Jake moaned, “just wanna sleep-“

“We can get you help for that” she urged, “there are people that can help-“

“No one can ‘elp me” his head lulled to the side, “I…can’t be fixed.”

There was so much Penny wished to say, so much she wished to correct but before she got the chance she was pulling into the emergency driveway entrance of the hospital and screeching her brakes to a halt behind an empty ambulance. “Please!” Penny hollered from her window at the two paramedics heading out the exit doors. Both stopped and looked her way, “please I need help” she urged to them.

The two women hurried forward, following Penny’s directions to the back seat, “he’s in rough shape, can you help me get him inside?”

“I’ll get the backboard and gurney” the younger of the medics announced, running back to her rig. When she returned the three women were able to lift Jake up and onto it, the two medical professionals beginning to wheel him inside, Penny hot on their heels.

“Ma’am you can’t leave your car here” the security guard tried but Penny ignored it and just continued to follow the gurney wheeling Hangman further into the hospital. Getting a ticket was the least of her worries, even getting towed. All she cared about was making sure the blonde pilot in that bed got the care he needed.

She followed them through into the emergency room where Jake was taken into a corner make-shift room with curtains closing it off. A nurse started asking Penny questions about Jake’s age, medical history, and if he had any allergies. She tried to answer to the best of her abilities but the truth was she didn’t really know. Jake Seresin had been coming to the bar for years but Penny couldn’t even tell the hospital if he was allergic to peanuts yet alone any medication he was on; she just never bothered to get to know him that well. She vowed if they got through this debacle, she would find out, resolved to pester Jake with so many questions he would have no choice but to tell her everything. She looked forward to it with a spark of hope.

Suddenly an older man came forward from the other side of the curtain, ripping it open with an intern on his heels, “What do we have?” he asked, not looking away from his patient on the bed.

“32 year old white male, fading in and out of consciousness, feels excessively warm to the touch-“

The doctor sighed and put on his glasses, his thinning hair reflecting the light as he knelt down on his work stool, and started to lightly examine Jake’s face and chest, “what’s his name?”

When no one else replied Penny realized the question was addressed to her. She swallowed her nerves, “Lieutenant Jake Seresin” she told him.

“Navy?”

“A Navy pilot, yes.”

“Why did you bring him here, shouldn’t he be on base?”

Penny shrugged, realizing she never even thought about taking Jake back to North Island, her mind just drove them to the first hospital she could think of, “this was closer” she explained instead.

The doctor hummed but continued his examination, “okay Lieutenant can you hear me?” when the blonde gave no response, the doctor turned to one of the nurses, “get me a temperature reading now” he ordered.

“Right away Doctor” and the nurse hurried to get the thermometer.

“What happened to him?” the ER doctor asked, shining a pen light as he used a hand to hold open Jake’s eye lid.

“He collapsed on the beach,” Penny supplied dutifully, still watching with what felt like a heavy weight on her chest, “he had been running and I think he might have over heated-“

“In this heat, I’m not surprised. Order a toxicology report, I don’t like his pupil dilation.”

Penny felt her temper flare, “He wasn’t drinking” she shot back, “he’s exhausted.”

“Let’s take the family out of the room-“ the doctor also added, rolling his eyes to his staff. As a nurse went to remove her, Penny listened as another rattled off Jake’s temperature. The minute his nurse was done saying 105 degrees, the ER doctor began sprouting commands, his voice a lot more concerned and worried than it were not two minutes ago. Penny knew 105 was dangerous, even deadly, but seeing doctors and nurses run in frantically made the woman more scared than she could ever remember being in her life. A curtain was pulled and her view was gone, and Penny felt her heart stutter as she wondered if that was to be the last time she would ever see Jake again. What if he died? What if she was too late getting him help, waited too long in the bar locking up a damn inventory closet when she should have been calling an ambulance and getting the poor man help. Her legs buckled for a moment but the nurse at her side kept a strong hand on her arm that kept her standing. “Here we go” the nurse told her steering her to the nurses’ station, “Fran” she called and one nurse was replaced with a different one as Penny was handed off once more.

“Okay” the nurse named Fran began, an iPad in her hand and glasses on her kind face, “let’s begin. Patient’s name was what again?”

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin.”

“Age?”

“32.”

“Occupation?”

“Naval Pilot.”

She typed faster, then opened her mouth to ask more but Penny beat her too it, "please" she begged, "is he going to be alright?"

Fran seemed to scrutinize her for a moment, his brown eyes boring into Penny over her glasses, “What is your relation to him again?" she questioned.

Penny stuttered for a moment, but then found her confidence, "I'm- I'm his aunt” she declared daring someone to disagree. The nurse didn’t argue, just typed something on her iPad, “and your name?”

“Penny Benjamin.”

Fran nodded and motioned towards the waiting room, “okay Ms. Benjamin, take a seat and I’ll send a doctor to talk once he finishes his evaluations.”

"But can’t I go back in?“

“You’ve done everything you could for the Lieutenant; now leave it to the doctors.” Fran placed a comforting hand to her arm and squeezed gently, “your nephew is in good hands.”

“What if I didn’t do enough, I tried to put cold compresses, and the water, but he could even grip it properly and I never made him drink-“

“Shhh” the kind woman placated her, “I’ll let the doctors know. I’m sure they will put him on fluids right away, you just sit here.”

“T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I’ll be back later.”

Penny watched her go, falling into the hard waiting room chair and taking her head into her hands. She wanted to scream in frustration and worry, but she knew that wouldn’t help Jake. Instead she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.

A hand on her arm a few minutes later made her jump. She looked up; expecting a doctor or nurse but finding herself staring at the same security guard she had run past before. The man looked sheepish, clearly feeling guilty for startling her. Penny pulled her fingers through her long brown hair to try to look even a semblance of normal but the security guard didn’t seem to judge. “Ma’am” he began, “I’m sorry to bug you but I really need you to move your car, we got ambulances that need to unload in those spaces and you’re blocking them.”

She looked back at him, her face reddening in mortification; she had completely forgotten about the car she had left parked in the emergency entrance. “I’m so sorry, Sir, I was so panicked before-“

He shook off her apology, “believe me I’ve seen it a million times before. Just move it now and we can both pretend it didn’t happen. I know you got more important things to worry about.” He offered a hand to help her standing and Penny took it gratefully, rising from the chair and heading to the automatic doors leading outside.

Penny moved her car like directed and then took back her seat in the waiting room. She noticed others sitting around, none paying her much attention, everyone lost in their own worlds of worry and fear.

This was why she hated hospitals, especially waiting rooms. It was a place where time simultaneously stood still and yet rushed by. People waited in agony over people in actually agony. Some people were here for last goodbyes while others welcomed new lives into the world. It was a place of overstimulation and over emotion and yet Penny couldn’t imagine herself being anywhere else at the moment. She would wait here as long as it took until she knew Jake would be okay.

About an hour later, a tall man approached the nurse’s station and Penny watched as he was directed to her. "Ms Benjamin?" the dark haired doctor called dressed in scrubs, "my name is Doctor Rask,” he held out a hand for Penny to shake, her grip lacking from her fear, “I’m your nephew's doctor” he told her soothingly.

"Hi" Penny breathed out, trying to control her nerves, "how's Jake?" she asked after no preamble.

If he thought she was rude the doctor didn't comment, instead he went right into Jake's diagnosis. "Lieutenant Seresin has a severe case of hyperthermia, more specifically heat stroke. His body temperature was 105 when you brought him in and that was with the cooling methods you tried to do prior. With a body temp that high our biggest concern is always going to be organ failure."

Penny clutched her hands into fists; the feeling of her nails in her palms the only thing keeping her together. She focused on the slight pain as she struggled to find her voice, "did he-... is his organs... are they okay?"

"He is extremely lucky” the doctor explained, “We don't see any evidence of organ failure but we will monitor him closely for the next few hours to be sure."

"That's- that's good news."

Dr. Rask spared her a comforting look, "it is, especially with how overheated he was but he's not out of the woods yet. Lieutenant Seresin was also severely dehydrated and extremely exhausted. His fine motor skills were so impaired upon admission that the ER doctor ordered a toxicology report because he was convinced Lieutenant Seresin must have been drunk. He wasn't of course but the Lieutenant admitted to being unable to supply the last time he had a full night's sleep."

Penny sighed, "he just got back from a serious mission Doctor Rask, it affective him deeply-"

"I understand," the doctor cut in gently, "and believe me I'm sympathetic but I suggest he find someone to talk to about this. He is beyond normal exhaustion levels which is extremely dangerous, not only in his profession but in all matters of his life."

"I agree. I plan on reaching out to his CO to discuss this as well."

The doctor softened, "we can also recommend people for him to talk to if he didn't want to go through the Navy. My father served and I know firsthand how people can be hesitant to show weakness to their superiors. It’s dangerous and they end up denying themselves the opportunity to get proper help."

"Thank you, I worry about that as well but I can promise you I will personally make sure Jake gets the help he needs, even if I have to drag him myself."

"He's lucky to have you" Doctor Rask shared with a smile.

Penny shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor, “I don't know about that” she admitted softly.

"I do” the doctor told her kindly, “You saved his life getting him in here so quickly."

"So he will be okay?"

"Well like I said before his organs look undamaged which is the best news for his case. He is still on cooling pads right now as we try to lower his temperature safely. We also have him on multiple IVs to increase his fluids and nutrients."

It certainly didn’t sound like he was okay but Penny took the doctor’s calm attitude as a good sign. Still she would only feel better once she could see Jake with her own eyes, "Is he awake?" she asked ready to run to his room if she found out he was.

Doctor Rask shook his head, "we gave him a small sedative which I would normally be against but Lieutenant Seresin was very restless in the room from the over exhaustion. I feared he would tax himself further. It should wear off in a few hours but he will be exceptionally groggy. Do to the severity of the heat stroke and the strain on his body; I want to keep him overnight for observations."

"Can I see him?"

"I would prefer not if I'm honest” he managed a sympathetic look when he noticed her face fall. “It's important for him to stay resting. In his heightened state and with the weak sedation, any disruption could cause him to wake before he's ready and that's the last thing he needs. Rest is his best medication at this point."

"I understand" and she did, no matter how much it broke her heart to think of Jake waking up alone in the hospital.

"If you leave your info with the nurse, I'll call you personally when he wakes, or any other member of his family."

He doesn't think he has any family, Penny's mind automatically corrected but she didn't bother saying it out loud. Besides, she learned many years ago that family went far beyond blood no matter what the medical world said. "Thank you Doctor, for everything."

"My pleasure and make sure Lieutenant Seresin thanks you as well. Like I said before, you saved your nephew's life today Ms. Benjamin, a few more minutes out there and we would be having a very different conversation."

She shuddered but gave her thanks anyway before turning back to her waiting room seat. She knew she had hours to kill before Jake would be up and she could see him so Penny took out her phone and scrolled to Pete’s name. She knew she needed to call the man, knew that the minute he heard something was wrong with one of his pilots he would want to be informed and be there. She wondered for a moment if perhaps she was overstepping until she remember Jake’s sad words in the car. This was a man who thought he was alone in the world and even worse, he thought he deserved to be alone in the world. He thought of himself as a killer for doing his job and pathetic for not being to handle his emotions and his PTSD properly. His hyperthermia would be treated but Penny knew that Jake Seresin had a much longer road to recovery once he was discharged from the hospital. Penny knew that she, Maverick, Rooster and the rest of the Daggers would be there for him every step of the way. They were a family now and that’s what family does.

Her mind made up, Penny hit the call button and brought the phone up to her ear, ready to call on the reinforcements.

[k9effect]

I'm very busy with training for my new job and am exhausted when I get home so, sorry for the minimal art! But here is a Floydsin sketch for your soul <3

[Click for better quality, reblogs appreciated]

[topgunruinedme]

Bite me (Bruise Me), Fight Me (Loose me Too)

Whumptober: Day 15, Pained hugs/“I did good, right?”

