#jake Seresin x reader

[ittybxttykxttytxtty]

Lol, not jake pulling a Frank-N-Furter with the anticipation 😂😂😂

Little peep

Summary: The daggers keep begging so a little peep won't hurt....right?

Warning: Contains alcohol, cursing, teasing, mentions of labour, postpartum.

Word count: 2437 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part 4 of the little life universe

Two weeks later, Jake was finally back home, the familiar comfort of his Texas house wrapping around him like a warm embrace. The night was quiet, and the soft hum of the baby monitor filled the room as he tiptoed out of Ellie’s nursery.

He had just finished changing her diaper and giving her a bottle, carefully laying her down in her crib. Ellie had drifted off to sleep almost immediately, her tiny hand curling around one of his fingers for a moment before she let go. Jake stood there for a minute longer, watching her sleep peacefully, his heart swelling with that deep, protective love he was still getting used to.

Once he was sure she was settled, he left the nursery door slightly ajar and made his way to the master bedroom. The day had been long, and he felt the exhaustion in his bones as he pulled off his shirt, kicked off his boots, and collapsed onto the bed. The cool sheets felt like heaven against his skin, and he let out a deep sigh, sinking into the mattress.

He barely had time to close his eyes when he heard soft footsteps padding into the room. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Y/N; he could always sense when she was near. The bed dipped as she climbed onto it, straddling his hips, her warmth immediately bringing a grin to his face.

“Finally got her down, huh?” Y/N’s voice was soft, teasing as she leaned forward, her hands resting on his chest.

Jake looked up at her, his grin widening as he met her eyes. “Yeah, she went out like a light after the bottle. Our little angel’s finally giving us a break.”

Y/N chuckled, running her fingers lightly down his chest, but before she could say anything else, Jake’s hands were on her thighs. He gripped her legs firmly, pushing them wide apart with ease, and the sudden movement made Y/N squirm. A surprised giggle escaped her lips as she tried to shift against him, but Jake’s grip was strong, effortlessly holding her in place.

“Jake!” she squealed, her voice a mix of laughter and mock annoyance. “Stop that, you know I can’t fight you when you do that!”

Jake’s grin turned playful as he lifted her slightly, his muscles flexing under her hands as he easily shifted her weight. “You forget how strong I am, darlin’,” he teased, his voice low and filled with that cocky confidence she knew so well.

Y/N gasped as he lifted her higher, practically bench-pressing her as if she weighed nothing. She slapped his chest playfully, trying to wriggle free, but her laughter only grew louder as he held her steady. “Jake Seresin, put me down!”

Jake laughed, his deep voice rumbling in his chest as he lifted her a little higher, watching her squirm and giggle. “Why? You seem pretty comfortable up there.”

Y/N’s breath came in soft gasps between her giggles as she tried to brace herself against his chest, her hands splayed out for balance. “I swear, you’re gonna throw me across the room one of these days!”

Jake’s smirk widened as he slowly lowered her back down, letting her settle on his hips again. “Nah, darlin’, I’d never let you go that far,” he said, his voice dropping into a more tender tone. His hands slid up her thighs, resting on her hips as he looked up at her with that same adoring look he always gave her. “But I do love seeing you squirm.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her laughter subsiding as she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. “You’re impossible,” she murmured, though the smile never left her face.

Jake’s hands moved to her waist, holding her close. “And you love me for it.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile softened as she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Yeah, I do.”

Jake wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you down flat onto his chest. Your head rested against his warm, bare skin as he tugged the blanket over the both of you, cocooning you in a cozy, intimate bubble. His heart beat steadily beneath your ear, the rhythm grounding you in the quiet of the night.

With a satisfied sigh, Jake shifted slightly under you, his hand tracing soft circles on your back as he spoke. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and relaxed, “Coyote’s dying to see you again. Keeps bugging me about when he can meet Ellie, too.”

You lifted your head slightly, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, amused. “Oh, is that so? He’s been waiting for the big introduction?”

Jake chuckled, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “You have no idea. Every time I see him, it’s the same thing—‘When do I get to see the little Seresin? You know she’s got all my charm, right?’” He rolled his eyes, though there was a fondness in his voice when he mentioned his best friend. “He thinks Ellie’s gonna be his honorary niece or something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “He already sounds like the proud uncle.”

Jake’s lips curved into a grin as he looked down at you. “Oh, trust me, he’s already planning the first time he can spoil her rotten. But he’s mostly just dying to see you again. Says he misses your sass keeping me in check.”

You laughed softly, laying your cheek back down on his chest. “I guess I’ve been out of practice. You’ve been doing too good of a job keeping me distracted.”

Jake smirked, his hand sliding up and down your back, his touch gentle and soothing. “Well, can’t have that. I’m sure Coyote will remind you how much fun it is to keep me on my toes.”

You hummed softly, the warmth of his body and the comfort of being wrapped up together making your eyes feel heavy. “It’ll be nice to see him again, though. And introduce him to Ellie. I’m sure she’ll have him wrapped around her little finger in no time.”

Jake’s grin softened as he looked up at the ceiling, his hand still caressing your back. “Yeah, she will. Just like she’s already got me.”

You glanced up at him, catching the tender look in his eyes. “She really does, doesn’t she?”

Jake met your gaze, his expression softening even more. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart melt. “Both of you do.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing and the gentle rise and fall of Jake’s chest beneath you. The weight of the world outside seemed so far away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you—and Ellie, sleeping peacefully down the hall.

You smiled against his skin, feeling a deep sense of contentment wash over you. “Well, we’re not letting you go anytime soon.”

Jake chuckled softly, his arms tightening around you, holding you even closer. “Good,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “Because I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

---

A week later, Jake was back at the base, and Coyote was already on him the second they finished their morning briefing. As they made their way out of the hangar, Coyote nudged Jake with his elbow, a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Alright, man, come on,” Coyote started, his voice low but insistent. “I’ve been patient for long enough. Let me see some more pictures of my niece.”

Jake rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I showed you pictures last week, Javy. How much has she really changed in that time?”

Coyote shot him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? Babies change every day, man. Now come on, don’t hold out on me.”

Jake glanced around the hangar, making sure none of the other Daggers were around. He didn’t mind showing Coyote pictures of Ellie, but the rest of the squad didn’t know anything yet, and he wasn’t ready to open that can of worms.

“Alright, fine,” Jake relented, pulling out his phone. “But make sure no one sees.”

Coyote leaned in close as Jake unlocked his phone, and with a quick swipe, the screen filled with pictures of Ellie. There she was, bundled up in a soft pink onesie, her little fist curled around one of Jake’s fingers. Another photo showed her fast asleep on Jake’s chest, and another captured her looking up with wide, curious eyes while Y/N held her.

Coyote’s grin widened as he flicked through the photos, his eyes lighting up with each new one. “Man, she’s adorable. She’s definitely got your eyes, but thank God she looks more like Y/N.”

Jake smirked, nudging him playfully. “Watch it, Javy. You’re lucky she likes you.”

Coyote chuckled, still scrolling through the photos. “I’m serious, though. Why don’t Y/N and the baby just move down here? It’s gotta be tough, you running back and forth all the time.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d thought about that question a lot. “It’s complicated,” he said quietly. “Y/N’s got her whole life back in Texas—her writing, her family. We’ve talked about it, but she loves it there. I don’t want to push her.”

Coyote nodded, though a flicker of understanding passed through his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. But man, you know she’d love it here. And you’d get to see them every day instead of sneaking off for a couple of weeks whenever you can.”

Jake didn’t respond right away, his mind wandering to Y/N and Ellie, wondering if things could ever be that simple. But before he could dwell on it too much, he heard the familiar voices of the rest of the squad entering the hangar.

“Shit,” Jake muttered under his breath, quickly locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket just as Rooster, Phoenix, and the others walked in.

Rooster was the first to notice the sudden movement. “What are you hiding, Seresin?”

Jake flashed them a casual smile, leaning back against the wall. “Nothing you need to worry about, Bradshaw.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Yeah, right. You’ve been acting all secretive lately. What’s going on?”

Jake kept his composure, shrugging it off. “Just trying to keep my personal life… personal. Not everything’s for show.”

Rooster smirked. “You? Keeping something to yourself? That’s a first.”

Jake shot him a look, his tone light but firm. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The squad didn’t press him any further, though the curiosity lingered in the air as they gathered their gear. Coyote caught Jake’s eye and gave him a knowing grin, keeping quiet about what he’d just seen. But Jake could feel the questions hanging in the air, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he’d have to share the truth with the rest of them. Just… not yet.

---

The next couple of days at the base were relentless. The Dagger Squad wasn’t letting up, not after Jake had locked his phone so quickly and dodged their questions the other day. It was like blood in the water, and now they were circling, each of them taking turns to try and get him to crack.

One afternoon, after they’d wrapped up a round of drills, the squad gathered around the break room table. Jake leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, hoping to project an air of disinterest, but Rooster wasn’t buying it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and fixed Jake with a knowing look.

“Come on, Seresin, we know you’re hiding something,” Rooster said, his voice teasing but insistent. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks. Just tell us.”

Phoenix, sitting across from Jake, chimed in, arms folded. “Yeah, you’ve been sneaking off to take phone calls, locking your phone like it’s got state secrets on it. What’s going on with you?”

Jake smirked, but he didn’t respond, keeping his eyes focused on the coffee mug in front of him.

Fanboy groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “Dude, you’ve got to tell us. We’re dying over here!”

Payback leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You know what this feels like? It’s like when you’re watching a movie, and you’re halfway through, and then the power goes out. We need the rest of the story, Hangman.”

Bob, sitting quietly up until now, looked up with a curious expression. “Is this about a girl?”

That got everyone’s attention. All eyes immediately turned to Jake, the question hanging in the air. For a moment, there was silence, and then Jake raised an eyebrow, his trademark smirk slipping into place.

“Maybe,” he said nonchalantly.

The room erupted.

“Oh my God, it is a girl!” Phoenix exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement as she leaned forward, her eyes wide.

Rooster let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. “Seresin’s got a secret girl? This is too good.”

Fanboy practically bounced in his seat. “Come on, man, spill it! Who is she? How long’s it been going on? How come we haven’t met her?”

The questions came all at once, and the entire squad seemed to buzz with energy, practically on the edge of their seats, eager for details. Even Payback, who usually kept his cool, looked like he was about to press for more.

Jake raised his hands in mock surrender, cutting them off before the excitement got out of control. “Alright, alright, calm down,” he said, trying to keep his tone cool and collected, though a small part of him was amused by their reactions. “I’ve got more important shit to do than sit here and listen to you all squeal like a bunch of high schoolers.”

The squad groaned in unison, but Jake stood up from the table, grabbing his coffee mug as he made his way to the door.

Rooster leaned back, shaking his head. “Damn, Hangman, you’re killing us here.”

Phoenix crossed her arms, watching Jake with a smirk. “You’re not getting away that easy, Seresin. We’ll get it out of you eventually.”

Jake chuckled as he paused at the door, glancing back at them. “Good luck with that,” he said with a wink before walking out, leaving the rest of the squad behind, still buzzing with curiosity.

But as Jake made his way down the hallway, he knew it was only a matter of time before they figured it out—or before he’d have to come clean.

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[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Five) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 7.0k / navigation / inbox

A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I know it took me longer to finish this one than it did the others but it's the longest chapter so far, and I also had a lot of major life events go down in the time between this chapter and last. I appreciate each and every single one of you who stayed patient with me, and I hope that this chapter and that the rest to come are worth the wait :) <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You’re doing a terrible job at paying attention to where you’re going as you take the elevator, jamming your finger against the 12 button so hard it hurts. Pizza is on the twelfth floor, and you’re hoping Daniel will be there early like you so that you can forget about Jake and his tyrannical rule. 

It’s clear as day to you; Jake thinks he has control over you just the same way he has control over the girls that drool over him at the Hard Deck. He thinks one glance will melt your brain into mush, but it won’t. It doesn’t, and you’re not letting the cockiest man you know believe he’s won you over. Especially one that you work with. If anyone found out- if any of your fellow aviators knew that you’d succumbed to Jake’s charms… you’d risk losing the respect you’ve fought hard to earn on the tarmac. You’re not letting your career take a nosedive because Jake won’t stop bragging about getting his dick wet. He doesn’t get a say in your life if he has nothing genuine to contribute to it. You know him well enough to know that caving in and fucking would be the worst decision of your life, and you refuse to let him feel like he’s won you like a prize. You’re standing up for yourself; if he can shit-talk Daniel, you can shit-talk Miss Melons.

Your skin prickles with annoyance the more you think about the woman that had approached you both- seriously, did she not consider that she was being intrusive and rude? You assume Jake has snagged her away from her roommate by now, and they’re probably having a better time than you are. 

Everything feels unfair, down to the coincidental roommate placement. It’s like the universe had heard you needed a break, and wanted to punish you for it.

Cracking open your book helps, but it takes you a while to get into the groove. You’re sitting poolside across from the pizza place, eyes glancing from page to parlor every once in a while to check for a certain bearded man. The main lead is compelling, and your stomach soars as you imagine Daniel in a cowboy hat. You’d save that horse.

Peace is hard to find while sitting poolside on a cruise, but chaos is actually the perfect white noise for you to read, and your concentration isn’t broken until a shadow falls over your lounge chair. You glance up, but it’s not the man you’d wanted to see.

“Hey.” Jake’s already frowning, his face apprehensive like he thinks you’ll scream at him to get away. You want to, but you don’t want to cause a scene.

“What, Hangman?”

“I’m not trying to control you.” He pushes despite seeing your gaze back on your book, “I just don’t think you’re meant to be with Daniel. But I shouldn’t have given you a hassle for doing the same thing to me. I just… I do it because-”

He stops short, glancing sideways at a man running despite the clear no running sign on the lifeguard tower. You decide to help him in his moment of need.

“Because you’re used to women who let you walk all over them. Even if you’re not trying to control me, you’re used to having that control. It’s familiar for you, so you expect it, even if you don’t know you’re doing it. But I’m not like that. You can’t keep me waiting on you.”

The scoff he lets out is accompanied by an expression that looks truly pained, “That ain’t it at all. But forget it. Don’t worry about why I do it. I just thought maybe you were doin’ it to me for the same reasons. But never mind. I’ll shut up about Daniel. Truce?”

You glare up at him, book still open in your lap. He extends an uncharacteristically helping hand, and you wait a truly uncomfortable amount of time before taking it and shaking once.

“Truce.”

He takes the chair beside you, stretched out in the sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your reading time is over as his head turns to you, “So, Dudley showed up yet?”

“He’s coming for lunch.” You cling to your novel, trying desperately to ignore Jake and his instantly broken promise, “What about Melon girl, they weren’t ripe enough for you?”

“She wasn’t my type.” He starts, and there’s a heavy silence before he continues, “I don’t like a woman who thinks it’s fun to get between a couple.”

The sideways glance you send Hangman, the ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk, is lethal.

“Anyways.” He continues, tone more casual now, “Fancy a swim, darlin’?”

“I’ll read instead,” You offer, “But you have fun, Hangman.”

“Party Pooper,” He accuses, standing from the lounge chair he’s occupying and stretching briefly, “You’re an absolute mood-killer. No fun, the most boring person on this boat.”

“I’m about to be more of one: have you put sunscreen on?”

“Nope,” He grins, “You volunteering to do the honors, you sleazy thing?”

“Absolutely not. But you can use the stuff in my bag.” You nod at your tote bag, “Don’t use it all, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake nods, folding into a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside yours, “So, what’s going on in that book, they boning yet?”

“Mhm.” You nod absently as Jake begins smearing sunscreen over his arms and legs, “Real sexy stuff.”

“I’ve got somethin’ sexier for you.”

“It’s a porn book, Hangman,” You clarify, in case he’s forgotten, “I’m trying to read porn. Leave me alone.”

“There’s porn right here!” He calls, arms out to show off his impressively tanned and toned chest, a thick layer of sunscreen giving it a sheen that glistens in the light. As reluctant as you are to admire anything about Jake, you can’t lie; he has a body worth ogling. But you will not ogle it.

“This porn’s better,” You hum, glancing up at Jake through your lashes, deceptively inviting, “This guy’s got a cowboy hat on.”

“I’ve got a million and one cowboy hats,” Jake insists, slowly inching towards you and away from the edge of the pool, “Is that really all it takes, darlin’? ‘Cause I can slap one on in seconds, if that’s what you’re after. ‘Even brought one with me in case my roommate was into it.”

“Mm, maybe,” You let him get closer, excitement clearly swirling in his eyes as he advances towards your chair. He doesn’t notice the shifting of your feet until it’s too late and one is shoving firmly against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling backwards into the pool.

There’s not anyone in his immediate vicinity besides you, so you take the brunt of the splash, but it’s worth it.

“But I like it better when the hat’s on a real gentleman!” You call, laughter interrupting your words as Jake emerges from the pool well and truly soaked, shaking water out of his hair. He’s been thoroughly underwater trained, so he’d been able to catch his breath in time despite the surprise of it all, and there’s no real harm done besides the initial splash.

“You dirty rotten minx,” He calls, water dripping from his short hair into his eyes, “You lured me in with the promise of cowboy hat sex just to push me in the pool?”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” You’re still laughing, but maybe this bout of giggles is only to annoy him, “That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book. Well, maybe besides the cowboy hat sex thing. But you shouldn’t have gotten so close!”

He braces his elbows on the wall of the pool, the border surely burning his skin. But he stares at you regardless, “I thought you were finally givin’ in.”

“It’d take a lot more than a cowboy hat to make me give in, Jake.” You laugh, turning back to your book, “Like, a full personality transplant.”

Jake hears Danica’s words repeated back to him in his head, ‘Show, don’t tell’.

“Noted. I’ll look into one’uh those,” He quips, smile sarcastic and empty as he resorts to swimming alone, “Hey, when you’re done with that chapter, you should join me.”

“No.”

“Alright.”

You glance away from the book’s pages at Hangman’s unusual, immediate acceptance of your refusal. But he lifts himself out of the water- no stairs, no ladder, only his forearms against the deck, and your stomach sinks as you realize he might be playing a game of wills with you.

Instead, he sits beside you again, this time facing away from you, “Will you rub some sunscreen on my back?”

You want to say no. You would, if he were only asking to feel your hands on him. And maybe that’s part of it, but you also know that as much as he tans, he could burn, and his back is the only part of himself that he can’t reach. You’d want someone to do you the solid too, so you sigh and set your book aside.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“Mhm.” He nods, passing you the sunscreen, “I’ll rub it wherever you want, Y/N.”

You whack him upside the head with the bottle, and when he hisses in pain and pitches forwards, you squirt some of the lotion onto your palm and begin applying it to the broad, tanned, muscled expanse of his back.

You’re no masseuse, but apparently you’re rubbing all the right places, because Jake lets out grunts and groans that are borderline pornographic. If they were coming from anyone else, you might have squirmed in your seat, but each one sends your eyes rolling skywards as you cover Jake’s skin in goopy sun lotion.

“Damn, you’re good.” Jake grunts as you dig into a knot beneath his shoulder blade, “Do that again?”

“I’m putting sunscreen on you, Jake, not working out muscle tension.”

“Oh, come on, just a little more?” He pleads, turning so that he can glance at you from the side of his gaze, eyes shining in prayer.

You dig extra hard into his muscle, and you take some sort of wicked pleasure in the way that his resulting groan is more of a pained yelp than something of enjoyment. 

“There, Hangman.” You whack the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, “You’re all oiled up.”

“Aren’t you glad you were the one to get to do it?” Jake grins blindingly, and you bury your nose in your book again to avoid answering his question.

“Oh, you can stick your face in that book all you want,” Jake drawls, and you hear the displacement of the water he steps in as he lowers himself into the pool, gracefully and by choice this time, “But I know you liked having your hands all over me, darlin’.”

You want to gripe something back- something witty and cutting that will tear him down where he stands, but he’s turned away from you, already submerging himself to begin swimming laps. You admire his dedication to exercise even while on vacation- you have no plans to visit the gym in the lower decks.

Jake sees the diving board just as you do, and you keep him in your peripheral vision as he climbs out of the pool to make his way up the ladder. Your novel is begging to be read, but your eyes stick firm on one fitting word- ‘abdomen’ so that you can watch Jake from the corner of your eye as he prepares to dive.

Fortunately, you don’t need to continue the ruse of reading because Jake bellows from across the deck, “Y/N, look!”

You’re met with a grin when you look up at him, his arms raised above his head and joined flush together in diving position, “I’m gonna dive- watch me.”

“I’m watching.” You call, injecting your voice with as much disinterest as you can manage without feeling guilty, “This feels like babysitting, Hangman.”

He dives instead of quipping back, and it’s an impressive one, not that you’ll sing his praises for it. He comes up on the side of the pool closest to you, arms flinging an arc of water onto the concrete before you.

���Was it good?” He asks, panting slightly, hanging onto the wall.

“Yes,” You reply, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you condescend to him, “You did so good, honey.”

“Shut up,” He sends a wave of water splashing over your sandals, and you can’t be mad at him after all the teasing you’ve been inflicting upon him.

“I’ve been workin’ on my diving,” He goes back to swimming around, this time more casual as he keeps his head above the water to speak with you, “My nieces back home are learnin’ to swim so I’ve been in the pool a lot lately. Anytime they drag me in there I dive in and splash them.”

His arms cut through the water with strength and ease, confident strokes as you mull over his words. The image of Jake urging a toddler in floaties to cross a 3-foot gap into his arms is- endearing, not that you’ll admit it. You hum in acknowledgement, and tuck back into your book.

There’s not many people in the pool this early- most are probably still in bed with a hangover and a mess to clean up - and it’s large to boot, so there’s plenty of room. Your eyes drift left and catch sight of a jacuzzi, and suddenly your beach chair seems to pale in comparison.

Okay, you won’t join Jake in the pool, but you’ll relax for a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi. Just until Daniel gets here.

Jake doesn’t notice that you’ve stood until your chair is empty, and you have a perfect view of him floundering, scanning the entire deck until he spots you half-submerged in the hot tub.

You get to laugh at him again, and he grants you a good-natured grin instead of getting annoyed.

“I thought you’d finally found what’s-his-name,” Jake swims over to the separation wall that keeps the hot water parted from the cold, “Mind if I join you, Y/N?”

“Only if you’re- careful!” You shriek, trying desperately to protect the pages of your book from his sopping wet skin as he scales the barrier, “Hangman, if this book gets wet, you’re replacing it for me.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll take you on a shopping spree, relax. Hey, if I’m buyin’ you porn books, doesn’t that make me somethin’ like a sugar daddy?”

“You’re not getting any sugar,” You shrug, “But sure.”

“Just call me daddy, Y/N.” He grins, “That’s all the sugar I need.”

You hide behind your book so that he can’t see the way your face wrinkles into a grimace. The heat from the jacuzzi spreads inexplicably quick all of a sudden, warming your neck, your ears, your face, and Jake lets out a thick, heavy groan as he settles into the warm water.

“This is nice.” He muses, eyes closed, “Real relaxing.”

“It’s less relaxing when someone’s talking the whole time,” You peek across the side of your book, “Shut up, maybe?”

Jake snorts, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool, “Alright, alright your majesty. I’ll stay silent.”

You don’t verbally thank him, but you don’t make a scene when his leg drifts across the jet currents of the jacuzzi to brush against yours.

You cover a good chunk of your novel before a voice calls your name, and this time it’s the two people you’d been hoping to see all morning. Danica waves giddily at you and Jake, who’s picked his head up from where you thought he’d fallen asleep and is already mad-dogging Daniel. You wave back to Danica, and cast a quick glance down at your bathing suit before standing to greet Daniel. It’s just as tight and showy as you prefer it to be. 

You pay no attention to Jake where he gets out behind you, too focused on Daniel to care. But perhaps you should have, because you’re two steps from meeting Daniel in the middle when Jake’s strong arm shoves you sideways, and your book is wrenched from your grasp as you fall sideways into the pool.

It’s cold, colder even because you’d been soaking in the hot tub. You’re surprised, but you suppose you can’t even really be mad at him considering it’s just payback for what he’d done to you.

You’ve barely righted yourself in the water before there’s another splash beside you, and when you finally emerge there’s hands reaching for your waist, Daniel’s as you realize he’d jumped in to help you. 

“You-!” You splutter at Jake with bleary, chlorine-soaked eyes, attention split between Daniel who’s trying to ensure you’re alright, and Jake who’s snickering while holding your book in his thankfully dry hand.

“You asshole.” Daniel finishes for you, “She could have drowned!”

“I know how to swim,” You brace a hand on Daniel’s chest- startlingly bare, but riddled with coarse, brown hair, “It’s fine, I- I pushed him in earlier.”

“Relax, Prince Charming. It’s just a bit of payback. And look,” Jake waves your novel in front of you, “Dry as a bone.”

“Well I am- uh, not.” You stand half-submerged in the pool, Daniel still holding onto your waist, “So, I guess I will go swimming.”

“Great. You can swim with us.” Daniel smiles, warm and inviting as he keeps his hands on you.

“Yeah, us.” Jake agrees, taking Danica’s towel and spreading it over a sunny lounge chair for her.

Jake helps lower Danica gently into the pool, holding her hand while she takes the stairs, before jumping in beside you so that you’re splashed by the wave he creates.

“You are an asshole,” You laugh, breaking away from Daniel’s grip to shove at Jake’s shoulder. The grins on your faces are bright and genuine, perhaps the first time you’ve both been able to laugh with each other the entire trip. It feels nice, and you don’t fight when he shoves back at you with strong arms.

“Hey- hey!” Danica shouts, standing behind Daniel with a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you turn that pushing and shoving into a game of chicken?”

“I’m down,” Daniel seems thrilled to be opposite Jake as he lowers himself for Danica to climb atop his shoulders, “Y/N, you okay on his shoulders?”

Jake does the honors himself, dunking himself under the water and coming up between your legs. You barely have time to plant your hands on the top of his head, fingers twisting instinctively into his hair as you accidentally tug it while he stands at his full height again.

“Shit, sorry Hangman.” You let go of his hair, hoping you hadn’t yanked too hard. He’s forgiven, for now, so you won’t resort to childish things like hair-pulling.

“That’s okay, darlin’.” He grins, craning his neck back to meet your eye, “I like it when you tug on my hair.”

You have to overlook Jake’s suggestive comment as Danica’s already reaching for you, and you eagerly engage in a shoving match while the two men beneath you plant themselves into the bottom of the pool. You manage to get a leg up on Danica, and they’re both pushed backwards by the force of your shove, but Daniel surges forwards and ends up knocking you and his roommate right into each other.

You collapse against Danica, forehead-to-forehead, giggling like little girls. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, and her breath smells minty- like gum, not toothpaste. You’re more than happy to begin pushing at each other again, and though you’re confident your navy-built muscles are going to prevail, she lands a critical shove against your shoulder that throws you off-balance and sends you toppling off of Jake’s shoulders.

The water is cold, colder than you remember as you splash into it, and when you come up for air, already laughing, Jake’s facing you, having turned when you’d fallen from his shoulders. He’s grinning too, a hand already outstretched to help you up, but upon seeing you stand his eyes widen and his face drops.

“Shit.” He lunges for you, cutting through the water as his arm wraps around your back to yank you tight against his chest. You protest, grunting with exertion as you try fighting against his grip. But his muscles are impressive, and you’re trapped against his chest despite your best efforts.

“Would you cut it out? I’m trying to help you. Your top came untied.”

“What?” You splutter, water trailing down your face as you quell your instinctive struggle against his crushing hold. You realize that the reason for the extreme cold had, in fact, been because your bikini top had abandoned ship, and you barely have time to process the feeling of your bare tits slammed up against Jake’s hard, toned chest before he’s fishing the bathing suit out of the water and feeding it around your waist.

“Up,” He instructs, lifting his eyes to the expansive blue sky above you so that you can separate yourself from his chest for long enough to cover your own again. It’s- a strange gesture of courtesy that you would have expected from Daniel, sure, but not Jake. Perhaps that’s why you’re so sluggish, why it takes you longer than expected to fit your top back over your tits and grapple with the strings.

“You decent?” Jake asks, and when you grunt in confirmation he drops his eyes again. He notices you struggling with the ties and reaches for them himself, gently swatting your fingers away as he uses his advantage of sight. It presses his muscular shoulder up against your face, and you turn so that your cheek rests against it instead of your nose. Suddenly you’re held against his chest like a slow dance, and something terribly and inexplicably squirmy happens in your stomach.

“Done. I double knotted it.” He hums, and it’s such a sincere tone, one that’s completely vacant of all his usual dickishness, that you lose yourself staring at his face when he pulls away. You begin examining it for any sign that perhaps he was murdered and replaced with a poorly-trained doppelganger.

His hair looks right, albeit sopping wet. His eyebrows are growing slightly bushier than usual, but nothing you’d consider a complete and total imposter. His nose is still the same: strong, slightly downturned (though not as far as Rooster’s), and there’s a tiny patch of sunscreen that hasn’t been rubbed in near his right eye. His mouth is set in a determined purse as he double knots the strings of your bikini top together, and his eyes- his eyes are different.

Miles different than you’ve ever seen them. The outside edge of his hazel-green rings is softened, like someone has blurred their usual sharp border and lined it with suede. His pupils are huge, and they’d be eclipsing his irises if those weren’t so big and puppy-like. He is, in every sense of the word, gentle, inside and out. 