Word count: approx’ 10.7k

Character: Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Rating: Mature

Summery: Jake had had a lot of uncertainties in life, but love was the one thing he did know.

Ao3 account: TopGunRuinedMe

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mention to medical disorders, Undiagnosed Medical Issues, Poor lifestyle, Neglect, Child Neglect, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Forced Prostitution, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Jake is not the prostitute, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Jake is struggling to adapt, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Jake just wants to be loved, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Needs a Hug, Hurt Jake "Hangman" Seresin, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Bad Parents, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Mummy Issues, misconception of love, Mental misconception of Love to avoid trauma, Author may be a little tipsy writing this, Normal people become alcoholics to cope:Jake seeks out fights, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Mainly Hurt, Little comfort, I Have No Idea How This Got So Long, NO Spell Check, I've been writing so long i'm now sober, Physical Abuse, Not for the character you think, We Stan Yote, We must pay for his therapy, Miscommunication.

~~~~

Jake had had a lot of uncertainties in life, but love was the one thing he did know.

He grew up in a hole in a wall, one bedroom apartment just shy of the ghetto, his family, small only a member of two, were food stamp users, and he was only in school due to the tax payers dime. His mother worked two jobs, day shift at the supermarket and nightshift at the petrol station where she would occasionally let him sleep in the backroom on the couch until he was eight years old and finally deemed responsible enough to stay home, although he still preferred the store in summer because they had aircon, and heating during winter. But despite his mother working herself haggard to make barely enough to keep a roof over their head always managing to get enough money to scrap together rent, even if she went out at night and came back at odd hours a bruise or two with a cracked smile, she always made it happen. Just like when she tried to put food on the table, sometimes his only meal would be a bag of skittles if she could spare the change, or if they rationed enough they could make a loaf of bread for two weeks, if they eat around the fuzzy green spots. He had eaten it once, so ravenous not realizing it, and had spent the whole next two nights paying for it, weak and shaky over a toilet bowel vomiting up more weight than he could risk losing in his mother arms who cried softly as she rocked him whispering her prayer into his skin.

But even when he went to school in thread bare clothes, a bag his mother had found in a dumpster still relatively usable even if one strap was broken and had to be tied back together every so often, and a hole or two in his old sneakers; that had dried blood strained on the inside from where his feet had rubbed them raw last summer when his socks finally gave out and he had been to afraid to mention it to his mother until she had spotted the sores and cried herself to sleep that night. He still managed, despite his hindrance, he had the reading skill of a high schooler, math of a 4th grader, and an active sport level in intensive sports despite the fact he was skinny, thin and all but looked like wind would brush him away, his lungs burnt under each long sprint and bones aches after each tackle, but he loved it.

No one cared if he was skinny or weak, no one cared if he looked like a ghoul or worse barely functioning clothes, just that he could catch the football and sprint with it fast enough that people rarely caught him before he reached the touchdown line, or that he was able to take off from the start line with such a steady pace that he could outrun most of the older kids in a 200m race.

He had potential his coach had told him; he could very well become a professional runner or player if he put in the effort. He had simply nodded along knowing it wouldn’t happen, he couldn’t afford it, and he wouldn’t dare ask his mother. He had to be smart, he had to be active, he had to be healthy; because he needed the skills for a decent job, he needed to be fast to get between jobs quickly and on time, and he needed to be healthy so someone can take care of his mother when she got sick and tried to work through a fever again like she did last winter. Someone had to do something because she was working herself into the grave and he knew it.

But despite it all, the long hours, the mood swings, his school accomplishments and little to no encouragement at his mother’s numb subconscious he knew she loved him, even when some days she laid in bed with no energy to get up, or when he had to help her to the table and cradle his palm to his chest after burning it on the stove, even after the countless times his mother had told him it was hot, to make breakfast because it was the least he could do. At least until he was old enough to do some work, he knew Mr. Martian needed his lawn moved, maybe he could ask the man. He was sure he’d let him borrow the machine and do it for him, he could he was sure of it, if he reached up high enough to grab the bar.

He had heard the other kids the other day talking about how they get money for doing chores, things like taking out the garbage and clearing their rooms, washing dishes, and washing clothes, but he had never gotten any, and he did that daily between his own studies. He always had to sneak out of school and run home just so he could drag the tied off bag of garbage down the two flights of stars past 6B who always stood on the stair landing to watch his pass day in and day out, gaze roaming over him but never asking to help so maybe he was just supervising him so he could tell mummy he did his chores. He had never earnt anything for it so maybe he wasn’t doing enough, he could do it. Get pocket change, that’s what they called it, he could give it to mummy to help. It would help, he was sure of it.

He had been slightly older, when his mother had been fired from the store after falling asleep too many times and had been employed at a mum and pop diner, who allowed them to come in early to eat pancakes for breakfast on the house three times a week, when 6B spoke to him for the first time.

“Hey kiddo, Why don’t you do that before you go to school?”

He blinked pausing mid pull to look up at the man who had overlooked his task for the last two years, now at 10 years of age, having grown slightly taller and more lanky but his baby checks finally starting to fill in with one semi-stable meal in his life, the older man’s lips tugged up in amusement at his own question.

“The racoons” he replied simply, “If they go out too early then they get into it and open the bag and fight over it then it just makes a mess and they wont take it away. But if you take I just before then they don’t get the chance because that’s when Miss Whennies cat Tinkles is watching guard, he always stands right next to it and warns them off”.

“The racoons” the man nodded along as If it made sense, “You know I could always use some help” the man cocked his head, “I’ve got a bad back you see, and a big strong boy like you would be able to do it nice and quick”.

He hesitated, grip tightening on the bag, “I uh- I have to go back to school sir-“

“It would only take a moment” 6B assured, “I’ll give you $5 for it, for being such a good boy”.

Five dollars? It would be easy money and it’s almost three times his spending money, it would allow them to buy milk for once, and he missed milk. He bit his lip slightly contemplating it before sighing leaving the bag on the landing before jogging back up the stairs towards the man whose smile grew wider.

“See I knew you were all grown up, a big boy now aren’t you?” 6B asked with his smile, and he shifted, a weird feeling blooming in his chest at the sharp smile trying not to flinch at the weird itchy feeling he got when the man reached out slapping him on the shoulder. Hand lingering as it drifted down to squeeze his arm before settling on his lower back tugging him closer leading him back towards the man’s still open apartment door. The man’s hand was warm nudging him forward, resting down on his lower back like Santa did when he used to sit on his lap at the mall; 6B hummed happily, “Growing some muscle on you boy”.

The door was closer now, held ajar by an old wooden chair wedged under the door handle, which sat under a small sign painted onto the door. The letters were faded and scratched off but he had been reading for a long time and he was really good at hangman so figuring out words with missing letters was his special skill, he squinted slightly trying to make sense of the white lettering.

Sper.

No Supr

Wait… Super.

He frowned slightly, that’s weird, Super, he wondered what it meant. He of course knew about comic books and superheroes, but the whole point of being a secret hero was to not have the word painted onto your door.

“I play football now with the bigger kids” he offered in response to the man. They were much rougher when they play so he had to train with them more often to get stronger, he liked some of them though, they helped him. Sitting beside him counting when the other two stood on either side of the bench hands hovering on either side of the bar with the black bits encouraging him to lift them, ensuring him again that they were right there in case it got too heavy.

“Hmm, I bet that makes you nice and strong. All sweaty and warm when you play too. Do they still make you wear those shorts? The little stripped ones?” The man asked.

He didn’t get a chance to answer.

The door to the stairwell opened and he jerked to the side frightened as feet raced up the stairs in a hurry, almost tripping over his abandoned bag looking startled, his mother's wild hair, purse thrown over her shoulder, hand holding the rail for support as she looked down at the bag confused then up to them, her eyes lingering on his started expression then the warm hand on his back.

“Jacob,” her tone was sharp, and angry. “Come here”.

But he hadn’t done anything wrong. Truly. He was going to go back to school, he really was. “Mum, I was just going to help him with his trash then I was going back to school I promise-“

“Now Jacob” she warned sharply.

He felt uneasy, stepping back away from the hand that seemed to drop reluctantly as he stepped down the stairs, between the two tense and glaring adults, into the safe embrace of his mother, who reached out and grabbed hold of his wrist, tugging him close the moment he was within range, almost tripping him down the stairs in her haste to hold him close.

“Benjamin,” His mother hissed angrily; one hand cradling his neck holding his face to her stomach, the other resting on his back desperately holding him close, the pressure half muffling the conversation as if shielding him from it. ��What the hell do you think you are doing”.

“Your late on rent”, 6B replied calmly, “The boy’s just picking up your slack”.

The arms around him tightened and the whine left his lips before he could stop it as the pressure grew and he bit his lip sharply, 6B chuckled, although he didn’t know what he found so funny.

“Don’t ever come near my boy again” his mother warned sharply, her voice low and it gave him goosebumps, he hadn’t heard it like that before, not since she yelled at him for knocking over one of their rare drinking glassware, causing it to break and she had yelled at him not to move until she cleaned it looking half between wanting to throw him down the stairs herself or cradle him between her arms.

“Pay rent on time then, that way that sweet little face of his won’t pay the consequences, because I don’t know about you but I am just dying to see what they look like filled”.

“Jacob”, his mother’s voice trembled, he hummed not able to shift enough to look up at her and he wasn’t sure he wanted to, “Go to school, I don’t want you to leave until I come and get you after work alright?”

“Okay” he muttered quietly into her stomach, half disappointed he wouldn’t be able to get Mr.6B’s trash for him and earn that $5, but she didn’t release her grip when he tugged back. “Mum-”

“I don’t want you coming home during school anymore, do you understand me?”

“I-“

“Do you understand?”

“Yes Mum!” he huffed finally breaking away, slipping out of her arms and she looked crazed, lips bitten bloody, gaze wild looking half like she wanted to lung out and grab him again, “I'm going” he hastily assured making his way down the stairs not looking back as he caught the end of the conversation as the door swung shut and he took of racing to get back on school grounds before class started back up.

“What do I have to do to make sure you never touch him again?”

“You know what you have to do, with tax”.

~~~~

He loved his mother, and he knew she loved him. Even when she grew closer, more obsessive. She started to demand she came along to his matches, or for him to walk straight to the store after school instead of hanging out with friends and do his homework in a booth at the diner until he was well into high school and many years into the less affectionally known name as the diner boy.

But it was there that Pops had silently slid across a Naval brochure when his mother’s back was turned, it had been there that his normal meal 3 days a week turned into if you wash the dishes, you can come and eat anytime, and the older couple became Nam and Pop, the two who allowed him in at ass-a-clock in the morning if he came knocking after another fight with his mother. It was there Pop had opened up an old wooden box aided by candle light and shown his medals still as shiny as the day they were pinned across his chest and told him in a harsh whisper of the horrors that came with them. He explained it all, his role as a SEAL, the ground staff, the naval aviators, and the deck hands. The fliers, builders, lawyers, leaders, and the engineers. Anything he could want, all at his fingertips, and Pops was all too willing to walk into the recruitment office and hand it in himself; if he wanted.

If he wanted. If he wanted to leave all this. If he wanted to leave the diner, to leave his mother, to leave this shitty town he’s hated since he was a kid. To leave their half broken down apartment, and to leave their sleezy super long behind in the wind. To leave poor mister Pickels, the kitten that had accompanied Miss Whennies after Tinkles passed, a kitten which soon grew into a large orange ball of fluff and had well outlived its owner. If he wanted to leave…

And what’s worse? He did.

He wanted to leave. He did.

But he couldn’t.

Not with her. Not while she stayed here and suffered by herself, while that man sucked her dry of everything she had, raising her rent every time he felt like it just because he could. The man who no longer intimidated by his stronger build or his nasty glares, who simply grinned at him sharply in response, wondering down the hall calling out his mother’s name with a sing-along voice in a way he knew would make his teeth clench.

And he wanted to leave, so desperately that he could pull his hair out, bloody and raw, and tug the teeth from his head with a pair of priers and no painkillers, and it still wouldn’t compare to the pure desperate need to leave. So desperately that he could cry and yet knew it would solve nothing. Because people like them? They don’t get a happy life; they don’t get other options. They worked to live, live to survive, and survive until you couldn’t give anything more, but overall, you never truly accomplish anything.

He knew what it looked like, if he applied. A poor kid from the ghetto, they’re going to think he’s gang affiliated, he wasn’t, sure he knew some kids from school, he knew what they did, but he never stuck his nose where it didn’t belong and they stayed clear of him in response. He worked hard to get where he was, he wouldn’t let something like that get in his way.

Not now. Not after everything.

And he wanted to apply, if only to get out of here. He wanted to, had the flying folded in his pocket, in between his pillow case and pillow as he slept, keeping it with him as a reminder of what he could achieve, all out of eyeline from his mother. A small token, maybe a daydream, something he knew would never be achieved, but it was nice to hope.

It would be nice to hope, he reminded himself as he woke in the morning with a wince, tugging his shirt down from where it had risen during the night hiding the forming bruise brushing it off as another sport related injury, the three bruised patterned indents all too real to pretend otherwise. He sat at the table staring blankly into the oatmeal, the same three patterns etched into his skin sitting mere milometers from him, waving around flamboyantly as his mother complained about something he had heard a million times. The same rings that had punched their marks into his skin, arms that had left darkening bruises wrapped around his ribs, the love carved into his skin, aches into his bones.

He felt each ounce of her love with each inhale, with each cough or whistling breath, and each sharp movement just like he had when he was a kid. The way she would squeeze too hard after a long shift, but he never complained because he missed her too, even if it made his ribs ache, or he was short of breath, he held his tongue and let her hold him; arms wrapped tightly around his body during the night preventing him from moving from her grasp as she squeezed. Because his mother loved him, the marks proved it, he had learned early on to hold back the whines of complaint in the morning when he woke to the marks dug into his skin, or the way his breath hitched or came with a wince. Because she loved him, she said so. She loved him.

And that was the reason he couldn’t go.

And that was the reason he left.

The reason he had tried to close the door on the face of two uniformed men who came knocking, papers in hand claiming he had to come with them, that he belonged to the Navy. Like he was property. Their star-sparkled stupidly clean shoe that was polished to the point you could see your own damn reflection out of them, that made him want to slam the door on their shoe all that harder blocked him, wedged between the two pieces of wood looking bored at his temper.

“Seresin, come peacefully-”

“For the last time, I didn’t sign up” he glared, “So, piss off”.

“Son you’re only making this worse for yourself, you had a clear recall date if you had second thoughts, you missed it.” he blocked out the officer, his attention dragged to his side as noise came from within he apartment. Worry bubbling as he heard his mother move around when she should be on bedrest, her latest cold having sent her to bed earlier in the week and had refused to let up for a moment.

Annoyance flooded through him mounting on his already building irritation at the knowledge they had woken her form her much needed sleep, he twisted to look at her finding her ending the kitchen walking towards him, dark circles under her eyes, betraying her exhaustion from her gaunt haunted look to the tremble in her hand. She looked wearily, approaching slowly, twisting something between her palms fiddling with it as the ruckus the two men grew louder when the officer realised he was blocking out his speech.

“Mum,” he called out gently “Go back into the bedroom I’ll be right there-“

She croaked, foot staggering her hands reaching out to the nearby counter as she forced herself closer, “I did”.

“What?” He frowned confused, half distracted glaring down the officers whose hand pressed hard against the door feeling it budge slightly much to his own annoyance, “Mum go back to the room ill-“

“I signed you up”.

He paused, staring at her, his pause allowing the officers to push him back by a hand on his shoulder causing him to stagger back as the door swung open.

“Ma’am, please allow us to resolve this peacefully. Recruit Seresin has been MIA for his first week of introductions-”

“You what?” he cut the man off staring at his frail mother who looked so painfully guilty and relieved at the same time, gut clenching and chest tightening feeling like he had just been thrown into a cheese grater.

She bit her lip, sighing heavily before holding out the item she had been fiddling with, a well-loved, folded and slightly dammed pamphlet. The naval pamphlet. “I found this under your bed, I- Pops told me you were thinking about it and the deadline was coming up and you never asked me about it and you never filled it out, so I did”.

“Mum-”

“You can’t stay here the rest of your life; you cannot rot away between these four walls like I am. I refuse to let you” she demanded, on the verge of tears voice trembling, “You deserve something much better than this Jacob; you always have. Don’t squander your chance to get out of this hell hole because of some misplaced honor”.

“That honor is my mother”.

“And your mother is asking you, to go”.

“You need me here, pops and Nam need me here-”

“Go Jacob, go” she whispered, “Please, make something out of yourself. If not for me, then for you. Because if you don’t take this chance, you’re going to resent me for the rest of your life, and I can’t stand to think of it”.

“But i-“

“You can write them a letter once you get to base, explain it all. Trust me, they’ll forgive you. Please, pack. Please Jacob”.

And so, he did. He packed the small measly items he owned, that still fit in that shitty backpack from so many years ago, the trusty thing having lasted all through his schooling with a caring hand, he had kissed his mother goodbye and felt his ribs ache under the force of her hug until one of the officers physically pulled him away and lead him down to a car.

A car that led him to the most physically challenging part of his life, the best part of his life. He had been offered temporary quarters, a package of standard clothes, uniforms, and PT gear, all new. Brand new. Clothes just for him and packed in the bottom was a pair of sneakers, and dress shoes. In his size. He was offered a meal plan of daily meals, three times a day. Showers, wherever he wanted, for however long he wanted in exchange for letting them buzz his golden locks, and a bedroom, sure he had to share it with a roommate who was out of state and being flown out to the base, but it was his.

And somehow one of the worst things his mother had ever done to him, turned into one of the greatest. The bruises had faded with time and so had his anger towards her, and all too soon the dorms began to fill in. The hall loud and brash with kids his age moving in, laughing and being crass, as he waited for the hall warden to snap at them to behave appropriately, sitting on his bed picking at his fingers having long had the habit of biting his lip ripped from him having already spent time under the man, tugging at the skin around his nails flitching as he heard the key turn in the lock of the door, eyes flicking to it instinctively.

He glanced up as the door opened unusually nervous to meet his roommate for the first time only to pause, a laugh bubbling from his lips before he could stop it. The man blinked at him in the doorway, hair buzzed, skin tanned, but he knew. He had lived with them for fuck sakes. He laughed, and laughed and laughed, until the man, unimpressed, tugged the door shut trapping them within, throwing his duffle on the unclaimed bed and crossed his arms, tense, jaw clenched, glaring him down hostilely.

“What,” the man growled out.

He grinned unable to stop himself, “You know when I said I came from the ghetto, I didn’t expect them to put me with the only god damn colored kid on the block”.

~~~~

It started with the shoulder punches.

He hadn’t realised it was an issue until Javy had sat him down with a worried look, whispering quietly about some rumors flying around behind his back because he was hurting other kids. Kids he had thought had been his friends. His face had twisted into an incredulous disbelief, then hurt, and anger, he hadn’t hurt anyone.

He had then nervously asked Javy if he believed them, the man had hesitated before admitting he tapped rather hard when he was showing affection and maybe it was a misconception, a misunderstanding, that he should try being gentler.

He didn’t understand.

So, Javy had shown him, tugged down his shirt, unbuttoning it enough to tug down sleeve enough to show his sholder where the skin was splotched in different colors. He had stared at it, then stared at it some more.

They had bruised. They were old. In different stages of healing. He had been so focused trying to spread his love with the others he had neglected Javy, his love already fading from the man’s skin.

He swallowed hand grazing over the skin his jaw clenched and Javy had just mused quietly reassuring him in worry “It’s ok Jake, It’s ok”. But it wasn’t.

He had tried, to fix it. He tried, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. The rumors, his ‘friends’ and how could they say something so horrible? He didn’t want to hurt anyone, he hadn’t! Truly. He was just trying to show them he liked them, trusted them, loved them, and they had thrown it back in his face. He wondered if his marks still bloomed on their skin in the face of their betrayal, if they would look at it at night lips curling up disgusted by their own actions. If they stared his love in the eye and disregarded it so easily.

He never spoke to them again. The kids. He shut them out when they came back from break, just brushed past them in the hall, refusing to answer them when they came up to him to start a conversation, staring at them blankly when they demanded to know what the hell his issue was, if he thought he was too good for them, and all he couldn’t think about was, was his mark still on their skin? Did it burn so close to its maker? Did the blood curdle and run through their veins aware of its carrier’s actions.

Did it hurt them as much as they hurt him?

So he set himself up, he strengthened his accent, he acted cocky, irritable, and made sure to rile up everyone around him until they couldn’t stand him, until everyone saw him as unapproachable. Everyone except Javy who stared at him at night sitting on his bunk with a lost expression, but despite the others trying to pull him away, Javy stuck to his side closely refusing to leave him too. Even when everyone hated him, when people began to abandon him in hops refusing to cover his back Javy came in clutch every time without hesitation and together they became an unstoppable duo. Together, they became family, brothers, each mark at a time.

It didn’t stop the way hurt festered in his chest when he passed those kids, who had become adults, in the hall as they leaned over and whispered to another kid who looked over at him and smirked laughing. He knew. Everyone did. It was about him. He steeled his jaw throwing them a cocky smirk and thrived off the sneer he got in return.

“You shouldn’t taunt them” Javy scolded.

“I’m just having a little fun Jay” he rolled his eyes, nudging the man with a loose knock to his shoulder and Jay staggered to the side slightly, hand twitching like he wanted to reach up and caress the mark, his jaw tightening as he stared at him before moving again, likely reminding himself this wasn’t the time or place to savor the mark.

He never did. Javy was weird about them, almost moving as if he wanted to hold them, cherish them, looking tense when he gave them when others could see, before locking himself in a bathroom stall or dressing quickly so he didn’t have to look at them. Maybe he was embarrassed.

“It’s ok Jake” Javy had whispered into the night, thinking he had gone to bed hours ago as he spent his time counting the cracks in the wall, still terrified to move as the boy sighed shifting as the bed creaked, “I know you don’t mean it. I know you love me truly”.

I do love you.

So why does it feel like you don’t understand how much?

Then came Bradshaw and everything fell apart.

At first he had loved it, Bradshaw was older than them, more reactive, and he had that fire-like attitude at him. His iron-clad control was frustrating, but if he gave him fuel, the man would throw it back at him, but if he tugged long enough the man would spit at the fire, and it would bloom into a wildfire. Beautiful, but dangerous.

He couldn’t help it. It was like an addiction. He needed to see Bradshaw react, to see those ambers glow. He ignored the warnings, the stern lectures, and bulldozed through them and day by day he watched as that iron-clad control snapped piece by piece, scaffolding flattering and crumbling down around him. He loved that he could use his jabs and taunts to drag the man out to play with him, it was exhilarating, he loved the thrill it gave him, feeling as if he was on the edge of his seat every moment he was around him, dancing on his toes, and Bradshaw strutted around like a ticking time bomb and he intended to make him explode.

Most of all he loved the way he could punch the older man in the shoulder and bubble in excitement as Bradshaw would return it as good as he gave it, and for once in years, he had a bruise. A dark blemish that spanned across his shoulder, next to his collarbone, on his right side, right over his heart. It aches when he moved, tugged when he stretched, expanded when he breathed, and he could feel it in every living movement and he loved it.

Then it all went to shit.

He didn’t know what happened. He had taunted him, and Bradshaw just snapped. Suddenly the usual jab to his shoulder wasn’t just his shoulder, it caught him by the chin, causing him to stumble, then to the gut, and a hand wrapped up around his throat, body breathless, slammed back up against the wall and, this didn’t feel like love.

This, hurt.

He remembered the gasping, chocking on air as Javy held him close barking at Trace to get a handle on Bradshaw, holding his steady on shaky legs. The man’s terrified gaze roaming over him looking more devastated at each impact point, hands roaming over his tense stomach and already red and blooming jaw, he could feel it, the blood pulsing, the tenderness.

“Fuck you, Seresin!” Bradshaw snarled over Trace’s shoulder looking like a dog foaming at the mouth, Trace’s hand was on his shoulder hissing at him to back down, to not make this worse. “The only place you’re going to lead people is to their grave, you’re like a god damn hangman. The only person who wants to be your friend is death itself”.

And there it was. The death wish. The curse. The enigma.

His callsign.

The issue with living on a base is that gossip travels quick, its twists, and it never does the spoken any favors. But once someone caught ear that he grew up in the ghetto, it was over for him.

From that moment on he had been called Hangman, the man who seeks to kill all those around him, a mercenary, a curse, a bad luck charm. Death. Flying with a yoke in hand.

It never occurred to him to report the attack, or to register the way Bradshaw tiptoed around him for a bit as if waiting for the axe to fall. A blow that never came.

He never did get over the way Bradshaw’s bruises ached in his skin, how they slowly faded but his words stuck sharp like a knife between his ribs. And the colours he had looked forward to everyday, ones he had squirmed in anticipation to watch bloom across his chest, left him in an odd feeling of displacement. Bradshaw was avoiding him with a clenched jaw, Trace alongside with him. And all too soon, his skin was unblemished again.

And he hated it.

Unloved, and a death calling.

How fitting.

He never escaped it, not when Javy earned his name, not when graduation came and they were awarded their callsigns officially, his tag already printed before he could request it. His instructor smiling proudly, whispering teasingly “the mercenary” as he pinned it to his chest, staring at him with this expectation and declared in front of everyone, awarding him his rank, and officially alienating him, because who wanted deaths calling on their squad?

“I expect you to earn our country some kills, son”.

And he had. First air-to-air kill in centuries. And what he hated about it most? It proved them all right, because when it came down to it, he didn’t hesitate for a moment pulling that trigger. He didn’t flinch, think, or anything. In fact, if anything, he took satisfaction from watching it fall out of the sky, droning back to the tower over coms, reporting the kill without really hearing it.

Then he earned a new name.

The executioner.

Everyone hated Hangman, but everyone wanted to know the executioner. To hang off his arm, to brag they were friends, to buy him rounds of drink all to celebrate the life he had taken, and that night he came home with bruises brooming across his chest, back, and arm, from drunken rumbles, and sloppy disported punches in congratulation.

And he felt like he could breathe again.

He shouldn’t be happy for taking a life, but it had earned him marks. It earned him love. And he missed it so much he could scream.