Jake has never been gentle before. 

“You alright?” He asks, and you snap back to reality with his large hands spread over the expanse of your bare back, the eyes that you’d been examining firmly and concernedly fixed upon you. Only a few meager strings separate his skin from yours, and you nod once, steadily as you gently push his arms off of you.

“Let’s go again,” You call to Danica and Daniel, your voice a piss-poor attempt at strength and nonchalance as it lacks its usual life, “Good hit, Danica. But watch out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Bring it,” She grins gleefully, and her giddy gaze drifts downwards to Jake’s face when he lifts you onto his shoulders yet again. From the looks of it they share some sort of silent conversation- some inside joke that you’re not privy to. 

Something about that, something about her excluding you from a conversation with your own teammate makes you shove her, not enough to knock her off of Daniel’s shoulders, but enough to show her that you’re not going easy on her. She shrieks giddily as she writhes to stay balanced on Daniel’s shoulders, a smidge less broad than Jake’s. You’re thankful for that, for the steady mount you’ve got, as you resume pushing and shoving at Danica.

Jake is going insane. Not only does the phantom sensation of your bare tits- nipples hard from the chilly pool water - stick to him like a wet t-shirt, he can feel you against the back of his neck, your warm sex nestled snugly against him with only the bottom half of your bikini to separate you. Your thighs bracket his head, close enough for him to reach out and bite at, but he has to focus on keeping his stance sturdy so that you can play properly. Daniel’s glaring viciously at him across the few feet that separates the four of you, and he’s not going to let Mr. Mailman win. 

This time, Jake suspects you’ve used that military muscle of yours, because Danica slips backwards off of Daniel’s dewy shoulders and splashes into the pool. Your hand cups beneath Jake’s chin, tilting his head upwards and leaning it back into your lap.

“Nice one,” He grins upside-down at you, and you bump your fist against his when he offers it. Then you’re craning your neck down, surely uncomfortable as you leave mere inches between your lips and his, and his ears are ringing.

“Back up,” You murmur, disguising it as a congratulatory speech while Daniel helps Danica back onto his shoulders, “Get them to chase us and we’ll use the momentum against them.”

“Darlin’,” Jake proclaims, pride puffing up his chest that your legs are resting against, “You’re my kinda woman. Always looking to win.”

“Just do it, Hangman,” You scoff, but your eye-roll is less than irritated, fond if anything due to your partnership as Jake drops his head to face Daniel and Danica once more.

Jake stands in place where he’d been before, but when Danica engages with you he begins backing up. Slowly, carefully, ensuring that his feet are planted steadily each step so that you’re not tipped over, he makes his way towards the drop off towards the deeper end of the water. Daniel follows, taking the bait, and soon enough his predicament becomes obvious: he’s not as tall as Jake.

He stands somewhere close to six feet, surely, but not past it like Jake does. Your partner’s head is still comfortably above water, smirk in full force as Daniel’s beard becomes waterlogged. 

“That’s not fair!” Danica laughs, petting sympathetically at Daniel’s sopping wet hair, “Poor guy, we’ll get you stilts for the next round.”

Daniel lands a teasing pinch against the curve of her ass and she shrieks. You lunge for her, using her momentary shock to catch her off guard as you send her tumbling backwards into the water behind Daniel. 

You don’t have time to celebrate before Jake is ducking down and slipping himself out from beneath you, his strong arms bracing your fall so that you barely sink a few feet into the water. He crushes you in a celebratory hug, his laughter harmonizing with your own. He turns you both to face Daniel and Danica as they splutter to catch their breath, his cheek pressed flush against your own. 

“Chicken Champions,” He declares, holding you tight to his side at his own height, which means your feet float above his own in the water, “I’d offer to go again, but that’d just be cruel. You ladies wanna chatter in the hot tub while Danny-Boy and I show off on the diving board?”

“I brought a book,” Danica hums, face dripping with water you feel only mildly guilty for submerging her in, “If you wanna read, Y/N, I’ll do it with you.”

“Perfect.” Daniel nods, already cutting through the water on his way to the diving board, “I’ll be careful not to splash you guys.”

“I won’t.” Jake supplies helpfully, his grin turned shit-eating as he eyes you up, “No point in reading one of them smutty porn books if you’re not soaking wet.”

“Splash me and I’ll throw your room key off the side of the boat, Hangman,” You promise, “You’ll be begging strangers to take pity on you in the elevator.”

“Nah, that’s not my style,” Jake’s voice is dripping with intent while Daniel takes position on the diving board, his swim trunks dripping steady trails of water. You don’t know why until he continues, taking his own bait, “I’ll leave that to Daniel.”

You blame Jake’s comment for why Daniel’s dive nearly turns into a belly flop. It’s instantaneous, really, Daniel’s changing of posture as he register’s Jake’s biting words, and you have half a mind to admonish Jake for riling Daniel up during a dive- that could have ended badly. As it stands, Daniel does a sort of cannonball, though not intentionally, and you and Danica cringe in unison when he lands, sending water splashing well over the divider into the hot tub. Your book remains mostly unscathed- only a droplet of water lands on the cover and obscures the male lead’s face, blurring out his beard and making him appear clean-shaven. 

Jake is already scaling the ladder, and when he gets to the top he surveys Daniel emerging from the water.

“Six,” He shrugs, sneering down at Daniel from the highest point on the deck, “‘Could’ve clinched a seven if you hadn’t splashed the ladies, but your form was still shit.”

He doesn’t give Daniel a chance to fire back- or maybe the man is just too smart to take Jake’s bait - before he sets his arms together above his head, and seamlessly, impeccably cuts through the water. For someone so muscular and bulky, his form is graceful- not that you’ll ever tell him that. Water arcs outwards from where he’d landed, one half of the splash practically targeting Daniel where he stands watching.

He swims farther, nearly reaching the other end of the pool before he emerges, shaking water from his hair like a dog as he looks intently at you and Danica in the hot tub for a rating.

“Ten!” Your reading companion shouts, blessedly unaware of the tense atmosphere- or again, too intelligent to fall for Jake’s lowly antics- and you look at the water-stained cover of your novel.

You smear away the water droplet with your dry thumb, and the male main character’s beard returns.

“Four.” You call, voice deadpan as you lock your eyes on your novel, “For playing dirty and sabotaging the other contestants.”

Hangman’s grin is open-mouthed and cemented into place as he stands taller than Daniel in the water, tanned skin standing starkly out from the blue of the chlorinated water, “Dirty’s the best way to play, darlin’.”

Danica shoots you a look from behind the spread of her novel that you’ve sent many-a-girlfriend before. It’s the wide-eyed, restrained smile that screams ‘We’re talking about this later’, and you mirror her expression with your own disdain.

“Leave us alone,” You call, grinning apologetically at Daniel so that he knows he’s only a bystander, “We want to read.”

“Let’s leave the ladies to their smut, Dorian.” Jake calls, louder than he needs to be as he stretches to display his toned abdomen and muscled arms, “We can find our own fun. Wanna see who can swim the fastest? Place your bets, ladies: pilot or mailman?”

“You swam pretty slow when you crash-landed in the Pacific that one time,” You muse, fighting to keep a smirk off of your face, “I remember thinking you would die in the time it took for you to swim back to shore.”

“Wouldn’t’ve gone so slow if I wasn’t hauling my RIO back to shore. He hit his head on the way down,” Jake dips his head towards Danica, happily regaling her with the tale,  and you realize you’ve only fluffed his ego more, “So he was unconscious. Well I couldn’t just leave him there, ‘poor guy was only a trainee. So I took him along. It did slow me down, but,” He heaves a disgusting, gaudy, fake sigh, “It was worth it to send him back home to his mama.”

You taste a hint of blood where you’ve apparently chewed through your lip. You let it go and hope nothing escapes your mouth. It would be a shame to stain the pages of your novel red.

You’re trying very hard not to pay attention to Jake and Danica where he’s engaged her in a staring contest. Well, you suppose it’s not much of a contest that she can win: the point is that you’re losing. Jake’s showing off his impressive build, still running his mouth with every vaguely self-complementary anecdote he can embellish, and Danica is taking the bait, which means that your rampant attempts to cool Jake’s ego have failed. 

You let the warm, borderline-hot water sink into your skin and simmer alongside the building irritation that threatens to blow beneath the surface. You’re tired. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for you- or, if not relaxing, a good way to blow off steam. You were supposed to be bent in half up against the shower wall by now, not bending the pages of your book with the strong grip you’ve cemented onto them while you mediate Jake’s ego and the willingness of so many women to accommodate it. 

Part of you wants to let loose and have fun- not with Jake, of course. Never with Jake. But part of you wants to act rationally, forget the constant rivalry between you two and let him shack up with whoever will show him her tits first. But the other part of you, the one that cheers every time he places second in a show of skill, wants to knock him down a peg. It’s why you’re so persistently humbling him- or, trying to, at least. Something about him putting on this cocky persona- erasing all human emotion to make way for pure sleaze puts you on edge, and you pity the fool who believes it.

You can’t tell if Danica’s that fool yet, because she’s turned back to her book with a smile, but to her credit she doesn’t ogle him while he’s swimming. It would be easy to- he’s all tanned muscle and gestures that show off just the right curve or vein. He knows how to preen, but Danica seems to be minding her own business. That makes it easier for you to read your own novel; you don’t feel like you have to keep an eye out for her anymore.

You’re not sure whether it’s a love for the act or a wordless competition to outswim the other that keeps Jake and Daniel occupied with lapping the pool for so long, but as more and more people filter out of their rooms and onto the deck, there’s not much room for recreation anymore.

“Are you done?” You ask Danica, peering over at her after someone unknowingly sends a wave of water straight for you both, narrowly avoiding soaking your novels.

“I think I’m done.” She nods sheepishly, rushing to stand and keep her book dry, “Should we run away before the men notice we’re leaving?”

“Excellent plan,” You laugh, but you can practically feel Jake’s eagle eye upon you as you race for your towel, leaving soaked footprints behind on the wooden deck, “We should go get some pizza. They’re making more now that it’s a little busier out here.”

“You shouldn’t stare like that.” Daniel’s irritatingly smooth voice, pitched up slightly from Jake’s and entirely free of Jake’s rugged charm, makes Jake’s lips yearn to curl into a sneer.

Jake pivots in the cold pool water to face Daniel rather unimpressed, a scoff begging to burst from his lips, “Like what?”

“Like she’s a piece of meat, or something.” Daniel’s arms are crossed, and Jake plants his feet firmly against the concrete floor of the pool.

“Oh, you’re so virtuous,” Jake drawls, his skin burning and not from the rays of sun hitting it directly, “You frenched her in an elevator, Daniel, you’ve got no room to be talking to me about class.”

“She wanted me to kiss her. She kissed me.” Daniel insists, and Jake laughs- actually laughs, a grit of his teeth and a forceful exhalation of air, “That’s different than staring at her ass while she runs away from you like you’d flip her skirt up at a drive-in movie theater.”

“Flipping skirts,” Jake laughs, sadistic grin in full force, “Daniel, I’m not that old fashioned! Please, she’s in a bathing suit that she chose, for a sex cruise that she booked, and you know what? She probably wants you to be staring at her ass in it. And you don’t seem too concerned with the other people on the deck, I’m sure a few of them are looking too. And are you worried I’m looking at Danica’s ass?”

“You’re not looking at Danica’s ass.” Daniel nearly bites his tongue in an effort to keep his voice level, “Because you’re not interested in Danica. You’re interested in Y/N and you can’t have her. She’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours, either.” Jake spits, and there’s a moment of silence where both men’s chests heave with barely-suppressed tension. Jake realizes that he’s admitted to Daniel that he has no real claim over you, but the other man doesn’t fight back against not having one of his own. But you are his, you are Jake’s, in the way you’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, in the look in your eyes when you’d stared into his own earlier, in the stain on his pajama pants.

You’d moaned his name- his name, not Daniel’s.

Someone knocks into Daniel from behind, backing right into him and nudging him slightly off balance.

“Oh!” The woman shrieks, “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine.” He offers her a tight smile, heading for the ladder, “Don’t worry about it.”

Jake hauls himself up out of the pool with nothing but his forearms, using his towel to dry his hair if only to show off the expanse of his chest to any who may be watching. He checks- you’re not.

“So,” Danica leans forwards into your space at the pizza counter, eyes meaningfully wide, “Tell me why he’s acting like this.”

“He always acts like this.” You scoff, and when she levels you with an unimpressed glare, you insist, “No, really! He’s just- everything is a competition to him, everything. I met his mom once, and she told me that he used to have races at the dinner table to see who could finish their food first. He kept making himself sick but as long as he’d beat his brothers he didn’t care. He always has to win, and right now, he’s competing for us.”

“No, he’s competing for you.” Danica corrects you, “Is he winning?”

“Hell no. He’s- he’s not really competing for me, not meaningfully. He just wants to say he ‘got me’, you know? That would be major bragging rights on the tarmac. But that’s exactly why I can’t give in- I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her fellow pilot! Then they wouldn’t see my achievements anymore, just my mistakes.”

“I get that.” She nods, “But how do you know he’s just gonna dump you?”

“I’ve watched him dump the whole of San Diego,” You scoff, “That’s what he does. He doesn’t do love, he’s the kind of guy who’s only ever interested in something quick and dirty.”

“Everyone does love.” Danica frowns, “Some people just start later in life than others. And I think he’s starting now. With you.”

“Love,” You laugh, and sure, it’s dramatic, but if it gets through to her, you don’t care, “A man who loves me would not have tormented me for my entire career.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully, “I think he does. Even if he doesn't act the way you think he should, even if he doesn't act the way you would, I think he does love you. I think he just loves differently. I think he's new to it. What has he done to torment you?”

You huff, grateful for the opportunity to vent, “He constantly tries one-upping me- again, he can’t lose. He just- he pokes and prods and teases me like we’re on the playground or something, and it’s non-stop. It’s not like he’s sweet most of the time and then there’s a few bouts of light teasing, it’s- it’s constant, and I can’t ever let my guard down, or I’ll lose.”

“So you’re fighting to win, too.” Her eyes narrow slightly, “Why?”

“Because. I can't be second-best, and I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her coworker. I’m not doing that.” You repeat.

“Oh," She laughs, "So you're both stubborn. You don't want to lose, either. But second-best is temporary, rankings come and go. And I understand your thing about not wanting to be known for sleeping with him, but even if you did sleep with him, the whole Navy doesn’t have to know.”

“They will, Hangman will brag. He always brags.”

“He won’t- not if he’s in love with you, not if you want him to keep it private.”

“He’s not in love with me-!”

“Four slices of Pepperoni, two cheese?” A large tray is placed between you and Danica at the counter you’re both leaning against, and it snaps the two of you out of your debate.