~~~~

Top Gun wasn’t any different than it was the first time. Whispers still followed him, his reputation one step behind him, and Brashaw. Bradshaw stood in his way, that hostile look, the same clenched fist, the threat of his love, and yet the man just taunted him with it. And he was so close, so close. So frustratingly close, Bradshaw fist wrapped around his jumpsuit dragging him close as he laughed exhilarated, arm raised fist ready only for everyone else to jump in, to tear them apart, screaming at each other. And Bradshaw had been ripped away, the Captain jumping between them. Bradshaw might be stupid, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ignore a Capitan.

He wanted to throw himself off the carrier. To shove his yoke and crash into the ocean. He had been so close and all he had to show for it was the faint red marks of Bradshaw’s nails from where he as twisted the fabric of his flight suit in his fist.

And it wasn’t enough. He felt like he was going insane, like he had been going through with drawls for years and he just wanted it to stop.

“Jake” Javy stared at him with that same worried look that’s been following him for years, “Maybe it’s time we talked about it”.

Talk about him. About his obsession. About Bradshaw. About everything, and he wasn’t ready.

“Maybe its time you went to see someone”.

“why?”

“To talk to them…about this”.

“I talk to you”.

Javy never answers, just gives him this exhausted look, a haunted piercing gaze that reminded him too much of his mother the day he left, a gaze that cut through him and reminded him of every mistake he’s ever made. Missing Nam’s funeral, never visiting his mother, sending letters, responding but never taking that step to actually seeing her. Being well over due to heading back to that damn town to see Pop, to meet the grandson he spoke so fondly of that had taken over the business a few years ago. Mik. Something. It wasn’t important. Not really.

So he clenched his jaw and ignored the disappointed look, gaze trailing over Brashaw as he danced around in the sand, those muscles shinning in sweat as he tacked Neil to the ground successfully distracting he man allowing Trace to score a goal her Rio by her side faithfully managing to knock peoples ankles out from under them before they knew what was coming.

Then it came. And they crashed. Bradshaw was picked, and Maverick fell. But then Bradshaw fell with him. Love, Bradshaw so loved to taunt it in his face, even in his dying moments.

Each mark, each punch, each heated argument, and clenched jaw screamed, I love you, I love you, I love you~

And he still went after him, because Bradshaw had loved the Captain too.

But then, they lived. And he was flying like his life depended on it, and it might have, his heart pounding in his chest and he was scared it might stop if he didn’t get there in time. He hadn’t hesitate that time either, guns switching to missiles before he knew what he was doing, tone flooding through his ears fingers already pressing down the trigger before he could check which jet he had caught. Then there was smokem, and they lived.

They all lived.

The aftermath is what caused the issues though. His life was always complicated with Bradshaw around. But this time it appears the man came with an extension, the Captain, Mitchell, Maverick. His Godfather.

A father figure, who wouldn’t take no as an answer, who tugged him forward into a hug and he just stood there because where the hell had it come from? But then, it kept happening. Maverick keeps hugging, soon it became a usual pastime for the man making his rounds ensuring he patted, hugged, or kissed each and every one of them goodbye before he left and it hurt.

Usually, he was quite open to hugging, welcoming the family outlet of love. But this, he didn’t know what this was, and he hated it.

He didn’t know what he did to make the man hate him so much but it hurt, seeing the other smile brightly, Mavs soft expression welcoming them into his mismatched family alongside him, to hug him but only offer him the physical object, to wrap his arms around an empty vessel, and it ached.

He didn’t understand.

And it appeared it was becoming a common response to the man named Maverick.

Mav claimed to love him, he hugged him, he smiled so welcomely and treated him as if he was one of his one, and yet, no matter how many times he checked his in the privacy of his own home, on the verge of tears at the sight of the unblemished skin. Why was Mav allowed to love everyone but him?

Why must they taunt him with it? What did he do?

He didn’t understand.

~~~~

To be honest, letting a bunch of slightly tipsy aviator lounge around an open hanger with years’ worth of projects building up to fidget with, was only going to lead to a disaster.

Some perks of being somewhat buddy buddy with aa almost retired Captain meant accompanying the team to group outings at the man’s hanger out in the desert, it almost meant lounging back in a sun in a lounge chair drinking a beer watching Bradsh- Bradley tinker around with some object, that he thinks used to be an engine before it was deconstructed, that the older man had dragged out of the Captains workshop and began to fiddle with; apparently deeming him as his official supervisor since the rest of the group had disappeared into some other part of the hanger and Bradshaw wanted to enjoy the warm sun as well, even if it was heating the metal and causing the man to hiss in annoying under his breath in a muffled curses anytime he burnt himself.

In the most part he was enjoying himself, who wouldn’t he was practically on holiday, baking in the sun, a beer in hand, couldn’t ask for anything better. It was almost sweet serenity. Almost.

“Shit!”

His eyes snapped open eyes settling on Bradley whose teeth were gritted, blood trailing down his arm, hand clamped down on the rapidly bleeding wound. He jerked up not even glancing at the beer that he had knocked from his hip down onto the concrete where it spilled, as he stumbled out of the chair to his knees beside the man already ripping off his t-shirt and whacking Bradley’s hands away to see the damage for himself, before wrapping the fabric around it in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

“Mav!” the cry sounded raw, fearful.

The cut was deep, from his elbow down to mid-forearm, bleeding, pink and soft, gushy under his finger tips and he tried not to think about the fact his fingers were literally in Bradshaw’s arms, touching the mutilated flesh.

“MAV!”

He felt sick, Bradshaw was rapidly losing color and blood was pouring into his lap, onto his jeans as he tried to stem the bleeding, cursing as he grabbed Bradshaw’s limp hand from his thigh pressing it against the wound snapping at the man to hold it there. Before hastily unbuckling his own belt, not blinking over the mess he was making as he ripped it from its loops, looping it around Bradley’s bicep tightening it in an attempt of a torniquet, it was tight, probably too tight but he had to stop the bleeding-

“MAV!”

He was brushing away Bradley’s hand away, not that it did much good, the sticky blood coating his skin, and his stomach churned. And for once he was willing to admit he felt truly petrified, Bradley’s limp arms, pale skin starting at his wound, and blood in silent horror.

“MAV-!”

“Jesus, I’m here kid” Mav grumbled from behind him, “What do you nee- Bradley!” Something shattered on the ground but then there was Mav by his side nudging him out of the way, taking over. He shuffled back slightly leaning against his chair, feeling unstable all of the sudden, like the world was spinning around him. He stared at his hands, coated in blood, jeans ruined, shirt unsalvageable, but Mav was already calling for the rest of the group and, how had no one heard his screams?

Had they ignored him? At the cost of Bradleys life?

Mav was shoving Bradley into the arms of Reuben and Billy, Nat already having run off to get the car, as Mav ordered them to take him to the small hospital that was apparently in the next town over and then- Mav was in his face. His hands on his knees and Mav was- Mav.

“I’m here sweetheart,” Mav ran a hand over his knee soothingly and his breath shook before realising he’d been muttering the same word over and over again, mav. Mav. Mav. Mav. MAV.

“I’m here sweetheart, but I really need to go. Bradley’s really hurt and we have to get you up with the others so we can get you changed and ready to go see him all patched up because I think you’re a little shaken Jake. Come on up we go-” Mav had a hand on each of his elbows urging him up with him easily shouldering his weight as he stumbled around like a drunk fawn. He didn’t- he just- he was

“He was so pale” he crocked, pleading with Mav, begging him. For what?

“He’s ok, he’s never been any good with blood. He’s okay Jake” Mav reassured him gently tugging him further into the hanger, he followed blindly. That, that’s what he had been looking for.

He’s ok.

He’s never been good with blood.

He’s okay.

Okay.

Mav pulled away slightly, ensuring he had his feet under him, but his hand flew up clenching at Mav’s bicep even as Mav releases him completely, clearly desperate to follow after his son, in all but blood. His voice trembled, croaking, eyes flicking over Mav’s face trying to determine the man’s emotion from the small mini-markers, trying to figure out what he did wrong.

Why are you leaving?

“I did good, right?” he asked, clarifying desperately, watching as Mavs brows furrowed slightly shifting impatiently, urging someone over his shoulder towards them as he tapped him on the shoulder squeezing it.

I need you.

“Yeah kid, you did good” Mav smiled softly, “Callie’s going to help you alright? I think you going into a bit of shock. It’s alright, no one was expecting it to happen. Cal, make sure he gets out of these clothes feel free to the stuff in the backrooms, I should have some old stuff from my flight mates stores in there that should fit him, he needs lots to drink, lots of electrolytes and sleep” he informed her, Neil sliding up beside her nodding along, gently wrapping his arm around his chest from behind transferring the weight as Callie patiently tugged on his fingers until they no longer clenched the Capitan and held them within her own.

“Come on Jake, let’s get you into a nice warm shower and-”, he couldn’t focus on Callie, throat dry, staring into an empty spot.

Mav was gone. The moment his grip was released he sent the two a grateful smile before turning on his heel and taking off out of the hanger. Gone.

Mav left him.

And he wasn’t sure he could forgive him.

That night he held his own waist, arms wrapped around himself as tight as they would go and held on. Through his sobbing hiccups, through the pained hiss and clenched teeth, his ribs squeezing tight as he let out a muffled low whimper of pain, refusing to let go, until he could see the darkening skin through his blurred vision. And then, maybe then, he could pretend Mav loved him too.

~~~~

Being asked to stay behind after class by a commanding officer was fine, being asked to stay behind after class by Maverick, was not. Let alone for the man to come up to him and ask him personally to come up to his hanger after work so they could talk about some things, he might as well have a better chance throwing himself into a jet turbine and hoping to live to tell the tale.

The drive was long, perhaps that was on purpose, to allow him the chance to shrug of today’s lesson and his worries. Maybe t had been intended that way but clearly Mav had never taken the time to know him. Instead, it gave him hours to hyper-analysis every interaction with the man and his classmates for the last two months trying to determine why the hell he was being issued an informal reprimand.

A lot had happened in the last few months, the daggers had been officially named as a squadron and they had all been issued their new enigma, he wore his quite proudly as did many others, the group as a result became somewhat closer, spending more time together. Or at least attempting too. So in response he had attempted to share his appreciation as well, but it was always one step forward and two steps back, it seemed almost like every attempt he made they would shut off a little more from him, each shaken head, each retreat, each stiff pool game when he offered to play with them and they’d brush him off, and each a disappointed murmur plunging a knife through his chest: Nat shook her head muttering disappointedly sighing in a way he hadn’t heard in months, “Same old Hangman”.

He didn’t understand, and he was started to get really sick of being left outside the loop.

He swallowed thickly as he pulled up to the fenced lot letting himself in as he pulled off the dirt road onto the slightly gravelled section Mav had donned the parking and put the truck into park, taking a moment to flex his fingers around the wheel trying to take deep even breath, to counter the way his brain seamed to twist and twirl trying to dig him further into a hole he didn’t want to get stuck in.

“You can do this” he reminded himself softly, “You can do this”. It can’t be that bad right? If he was anything bad, Mav wouldn’t have dragged him all the way out here, he would have just ordered him to his office and been done with it. Right?

“Do you plan on sitting in the car all day Seresin!” a voice called out.

He let his eyes fall shut head bumping back against his head rest before opening the car door and sliding out, “Thought I’d take a moment to enjoy the sun sir” he called back. The last one before his execution that was.

“You didn’t have a chance to do that on the drive in?” Mav asked coming into view lifting an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a cloth, dirty and stained but it appeared to be doing its job.

“I’m from Texas pops, we do everything differently, it’s easier if you just accept it” he grinned, pushing back his nerves as he strolled closer shoving his hands into his pockets, “So, what’s up, you’re not going to kill me and burry me out here are you because it think the Dingos might get me before the Eagles do” he commented lightly. If anyone would be able to kill and get away with it, it would be Mav. Hell, he already had the perfect stretch of land for it and enough connection to make a viable alibi. Maybe he shouldn’t have come…

Or at least told someone where he was going.

Where the hell was Javy when he needed him, they could have matching gravestones.

Mav huffed, lips twitching in amusement as he tucked the rag corner into his back pocket letting ti hand, “Now why would I do that? I just called aside in front of the class, that’s too suspicious, even for me”.

He shrugged, “Bradshaw would probably help you hide the body”.

Mav frowned “You saved his life, twice now”.

“Small details”.

Mav hummed, “Come on, we can talk inside”, Mav turned leading him further into the hanger, his gaze couldn’t help but drift to the darker spot of concrete where he knew had blood splattered over it a few months ago, unable to bring himself to make the trip out here since, only to find a pristine surface. He swallowed thickly before following the man in.

So, Mav’s suspiciously good at getting rid of blood stains. Great news.

He has the burial sight, the extra hands, an alibi, good clean up products, all he needs now is motives.

He go down that list worryingly quick and he’s hardly made it past the threshold of the property yet. He sighed signing his own death certificate and allowed Mav to lead him into the kitchen where the Mav placed a bottle of water chilled from the fridge onto the counter gesturing for him to take him, placing the counter between them.

He was a tad ashamed of the way it set him slightly more at ease.

It didn’t take long the tension building awkwardly between them before Mav sighed heavily suddenly looking his age, frowning heavily brows furrowing in worry as he leaned over on the counter glancing up, clearly unsure how to approach the subject, “Look Jake…some of the other had some concerns about your rough- uh… treatment! Towards the others, and I think it’s about time we address it”.

Rough treatment?

Rough?

“Look Jake” Javy squirmed uncomfortably, “There this rumour going around….that you hurt some of the other guys…”

Rough?

“I didn’t- Javy I would never- They’re kids!”

I-

“Jake?”

He hummed, not really registering the way his grip around the bottle tightened a tad too much causing it to creak, or how he straightened slightly as Mav pushed of the counter staring at him fully in concern, “Are you alright?” Mav asked.

It was happening again.

It was happening again.

It was happening again.

He swallowed thickly, hand raising up the flesh under his shoulder, under the collarbone over his breast over his right side, digging his knuckles into the flesh, and into an older bruise, feeling the flash of the sharp pain restart his system, the haze beginning to fade.

“Jake!” Mavs sharp tone tugged him further out, those egal eyes tracking his hand rubbing at his chest, eyes narrowing, “What’s wrong with your chest”.

He dropped it, “Nothing. You we’re saying”. About how everyone hated me.

Mav stood his ground staring him down, but so did he. After all, Mav was the one who taught him how. Mav bit his lip slightly before relenting, acknowledging that they were just as stubborn as each other and they likely wouldn’t get anywhere unless one of them submitted and they both knew it wouldn’t be him.

“Jake, come on tell me what’s going on” Mav shoulders slumped, “I can’t lead a time if you’re fighting within it”.

“I don’t know what they’re talking about” He gruffed out. “Why don’t you ask them if your so un-bias”.

“Come on kid, work with me here.-“

“No! Because why am I the only one here? This is a team issue, no? Where’s the team?” he waved his arm in a wide swipe his distress beginning to grow, “Why am I the one singled out? What because Bradshaw doesn’t like me, which means Nat didn’t like me and she’ll willingly spread that distrain to everyone if she could and-”

“Jake” Mav warned lowly, “Enough”.

“I am not the only person on this team!”

“I’m aware” Mav replied calmy, “However it’s your actions that they’re concerned about, so I want to hear what you have to say before I go through with anything”.

So, there is a reprimand here.

Bradshaw doesn’t like me: Motive.

He pushes himself away from the counter not caring about where his bottle dropped as he tried to put distance between the two of them, feeling uncomfortable, scratchy, and- I don’t understand, I just don’t understand, I DON’T UNDERSTAND-

Then suddenly he couldn’t breathe. The stress builds and his chest and- and- suddenly all he can do is wrap his arms around his waist in an attempt to release the building pressure suffocating him, and squeeze. Breath hitching, sharp gasps, nails digging into his flesh then- strong hands settled on his arm, one on his wrist tugging it away from himself sharply, the other just above his elbow on the opposite arm holding him still. He clamped his eyes shut refusing to look at the man, breath trembling in uncontrolled panic. Mav tried to pull his other arm away from his body but he jerked away, hands holding him still clamped tightly, but a pained hiss made its way through gritted teeth. His eyes opened, shiny and wet as Mav stared him down silently bringing his right wrist to his left holding them together loosely giving him the benefit of the doubt as he gently tugged up his shirt, letting out a shocked breath at the sight of the bruised and damaged flesh. Mav’s fingers trailing over the tender skin feeling his abdomen flex to get away from the prodding fingers, worry shining in Mav’s eyes making a wounded noise as he traced a larger bruise from his belly button wrapping around to his hip bone and lower two ribs.

“Sweetheart” Mav breathed, “Who did this?”

He blinked, jaw shaking slightly as he cleared his throat, staring at Mav’s worried expression in confusion. “What?”

“Who hurt you, sweetheart?” Mav’s eyes looked wet, peering up at him, fingertips ghosting over the bruise as if afraid he’d hurt him if he touched it further.

“No one hurt me, Mav” he frowned.

“Jake, I swear if someone’s-”

“They’re love marks” he explained softly in confusion reaching down and Mav let his hand fall, he reached for the bigger mark and traced it lightly, “See this one is darker? It means it’s full of love. This one?” he shifted over lifting his shirt further ignoring the keening noise Mav made when he revealed the black and green mark over his heart, “It’s lighter, it’s fading, the love”.

Mav stared at the marks silently, gaze flickering over the newest ones looking more and more troubled, before gently asking “Who did this?”

He blinked, “I did of course”.

“Wh-why?”

“Because…” he frowned, “Because you were punishing me, and I- I didn’t know why and I just thought maybe if I could-”

“Wha- Jake, honey. I’m not punishing you,… how am I punishing you?” Mav’s grip on his elbow tightened slightly squeezing in comfort, his gaze seeking him out, genuinely confused.

He shifted uncomfortably under the gentle gaze, feeling himself sinking under it unable to stop himself, squirming as he muttered, “Your hugs,…they’re wrong”.

“How? Wrong how, Jake”.

“I don’t know!” he bit his lip tugging away from Mav, the man only let him step back a step before he was right there again, keeping his hands to himself but making sure he didn’t flee in his agitation, “Ok. They’re just wrong,” he gritted his teeth, turning his gaze, dancing over the counter, his abandoned drink, to the oil stain on the floor, a machine with a toolbox open where Mav had clearly been working before he arrived, anything to avoid the mans gaze. “They’re just empty. Like they don’t mean anything, you love everyone else so clearly, but then you get to me and it’s like you have nothing left to give, and- and- they don’t hurt Mav! They’re meant to hurt, to squeeze, to hold you so tight that you- you fuse, to make marks so I can see your love and-” his breath shuttered, voice trembling like a loose leaf in the wind.

“Oh, Jake” Mav’s voice sounded wrenched, “Darling, hugs aren’t meant to hurt you”.

“But I-“

“Sweetheart, bruises aren’t a good thing, they’re bad. Really really bad” Mav explained softly, “Hugs aren’t meant to hurt you, you’re meant to feel safe in them, melt into them, sleep in them.”

He was trembling, he could feel it, his jaw wobbling as he sniffed, throat bobbing, fingers unconsciously tracing over his dark skin, the only constant in his life since he left home, “But I- I cant get love without them Mav” he admitted with a wrenched whisper, quickly followed by a halted sob, chest heaving in effort as he tried to supress his tears at the sudden overload, “I don’t know how, this is all I’ve known. This means love”.

This meant love. It always had. Since he was little, since he curled up next to his mother and she help him close, or her holding him by the hand as they crossed the street or in stores, she only held on so tight because she was worried he’d get lost, or that he’d have a nightmare or fall out of bed. She did it because she cared.

“There this rumour going around….that you hurt some of the other guys…”

“Look Jake…some of the other had some concerns about your rough- uh… treatment! Towards the others, and I think it’s about time we address it”.

“They’re just kids!”

He- he had been hurting them? But it- it meant love. Didn’t everyone know that? When he nudged their shoulder did they just think he was hurting them, just because he could. When he nudges Javy…Shit Javy. Did he think he did it on purpose? Did he think he was hurting him?

“It’s ok Jake” Javy had whispered into the dark room, “I know you don’t mean it. I know you love me truly”.

He felt sick. Did everyone think he was some sick dick who hurt people just because he could? That he’d debase himself to hurt kids because he was bigger and wanted to dominate or intimidate them? Did- did Bradley just think he was edging him into a fight? Was…was that all they were to Bradley? Just some dick he used to fight within the academy. Did none of it mean, I love you?

“It doesn’t,” Mav said softly, “it doesn’t sweetheart”. Mav lifted his hands slowly giving him time to move before cradling his cheeks gently, wiping away the tears that had escaped that he hadn’t even noticed, “Do you feel this?” Mav asked softly, “How gentle I am?” Mav’s hands dropped down to wrap around his waist holding him close, giving him the option to step closer, “Feel how I hold you? Like you can just lean into it? that you can trust me to hold you?”