You turn to see one of the employees looking expectantly at you, and Danica stammers, “Uh, three cheese.”

“Sorry.” He smiles placatingly at her, scooping another slice onto the plate, “Three cheese.”

“Thank you.” You take the pepperoni pizza, leaving Danica to collect the cheese. You feel bad for walking away, even if you know she’s hot on your trail, but you feel frustratingly suffocated, like everyone is urging you to make the biggest mistake of your life and never considering why you simply can’t. She doesn’t know Jake, she hasn’t spent the last decade with him as he’s blown his way through tourist after tourist, bragging all the while. And he doesn’t understand what it would be like- even if he wasn’t looking to win, even if he did just want to try casual sex for fun, you’d never be able to escape that reputation. 

You feel like you’re going crazy, and you plop down between Jake and Daniel where they sit at opposite sides of a table, ready to stuff your face with pizza instead of dealing with any of it.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[mlqueen89]

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life  

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |  

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).    

word count: 9,776 

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.  

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service. 

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ��� masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥  

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.     

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”  

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.  

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”  

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.  

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.   

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.  

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.  

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake. 

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes. 

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”  

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.” 

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.  

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”  

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”    

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”  

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”  

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”  

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.  

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?  

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.  

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.  

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told. 

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.  

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work. 

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas. 

“It doesn’t.” 

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan. 

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”  

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”  

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.” 

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?” 

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.” 

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to. 

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close. 

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”  

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?” 

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”  

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?” 

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”  

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.  

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them. 

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink. 

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.” 

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?” 

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.” 

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.” 

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.” 

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.” 

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level. 

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.” 

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.” 

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.   

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”  

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”  

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—” 

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?” 

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004 

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt. 

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left. 

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base. 

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.  

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.  

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him. 

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”  

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”  

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.  

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”  

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.  

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”  

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.  

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad. 

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”  

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”  

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”  

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”  

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”  

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.” 

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.   

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”  

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.  

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.” 

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.” 

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.” 

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign. 

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.  

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.  

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”  

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.  

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.  

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.  

“Need a hand?”  

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.  

Hangman. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.   

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely. 

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment. 

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.” 

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—” 

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?” 

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups? 

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.” 

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.  

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”  

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”    

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.  

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good. 

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.” 

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact. 

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.” 

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her. 

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.” 

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door. 

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week. 

“305.” 

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing. 

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.  

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door. 

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke. 

“Hey, Rio.”  

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.  

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere. 

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick. 

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”  

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.” 

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.  

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.” 

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.” 

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”  

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?” 

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.” 

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade. 

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy. 

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.  

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between. 

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.” 

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.  

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.  

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.” 

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side. 

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.” 

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….” 

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead. 

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.” 

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?” 

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?” 

“You know me, Mav—news is news.” 

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm. 

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”   

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.” 

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”  

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type. 

And there it was: the other shoe. 

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?” 

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.” 

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.” 

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.” 

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.” 

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.” 

“Thanks.” 

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.” 

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying. 

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.” 

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden. 

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime. 

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign. 

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh. 

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best. 

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. 

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together. 

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug. 

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions. 

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”  

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”  

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”  

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.  

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O. 

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again. 

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.  

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”  

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”  

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner. 

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter. 

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day. 

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?” 

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.” 

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,” 

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”  

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.” 

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad. 

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?” 

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?” 

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?” 

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.” 

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”  

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.” 

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm. 

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.” 

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.” 

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.” 

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

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[borhapparker]

THANK YOU FOR THIS I LOVE THE HOLIDAYS 😭😭

a long long time

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

pictures from pinterest!!

word count: 2.8k

summary: childhood best friends, who always felt a bit more about each other, finally see each other after 12 years. will all their wishes come true at the Seresin holiday party?

warnings: childhood best friends to lovers! fluff!! cheesy goodness!! no use of y/n but reader does uses she/her pronouns! pet names: sweets, sweetheart, darlin, tiny dancer. no looks are given besides an outfit!

an: this is heavily inspired by ‘Its been a long long time’ by harry james! definitely recommend listening to it while reading! can you guys tell i love when people dance together as a form of intimacy? thank you to my friends who have no clue who jake is, who proofread this. & thank you guys for all the love on my other two fics! this is incredibly new to me so to see that people like the stories is really amazing. thank you. likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated!!

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Growing up, Jake Seresin was always by your side. Jake’s mom and your mom were best friends, meaning the two of you were destined to be in each other’s lives. Of course, you two went through the phases of disgust when one of you thought the other had cooties, but they never deterred your friendship. When you would fall off your bike and cry because you scraped your knee, Jake would immediately be by your side. Jake’s PeeWee football games never had a silent crowd, of course not. Little you would be right there next to his parents, screaming the loudest for him. A dance recital, nervous about your performances? Don’t worry, Jake would be right there in the front row next to both of your families, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

High school hit, and Jake became the star football player who girls and guys alike pined after. You on the other hand were a quiet theater kid, dancing still, and leading the school newspaper. Despite running in different social circles, you two were still attached at the hip. The sharp stares you received from girls who wanted Jake would burn into your head, but you never let that affect your friendship. The free time you two had was spent with each other, taking long drives when you needed to clear your head, watching new episodes of TV shows you both enjoyed, and studying together. There has always been a hint of something more between you two, but out of fear of ruining things, you never made a move. Although, there was a time during your senior year when the possibility of being something more didn’t seem as distant. You two had just taken a long drive to a field in the middle of Texas to watch the sunset. It was then that you two shared your first kiss, and then it was over, and neither of you brought it back up. You knew you had feelings for him. That wasn’t even a question. But those feelings would not outweigh your friendship, you’d rather have him in this way, than in no way at all.

When Jake got into the Naval Academy, you were ecstatic for him. He had been dreaming about getting out of here since you were little tots, and now he had his out. You got into a school an hour away for Broadcast Journalism, and he was just as excited for you. When you told him, he picked you up and spun you around, both of you reminiscing on the days when he would play with his model planes and you would pretend to report every little thing that was happening around you two. Graduation day came and went, and soon you were getting ready to send Jake on his way to Maryland.

“Don’t forget me when you become a hot shot pilot mister.” You said to him with tears in your eyes. He looked back at you with something that could only be described as melancholy and kissed your forehead, “I could never forget you tiny dancer. Plus we can still keep up with each other, and I’ll see you over the holidays!”

You two kept up with each other for the first two years of your college time, but communication became scarce. He didn’t come home for the holidays, you couldn’t blame him though. He finally got out of there, he was doing what he always wanted to do. Communication between the two of you completely went away during your junior year. You’ve kept up with him through your parents and his, and to say you were proud was an understatement.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s been 12 years since you last saw Jake Seresin. You would be lying if you said you didn’t think about him a lot of the time. After you graduated from UT at Austin, you moved back home and started to work at the local news station as an Anchor. Your free time is spent with friends, going out to bars, or just brunch together. They always hound you about finding a guy, “Come on!! You’re single, hot, and an amazing person!” “You can’t just sit here all night, come meet Tyler, I promise you’ll like him! Please?” You knew they had good intentions, with their bright smiles and kind words. So you tried. You would go out with who they wanted you to, but every time, it felt as though something was missing. You knew what was missing, you just didn’t want to admit it. Seasons change but you don’t think your feelings for those

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The holiday season is always your favorite time of year. From October to January, you feel lighter. Walking around to see decorations everywhere, families laughing together, and hot apple cider to warm the now-cold Texas air. Work is busy, but you can’t complain, you love your job. Recently you covered a story about a baker and her husband who had just celebrated the 30th anniversary of their bakery by having the cutest reindeer cookies and a huge cake for everyone who may want a slice.

Tonight is the annual Seresin family Christmas party, and just like every other year, you hold on to hope that Jake will be there. You know it’s a stretch, but you can’t help but be hopeful.

You bought a new outfit just for tonight, a red cable knit sweater, a black mini-skirt with black transparent tights, and black leather boots that went up to your calves. After adding some touch-ups to your makeup, you decided you were ready to go, grabbed your purse, and headed towards the Seresin’s house. It was about a 5-minute walk from your new place, which is quite convenient, and you spent the entire walk with your head in the clouds, daydreaming about the pilot who stole your heart all those years ago.

Walking into the house you spent so much time at as a child, a sense of warmth feels you. The entire house smells like freshly baked cookies, Christmas lights twinkle along the hallway, and the sounds of laughter and soft Christmas music fills your ears. Mama Seresin sees you and you are immediately engulfed in a hug that could probably fix anybody who is on the receiving side of it. “Oh my goodness look at you!!! You get more beautiful each time I see you.” You felt your face heat up instantly, shying away a bit from her kind words. “Thank you mama Seresin. I’m happy to be here again, happy holidays.” She pulled back and had an incredulous look on her face.

“Thank me?? Sweetheart, you are welcome at this house any day, any time. Make yourself at home, tonight should be a wonderful night.” She winked at you and left you standing there in the entryway.

After making your rounds, you grabbed yourself a drink and sat on the couch watching “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” with one of Jake’s sisters. She kept looking over at you with a sly smirk on her face so you snapped, “What is going on with y’all tonight? First your mama winks at me, Elizabeth said she was ‘So excited’ for me tonight, and now you can’t stop looking at me like the cat who caught the canary! So what is going on?” With an exasperated look on your face, you fully turn to look at her. Charlotte just slides off the couch and smiles, “We’re just happy to see you and we are hoping you have a great time tonight.” With the cryptic answer said, she walks away leaving you to sit there in your skepticism.

After an hour or so, everyone has made it and dinner is about to be served. At least you thought everyone had made it, that is until you hear a knock on the door. Mama Seresin rushes to open it, and you lean over the arm of the couch to see who it is. You can’t tell if it's the winter air or who you see standing there, but a chill runs down your spine. In all his glory, Jake Seresin is standing there with several suitcases and a bright smile on his face. Taking him in, you notice he’s grown into himself in the last 12 years, His sandy blonde hair isn’t as long, he’s filling in the brown button-up shirt very nicely, and he’s grown at least 3 inches since you last saw him. He’s still got his cowboy boots on and a smile that could light up a room, so not everything has changed. Finally, you look back up to his face, and you lock eyes with the man who has never left your mind.

You stand, mouth agape, and the two of you finally make your way to each other. You meet in the middle of the entryway, and as soon as his arms are around you it’s like everybody and everything fades away. You stay there in the comfort of each other’s arms for a few more seconds and when you finally pull away, the sounds from the rest of the house fade back in. Looking at each other, you feel a warmth creeping up your neck, the chill from earlier has fully disappeared. “Hi,” you said with a shy smile as you fiddle with the cuff of his sleeve. “Hi sweetheart,” he replies with the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. The moment is broken when someone clears their throat behind you, “Dinner is ready.” You turn and see the Seresin women standing there with smirks across all of their faces. Looking back at Jake you realize he’s got a scowl on his face, and you just giggle a bit. At the sound of your giggle, he looks back at you, the scowl being replaced with a shy smile, “We can talk after dinner?” You nod your head and make your way toward the dining room.

Dinner is the most delicious thing, but you would never expect anything less from Mama Seresin. She always cooks things with love, which makes things 10,000 times better. Once you get turned away from helping with dishes, you make your way outside to get some air. It’s a bit chilly, the backyard is decorated with lights strung across the way, the music from inside the house carries softly across the yard although it’s muffled, and stars are shining so bright in the night sky. You see a plane fly across the sky and you huff out a laugh, realizing your dreams of seeing Jake again, came true tonight. At least you know why the family acted so odd tonight. You take a seat in one of the cushy chairs sat up in the backyard, and stare up at the sky.

Surely Jake didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight, Has he changed a lot? Did he miss you as much as you missed him? Was your pining so obvious to everyone that they sat this up? Your mind starts spiraling with thoughts, and a bit of nervous tension sets in as you sit out there. The music gets less muffled for a second, meaning someone has just opened the back door, but it’s quickly snuffed back out. You don’t bother to turn your head, your mind is busy with so many questions. In your peripheral, you see the man on your mind take a seat next to you. He looks up at the sky and you can feel the nervousness roll off of you both as you sit there.

You turn to look at him, right as he turns to look at you, and you both sit there taking each other in for a second. “So-” “It was-” You both start trying to talk simultaneously and once you realize, you both start giggling. You nod your head to tell him he can go first, and with a shy smile he rubs the back of his neck and says, “It was nice to see you again sweetheart, I was really hoping you’d be here.” That warmth from earlier creeps back up your neck, and you smile softly at him. “I was hoping you’d be here too cowboy.” You both just sit there with smiles, and after a few beats of silence you add quietly, “I missed you.” What you could only call longing, flashes in his eyes, before he smiles at you, “I missed you too tiny dancer.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation. He tells you all about the Naval Academy, and how he is the “best of the best,” which you don’t doubt. Once he sets his mind on something, he doesn’t give up. You learn he’s living out in San Diego, but he constantly misses the Texas skyline. You tell him all about your experience at UT at Austin, and how your job at the local news station is going. You both continue just telling each other what you’ve both missed out on.

At some point, the conversation shifts to relationships. You take a deep breath and ask, “So do you have anyone special waiting for you back in California?” He takes a minute to just look at you before responding, “No sweetheart, I don’t. Do you have anyone missing you tonight?” You let out your breath at the word “no,” and chuckle. “The only person missing me tonight is my fish, Mr. Speckle.” He throws back his head and barks out a laugh at that, before looking back at you with a wide smile. It shifts to a bit of an apprehensive smile before he asks, “Is there any reason? You’re a gorgeous girl who is amazing sweetheart, I’m sure guys are lining up for a date with you.”

You knew you could try and lie to him, but he knows you too well. He would immediately figure you out, so you shake your head and respond truthfully. “I’ve tried over the years. But every single time, it didn’t feel right. Something was always missing. It took me a while to realize what that was.”

“And what was that?” His face is a bit more hopeful now, or maybe you’re just going crazy. After a moment of just looking into his eyes, you turn to fidget with your sweater and finally speak. “They weren’t you Jake.” It came out softer than you thought it would. The silence surrounds you like a suffocating room, and panic starts to claw its way up your throat.

You’re about to apologize profusely when Jake finally speaks. “That’s why I don’t have anyone waiting for me sweets. They weren’t you. The gorgeous girl I’ve known since diapers, who has always been so caring. Who put others before herself. The girl who knows me and my family, and still chooses to be around us.” You stare at him with wide eyes, trying to absorb everything that was just said. Softly, you reply, “I will always choose you, Jake. The boy who didn’t let me go to bed upset. The boy who constantly cheered me on in everything I did. The boy who set his sights on something and chased it. ” Your chest feels lighter, while your heart beats at a lightspeed rate.

Looking at Jake, he has a boyish grin on his face, rubbing the back of his neck again. In the blink of an eye, he is in front of you with his hand held out. You look at him like you’re considering your options for a second, just to make him sweat a bit, but ultimately you take his hand with an affectionate smile. He pulls you close and wraps his arms around your waist, your arms going around his neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. The two of you dance to the muffled music coming from inside, under the twinkling lights of the backyard you’ve spent so much time in over the years. You look up at him to find him already staring at you. He’s got a look of love in his eyes, and you’re sure he sees the same look in yours.

“So can I take you out tomorrow sweetheart? I should’ve asked you that years ago.” He asks with a smirk across his lips. You mirror his smirk as you respond, “You sure can cowboy. We have a lot of time to make up for.” You both slowly lean in, and your lips meet in a short kiss that makes fireworks go off in your stomach. You both pull away, but that one kiss isn’t enough. The two of you share another short kiss, before breaking out into a long deep kiss. He dips you a bit with this one. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of has come true under the twinkling lights. You’ll have to make sure to send the Seresin women some cookies and flowers for planning this.

From inside the house, the Seresin family is silently cheering. They’ve watched both of you pine after each other for so long, they knew y’all just needed a bit of a push in the right direction.

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within - Chapter 5

Days in the sun when my life has barely begun. Not until my whole life is done will I ever leave you. Will I tremble again, to my dear one's gorgeous refrain. Will you now forever remain. Out of reach of my arms. Oh, those days in the sun. What I’d give to just relive one. Undo what's done. And bring back the light. Oh, I could sing, of the pain these dark days bring. The spell we are under. Still is the wonder of us I sing of tonight. How, in the midst of all this sorrow, can so much hope and love, endure. I was innocent and certain, now I'm wise but unsure. Days in the past, I can't go back into my childhood. Oh, those precious days couldn't last. One that my father made secure. I can feel a change in me. Oh, hold me closer. I'm stronger now, but still not free. Days in the sun, will return. We must believe as others do. That days in the sun. Will come shinning through.

Flashback

The woods always felt alive, even in their stillness. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, casting golden patterns on the forest floor. A young Mausi skipped over roots and around trees, her worn shoes crunching against the earthy path. This was her sanctuary, a place where rules didn’t matter, where she could dream endlessly and imagine a world beyond her small village.

As she wandered deeper, a muffled sound stopped her in her tracks. A soft, hiccupping sniffle.

Curiosity, tinged with concern, bubbled inside her. Who could be crying here, in her woods? The sound pulled her forward, her little feet quiet now, as if afraid to disturb the sadness lingering in the air.

And there he was—a boy, crouched by the base of an ancient oak tree, his head buried in his knees, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. His clothes, though finer than hers, were dirtied from the forest floor. He looked about her age, maybe a little older, but it was hard to tell. His form was curled in on itself, as if he wanted to disappear, to fold himself into the shadows of the woods and never come out.

Mausi’s heart clenched. She didn’t know why, but seeing him like that hurt her in a way she couldn’t name. She wasn’t the kind of girl to ignore someone in pain—especially not when that someone seemed so lost.

She took a cautious step forward, her small voice breaking the silence. “Why are you crying?”

The boy stiffened but didn’t look up. “Go away,” he muttered, his voice raw and shaky.

Mausi frowned but didn’t leave. Instead, she plopped herself down beside him, tucking her knees under her chin. She wasn’t the type to be scared off easily, not by a little grumpiness.

“I’m Mausi,” she said cheerfully, though her voice was softer than usual, as if she knew not to push too hard.

Silence.

“My dad calls me that. It means ‘little mouse.’” She paused, glancing at him. “What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

“Well, I’ll just call you ‘grumpy boy’ then,” Mausi said, crossing her arms with mock indignation.

At that, he finally looked up, his tear-streaked face partially hidden by unruly blonde hair. His green eyes, red-rimmed from crying, locked onto hers. For a fleeting moment, something unspoken passed between them—a connection neither could fully understand.

“I don’t need friends,” he said, his tone defensive but weak.

“That’s fine. I don’t need another friend either,” Mausi replied, shrugging. “But I’m not going anywhere. You look like you need someone.”

The boy stared at her, as if trying to decide whether she was a nuisance or a lifeline. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and he let out a sigh.

They sat there in silence, two small figures against the vastness of the woods. The weight in the air began to lift, little by little, as the boy’s sniffles faded into the rustling of leaves.

From that day on, the two became an unlikely pair, their connection forged in the quiet corners of the forest where the rest of the world couldn’t reach them. The boy never told Mausi his name, and though curiosity burned within her, she never pushed him to share it. Somehow, she understood that names held power, and his reluctance was less about hiding and more about protecting something fragile within himself.

Instead, they created a world of their own, one where names didn’t matter, and labels were irrelevant. They met in the same secluded spot beneath the ancient oak tree, the one whose roots snaked into the earth like veins carrying the lifeblood of the forest. It was their sanctuary—a place where laughter, exploration, and quiet companionship thrived, untainted by the weight of expectations.

The boy was guarded, his words often clipped and his demeanour prickly. He had a way of snapping when he felt too exposed, a defence mechanism Mausi came to recognize as fear rather than anger. But she had a gift for disarming him. Her chatter filled the silences he carried like armour, and though he’d roll his eyes or let out exaggerated sighs, Mausi noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upward when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She talked about anything and everything:how her father was always building something; how she didn't have a mother, how she loves adventures and reading, hoping one day she'll get an adventure of her own, how in her village they made fun of her for being different. Her words painted vibrant pictures, filling their little world with light and warmth.

At first, the boy didn’t respond much beyond a grunt or a sarcastic comment, but slowly, the cracks in his shield began to show. In stolen moments of vulnerability, he shared pieces of himself—little glimpses into the life he kept hidden.

As the weeks turned into months, the boy’s edges softened further. He taught Mausi how to skip stones across the surface of the creek, laughing when her first attempts sent the rocks plunging straight to the bottom. In return, she showed him how to whistle using a blade of grass, their giggles echoing through the forest as they competed to see who could make the loudest sound.

Yet, no matter how much they shared, there was always a heaviness in the boy’s eyes, a weight Mausi couldn’t quite name. 

One day, as they sat side by side on the bank of the creek, Mausi noticed a scar running along the inside of his wrist. It was faint, almost hidden by the dirt smudging his skin, but unmistakable. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against it before she realized what she was doing.

The boy jerked his arm away, his expression darkening. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” Mausi stammered, pulling her hand back. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s nothing,” he interrupted, his tone firm. But the way he turned away from her, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists, told a different story.

Mausi didn’t say anything else, afraid that if she pushed too hard, he might disappear again. But the scar stayed with her, a silent reminder that the boy she called her friend carried more pain than she could see.

Even in their happiest moments, the shadow lingered. It was in the way he sometimes stared off into the distance, his brow furrowed, as if he were reliving something he couldn’t escape. It was in the way he flinched at sudden noises, his head snapping around as though expecting danger.

Mausi wished she could take that shadow from him, to make him laugh so hard it disappeared forever. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Some hurts ran too deep to be erased by kind words or shared laughter.

Still, she stayed. Because even if she couldn’t heal him, she could be there—to listen, to laugh, to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

And in return, the boy gave her something she didn’t even know she needed. For all his guardedness and sharp edges, he made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. When he looked at her, it was as though she mattered—not as the village’s ‘little mouse’ but as Mausi, a girl who could climb trees and weave daisy chains and bring light into the darkest corners of the forest.

Together, they carved out a space where the weight of the world didn’t exist. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was theirs. And for a while, that was enough.

The rain came suddenly, drenching the forest in a matter of moments. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky hung low and gray, casting the woods in a shadowy gloom.

Mausi clutched a bundle of wildflowers in her hands as she raced toward their spot, her heart pounding with a strange urgency she couldn’t explain. The rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone, but she didn’t care. Something felt wrong—terribly wrong.

When she reached the clearing, she saw him.

He was curled up at the base of their tree, just as he’d been the first day they met. But this time, his sobs were not muffled. They tore through the air, raw and gut-wrenching, the kind of sound that made the world feel heavier.

Mausi dropped the flowers and ran to him, falling to her knees beside him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. He just shook his head, his hands clutching at the damp fabric of his shirt as if trying to hold himself together.

Mausi hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally, she did the only thing that felt right—she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, even though she didn’t know if it was. “You’re not alone.”

For a moment, he stiffened in her embrace, as though the kindness was too much to bear. But then he broke, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“I can’t—” he choked out between gasps. “It’s gone. They’re gone. Everything’s gone.”

Mausi didn’t understand what he meant, but she didn’t need to. She just held him tighter, her own tears mixing with the rain as she tried to absorb some of his pain.

For weeks, he didn’t come back.

Mausi visited their spot every day, her heart sinking a little more each time she found it empty. She left little gifts for him—wildflowers, pebbles, even a tiny carved mouse she’d made from a piece of wood. But they remained untouched.

She began to wonder if he was ever coming back.

When he finally did, he wasn’t alone.

Mausi’s face lit up when she saw him, but the joy was short-lived. The boy she knew was gone, replaced by someone colder, harder. He stood with a group of older boys, their laughter sharp and cruel.

“You’re here!” she said, her voice filled with relief. “I was so worried. Are you okay?”

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What, are you some kind of puppy?” he sneered. “I don’t need you following me around.”

The words stung, but Mausi refused to let him see. “That’s all you have to say?” she asked, her voice trembling. “After disappearing for so long?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he snapped. “I’m not your friend. We’re not even on the same level.”

The boys around him laughed, their jeers echoing in the clearing.

Mausi blinked back tears, her heartbreaking in a way she didn’t think was possible. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry I cared.”

She turned and walked away, leaving the flowers she’d brought for him lying on the ground.

The boy watched her go, his fists clenched at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to call her back, to apologize, to tell her the truth. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“She’s better off without me,” he told himself. “Everything I care about gets taken away. It’s better this way.”

But as her figure disappeared into the shadows of the woods, he felt the weight of his words crushing him. For the first time in his young life, he wondered if pushing someone away hurt more than losing them.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to publish this chapter. Thank you so much for the love and support this story has gained. We got a flashback, wonder who that boy is. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for the love and support on this story again. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog, so I know if you are enjoying it. I think that's all. Thanks for reading <3

[asuperconfusedgirl]

how I read the most toe-curling, spine-shattering, nerve-wrecking, nastiest smut ever written in this god forsaken app

[ruerecs]

PSA! you don't have to have smut in your fic to make it good.

for all the butthurt people in my reblogs, i’m literally a writer too. that’s literally why i made this post, never said you shouldn’t. just said you don’t have to? (all the people complaining about this post just know i’m laughing at your replies🙂‍↕️)

[cinnamoodles]

smut is great but do you know what’s better? heart wrenching, soul twisting angst that makes you want to cry (take my money)

[crownofdecitreadingrespectfully]

Why do writers apologize for long fics? why aRE YOU SORRY FOR FEEDING US POOR, SORRY SOULS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK WE COULD EVER DREAM OF READING?? DO MICHELIN STAR CHEFS APOLOGIZE FOR COOKING THE MOST DIVINE FOOD EVER MADE??? DO THEY APOLOGIZE FOR NOURISHING OUR BODY AND SOULS????

[ittybxttykxttytxtty]

I love this series so much 🥹💖

Secrets out

Summary: The daggers know now...that's good....right?

Warning: Contains alcohol, cursing, teasing, mentions of labour, postpartum, mentions of smut, not detailed smut, nudity.

Word count: 3918 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part 5 of the little life universe

Three weeks later, Jake was sprawled out on the couch in the apartment he shared with Javy, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. The lazy afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room. His mind was wandering, somewhere between half-asleep and awake, when a loud knock echoed through the apartment.

Frowning, Jake pushed himself up, glancing at the door. Javy wasn’t home, so he wasn’t expecting anyone. Another knock, this time more insistent. He stood up, running a hand through his hair as he padded across the floor, pulling open the door without much thought.

Standing in the doorway was Y/N.

For a moment, Jake blinked, his brain not fully processing the sight of her standing there in front of him. She was dressed casually, a light jacket over her shoulders, her hair loose around her face, and a suitcase by her side. She smiled at him, that familiar spark in her eyes, and it was only then that it hit him—she was here.

“Y/N?” he asked, completely shocked. “What… what are you doing here?”

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, her smile widening as she took in the sight of him standing there in just his boxers. “Nice to see you too, Jakey,” she teased, but there was a warmth in her tone that softened the surprise of her sudden arrival.

Jake ran a hand over his face, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “I mean—God, it’s good to see you, but what are you doing here? You didn’t say anything about coming to San Diego.”

Y/N tilted her head, her smile turning sly. “I have a meeting here about my book.” She paused, watching his expression shift. “They’re talking about a movie adaptation.”

That stopped him cold. Jake stared at her, his eyes widening in disbelief. “A movie adaptation? You’re serious?”

Y/N nodded, a soft laugh escaping her. “Yeah, pretty big deal, right?”

He was speechless for a moment, his mind racing. He had known she was an incredible writer, but the idea of her work being turned into a movie? That was huge. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, still processing the news.

Y/N shrugged, her gaze flickering over his face. “Well, I haven’t exactly heard from you in a while.” Her voice was playful, but there was an edge of teasing accusation there.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling guilty. “I’ve been… busy,” he muttered, though he knew it was a weak excuse. He hadn’t been great about calling as often as he should have, between missions and keeping up appearances at the base.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I noticed. So, I figured I’d come see you in person.”

Still reeling from her unexpected arrival, Jake’s eyes narrowed as he looked around, half-expecting Ellie to pop up from behind her. “Wait… where’s Ellie?”

Y/N smiled softly, stepping inside the apartment and shutting the door behind her. “She’s with your parents. I left her in Texas.”

Jake let out a breath, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment wash over him. “Oh… okay.” As much as he missed Ellie, there was a part of him that was glad to have Y/N here, just the two of them, even if only for a short time.

Y/N stepped closer to him, her hands sliding around his waist as she looked up at him with that knowing smile. “I missed you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of the distance that had grown between them over the last few weeks.

Jake wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his. “I missed you too,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As Jake held Y/N close, feeling the familiar warmth of her body, something shifted. The weeks of separation, the missed calls, the teasing pictures—all of it came rushing back. His grip tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and before he could think twice, his lips were on hers, kissing her more deeply, more passionately than he had in weeks.

Y/N responded instantly, her fingers threading through his hair as she pressed herself closer, the tension between them melting away. His hands roamed down her back, sliding over the curve of her hips, gripping her tighter, but as he started to guide her toward the couch, Y/N pulled back slightly, her breath a little ragged as she smiled against his lips.

“You can touch me everywhere, Jake,” she whispered, her voice low and filled with a playful heat. “I’m past the postpartum weeks. Doctor gave the all-clear.”