He hesitated slightly nodding hesitantly searching the older man for anything that told him not to trust him. Feeling as if his world had just been turned upside down, like he was miss stepping within his own body.

Mav smiled softly, “Then trust me”.

He swallowed nervously before leaning forward slowly placing his weight on the man, Mav takes it easily and he allowed himself to exhaled softly embracing the warmth of the other body, muscles relaxing like puddy, but despite allowing himself some freedom he still felt like there was the ghost of an expectation for the arms around him to tighten like a cobra and rip the hope from his still beating heart. He felt like he was about to stumble into a trap, like he was trapped in a bird with no power, a faulty ejection and just holding on for the ride, trapped in a freefall not knowing when it would stop.

“This is love” Mav mused. “Gentle, soft, and not painful”.

“My mother loved me” he muttered defensively, desperately, “She did”.

“I’m sure she did” Mav agreed gently, “She had had a different way of showing it. But us, the daggers, we show love a little differently alright? So, you’re going to have to get used to soft and gentle for a while, can you do that?”

He bit his hip hesitantly before nodding, allowing himself to tuck his head into the junction between Mav’s neck and shoulder listening to Mav hum lowly, just holding him swaying lightly allowing him to sink into the new feeling. To become accustomed to it.

To give it a long forgotten name,

Love.

[sarahsmi13s]

Two Ladders

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x sarah grant (fem!oc)

characters: sarah grant, jake seresin

warnings: language, pregnancy, pregnancy hormones, crying, loss of appetite, hiding feelings from significant others, light mentions of jake's PTSD, mentions of throwing up, all from jake's p.o.v, family issues, if i missed any let me know

word count: ~2.2k

a/n: this story is inspired by ‘His Little Girl’ (bradley bradshaw x reader) by the lovely @roosterscockpit​​  ( @milesdickpic​ ) also, yes, the oc is based on me lol (well a fantasy version lol) this is heavily inspired by my own feelings towards my actual brother and sister not getting along very well and the worries sarah has here are worries i've actually had when it concerns this topic

this is a backstory piece! you can find the other parts to j and s -> here

summary: jake notices a change in his fiance's behavior. at first he thinks it's caused by the pregnancy and sarah's hormones being out of wack. but when he comes home to find her crying on their bed does he finally voice his concerns and lets her vent to him.

When Jake first noticed something was wrong with Sarah, he thought it was just her pregnancy hormones making her a little emotional. He’d catch her crying or appearing a little out of focus, but she was an emotionally sensitive person, so he attributed it all to that and her hormones. 

Of course, he still held her when he found her crying, he’s her comforter, and he took that job very seriously. He knew her tears could be nothing, a result of simply reading something or seeing a video. Maybe she just needed his shoulder to cry on, and he was happy to provide it. If she wanted to talk about it, he was there to listen, and if she just wanted to curl in his lap, that was fine too.

If it was something really really bothering her, he hoped she knew she could come to him about it. 

He noticed that her appetite seemed to be shot too. She usually jumped at the chance to have him make one of his mother’s enchilada recipes, but she just shook her head and said a burger would be enough and then she only ate half.

But again, Jake blamed that on the pregnancy too. Sarah had morning sickness and was sick throughout the day, especially if something disagreed with her. So he thought that she was just trying not to irritate her stomach and never commented on it.

But he made note of it all. 

Jake was making sure not a thing went unnoticed. Because nothing can turn out to be something…

Jake sighed as he got in his truck, inhaling the perfume he sprayed on the back of his hand. Storms were rolling in, and he could feel the anxiety peaking in his chest, but the familiar all encompassing smell of his fiancèe helped keep him calm as he prepared himself to go home.

Before he started out of the parking lot, he pulled his phone out and sent Sarah a text. She was working right now, but she would text him back since it was her free hour, so she wasn’t doing much other than planning or putting grades in. 

After sending the text, he pulled up his playlist and started it before putting his phone face down and leaving the parking lot to go straight home.

When Jake parked in their driveway, he noticed Sarah’s vehicle also in the driveway. 

Tilting his head, Jake checked his phone. Had she called him earlier in the day to let him know that she was going to be home and he just didn’t realize? No.... and she hadn’t responded to his text from earlier either. 

Jake took a deep breath and got out of his truck, grabbed his things and went inside.

He was trying to rationalize it in his head, telling himself that she was okay and that the babies were okay. He needed to tell himself that, or he would spiral with the storm brewing above him.

Maybe the morning sickness was too much, and she didn’t want to stay at the school and “power through it” like she normally tried to. She came home to rest and was actually asleep when he sent that message, and she’s still asleep.

But she was okay, everything was okay.

Jake took a deep breath and went to the kitchen to get two bottles of water before going upstairs to the bedroom.

When he opened the door, he found Sarah on her side of the bed with her back to the door and curled up with a half-drunk bottle of water on her nightstand. At first, it appeared to be like she was just sleeping, so Jake decided to quietly just change into his sweatpants and get in bed next to her and try to sleep as well.

He wasn’t about to wake her up just because he wanted to be held. Sarah needed her rest, and just being next to her would help ease the anxiety the storm was riling up in him.

But as he slipped his shirt off, tossing it on the pile of khakis that he made a note of to fold later, he thought he heard a sniffle come from the bed.

He furrowed his brow but just slipped the black sweats on before turning to join her on the bed.

As he stepped towards the bed, he watched her subtly try to wipe her face as she sniffled. But when she cut off her own sob with her hand and buried her face in her pillow, his heart dropped.

He immediately rounded the bed to her side and knelt down, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Sarah kept her head down, buried in the pillow, muffling her cries as Jake watched her chest jerk with sobs. He frowned and reached up to gently push her hair out of her face, “Sugar… please, talk to me, what’s going on?” 

Sarah unburied half of her face, and Jake’s thumb is quick to wipe the tears slipping down her cheek, “What are you doing home?” He frowned a little at her attempt to change the subject, but he sighed softly and answered her. “Storm grounded us, got to come home early.”

Her head quickly turned to him, her red-rimmed eyes wide.

“Oh my goodness, Jake. I’m so sorry, I forgot about that,” she said, sitting up and wiping her eyes. “Are-are you okay?” 

Jake felt his heart break just a little that she was worried more about him than she was about the fact he just caught her crying.

“I’m fine, Sugar. Better now that I’m home.” He reached up and cupped her cheek, “But you’re not fine, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Darlin, just-” 

In the middle of her sentence, Sarah’s phone lit up with a notification, and her breath hitched.

Jake eyed her and then looked at her phone seeing that it was an email from one of her players about the practice schedule for the day. Another email dinged right after with her assistant coach's reply.

He placed it face down and looked up at her. “Did something happen at school? Is something going on between teachers that is making you so upset?”

Sarah’s mouth dropped a little, “Wh-what?” 

“Sarah… you have been crying nearly everyday. And-and your appetite is completely shot,” he said gently as moved to sit on the bed. “That’s just pregnancy hormones and not wanting to upset my stomach too much…”

Jake nodded before taking her hands in his, his thumb immediately playing with the ring on her finger, “That’s what I thought it was at first. But the fact a notification from your phone made you tense up is telling me that something else is going on. Please, tell me what it is.”

Sarah sniffled, taking in a shaky breath as she tried to collect her thoughts.

“It’s not school related… It’s um… it’s Shawn and Selena,” she said quietly as her voice began to clog with emotion. “S-something happened, and now they’re not talking. And I just… I don’t fucking know Jake…” 

Jake immediately wrapped her in a hug, not caring that she was sobbing directly into his ear.

“Shhh shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” 

He held her until she calmed down, rocking her gently as her tears dripped down his back.

She pulled back first to wipe her eyes, and Jake took the chance to move to the middle of the bed and pull her into his side.

“Talk to me, let it out, honey,” he urged gently.

Sarah took a deep breath before spilling it all to him. Everything weighing on her heart about the whole situation.

And Jake listened, he didn’t interject unless he had a question, and even then, he felt like he needed to wait to say something at all.

“I just – I feel like I’m on two ladders with all of this… One ladder is Shawn, and the other is Selena, and I’m doing the damn splits. I either need to pick a ladder or get off and leave both. But I can’t, Jake… I can not pick, I will not pick.” 

She harshly wiped at her eyes, “I just I fucking can’t, Jake… But either way, pick or not pick, I’m gonna hurt someone’s feelings.”

“Are they asking you to pick sides?” 

“N-no… I don’t know what happened, I know bits and pieces like I told you… but it’s clear feelings have been hurt, and I feel like it’s gonna come down to me having to pick, and I can’t fucking do that…” 

She pulled back from Jake, “And I’m terrified to like or share anything on Facebook from either of them in case it hurts someone’s feelings. I shouldn’t be fucking scared about that, but I am!”

“And,” she continued as more tears gathered on her lash line. “When they weren’t on speaking terms before, they wouldn’t be seen at the same fucking function together. If one was there, the other wasn’t. If one had no idea the other was gonna show up, they would stay until after dinner and then fucking leave.”

Jake felt his heart break as he gently rubbed her back. This was affecting her deeply. It would have affected her like this before the pregnancy, but it was tenfold with the heightened emotions.

“And… fuck, I feel so selfish for feeling like this…” She wiped her eyes again, “I’m afraid that if they aren’t on speaking terms by October, they’re not gonna be at the wedding.”

“Why do you feel selfish for feeling like that?” 

“Because Jake, I’m worrying about my own feelings over theirs!” Sarah rubbed her face, frustrated, “I’m worried about how this affects me, this isn’t about me! But just – fuck I feel like such a shitty person…”

Jake’s jaw dropped, “Hey, hey, hold on now.” He pulled her hands away from her face, “You are not a shitty person for having your own feelings about a situation. There is nothing wrong with that. You are not selfish for worrying about whether or not your brother and sister will be at your wedding. You’re not, Sugar.” 

He squeezed her hands, “Why didn’t you come to me with this? You know I would have your back…” Sarah sniffled and looked away, “I didn’t want to bother you… I wanted to try and do this all on my own…” 

“But you don’t have to… You deserve to know that you have someone to catch you if you fall off those two ladders. That you’ll have someone to go to if you choose to walk away.” He gently turned her head to look at him as he wiped her tears, “Do you want advice, or do you just want me to hold you?” 

She leaned into his hand, “I could really use your advice… I’m so stuck, and I’m so scared…”

Jake nodded, giving her a gentle smile, “I think that what needs to happen is that you just need to step back from them both. Just be honest with them and tell them that you can’t handle this right now. You are allowed to do that. The stress and anxiety is not good for you or the twins. It is affecting you a lot, Sarah… This whole thing is affecting you, you are literally making yourself sick over it.”

Sarah opened her mouth, but he stopped her.

“Your appetite is almost gone, you eat because you know you have to. I don’t think it’s just the food that irritates your stomach anymore. Yes, you’re pregnant, and you’re gonna be throwing up. But your mental well-being affects your physical well-being, and all of the stress and anxiety is making you sick.”

He pushed some hair behind her ear, “If you want to take a few days before saying anything, that’s fine. But I really think you should consider it. I know they’re family, and you love them both, but you have to think of how this is affecting you. Do not hurt yourself in order to please them, that’s not fair to you.”

She pulled back a little to wipe her eyes before looking at her lap. “I just don’t want them to think I’m mad at them… because I’m not mad at them.” Jake nodded and tilted her head up, “I understand that, and I know that you care about everyone so deeply… but you have to put that care into yourself, too.” 

She nodded, and he pulled her into a hug, “I love you so much, Sugar. I’ve got your back.” “Thank you, Jake. I love you too.” He smiled and kissed the side of her head before she pulled back and kissed his lips.