Her words sent a thrill through him, and Jake’s heart pounded as his eyes darkened with desire. He met her gaze, that familiar smirk spreading across his face. “You sure about that, darlin’?” he asked, his hands already moving to slide underneath her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin against his palms.

Y/N nodded, her lips brushing against his. “I’m sure. So, stop holding back.”

That was all the permission Jake needed.

With a low growl, he scooped her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground as he carried her over to the couch. Y/N let out a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck as he laid her down, his hands already exploring her body with a renewed urgency. Every touch, every kiss felt like a reconnection, a way to make up for all the lost time between them.

His fingers traced over her skin, moving with a confidence that came from years of knowing exactly how to make her melt beneath him. And Y/N, for her part, didn’t hold back either—her hands roamed over his chest, down his back, her lips following the path of her hands as she revelled in the closeness they hadn’t had in weeks.

As Jake’s hands found their way under her shirt, pushing it up to reveal more of her skin, Y/N’s breath hitched. She arched into his touch, her body alive with anticipation, and Jake couldn’t help but smirk at the way she responded to him, the way she always did.

"You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?" he murmured against her neck, his voice rough with desire.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, her hands sliding down to the waistband of his boxers. "You have no idea," she whispered, tugging him closer.

And with that, all the space, all the time between them disappeared as Jake gave in completely, losing himself in the moment with her, finally able to let go of everything except the woman in his arms.

---

Jake lay on the couch with Y/N curled up against his chest, their bodies tangled together under the sheets. The warm glow from the setting sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft light across the room. His fingers traced lazy patterns along her back, and she sighed contentedly, resting her head on his shoulder. It had been weeks since they had this kind of time alone, and the silence between them was comfortable.

Just as he was about to close his eyes, fully content, his phone buzzed loudly on the coffee table, breaking the peaceful moment. He groaned, reluctant to leave the warmth of her body, but reached over to grab the phone anyway. Unlocking it, he was met with a flood of texts—messages from the squad and one from Javy.

The first message was from Phoenix: Phoenix: Hangman, where the hell are you? We’ve been at the Hard Deck for over an hour. Don’t tell me you bailed again. Then Rooster chimed in: Rooster: Man, this better be good. You keep dodging us. Fanboy followed: Fanboy: If you don’t show, you’re buying all the drinks next time. And Bob, the most polite of them all: Bob: Everything okay?

Finally, a message from Javy: Coyote: Bro, where you at? You’re supposed to be here. You better not be pulling that “family business” excuse again.

Jake chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. Y/N stirred slightly beside him, her head lifting from his chest as she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “What’s so funny?” she asked, her voice still soft from the afterglow.

He turned the phone toward her. “The squad. I was supposed to meet them at the Hard Deck tonight.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she read the texts. “The squad?” She leaned back a little, curious. “You mean, the ones you barely ever talk about?”

Jake scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin forming on his face. “Yeah, those guys. Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy… They give me hell for not showing up to things.”

Y/N smirked. “I’m guessing they don’t know about me either?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Only Javy knows, and even he doesn’t know you flew down here today.”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest. “You’re keeping me a secret from your friends, huh?”

Jake sighed, running his hand through her hair. “It’s not like that, babe. I just… I like keeping things between us for now. Less drama, less questions.” He paused, glancing down at her with a grin. “Besides, you’re my best-kept secret.”

She rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t press him further. She knew Jake valued his privacy, especially when it came to their relationship. Still, she couldn’t help but be a little curious about the people he spent so much time with. “What do they think you’re doing all the time? You’ve bailed on them a lot.”

Jake chuckled again, locking his phone and setting it aside. “They’ve got their theories. I just tell them I’ve got family business. They think it’s something serious, but I’m not giving them any details.”

Y/N propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him. “You know, one day they’re gonna figure it out.”

Jake met her gaze, his smile softening. “Maybe. But for now, I’m enjoying having you to myself.” He slid his hand down to her waist, pulling her closer as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

As she settled back against him, Jake’s phone buzzed again, and he reluctantly glanced at it.

Phoenix: Hangman, last chance. If you’re not here in 20 minutes, you’re buying every round next time.

Y/N laughed softly, her breath warm against his skin. “I think they’re serious.”

Jake groaned, shaking his head. “Yeah, they’re not letting this go.” He looked back at her, mischief in his eyes. “But I’d rather stay right here.”

Y/N grinned, tracing her fingers over his chest. “Well, when you do go back, you better buy them all those drinks. You can’t keep ditching them forever.”

Jake sighed dramatically, pulling her even closer. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll deal with that later. Right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Y/N shifted slightly in Jake’s arms, resting her chin on his chest as she gazed up at him. A playful smile tugged at her lips, her fingers tracing slow circles on his skin. “You know,” she began, her voice teasing, “if you’re so worried about them being curious… why don’t I just meet them?”

Jake blinked, caught off guard by her suggestion. He tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Meet them?” he repeated, as if testing the idea out loud.

“Yeah,” Y/N continued, her smile widening. “I mean, it’s not like I’m some big secret. We’ve been married for a year, Jake. Maybe it’s time they knew about me.”

Jake looked down at her, his expression thoughtful. “You want to meet the Daggers?” He asked, half-amused, half-serious. “You know they’re a lot to handle, right?”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound light and warm. “I think I can handle them. I’ve heard enough about Phoenix, Rooster, and the others to feel like I know them already… even if you don’t talk about them much.” She teased him, poking his chest gently. “And besides, it’s better than you making up excuses every time you disappear.”

Jake chuckled, running his hand through his hair as he considered her words. He hadn’t introduced her to his squad, not because he was hiding her, but because he liked the privacy their relationship afforded. The idea of his squad knowing about Y/N and Ellie-Mae felt like crossing into uncharted territory. But looking into her eyes now, with that familiar warmth and playfulness, he realized she was right. They had been married for years, and there was no reason to keep her separate from this part of his life.

“Well,” he said slowly, a grin forming on his face, “if you’re sure about it, I’m not against it.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. They’ll grill you about everything—and once Phoenix gets going, there’s no stopping her.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Please, I think I can handle Phoenix.”

Jake laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Alright, darlin’. We’ll make it happen. I’ll figure out a way to get everyone together without causing a scene.”

She smiled, resting her head back on his chest, feeling a little thrill at the thought of finally meeting the people Jake spent so much time with. “Good,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Jake held her close, his mind already spinning with how he’d make the introduction. It wasn’t just a casual meet-and-greet with the squad; it was Y/N stepping into his other world, and the thought of it made his heart race with excitement—and just a little bit of nerves.

-----

The next day, Jake stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he got ready to head out to the Hard Deck. The plan was set: the Daggers would meet up for drinks, and for the first time, Y/N was going to join them. He felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness about how it would all go down.

As he finished fixing his shirt, Jake could hear the low hum of conversation coming from the living room. Y/N and Javy had been chatting for the last ten minutes, laughing like old friends. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he listened in on their conversation from the bedroom.

Walking into the room, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “Y’all are getting way too close,” Jake teased, eyeing the two of them. “What are you gossiping about this time?”

Javy grinned from where he sat on the couch, leaning back comfortably with one arm slung over the backrest. “Oh, nothing too serious, man. Just giving Y/N the inside scoop on your time with the squad,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N chuckled, turning to look at Jake with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Javy’s been very informative. Apparently, you’ve been quite the pain in everyone’s ass lately.”

Jake rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head as he walked over to grab his keys off the table. “Yeah, yeah, don’t believe everything he says.” He pointed at Javy, narrowing his eyes in mock warning. “And you, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

Javy raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “I am! But I’ve also gotta prepare her for Phoenix and Rooster’s questions, man. They’re gonna want to know everything.”

Jake groaned, knowing Javy wasn’t wrong. Phoenix and Rooster wouldn’t hold back once they found out Y/N was his wife. They’d dig for every little detail. “You two are trouble,” he muttered, shaking his head as he pocketed his phone. “Remind me why I invited both of you into my life?”

Y/N stood up, smiling sweetly as she walked over to him. “Because you love me and because my best friend crashed into your wall,” she said, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “And you need Javy to keep you grounded.”

Jake smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Fair point. And that wall took ages to fix.” He looked between her and Javy, shaking his head in amusement. “But I swear, the two of you are like a couple of old ladies when you get together. Gossiping about everything.”

Javy laughed, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “Hey, it’s not my fault your wife’s cool to hang with. You’re just jealous.”

“Damn right, I am,” Jake shot back with a grin, giving Y/N a quick squeeze before letting her go. “Anyway, we should get going. Don’t wanna keep the Daggers waiting. They’ll start texting me again if we’re late.”

Y/N smiled, grabbing her bag and giving Javy a quick wink. “Let’s do this. I’m ready to meet your friends—and give them something to gossip about.”

-

As Jake and Y/N walked into the Hard Deck, the familiar buzz of voices and the clatter of drinks greeted them. Almost instantly, the Daggers spotted them, and the teasing began before Jake could even find a seat.

“Well, look who finally showed up!” Rooster called out from his spot by the pool table, spinning a cue stick with a mischievous grin.

Phoenix’s eyes landed on Y/N, standing close to Jake, and a smirk crept onto her face. “What’s this? Your younger sister, Hangman?” she teased, clearly sizing up Y/N with curiosity.

Fanboy and Bob exchanged confused glances, while Coyote tried to stifle a chuckle, knowing exactly what was coming. Jake rolled his eyes, keeping his arm casually wrapped around Y/N’s waist as they approached the group.

Phoenix’s gaze lingered on Y/N. “Wait, hold on a second…” she started, squinting as if she recognized her from somewhere but couldn’t place it. “You’re Y/N Y/L/N, aren’t you? The author of Eclipsed?”

Y/N smiled, nodding politely. “That’s me.”

Phoenix’s eyes widened, excitement bubbling in her voice. “No way! I love that series! I can’t believe this! Hangman, how do you know her? Are you her bodyguard or something?”

Jake let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Not quite, Phoenix,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. He glanced at Y/N, then back at the group. “She’s not my sister or just some author I know. This is my wife.”

The room went silent, the group of Daggers collectively staring at Jake in shock.

“Wait, wife?!” Rooster exclaimed, looking between Jake and Y/N with wide eyes. “You’re married to her?”

Jake grinned, looking down at Y/N with a hint of pride. “That’s right. We’ve been married for a while now.”

Fanboy’s jaw practically hit the floor. “You’ve been married this whole time and didn’t tell us?”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose, looking bewildered. “I mean, we thought you were dealing with some mysterious ‘family business,’ but we never thought you were hiding a whole wife!”

Phoenix, still in shock, finally found her voice. “Hold on. You’re telling me that you’ve been married to Y/N Y/L/N, the author of Eclipsed—the same series I’ve read a thousand times—and you never mentioned it? How did you keep that under wraps?”

Before Jake could reply, Javy stepped forward with a wide grin, clapping Jake on the back. “Oh, trust me, I’ve known for a while,” Javy said, clearly enjoying the moment. “Y/N’s my bestie. We’ve been tight for years.”

Y/N laughed softly, shooting Javy a playful look. “Javy’s been great. He’s known about us since day one and has kept Jake in check.”

Jake groaned in mock frustration. “Alright, alright, you two are ganging up on me now,” he said, shaking his head.

Javy laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “Hey, someone’s gotta keep you in line, man.”

Phoenix, still staring in disbelief, slowly shook her head. “This is insane. I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret. And Y/N, I mean—Eclipsed is one of my favorite series! I’m going to need the full story on how you two met.”

Rooster, still leaning on his pool cue, shook his head with a grin. “I gotta hand it to you, Hangman. You talk a big game, but I didn’t think you had this level of stealth in you.”

Jake smirked, pulling Y/N a little closer. “What can I say? Some things are worth keeping private.”

The group erupted into more laughter and teasing, with Phoenix diving headfirst into questions about Y/N’s books and the rest of the squad buzzing with curiosity about how Jake had kept this secret for so long.

As the lively chatter filled the Hard Deck, Jake leaned in close to Y/N, a playful grin tugging at his lips. His arm stayed comfortably around her waist, and he lowered his voice so only she could hear.

“I can’t wait to see their faces when they meet Ellie,” he whispered, his tone filled with excitement. “They’re barely handling the fact that we’re married. Wait ‘til they find out we’ve got a daughter.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her hand resting on Jake’s chest. “They’ll never see it coming. We might break them,” she teased.

Jake smirked, shaking his head. “They’ll lose it.”

But just as they exchanged those words, Rooster, who had been standing closer than either of them realized, froze. His eyes widened as he processed what he’d just heard.

“Wait—daughter?” Rooster blurted out, his voice cutting through the noise around them.

The rest of the Daggers turned toward Jake and Y/N, their shocked expressions slowly forming.

Phoenix’s eyebrows shot up. “Hold up. You’ve got a daughter?” she asked, blinking in disbelief.

Fanboy let out a low whistle. “Hangman with a kid? Now I’ve heard it all.”

Jake sighed, realizing they’d been overheard, and gave a half-shrug. “Yeah. We have a daughter—Ellie-Mae. She’s almost four months old now.”

The reactions were immediate. The group exploded with shock, questions, and disbelief, their voices overlapping.

“You’re telling me you’ve been married and had a baby this whole time?” Rooster asked, shaking his head like he was trying to piece it all together.

Bob stared wide-eyed. “You’ve been living this secret life? With a kid?”

Phoenix crossed her arms, still processing it. “This is insane. First, you’re married to Y/N Y/L/N, who writes Eclipsed, and now you’re a dad? I can’t keep up.”

Jake chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. I wanted to keep things private. Ellie’s been our little secret.”

Coyote, who had been standing back watching it all unfold, finally spoke up, clapping Jake on the shoulder with a laugh. “Jake here couldn’t hide something like that from me. Best friends don’t keep secrets.”

Phoenix’s jaw dropped. “Javy, you knew all this and didn’t say anything?”

Javy shrugged, grinning. “Hey, it’s not my secret to spill. Plus, I’ve met Ellie—she’s the cutest little thing you’ll ever see.”

The rest of the squad stared at Jake and Javy, dumbfounded. Rooster finally shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know whether to be mad or impressed.”

Fanboy pointed between them. “So you’ve been plotting this whole time, just waiting for us to figure it out?”

Jake smirked. “Something like that. I had to keep a few cards close to my chest.”

Phoenix sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Well, now I need to meet this kid. And hear the full story about how you managed to hide a wife and a baby from us.”

Jake shrugged again, a satisfied grin on his face. “Hey, what can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

As the Daggers laughed and continued throwing questions at him, Jake glanced at Y/N, relieved that the secret was out. Meanwhile, Javy was practically glowing with pride, having kept his best friend’s secret under wraps the whole time.

So I feel like this is the end of the main series in order but I will continue in one-shots so If you'd like to be tagged let me know!

[0mg-bird]

Hangman’s Mystery - J Seresin x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Shy! Fem! Reader

Summary: Jake takes you to meet the crew after claims of him hiding you from them. You’re extremely shy and aren’t a fan of lots of people, making Jake be more protective of you. For once, Rooster knows more about Jake’s life than the others do.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety - protective Jake- Fluff!- language.

“All I’m saying is it’s a little suspicious.” Payback says, opening his locker up. Jake just rolls his eyes, preparing himself to go through this debate one more time.

“I hate to say this, but I agree with him.” Fanboy pipes in, pulling his flight suit off.

Somehow, the conversations lately always turn back to you. Ever since the flight crew found out Jake’s been seeing someone and it wasn’t a casual hook up, they’ve bugged him about it ever since. It had come up one night at the Hard Deck, when Coyote suggested to a perky blonde, who had been hitting on him, to focus her attention on the southern boy who was playing pool. She eyed Jake up, pleased with what was in her gaze and moved in on him.

Some of the boys gathered around to watch the cocky pilot work his magic. Coyote figured he was doing the pilot a favor since he hadn’t been seen with a girl on his arm in a while. Imagine their surprise when Jake took a step away from the grasp on his bicep.

“What’s he doing?” Payback questions, looking appalled.

“Is he sick?” Phoenix asked as she finished her beer.

Jake had smiled politely and rejected all advances the girl made, sending her away and going straight to his pool game again.

By the time Rooster came around with a fresh drink, the group scrambled to fill him in on the alien sight they just witnessed.

“He sent her away.” Phoenix said with a slack jaw.

“Like a poor puppy.” Coyote joked.

Rooster took a swig of his beer, then shrugged like they were idiots. “Yeah, he already has a girl.”

“What?!” They all exclaimed.

Ever since that night a week ago, Jake was being grilled on it.

As he takes out a fresh shirt to slip on, Jake shakes his head. “Coyote is getting married, and y’all are icing me for having commitment?”

Payback nods. “Well that’s because we knew of his fiancée, you have been hiding this girl like a dirty little secret.”

“I think him and Bradshaw are pulling our leg.” Coyote pipes in. “I think he made her up just to fuck with us.”

Jake laughs out loud. “You are just being ridiculous now.”

Bob, who has been quiet the entire time, ‘lurking’ as the crew likes to say, finally uses his smug voice. “Look, Seresin, I get it. I had a fake girlfriend too one time in high school, it’s embarrassing to admit, buddy.” His words make the guys laugh, and Jake shuts his locker with a loud clank. “She’s not fake! She just doesn’t really like hanging out with dick heads like you guys. She’s real shy.” He glares.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Fanboy states. “Yeah, we want to meet her. You bring her to the Hard Deck on Friday night if she’s real, or else we will never stop bugging you about it.” He says, giving Jake a harsh choice.

His hand runs down his face. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“He’ll talk to her about it, he says.” Coyote scoffs. “Okay Seresin, go talk to your fake girlfriend about it.”