Jake chuckled, “Now, I can put on a movie, or we can watch MrBallen and cuddle before I go make dinner. Does that sound okay?” “Ooooh, we need to catch up on MrBallen, let’s do that,” Sarah responded, grinning as she turned to get the remote. “And yes, I had a small lunch before I came home, and I have some spare saltines in the drawer. I’ve eaten today.” 

He kissed her head, “Good girl.” She scoffed playfully and layed down next to him, turning on the TV.

After a few minutes, Jake spoke up, “You know, we could also say that your doctor told you to watch your blood pressure–” “Jake, focus on the strange, dark, and mysterious. We can work on it later, okay? I need the distraction.” 

He chuckled and nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

i know this is kind of a random, unprompted J and S piece, but my muse was playing off my deep internal feelings and brought this piece to fruition

never the less, i hope you enjoyed

and i will be getting to the twins arrival and the wedding as soon as i can! i'm just working on other series as well, thank you for being so patient with me! 💜

j and s tags <333: @milesdickpic @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia @mamachasesmayhem @nobody7102 @djs8891 @kmc1989 @marbledaesthetics @fangirlbang @penguin876 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @bellaireland1981 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @harryigprompt @sky2nd @scarlettwidow19 @showthemwhoyouare-6 @coffeewithcal @whatislovevavy

[agreatandhonorablesoldier]

And I pulled your body into mine Every goddamn night, now I get fake niceties

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Drink With Me (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 6. self-sacrifice Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Vampire Apocalypse AU Summary: Two years after Jake was forced to watch you ripped apart by the creatures that now terrorize the world, he is a shell of the man he once was. However, a familiar voice calling to him in the dark may give him a second chance. Word Count: 5911 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Vampires, Character Death, Murder, Grief, Biting, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, Drinking (alcohol and blood), Language Notes: Not beta read so sorry for any mistakes! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event! 💗

Series Masterlist

“No….No!” 

He tries to race to your side, to stop the torment playing out before his eyes, but he is held back by hundreds of hands wrapping around him, pulling him away. Fighting against them with every ounce of his strength, he screams, “Get the fuck off of me! We need to help her! No! What the fuck are you doing?” 

“She’s gone, Hangman,” dozens of disembodied voices whisper in unison from the darkness behind him. “I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing else anyone can do for her now. It’s over. It’s been over for years. You failed. Just as you continue to fail every night.”

“No! I can save her! Please, let me save her this time!” Jake sobs as he continues to struggle against whatever is holding him back. “Please!”

But it’s no use. He’s not strong enough. As he is dragged farther and farther away, he sees you lift your head one last time, panic and pain etched across your face. You lock eyes with him and just have time to scream a terrified, “Jake!” before one of the creatures rips your throat out with its teeth—

Jake bolts upright with a deep gasp, only to immediately collapse back onto his mattress with a pitiful moan. He grabs his head as it throbs painfully with every beat of his racing heart and he squeezes his eyes together tightly in an attempt to stop the world from spinning around him. But it does little to help. His nearly naked body feels sticky and gross tangled in his soiled sheet and he wonders if it’s just sweat from the nightmare, or if he vomited in his sleep again. Maybe both…probably both. 

At least he is fairly certain he hadn’t pissed himself this time if the intense pressure in his bladder is any indication. However, he doesn’t have the faintest desire to crawl to the bathroom so he’ll worry about those consequences later. Instead, he rolls over and tries to push your final agonized scream from his mind so he can go back to some semblance of sleep.

Just as he begins to pass out again, he hears the curtain hanging around his small space being pushed back and the toe of a boot digs into his side. Without opening his eyes, he swats at the foot, trying to shove it away. “‘uck off, Phe,” he mumbles somewhat coherently. “‘s too early.”

“Tell that to the rest of us who have already been awake for several hours,” Phoenix snaps, driving her boot deeper into Jake’s ribs. When he tries to roll away, she sighs, “Do we really have to do this every morning? I’m not your fucking babysitter. Get up! Bob and I need your help setting up the trap while the light’s in the right position.”

There is nothing in the world that Jake wants to do more than ignore her and go back to sleep. However, she’s right. They do go through this every morning and by now he has accepted the fact that he can not win this argument. So, reluctantly, he peels open his eyes and squints up at her.

Seeing that some progress is being made, Phoenix removes her boot from his side and takes a few steps back. In doing so, she almost slips on the drink Jake had spilled the night before. Looking around his small space, she shakes her head. 

“Jesus, Hangman,” she grumbles as she kicks a few empty wine bottles out of the way, sending them clinking across the floor only to crash into piles of more. “How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.”

Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all got our own nightmares that haunt us and you don’t see the rest of us pickling our livers to deal with it.” She hurls a half-empty backpack at him which smacks into the side of his head, nearly knocking over his unsteady form. “Now get your shit together and meet us out front in thirty minutes. We’ve got work to do.” She stomps out of his little alcove to give him some privacy but then pivots to add, “And for fuck’s sake, take a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jake steps out of the shower stall, a thread-bare towel wrapped low on his hips. He shivers slightly as he pads across the cold tile floor towards the sinks. The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm. While they should be grateful they even had any water at all, Jake can’t help but recall a time when a hot shower was the best part of his day. 

A soft gasp leaves your lips as he presses his bare body against yours, pinning you to the cool tile wall. Your eyes sparkle in the muted light filtered through the shower curtain as you gaze hungrily at him. Warm water flows over his back as he sinks into you—

No. No memories. Not now. Not when he doesn’t have the luxury of going back to his “room” and drowning them in booze. 

Instead, Jake quickly dresses, trying his best not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Half the time—when there is still enough lingering alcohol in his system—he sees your mangled corpse standing behind his reflection. The other half, he left staring at the shell of the man he had become. In some ways, that’s worse because he knows it would break your heart to see what losing you has done to him.

Even though sanitation supplies had only really become a scarcity in the last few months, Jake had given up the will for self-grooming long before that. The tangled beard covering his sunken cheeks is a clear indication of that as is the long greasy strands of hair hanging limply in front of the dark circles surrounding his bloodshot eyes. You had always preferred him clean-shaven and with shorter hair. But you were gone so he didn’t give a fuck.

Exiting the bathroom, Jake heads toward the front of the church. He averts his eyes as he passes the bulletin board that had been converted into a memorial shrine for those they had lost. He remembers the days when there had only been a few names and pictures up there. Now, the fallen takes up every inch of the board and spills out across the wall. Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed.  

Once, this rag-tag group of survivors who had dubbed themselves The Daggers had numbered in the dozens. But now, there are only a handful left. And with supplies and food dwindling quickly, there is no telling how long it’ll be before the rest of them earn a place on the board.

As he pushes his way through the church doors, Jake recoils as he is hit with the full brightness of the sunny day. His headache which had previously dulled slightly in the cold shower came rushing back with a vengeance. Groaning, he digs his sunglasses out of the backpack Phoenix had thrown him earlier and places them on his face. They were a cheap plastic pair Coyote had picked up for him on one of his runs to the pharmacy over a year ago, but they at least cut out some of the glare.

Phoenix is leaning against the fence with her arms folded across her chest, a scowl carved deep into her face. Now that most of those originally in charge were no longer with them, the title of leader had fallen on her shoulders. For the past few months, she had done everything in her power to hold the group together despite the increasingly dire conditions—and one jackass of a drunk who makes her life that much more difficult.   

Next to her, Bob scans the area just beyond the fence, his blue eyes alert behind his cracked glasses. With his unusual prescription, it’s been impossible to find a replacement after they slipped off his face running from a pack of creatures. He made it safely to the church in one piece—one of his lenses did not. Yet, he has never once complained or made excuses for his impaired vision. 

They were the best of the remaining survivors and had become the only real hope the Daggers had left. Yet they spent most of their days dragging Jake’s sorry ass around to ensure he didn’t drink himself to death.

Jake had been like them once: always stepping up when volunteers were needed, doing what he could to fix what was broken, protecting the people within their group. But he hadn’t been that person for the past two years. Not since he had watched you devoured before his eyes as he stood on these very steps.

It was that moment he tried desperately to avoid every night in his dreams. Reliving that day over and over again. Knowing all the moments he could have done something differently or acted faster that would have saved you yet being unable to change anything. Just forced to hear your agonizing final screams before catching his last glimpse of you whispering his name…

He needs to find more alcohol.

“About fucking time,” Phoenix mutters under her breath, pushing herself off the fence.

Bob shoots her a stern look, one that softens as he turns his attention to the new arrival. “Thanks for helping us out, Jake. We appreciate the extra hands.”

“Not like she gave me much of a choice,” Jake mutters under his breath. But seeing the way Bob’s shoulders slump at his words, he does his best to smile at him. “But I’m here now so let’s do this.”

Bob’s smile returns and he nods happily at the other man. As he turns to exit the churchyard, Phoenix shoots Jake another dirty look. He knows despite Bob’s insistence that she keeps dragging Jake along with them, she’s afraid Jake’ll screw up and cost her or Bob their lives. And it’s a fair concern. After all, it’s his fault Bob was almost killed the time his glasses were damaged. Jake had been drunk on patrol and hadn’t seen the creatures until it was almost too late to warn the rest of the team. While Bob never blamed him, Phoenix did. She tried to be as supportive as possible when Jake first began to spiral, but after the incident with Bob, she only tolerated his antics for the sake of her partner. Though not even she despised this version of Jake as much as Jake despised himself. 

Jake knew what a failure and a screwup he had become. Yet as much as he wished he could pull himself together and become the man he used to be, he also knew that there was only one person who could help him do that. 

But you were never coming back.

It’s amazing how much the world can change in such a short amount of time. In the three short years since the creatures first appeared, the center of town is now virtually unrecognizable. Vines and various foliage scale the sides of all the buildings. Cars are abandoned in the middle of the street, some with their doors still open as their passengers fled from them. Every window has been dark since the power grid failed. And without the constant upkeep, everything is starting to decay.

The warehouse is no exception. Once bustling and full of life, it has now is a shadow of its former self. With very few windows save those by the entrance and no interior lights left to brighten the space, the interior becomes a black hole after walking just a few feet into it. However due to a collapse in the roof, at certain times of the day, a single shaft of light shines all the way down to the ground floor creating a small illuminated circle on the floor. 

It is in this small safe haven that Jake finds himself. Echos bounce off the walls of the cavernous space as he puts the finishing touches on the trap in front of him. Four months ago, a few survivors passing through had shared what they had discovered with The Daggers—a way to kill the creatures. Jake still doesn’t understand how it works, something to do with converting normal light into an artificial sunlight of sorts, but luckily there were those smarter than him around who understood and harnessed this knowledge into weapons. Since then, The Daggers had managed to take out a few of the creatures. However, they quickly learned that attacking the creatures in the large packs they usually hunted in resulted in costly casualties on both sides.

It was Phoenix’s brilliant idea to take the stealth approach instead of the head-on one. They began setting traps in the area using motion lights in the hopes of eliminating some of the creatures stalking near their hideout in the middle of the night when they were at their most active. So far, they have had promising results. 

Jake is almost done setting this trap. Then he can test it and use his flashlight to get himself from this shaft of light back outside. Hopefully, he’ll then have time to sneak off to try to find more alcohol before Phoenix and Bob return for him. He hasn’t checked the houses a few blocks to the east yet and maybe—

“Jake…”

Jake’s head snaps up as his heart freezes in his chest, the trap instantly forgotten. His eyes dart around the room searching for the source of the sound. But there’s no one else there. He’s alone…he’s always alone.

Yet, just as he begins to return to his job at hand, he sees something. Squinting, he peers deeper into the heart of the building and just makes out the faint outline of a single figure within the darkness.

Instincts kicking in, Jake draws his knife from his boot and drops into a defensive stance in the center of the beam of light, waiting for the attack he knows is coming. His eyes flicker around the space, searching the darkness for signs of the rest of the swarm, yet for now all he can see is the one in front of him. But he knows that can’t be it. The creatures hunt in groups, using their numbers to overwhelm and incapacitate their victims so escape is nigh on impossible. The only few loners they had come across over the years were ones that had been injured or were too malnourished to contribute to the next hunt.