“She’s not fake!”

~~~~~~~

“Baby?” He calls, walking through your front door. Moving to set his small duffle bag on the counter, he toes off his boots, trying to place where you were in the sea side house. It was oddly quiet, maybe you had your head phones in, oblivious to the world outside.

Down the hall he goes, pushing open your cracked bedroom door. Your scrubs were tossed in the corner, almost making it into the laundry hamper. You lay sprawled in bed, hair out of your braid, asleep in one of Jake’s t shirts he left at your house and some boxer shorts.

Slowly, he creeps to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as he strokes your hair. You slowly start to stir, opening your bright eyes to him. A smile creeps up your pink lips, you take a deep breath in and twist to sit up.

“Hi.” You grin, happy he’s here.

“You alright? It’s only five, you look tired.” His voice was calm, sweet to you as he stroked the under side of your chin with his finger.

You rubbed your eyes. “Long day.” You breathe. “Mr. Johnson passed this morning.”

Jake’s eyes grow heavy with sorrow for you. He knew that this was normal for you because you were an at home nurse and a lot of the time the elderly patients pass. “I’m sorry, honey.” He says, leaning to kiss your forehead.

You lean into his touch. “It’s alright, I should be used to it by now but…I don’t know, Mr. Johnson was a sweet man, I actually adored his company.” You softly laugh. “But, that’s life, I’ll be fine.”

Pushing the covers further off of you, you lean forward and sweetly kiss the man that’s been in your life for five months. Despite the somewhat short time period, you couldn’t imagine life being any different than what it is. Your mother and sister called you crazy for being with an aviator, reminding you that he won’t stay in town forever, that he is quite literally owned by the government and will be wherever he is assigned to. The thought was scary, getting so attached to someone just for him leave when his ship comes in. It made your anxiety tick higher when you thought about it for too long. But, you don’t think you’ve ever been this in love. You’ll be the first to admit that you’ve never been a social butterfly, you were stuck in a shell, hardly bothering to get close to new people. Your handful of friends knew this about you, so it was a surprise when they met Jake and all of his infectious attitude. Somehow, Jake had a way of prying that shell open, his strong hands took you off the shelf and he learned that there’s a light hearted, good time, girl under all the shy innocence. He loved you for both versions, and it made you love him even more.

You declared that if you could, you’d follow him anywhere.

As he takes a shower, probably using your shampoo, you move to figure out what it is that you wanted to make for dinner.

You turn on some music, cracking a beer open and taking a drink. Soon, the kitchen is full of a delicious scent that Jake smells all the way from the bedroom. He follows the waft, sweatpants low on his hips and a casual tank top over her upper half. Finding you stirring some vegetables, he kisses the side of your head, then snatches the half drank bottle from your hand. This is usually the routine, you can never finish the drink you intend to, so he’s there to finish it for you.

“I want to…ask you something.” He says, leaning back against the counter.

You hum in question, and he loves the little look you toss him from over your shoulder.

“You wanna go out on Friday night?” He asks, making you smile. “Sure, where do you want to go?” You ask, unsure why he seems off.

“Well, I think since I’ve met your friends, you should meet mine. Let’s go to the Hard Deck with them, honey.”

You immediately stop your movements, anxiety sweeping over you. “Jake…I don’t know…a bar…”

“I met you in a bar.” He reminds with a smug look.

“That was different.” You turn to face him. “I was dragged there for my sister’s twenty first birthday and you know I hated it the whole time.”

He smiles at your pointed look. “Yes, I know but this will be different. Look, we’ll go, say hi, prove you actually exist, then come home and have sex on the couch.”

Your eyes widen. “Jake!” You gasp at his bluntness.

“Fine, we’ll do it in the shower.”

“Just stop talking.” You shake your head, hiding your smile. “The crew really doesn’t think I exist?”

He comes to grips with your waist. “They think I’ve made you up, like some sad Freshman geek…like i’m Bob or something.”

“Who’s Bob?” You ask with confusion.

His head dips to your neck. “Come to the bar and you’ll figure it out.” He mumbles, inhaling your scent before nipping at your skin. It makes you laugh, desperate to push him away but his strong arms have you locked in.

Something about him could make you forget anything. Sadness, anxiety, tiredness…the veggies that are burning in the skillet.

As his mouth moves up your throat, he’s engulfing you like a starved man. You try to speak before he’s inhaling you deeply, pulling you impossibly closer with his mouth on yours, searing you with a kiss that makes your knees weak.

“Jake- baby- mm.” You battle. “Okay, I’ll go with you. Jake- vegetables are charring.”

He finally lets go of you, grinning at your laugh and the way you stumble slightly as he lets you go.

~~

Clammy hands run down your jeans, once, twice, three times before Jake pulls you towards the entrance.

“They’re not gonna like me.” You stress.

“They’ll love you.” He states, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“They’ll be bored of me in two seconds.” You continue.

“No they won’t, just breathe, honey.”

You’re submerged into a room full of talk and music, some rowdy college kids are being thrown out and you’re sure you stepped in a puddle of spilled margarita. Your eyes are wide, and you shift closer into the larger body beside you. Jake leans down to whisper in your ear that it’s calmer in the back.

By the pool table, a group is gathered there and you immediately assume this is the infamous crew.

Phoenix is the first to notice, she smacks Payback and Fanboy, motioning for them to look alive.

“Well well, here he is, the man himself.” Coyote says smugly, setting his pool stick down.

A shorter pilot approaches you. “How much did he pay you to be here?” He asks, confusing you.

“What?”

“Just joking, I’m Reuben, but everyone calls me Payback, and you’re gorgeous.” He takes your hand in greeting, making your face heat with surprise and embarrassment.

Payback is pushed aside, and replaced by another. “I’m Fanboy, his back seater which means he’d be shit outa luck if he didn’t have me saving his ass.”

You shake his hand too, unsure of what to say.

“So, what’s your name? Wait, what was the last one, Jake? Abbi? Alison? Sorry, he has a thing for A names. Your name start with an A?” His tone is teasing, but he’s so straightforward, it makes things awkward.

Jake’s grip tightens on you. “Cut it out, Garcia.” He slowly said with a warning look.

Fanboy puts his hands up in defense. “Just trying to get to know this mystery girl you hid from us, Hangman.” He claims, then goes back to your gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You say softly, brushing him off.

You’re introduced to more guys, all who make some sort of snide comment about your relationship with Jake, well, except for Bob who was utterly polite. To your surprise, you’re introduced to Natasha greets you with a hug.

“Well, you’re real and not crazy so that’s a plus.” She jokes, making you chuckle. “You want something to drink?” She asks.

“You’re sweet, thank you. I’ll just take a beer, I’m not picky.” You say in a grateful tone, she nods, saying she’ll be right back.

Moving in from outside, Rooster makes his appearance.

“I missed the meet and greet? Damn.” He says, making you turn with a grin.

“Bradley, hi!” You greet, stepping away from Jake’s embrace momentarily. Rooster hugs you politely. “Hey girly, how are you?”

The crew grows a sour look.

“You two already know each other?” Coyote asks.

Rooster nods. “I was there when her and Hangman met.” He says so casually.

“Bradley and Ashley come over for lunch sometimes.” You add, making the group look at each other.

“Does no one tell us anything anymore or…” Bob trails off.

The night continues with chatter and worthless bets on pool shots. At no point does your hand leave Jake, whether it’s intertwined with his or on his arm, his back, your finger hooked on his belt loop, anything. It might make you look needy, but it’s something that eases your nerves.

When you do pull away from him with intention of finding the bathroom, he immediately turns when your warmth is gone.

“Where you goin’?” He questions.

“The ladies room, a place you can’t follow me in to.” You tease, starting to walk away.

He’s eyes scan the room, then watch you closely. He doesn’t miss the amount of guys that turn to watch you, scanning you up and down, definitely making comments about how good you fit in your jeans.

His paranoia gets the better of him, he marches across the bar to the hallway where the restrooms are. Back leaned against the wall, he waits, standing guard, in his mind, but the pilots call him a puppy.

“Mystery girl went and made him a golden retriever.” Payback laughs.

Fanboy nods. “We’ve lost him for good. What’s he gonna do when he leaves next month for Po-dunk, Texas- or wherever he’s from?”

They all watch as you and Jake slowly start to walk back to the group. Rooster, who finishes his beer, simply shrugs and leans to line his pool stick up. “He says he’s gonna take her with him and marry her.”

“What?!”

[moondancediner]

Love of my Life

summary: the dagger squad meets hangman's best-kept secret

jake seresin x reader

word count: 1490

warnings: no editing, fluff

a/n: this popped into my head the other night... enjoy! also this gif makes me CHOKE ohmylord

song rec: love of my life - harry styles

masterlist

It wasn’t on purpose. Nights when you and Jake ended up at the same bar were never planned, mostly because your friends from work always wanted to go somewhere downtown, and Jake’s friends from work always wanted to go to the Hard Deck so there was never a chance for the two groups to intersect. 

Tonight, however, your friends had enough of hearing about all your nights at the Hard Deck with your fighter pilot husband who drops by work every once and a while with lunch or a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. They decided to venture out to the Hard Deck tonight for your monthly get-together and you weren’t going to miss an opportunity to ogle at your husband from across the bar while he played darts and pool with his Dagger Squad friends who just so happened to be in town visiting. 

And that’s exactly where you found yourself on this lovely Friday night. Your friend walked over to your standing table with another drink for you and you thanked her with a smile. She immediately started diving into some workplace gossip, keeping her voice quiet since so many of your colleagues had managed to make it out tonight. You half-listened to her go on how bad the break room refrigerator smelled the other day but your real focus was on Jake who was playing pool with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Bob. He had Bob on his team and you were surprised to see him actually give the man a chance to play without correcting or coaching him. 

You knew all about the Dagger Squad, when Jake was first sent out here you followed him, even knowing this wouldn’t be a permanent duty station, and he talked about everyone he was competing against non stop. From the moment he came home after training you were getting a full rundown of the days happening (you were sworn to secrecy of the top secret events, of course). You learned quickly who was who, even if you never got the opportunity to meet them. 

After the mission, you were pulling out boxes and getting ready to move what little belongings you brought over to the island when Jake came home and surprised you to your core. He accepted a teaching position here on the North Island and you were staying for the foreseeable future. 

You were shocked but over the moon. Jake would be in one spot for at least a couple years and wouldn’t be off on deployments and missions so often. You could start a family and he could actually be there for all of it. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” A hand waving in front of your face brought you out of memories and a trance you hadn’t realized you were in. You laughed and smiled at your friend, but not before catching the eye of Phoenix, who totally caught you staring at Jake. 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little lost there.” You waved her hand out of your face and took another sip from your drink. 

“I’ll say,” she laughed, “I mean, I get it.” Her eyebrows wagged and you laughed heartily, throwing your head back. She was always complimenting your choice of husband and you had to agree with her, he was fine as hell. 

“Fuck, I think one of his friends just caught me staring,” you said once the laughter died down. 

“Remind me again why he doesn’t tell them about you?” 

“It started off as a joke,” you start, “he wanted to see how long it would take one of them to notice, and now it’s just an ongoing bet we have.” 

“A bet I am about to win, by the way.” Jake suddenly appears behind you and you’re happy to see him until his words sink in.

“You’re not allowed to interfere!” You point at him and he just laughs. 

“No interference, I promise.” He leans on the table you two are standing at and you almost forget about the bet for a second because his green eyes still captivate you even after all this time. 

“Well, what are you doing over here then?”

“See now, that’s where it gets interesting because someone caught you looking at me,” he tips his beer over in the direction of his friends, who scatter like chickens when you turn your head to look at them, “and they bet me $20 that I couldn’t walk over here and get your phone number.” 

“Hmmm, seems like fair play to me.” Your friend interjects, looking contemplatively between you and your cheating husband. 

A noise comes out of your mouth, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. You only had one month left before the bet was yours and you could claim your prize and now this happens, the perfect opportunity falls right into Jake’s lap. 

“Did none of them notice the giant ring on my finger?” You hold up your wedding rings, which glint even in the dim bar lighting and Jake takes your fingers in his hand, bending them towards himself before placing a kiss on your knuckles. You swoon. It’s impossible not to. “Don’t try to distract me, you’re in trouble.” 

“Come on darlin’,” His hand fell away from yours but moved slyly around your hip, where it curled around the belt loops of your shorts, and just then, while his face was inching towards yours, your wedding song came on. 

“When did this song get added to the jukebox?” 

“I may have put in a special request.” His smile did you in. You met him halfway and when your lips met that familiar kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight. Jake pulled away just to smile at you some more before pressing a few quick kisses to your lips. When he backed away enough, you took the chance to look over his shoulder and see what his friends thought. 

The entire group was standing around, completely gobsmacked at what just occurred and you could only imagine what was running through their minds. 

“After you, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake whispered in your ear. You gave him the best glare you could but he just laughed and grabbed your hand to walk you over to the group of people you already felt like you knew. 

Jake chuckled as you got within ear shot. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone,” he pulled you under his arm and you automatically slid your own across his back, “this is my wife.” He said it with genuine pride, a stark contrast to his usual cocky tone everyone was used to. 

“Wife?” Rooster repeated, dumbfounded.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Bradshaw.”

You ignored Jake and introduced yourself to everyone with a quick wave. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.” 

There was a beat of silence while you watched everyone process what was happening, but Phoenix broke it with a laugh. “You’ve been holding out on us, Bagman!” 

“Yeah, what the hell, man!” Rooster seemed downright offended that Jake would keep such a secret from them and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s not all Jake’s fault,” You come to his defense, “we had a bet going, which I just lost.” 

“What bet did you two have?” Bob asked, coming forward to introduce himself to you properly. 

You shook his outstretched hand, smiling. “We wanted to see how long it would take for someone to figure out he was married.”

“You… you don’t wear a wedding ring?” Rooster seemed to be having the hardest time with this revelation and it was cracking you up. 

Jake pulled his dog tags out from under his shirt, proudly turning them around to display his gold wedding band that perfectly matched the one around your finger. They both belonged to his grandparents and he was so proud to give you his grandmother's band on your wedding day. 

Phoenix studied the two of you for a moment, watched the way you started to sway to a song and Jake immediately joined in, watched how his attention always drifted back to you, and how his entire cocky dimenor melted away as soon as you were near. 

“So, what’s the story? How did you manage to bag Hangman?” Natasha asked, leaning her hands on the pool cue in front of her. 

Jake pretended to be offended. “I’m not that wild.” 

You roll your eyes affectionately before diving into the story of how you and Jake met. It was nothing spectacular or anything you would want to make a movie about, but it was a whirlwind romance that ended in the two of you married in the Seresin family’s backyard three summers ago. 

When you finished your story, all smiles for your husband, Rooster raised his beer in a toast. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Seresin.” 

Jake couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to let the team in on his best-kept secret, even if he was gonna pay for her losing the bet later on tonight. 

---

thanks for reading ily

Requests are open 🫶🏻

[promisingyounglady]

watermelons. | JS x Reader

SYNOPSIS: Jake loves ur boobs. That’s it really.

PAIRING: Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: written for all my big tit girlies, from a big tit girlie herself.

He’s been obsessed with the girls since he first saw them.

And by the girls, he means your tits.

Like just imagine, cocky little top gun aviator, Jake Seresin, turning into a complete mess first glance at you. Spilling his beer all over his tan golden chest that one summer afternoon at the beach with the dagger squad, just because he saw you in your denim shorts and yellow halter top.

And they sit so nicely, your tits. Full, large, and beautiful.

The breeze carries the scent of salt, the air humid and yet all jake can do is stare at the girl with the sweet smile and pretty tits, laughing loudly with her friends on the Hard Deck patio.

“So you’re just gonna stare like a creep or what?” Bradley’s low voice calls out beside him, crossing his arms across his chest as he adjusts his aviator sunglasses, muscles glistening as well under the heat. He whistles softly when he sees you, to which Jake shoves his friend away playfully, annoyed that he’s looking at you too.

“Back off, Bradshaw”

And so next thing he knows, he’s by your side, immediately serenading you with his charming smile and kind eyes.

“Hi sweetheart”

It’s so fucking cheesy and simple, and yet it works on you. You’re spinning around, eyes going wide at the firm, golden chest your face to face with and the way Jake just looms over you, hands on his hips, sweaty and golden from a match of beach football.

“Would you allow me to buy the pretty girl and her friends a drink?” He asks your friend group, sending a wink that makes the girls swoon.

“Oh my fuck” slips out from one of your friends behind you, the group gawking at the sight of the tall, handsome man in front of them.

And she was right. Oh my fuck indeed.

All it took was one line of southern drawl and you were hooked.

That night when Jake has you pinned against the alleyway wall outside of the bar, both your cheeks hot and the breeze cooler, you stare up at the man you had just spent the whole day flirting to.

“So you’re stationed here for a few months?” you breathe out, staring at his broad chest and chiseled jaw, feeling so small under his gaze. You gasp when his hand shifts closer, holding your waist firm in his grasp.

He nods, no need for words when he’s busy admiring you as well. The tall man gently nestles his lips beside your ear, whispering praises as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

You shut your eyes, fluttering your eyelashes at the proximity and sheer sensuality of it all.

“Can I touch you?” He asks pulling away, looking at your eyes with something more than just lust.

You smile, chest heaving as you replied coyly. “Where do you want to touch me?”

Jake is starstruck at your words, trying so hard to shield you from the world under his arms and selfishly have you all for himself.

You take both his hands in yours and wrap them over your hips, letting them grab the mounds of your flesh and groan, feeling his hard on pressing against your front.

“feel me. and show me where you want to touch me most” you gasp, eyes shutting closed.

Jake pulls his hands away to caress your cheeks, taking your face as he presses his lips against yours.

“Here” he says under his breath. That was where he wanted to touch you most.

The kiss is deep, soft under the starry beach sky.

The same hands slide down to softly squeeze your tits, and that’s when you know that was the second spot he wanted to touch most. You smirk against the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing into him further.

Jake Seresin was a tits guy.

So when Jake comes home to his apartment after a year of steady dating, he’s already making a beeline to find you, settling on the fact that you must be in the laundry room finishing up the chores.

You don’t even have time to greet your boyfriend properly before he’s shoving his face in your tits and smacking a kiss to each one.

“Jake, what is up with you?” You giggled, shocked at how needy and hot he was. “I didn’t know they let you off early”

He sighs, taking them in his strong hands and pressing a kiss to each breast again.

“Just missed my girls, that’s all” he groans, holding you closer as you give him a hug.

you rolled your eyes, watching as he continue to rub them softly, pressing a kiss to your collar bone.

“I cut up the watermelon, it’s in the fridge” you told him, pulling him away to press a peck to his cheek.

You took the laundry basket, propping it against your hip as you smiled when Jake called out while pouting at the loss of contact.

“Not the melons I need!” he exasperates, trailing after you quickly.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[trickphotography2]

Two Lines

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x female!reader

The last thing Jake expected to see first thing in the morning was a pregnancy test in the trash can. And he definitely didn’t expect a debate with his wife about what those two lines meant. 

Word count: 1.5K

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It took a lot to shock Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

Not only had he made it through a military academy, he was a combat pilot who’d seen action in two war zones and had medals to back up his claim that he was one of the Navy’s best.

But the sight of the pink-capped test in the bathroom trashcan had him choking on his toothbrush.

Adrenaline shot through him, waking him up from the half-stupor he’d been in. It was still early before your alarm went off. But you’d been restless all night, tossing and turning and grumbling about what a stupid idea it was to get your work-mandated flu shot at the same time as your COVID booster.

“Not sure why you did it,” he’d teased, brushing the hair from your eyes. “You always feel like crap after.”

“I know,” you whined, curling closer to him even as your body ached and your stomach clenched. “I just needed to get it out of the way, and since I don’t have any clients tomorrow, I figured I could call out sick if I needed to.”

But that didn’t explain the pregnancy test in the trash.

After just under a year of marriage, you weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but neither were you trying to prevent it. Both of you were in agreement that you’d be happy to have kids if it happened, but you were also satisfied with it being just the two of you for a while, or even forever.

Your period being late wasn’t uncommon, especially when you were stressed. And with the clinic officially understaffed and you taking on a larger client panel while trying to balance groups and to promote to a leadership spot, Jake knew you were stressed. For the first time, he’d seen you working on the weekend to catch up on session notes and submit consults, making sure your clients were getting connected to the services they needed.

The test was probably just for peace of mind, he reasoned, forcing himself to finish brushing his teeth while keeping his eyes on the trashcan. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken one, but it was the first time you hadn’t told him about it… that he knew of. And if you’d thrown it away, it had to be negative. You’d stumbled back to bed just an hour ago after using the bathroom, waking him as you collapsed back onto the mattress and declaring that you were calling in sick. When he’d pulled you to his chest and kissed your forehead, he’d felt your low-grade fever.

Just like he’d expected. It was why he’d stopped at the Commissary on the way home from work, grabbing bananas, applesauce, and bread to make sure you had something to eat while wallowing on the couch between naps.

Besides, he knew he’d be joining you on Saturday - he had his appointment to stop at the base hospital and get his mandatory annual flu shot, too. While it didn’t take him out like it did with you, he’d never pass up an excuse to have a lazy weekend.

With a forced nonchalance that he didn’t feel, Jake put away his toothbrush before reaching for the pregnancy test. Turning it, he saw two lines.

Two lines.

Jake stared, mouth dropping open. His eyes darted from the lines to the diagram on the side of the window, explaining how to interpret the results, feeling a strange sensation of excitement and terror at the confirmation.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

Confusion tempered his joy as he set the test on the counter and took a step back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to scrub away any lingering sleep. But when his vision cleared, there was no denying it.

Two dark lines.

Grabbing the door handle, Jake forced himself to take a deep breath before walking back into the bedroom. You’d dozed off again, breathing even and face half-hidden by your sleep mask. He’d bought you the first one as a joke when you’d moved in after a week of grumbling when he turned on the lights to get ready for work. While you both left the house at the same time - him to head to the base, and you to the hospital - he enjoyed taking his time with his morning routine, while you preferred hitting the snooze button as many times as possible before sprinting to get ready and out of the house on time.

You groaned when he sat at your hip, planting one hand on the mattress and reaching up to nudge the mask to your forehead. Refusing to open your eyes, you slapped at his hand, “Lea’me alone,” you grumbled.

“You got something to tell me, sweetheart?” he asked, forcing his voice to be even. While he was excited about the pregnancy, if you’d thrown the test away, you might not be.

“‘M not goin’ to work,” you sighed, rolling onto your side and hugging your pillow tightly.

“I know. Anything else?”

“Love you, have a goo’day.” Your words slurred as you started to drift again. When he said your name, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, you sighed and rolled onto your back. Kissing the tips of your fingers, you held them up for him. “I feel gross and don’t wanna kiss you in case it’s not the shot.”

“Is that why you took the pregnancy test?” One eye cracked open, and you saw your husband smiling down at you, a slightly manic gleam in his sea-green eyes.

Shrugging, you yawned, “Kinda. But it was negative.” Jake was silent for a long moment, and you felt him place a hand on your stomach.

“Darlin’… the test wasn’t negative.”

“It was.”

Jake barked a laugh. “There are two lines!”

“I know.”

“Two lines is pregnant!”

“Two lines is negative.”

“No, it’s not,” Jake argued. Huffing, you opened both eyes to glare at him.

“I read UAs twice a week at work, Jacob. I know what a negative result looks like.” As the person in charge of the Contingency Management program in your clinic, you administered and read urine drug screens, knowing with a quick glance if there were prescription or illicit substances in your client’s sample. If the two lines popped up for a negative result for their targeted substance - meaning they’d been abstinent - they earned the opportunity to draw for a prize. A single line meant that they had traces of the substance in their system, providing a positive result.

“Maybe for drug tests, but obviously not for a pregnancy test.”

“Move,” you grumbled, bumping your legs against him to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked.

“To prove you wrong.” Chuckling, he stood and smirked when you threw your sleep mask onto your pillow and brushed away the hand he offered to help you out of bed. The bathroom light was still on, and he followed behind you as you picked up the test he’d left on the sink, holding it in front of his face. “See? Two lines. Negative.”

Taking the test, Jake put his thumb over the Not Pregnant example and held it in front of your eyes. “See? Two lines. Pregnant.” He could only smile as your gaze shifted from glaring at him to squinting down at the test - you hadn’t put your glasses on yet. He watched your eyes widen with shock, darting from the instructions to the result window. Your lips parted, but no words escaped as your eyes rose to meet his again. “Say somethin’, sweetheart.”

“Why the FUCK are my POC cups the only damn thing that has a single line as positive?” you demanded.

That startled a laugh out of him, and Jake tossed the test back onto the counter and tugged you into his arms. Your fingers dug into his back, and he could feel you shaking. “You alright, darlin’?”

You were silent for a long moment before sighing, “Just realizin’ that I’m gonna be triple-checking results for a while. It’s gonna make my appointments run so much longer.”

Chuckling, Jake pulled away just far enough to meet your watery gaze. “What about this one? You gonna triple-check it?”

“I mean, you’ve pretty much done it.” An embarrassed smile flit across your mouth. “Is this where you say ‘I told you so’?”

“Pretty sure this is where I say I love you,” Jake replied, leaning down to kiss you softly. Carefully, he backed you up until your ass hit the counter and lifted you onto it. Your legs wrapped around his hips, arms draped across his shoulders as his hands slid under your shirt to wrap around your waist.

“Love you too. You ready to be a daddy?”

“Hell yeah. You ready to be a mama?” The question made you pause, but the steady confidence your husband exuded made you smile. Even if you weren’t quite ready, he would be there to help you get there.

“Yeah,” you said after a moment.

It would take you a couple of weeks to feel confident interpreting the UA results with a glance again, but you even chuckled when you started telling people about the pregnancy, and Jake boasted that he was the one telling you that you were pregnant.

After all, how many fathers got the chance to do that?

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Author's Note: This little fic has been on my mind since yesterday when I had to fill in last minute for our CM clinic when a clinician called out sick, and had to administer and interpret 2 UAs in 30 minutes, then do brief counseling with the gentlemen before going. I've laughed with my friends before about how our POC cups (the same ones in the graphic above) are one of the only tests where two lines is negative.

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fanfic writers NEVER contemplate or apologise for your fic being over 3-5k words long, we readers LOVE longer fics!! anyways have a good day/night 🙂‍↕️