But the figure standing before Jake doesn’t seem injured or blood-crazed. It stands straight and still, completely unmoving. For several moments, nothing happens. Though still cautious, Jake begins to relax his stance a little, wondering if his eyes or mind is just playing tricks on him.

But then, a voice cuts through the silence. “I was three blocks away when I caught your scent. I don’t know how, but I immediately knew it was you.”

The knife slips from Jake’s fingers, the clatter of metal on tile echoing around the cavernous room. The voice that he had not heard outside of his dreams for the past two years punches him in the chest, nearly bringing him to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes. “B-baby?”

There is a pause before the voice continues, unemotional and flat. “I should have bolted in any other direction, put as much space between us as possible but…I couldn’t. I’m selfish enough that I had to risk seeing you one last time.”

“Oh my god,” Jake breathes. “It’s really you.”

He takes a few stumbling steps towards the figure—towards you—but you draw back further into the shadows. “No! Stop! Stay in the light.” There is a panicked edge in your tone, the first sign of emotion you have let slip in, and it is enough to make Jake listen.

As much as he longs to launch himself into your arms, he reluctantly does what you ask. He lingers just shy of the darkness, the toes of his boots resting at the point where the last of the sunbeams fade on the tiles. 

“How are you here?” he asks, his voice breaking. 

“You know how.”

He did. It was a fear that had nestled in the back of his mind these past two years that he didn’t dare consider. Whether that was out of the fear of falling into despair or building up false hope, he didn’t know. But he had never let himself imagine this moment and, now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do. 

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he says, “You said you caught my scent…Do I smell as sexy as you remember?”

A surprised snort of laughter echoes throughout the room as you are taken aback by his question. But when you speak, he hears tears in your voice, “Yeah, Jake. As sexy as always.”

Whatever cold, distant shell you had put in place when you first arrived crumbled and Jake can now hear the real you behind the words. Swallowing, he murmurs, “Please…let me see you.”

Your outline shifts in the darkness. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, baby. For the last two years, all I could see was that last memory of you. I need this.”

“No. Seeing me like this is not going to be any better than seeing me like that. I’ve changed.”

“So have I. But I love you and I’ll still love you no matter what.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then you whisper, “Step to the other side of the light.”

Jake immediately scrambles backward, almost falling as he stumbles over the long-forgotten trap. But he makes it to the outer rim of the circle of light and waits. 

Slowly, your shape edges closer to the light. At first, Jake still can’t make out any details of the person in front of him. But when he does, his heart clenches in his chest. 

There is no denying that it is the woman he loves standing before him but yet it’s not the you he remembers. Your skin has been drained of its color and now resembles that of a corpse, cold and lifeless. Sharp, pointed teeth jut out your mouth over bloodless lips and your fingers end in claw-like talons. You are still wearing the same clothes you had on the day you were attacked but they are shredded and stiff with dried blood in various colors ranging from bright red to rusty-brown. Jake wonders how much of it is yours and how much is your victims.

Any lingering doubt he had about how you are here, any sliver of hope you had escaped your fate, is shattered instantly. This isn’t a miracle. It is a nightmare, a curse. 

But based on the gasp that escapes your trembling lips, you must be thinking the same thing as you get a good look at the man he has become. 

“Oh, Jake…” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as your eyes continue to roam over his body. Yet even covered, he can see your jaw trembling as you cry, “Baby, what…We promised if something ever happened to the other, we wouldn’t give up. We would keep fighting.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

“I’m not back, Jake. That’s not why—” You shake your head, letting your hands drop. “I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake and I never should have come. I should have just let you think I was dead. I-I have to go.”

“No! Please–” As Jake takes a few steps across the circle of light, you cower back, retreating further into the darkness.

“Stop!” There is a pained quiver in your voice. “I’m barely controlling myself as it is. If you get closer…I can’t hurt you, Jake. I can’t. But I know if you get any closer, I will and there’ll be nothing I can do to stop it.”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe it. You would never hurt me.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not a choice, it’s an undeniable force. It’s hard enough to control myself when I’m fully satiated, but I haven’t fed in almost a week. Your blood—” You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. When you open them again, they have darkened significantly. There is still some color in them, not the pitch-black orbs Jake is used to seeing when the creatures were attacking, but the change still makes him inhale sharply. “The venom doesn’t just turn us into these…these things. It drives us to hunt, to kill. And that need is neverending.”

It breaks Jake’s heart to hear the pain in your voice and he can’t imagine what you’ve been dealing with the past two years. However, as much as it horrifies him, he also wants to know more. “Wh-what does it feel like?”

You turn to gaze into the darkness surrounding you. “It’s like acid in my veins, a constant burning fire in my gut that only grows stronger if it’s not satisfied. Blood’s the only thing that soothes the pain for even a few hours, but it’s never enough. I’ve tried to stop myself, I have, but each time I drink it gets hard to fight. And with every life I take, I feel a little more of myself slip away. I’m not the woman you loved anymore, Jake. I’m just a monster with her face.”

Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

“Jake–” 

“And I don’t care what you think.” Without hesitation, Jake crosses the remainder of his little haven of sunlight and steps forward to join you in the inky darkness. You cower back again but he takes another step to maintain the same distance between you. “You're not going to hurt me. I know that. Because you're so strong and brave and you can fight this–”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is.”

“Jake, stop—”

“No. Not until you believe that—”

“I've killed Daggers.”

Your admission hangs like a dense fog between you. Obviously, Jake had realized what being turned into a creature meant for your feeding habits, but he had been trying not to focus on that. However, now faced with the truth, Jake suddenly connects a few horrifying dots in his head. 

He swallows before asking, “Coyote?”

Last year, he had gotten there just a moment too late. There was nothing he could do but watch as what was left of his best friend was ripped apart by a mass of creatures. But then, just for a second before Fanboy grabbed his arm and pulled him away, he caught a flash of one of the creatures and he could have sworn…

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to know that, but you nod slightly. Then, in a small voice, say, “And Rooster.”

“Roo….Rooster?” The truth about Coyote had been painful, yet regardless of who killed him, Jake had come to terms with his best friend’s death months ago. But Rooster…

He had left the group a few weeks ago after hearing a rumor of someone sounding suspiciously similar to his godfather leading another group out in the desert. They all knew it was dangerous but if anyone could make it, it would have been Rooster. Yet if what you said was true…

“I never wanted you to find out.” Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, thick, black goo that leaves streaks in their wake. “I tried to stop myself but I couldn't. Coyote was already being attacked when I found him and the blood…this thing took over. And the worst part was he…he recognized me just before I tore his throat out. There was this mix of elation I was ‘alive’ and horror at what I had become. I still see it when I close my eyes. With Rooster it was different. I was alone when I found him. We’ve been starving since you found a way to destroy us and I needed blood so badly. He was dead before he even knew I was there.”

This newest revelation is the last straw for Jake. A man can only process so much trauma at once before he reaches his breaking point. Falling to his knees, he hangs his head, tears dripping off his face onto the dusty tile beneath him as his shoulders shake with stifled sobs. 

“Jake…I…” Your voice is brimming with tears as Jake sees your feet take one hesitant step closer to him. But then, you stop. 

For a moment, there is only the sound of his soft cries echoing through the empty space. However, when you finally speak again, your voice has more of the defiance and strength he loves most about you. “You don’t understand what it’s like. When I slip into a frenzy, nothing in this world exists except for blood. Faces…names…past relationships…none of it means anything at that moment. All that’s left is the pure animalistic need to feed. It’s only after I’ve been sated that I come back, that I can remember what happened or what I did. Standing over what’s left of a person, realizing I’m to blame, knowing I’ve murdered them or I’ve forced them to become a monster just like me. I couldn’t stop myself from killing Coyote and Rooster, but I made sure neither of them could turn. They may not have deserved their deaths, but more than that, they didn’t deserve this afterlife. It was the least I could do for them. And I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”

You fall silent again, but Jake just continues to cry with no acknowledgment of what you said. After a moment of this, you plead, “Jake, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. If you want me to go—” 

“Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.”

“W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say.

It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.”

“I want you to,” he whispers.

“Jake!” Normally when discussions became this heated between you and you resorted to that sharp tone, your chest would be heaving as you became worked up. Yet this time, your heart isn’t beating and your lungs aren’t huffing air so it remains deathly still. “I can’t do that to you. I won’t condemn you to this life.”

“Please…” Jake sobs loudly, too emotionally and mentally drained to get to his feet and walk to you. “I can’t live without you anymore. I need us to be together, whatever that looks like.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

You stare at him for a long time, your darkened eyes not giving any hint as to what you are thinking. Then, slowly, you nod. “I don’t want to kill you or turn you, but I need you too. I think…I think I always knew when I came here that this is how it would go and I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay away.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.” Jake opens his arms, still kneeling on the floor. “Come here, baby.”

With stilted, hesitant steps, you begin to walk towards him. You balk a little as you get closer, fighting against the instinct to avoid the sunlight, but Jake is far enough in the shadows that you can reach him without crossing into the light. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and reach out. 

Jake can’t wait any longer. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he possibly can. Your skin is icy beneath his touch, but he doesn’t care. He’s holding you in his arms again and nothing else in the world matters. 

However, you apparently don’t share the same outlook. Your entire body goes rigid beneath him, every muscle tensing as he draws you in. He can feel you begin to tremble as an animalistic growl rumbles in your chest.

“Ja—I can’t—Let me go. Don’t wanna hurt—” You manage to choke the words out through a clamped-shut jaw. As your eyes turn completely black, your teeth begin to grow longer until they resemble true fangs. Several poke through your lips as you press your mouth firmly closed. You are still trying to save him despite everything.

Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

And you sink your fangs into his neck.

Living up to your promise, there is only a small sting as your teeth break his skin. However, in seconds, your venom enters his bloodstream and Jake tries to jerk away from the searing pain. However, your clawed hand clamps firmly on his shoulder, forcing him to remain in place. The venom spreads throughout his system until every cell in his body is screaming out in agony. He wants to black out but his body won’t let him. The change is already occurring and he is being forced to be conscious for every last second of his human life.

As you drink, small sounds begin slipping out between your lips, reverberating against Jake’s skin. Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

However as a vice of white-hot agony squeezes around his lungs and heart, Jake begins to jerk in your grasp as he begins to suffocate. Feeling his distress, you slide your teeth out of his neck and press your blood-soaked lips to the wound. Running your hand through his hair, you coo, “It’s okay, baby. It’s almost over now. I can already taste the change beginning in your blood. But this next part is the worst. Fighting it just makes it harder. Try to relax and let it happen. And I’m right here, my love, forever.” Then you sink your teeth back into his neck.

The choking suffocating feeling only intensifies, but against every self-preservation instinct in Jake’s body, he tries to listen to your advice and just gives in. Closing his eyes, he begins to slip into a sort of meditative state. While the pain or pressure doesn’t lessen, the panic and tension ease slightly. And even once he feels his heart take its last beat and his lungs go still, he tries to remain in this headspace until you are finished.

He isn’t sure how long he is kneeling there before—

“No…”

Jake picks up the soft sound as it is breathed across the empty warehouse, his ears already tuning into sounds humans shouldn’t be able to hear. His eyes flutter open and just over your shoulder, he can see Bob and Phoenix bathed in sunlight standing at the entrance to the building. Bob has tears in his eyes, his lips whispering your name in horror as he watches the growing gory mess you are making of Jake’s neck. He glances back and forth between Jake and Phoenix, silently pleading with her to find a way to fix this.

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands. 

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

Then she raises her flashlight.

As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place. 

The betrayal on your face as you turn to look at him almost outweighs the pain. Jake knows you must think this was a trick, that he must have been stalling you all along just for this moment. Yet, he had meant every word he said.

Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours.

Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”.

Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.”

Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight.