#jake hangman drabble

[sebsxphia]

Jake spiting his drink into your mouth after you’ve been a brat.

“Swallow for me,”

You could. He wants you to be good for him. But where’s the fun in that. You spit it out.

This man would be FURIOUS

- Teddy 🧸💖

whiskey & black ties.

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader.

￫ description: jake’s had enough of your bratty behavior and he’s on a total power trip tonight.

￫ c/w: deep throating, choking, breath play, oral m receiving, giving jake a blowjob, skull fucking, daddy kink, spitting, spitting with alcohol, dacryphilia if you squint, pet names, jake using derogatory language towards the reader, aftercare at the end.

￫ a/n: i would like to give a huge thank you to my beloved teddy (@thesluttyarchivist), who helped coin this absolute filth and for giving me the incredible idea to continue it on!! i love you to the moon and back darlin’! <3 i would also highly recommend listening to ‘child in time’ by deep purple when reading, as it was fuelling me as i was writing it! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

You were the first to cross the threshold beyond your driveway to your home. You were giggling as your heels clicked along the hardwood floor in your hallway. Photos hung on the walls of Jake and the Dagger Squad in their Navy whites. All of them standing shoulder to shoulder looking sincere and formal. The further you got down the hallway the more relaxed the photos became.

There were more of Jake and his co-workers laughing together in said Navy whites after the admirals went home and they retreated to the Hard Deck. Three of your picture perfect photos from your wedding day were proudly displayed as a sweet reminder every time either you or Jake left your home.

Your giggling was left echoing through the hallway as you reached your living room. Jake was not following in your lighthearted demeanor and had been scowling with his jaw set firm the whole ride home. The only thing that followed you into your living room was Jake’s heavy footsteps. Even in his dress shoes his strides were bold and firm, making everyone around them aware that he was coming.

You fell into your plush sofa with one last laugh and bent over yourself to un-tie the delicate straps of your heels that were wrapped neatly around your ankles.

“And to make it worse, you didn’t even dance with me Jakey! How’s your wife meant to have a good time if their loving husband won’t have at least one dance with them.”

You continued with the last of your defiance that started in the car ride home that occurred after Jake told you firmly and curtly, “we’re going home, now.”

It was the Dagger Squad’s annual Christmas party. It wasn’t official by the Navy, but the group decided to hold the event every Christmas for the past five years now. They had grown impeccably close with each other and it was the one night they could come together, bring their partners and make crude jokes about Admiral Simpson’s flying.

Jake made it into your shared living room and headed straight for the seventies style bar he had brought together in his own home. The bar in question originally started out as a record player built in. Jake gifted it to you on your birthday years ago and it held all of your records that were now tattering at the edges. Many records you and Jake had played and danced effortlessly around to in your living room. You both eventually turned it into Jake’s own bar.

On the surface it held three crystallized whiskey glasses that Jake’s parents gifted as your wedding gift and a number of Southern liquors that reminded Jake of home. One of them being a particular whiskey that cost you an entire months wages that you gave Jake as a surprise gift for his thirtieth birthday.

Jake shed his suit jacket and flopped it onto the armchair that rested next to the bar. He was facing away from you and busy fixing himself a drink. From behind you could see the way his broad back muscles contorted under his crisp shirt. The whole suit including the shirt was black, but it didn’t stop from his muscles proudly showing.

Jake had a rare month off from work and in that time his hair had grown out and he kept a constant haze of stubble, no longer have to worry about keeping up appearances, for now anyway. The end of his hair had curled out and they licked upwards at the base of his neck. It always shocked you how quick his hair could grow, but it was heavenly to tug on.

The silence was deafening and neither you or him had said a word in what felt like forever. The reality was only a minute had passed. You worried maybe you pushed it too far this time with Jake, but you know he would’ve told you otherwise. As you sat on the couch waiting for his response, you could feel a pool of heat bloom at the bottom of your stomach and you could feel something twitch between your thighs.

All that could now be heard was the sound of the liquor pouring heavily into the glass.

“What? Cat got your tongue Lieutenant?”

Your words hung in the air and Jake stopped his movements for a split second. You hoped that would at least get a rise out of him, but the second passed and he continued on with his movement as if he was brushing a fly off his shoulder. He wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction just yet.

You heard the cork pop back into the bottle and Jake finally turned back around to face you. He rested one hand on the edge of the table top and leant the rest of his body weight against it. He was out on display for you.

Jake brought the glass now filled with liquor to his lips and took a fleeting sip. His eyes bore into yours from across the room and they didn’t break contact as he gulped down half of the glass eagerly. You only wore a small smirk on the corner of your lips and one of your eyebrows was partially raised.

He his heavy gaze parted with yours as he placed the glass down onto the surface. Jake had still shown you no response to the rise you were trying to get out of him and breaking eye contact with you gave you admission to add fuel to the fire.

You parted your lips to speak and Jake responded by working his slender fingers through the knot in his tie. He un-did it with a small grunt and cocked his head left to right to free himself of his own restraints.

“What is it that’s made you so grumpy Jakey?”

You taunted him further with a wicked grin now twisting onto your lips completely. He popped the two top buttons with his fingers effortlessly and ran his tie through his hands, feeling the silk.

“Is it because I was dancing with someone else that wasn’t you?”

Jake continued to run the tie through his hands and started to wrap it around his own palm. His gaze was now fixated on his own movements. He looked like he was ignoring you completely and you decided to throw the last bit of gasoline onto the already burning fire.

You bit your lip and sat back against the couch with your arms spread out on the back. You were willingly opening yourself to your husband now. You had no remorse.

“Javy was a fucking good dance tonight. I just can’t understand why he’s not partnered up with someone yet. If I could go back in time to when I met you both, sometimes I think, ‘what if I went with Javy?’”

The fire that was already burning hot and bright went up a hundred feet at your words and could’ve engulfed the Empire State building.

You had zero time to register the quick movements that were made next. Jake took quick strides across the living room floor to where you were and had managed to grab the whiskey glass in tow.

You shuffled up against the back of the sofa to sit up striaght to allow Jake to climb onto the sofa and tower above you. His knees were planted firmly either side of your frame and he gripped at your jaw with the hand that had the silk tie wrapped around his palm. He squeezed with his thumb and forefinger so hard you thought it could shatter in his vice grip.

Jake held every bit of power of you in this very instant. He could crush you beneath him or let you go freely and it was a game you both loved to play.

His other hand held the whiskey glass steady. You forgot that he flew fucking planes for a living and his grip would never falter. The grip on your jaw inched up to your cheeks and it gave you the instinct to let your lips part just enough that it allowed him access to your mouth.

Jake brought the glass up to his own lips and took a hefty swig, still leaving some left over. He craned his neck over your face and pursed his lips to spit a direct line of his whiskey into your own mouth.

Jake spoke the first words he had all night.

“Swallow for me.”

Jake’s order was a fleeting hope that on his behalf you would obey. He wants you to be good for him, but where’s the fun in that?

You purse your lips again and Jake is ready to tell you how good you are for him, but you push your tongue upwards and spit out the expensive liquor. It dribbles down your chin and small droplets drip onto your collar bone.

At that moment Jake’s lips turn upwards and he lets out a snarl. There is only one look in his eyes and it’s one that makes you squeeze your thighs together instinctively. You can feel a drip of your own arousal seep through the lacy lingerie you were wearing and it makes you feel electric.

Jake places the whiskey glass on the arm of your sofa to keep it steady and he unwraps his matching black tie from around his palm. He wrings it around your neck in one broad stroke and he holds tightly onto the end of the fabric, bunching it up in his grip. He pulls at the tie to tighten it around your neck and you let out a pathetic squeak which earns a mocking laugh from Jake.

Jake reaches back for the whiskey glass and with the tightness of the tie wrapped around your neck, it causes your mouth to part to allow air desperately into your lungs.

Jake repeats the same action. He takes a hefty sip himself, leans over you and spits it back into your mouth. This time it was more than before and a trail of his own saliva comes out after the dark liquor.

Jake is already one step ahead of you to stop your bratty behavior. He brings his hand up that’s got the end of the tie bunched up to your mouth to cover it. He places the whiskey glass back down and his fingers pinch at your nose.

You’re stuck under your stupidly handsome, pilot husband’s grip and your eyes go wide at him. There’s emergency signals running through your brain and nervous system that you currently can’t get any air into your lungs.

Jake looks down at you, grinning like a Devil.

“I said, swallow for me, fucking whore.”

Your eyes twitch and narrow at him for a fleeting second as you try and read the malicious look that’s etched over Jake’s face. His eyes are still boring down into yours and his grin is still pinched at the corners of his own lips. You’re trying to second guess how long you can keep up the brat façade and how long Jake will hold your breath for until you fall limp against the sofa.

Your breathing is starting to get shallower and you’re running out of air. You can see your sight blur in the corner of your eyes and your finger tips and toes feel fuzzy.

You hate how stubborn Jake can be sometimes and so you give in and swallow the liquid down in defeat.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jake sneers down at you.

He gives you one more harsh pull with his tie that’s still wrapped around your throat. The movement is enough to bring your body to the edge of the sofa and with one push to your shoulders, your knees meet the floor. Jake lengthens the end of his tie so he can still hold onto it and angle your face up towards him, like a dog on a fucking leash.

“Are you sorry?” Jake tugs again and it causes you to splutter before you can answer him. “I said, are you fucking sorry?” He grits.

Jake knows that by tugging on his tie it’s restricting your throat enough that you can’t answer him, but that’s all part of his game. He cradles your jaw with his spare hand and runs his fingers over the bone. Jake smiles down at you like the big bad wolf. He’s all teeth and there’s a glint in his eye that you only recognise when Jake’s hungry to fucking ruin you.

“Well, seeing as you won’t answer me I’ll keep that mouth quiet with something else.”

He removes his hand from your jaw only to bring it back and deliver a light smack to the side of your face. It’s gentle enough that it won’t mark, but you can feel the tingly sensation of it stinging run up and over your cheek.

He brings his hand completely away from your face and masterfully unbuckles his thick silver belt buckle with one hand. He un-does his trousers enough that he’s able to free his cock. You already started to notice the growing bulge as your face was met with his crotch, but seeing it out with the tip red and pre-cum spilling over, made you wet your lips instinctively.

He came back to cradle your face and for a moment the façade of the Devil left his face and his eyes softened at your pleading gaze. “You tap my leg three times if you want out sweetheart, okay?”

You offer him a thumbs up and a small nod that you could muster, before his face shifted back to the deliciously wicked Jake that was going to ruin you for his own amusement.

His forefinger and thumb pinched at your cheeks again and he delivered the same crude demand he had before. “Open.”

You egerly obeyed as the sight of his cock was making your own arousal now seep through your lacy underwear completely and you wouldn’t be surprised if it stuck to the floor. You were so desperate to objey him and get back some gratification that you would do anything.

Jake craned his head down mere inches and pursed his lips again. From the towering height he had over you, it made his salvia drip in a long line before hitting your tongue. You let out a whine in response and you watched as Jake’s cock twitched against his abdomen.

“I want that pretty mouth of yours wet for daddy’s cock.”

As Jake’s own feverent desire started to rise higher and higher, his Texan drawl came out thick and heavy and it made your heart pound in your chest. You were so needy for him, so desperate to taste him that you let out the only words you could muster by the tight grip he still had around your neck.

“Please.”

Your voice was hoarse and weak. It caused a low groan to emit from Jake’s chest. He wasn’t able to hold on for any longer and he palmed at his cock before slipping it into your mouth. Jake hissed at the sensation of finally feeling your slick and warm mouth around him and he grunted out a low,“shit!” followed by your name.

He removed his hand from his own shaft and placed it at the base of your skull with his fingertips digging into your hair. It allowed him to push his pelvis closer to you and subsequently his cock further down your throat. Jake could feel you swallow around him and let out muffled gags. Your salvia was pooling in your mouth to completely coat his painfully hard cock. All that could be heard was crude sounds, but you looked up at him with your bambi eyes and Jake thought he could’ve come then and there. He also thought about how he got so lucky with you.

“Good girl. So fucking pretty for me, sweets. I wish you could see yourself right now.” Jake mutters out.

His praise is a welcome change to his punishing demeanour that he’s been wearing all night, but it quickly shifts again when he brings his hand around from the back of your head to your nose and pinches at it harshly. He’s still holding onto his tie and he pulls at it again to tighten his grip.

You squirm under his relentless hold and your bambi eyes change to pleading eyes up at him. Jake brings his knee to press into your shoulder, pinning you against the sofa. He lets out a ‘tsk’ and steadies your withering body underneath him.

“No, no. Nu-uh. Stay still for me, slut.”

Your breathing is irregular and your heart is thrumming heavily in your chest, but still your eyes are boring into his. You feel the pain and little oxygen start to effect your senses again. You can feel your feet going numb and your vision getting blurred. He shifts the last inch of his cock down your throat and now your still pinched nose is pressed firmly against his soft tuft of curls.

The last inch causes you to scrunch your eyes shut and let the tears that are pooling in your eyes fall free. Jake moves his hips in small and calculated thrusts into your plugged mouth. He throws his head back with his jaw slack and lets out another deep and guttural groan. Jake relishes in the power he holds over you right now and the feeling of your throat constricting around his cock.

It’s bliss.

You feel the air rush back into your lungs eventually and the heavy weight of his entire cock fall from your mouth. You splutter around nothing and inhale deeply in rushed breaths. The grip on your neck loosens and Jake has let go of the pinch to your nose. Your eyes open and there’s a thick and lewd trail of your mixed saliva connecting from your bottom lip to the head of Jake’s cock.

Yet still, through the rushing feeling of Jake choking you within an inch of your life with his cock, you feel the ache growing in between your thighs more and more. You rub them together to try and alleviate the heat but it works very little. You let out a whimper and look back up at Jake, as to beg for his forgiveness.

“That get’s you off doesn’t it? Daddy’s cock plugging you like that. You’re a fucking sadist, aren’t you sweets?” Jake’s cocky smile is plastered back over his face and it makes you tick.

You let out a small scoff and bite back with all the might you still have left.

“Says you.” you croak out.

Jake’s usual smug smile is wiped away in a millisecond and he bites back with a simple and stern, “whore.”

Before you can register it, his heavy shaft is planted back into your mouth and his hand is on the back of your skull. Jake doesn’t waste any more time and he sets a punishing pace. His hand is pushing your head down onto him as fast and as hard as he wants. He’s been aggravated and taunted all evening, and Jake’s gloating ego finally has you where he wants. The thought is enough to make him close to coming in mere minutes. His jaw is set firm with his eyebrows knitted tightly together in concentration as he bounces your head on his cock over and over.

“My wife doesn’t get to be with anyone but me, you got that sweets? No other fucking pilots, not fucking Javy, just me.”

You whine around him and nod your head to the best of your ability in between his shallow thrusts. Your tears are now falling freely over your hot and rosy cheeks, with your own drool falling from the edges of Jake’s cock and dripping down onto your thighs.

Your admission to your own guilt is enough for Jake and his lips part and his jaw goes slack. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth in one more final push to the hilt. You let out another whine as you feel his hot and sticky cum shoot thick ropes down your bruised throat.

Jake lets out shuddering groans and keeps you pressed to his pelvis as he shakes through the remainder of his toe curling orgasm. He curses your name a handful of times and his hand on the back of your head softens, with his fingers running through your hair. As Jake comes down from his ecstasy inducing high, his cruel demeanor goes with it.

“Good girl, that’s it.” Jake murmurs out.

He removes his softening cock from your swollen lips and closes your aching jaw with a gentle touch. He tilts your chin upwards, “swallow for me.” He ushers his praise. He watches with keen eyes as your throat bobs and you swallow the remainder of his release.

Jake squats down and picks up your exhausted frame that’s now slouched against the sofa and places you carefully down onto the couch. He grabs the throw that hangs off the back and wraps it around you.

“Stay there.” Jake orders with a tender kiss placed to your lips. Your eyes flutter open and close as the wave of Jake’s high radiates off you.

Jake comes back into the living room with a tall glass of water. He pulls you into his chest with the throw still wrapped neatly around you and one of his large arms holding you upright. He places the glass to your lips and tips it gently.

“There you go. Little sips okay, sweetheart?���

You swig down the remainder of the water and gasp as you feel the coolness spread over and soothe down your throat. Jake places the glass down onto the arm of the couch next to his abandoned whiskey glass.

“You did so good for me, so good for me, my gorgeous wife.” His sweet words are a stark contrast to the Jake you knew a few moments ago, but you know it’s a safe response.

You feel safe and protected in his arms.

He pulls your full frame into his, his crisp shirt crinkling underneath you. You feel fleeting and soft kisses placed to your forehead repeatedly. Your breathing evens out and matches up to his.

“Lets get you cleaned up and then I’ll give my perfect wife all the love they deserve.”

taglist:

@tallrock35

@luckyladycreator2

[seresinhangmanjake]

His Princess

Jake Seresin x fem!reader drabble

Summary: You surprise Jake with some special Disney-themed lingerie.

Notes: its not smutty and it’s not crazy influenced by Disney. Just went on a trip and this popped into my head. This is a drabble for now but based on what people think, I might make it full-length.

Words: 361

---

The bra was a deep shade of purple with a scalloped neckline and pearls of varying sizes lining the edges; and the fabric of the underwear, what was there of it anyway, shimmered in emerald tones under the light. A thin layer of seafoam green silk fluttered at your hips when you walked toward him.

Jake's eyes bugged out of his skull as he scanned your form up and down, lips parting in awe before he licked them to return some of their moisture. "Holy hell."

"You like it?"

"Do I--" he chuckled, reaching out to rest his hand on your waist. His soft palm slowly slid up and down the curve of your body and he leaned forward to kiss the swell of each of your pushed-up breasts. "Oh, Honey, this is--" he pulled back to drink in another full look at you then met your eyes. "I'm so fucking spoiled," he said as you braced your hands on his shoulders to staddle his thighs. "What, uh, what else did you buy?"

"Oh, just some others," you teased. With a little shove he fell back on the bed and your body followed, your chest pressing firmly against his. You ran a finger over his bottom lip.

"R-Really?" He swallowed, adams apple bobbing harshly. Dark pupils were blown wide with lust and his hands skimmed down your spine until he could grab two handfuls of your ass. He squeezed with strong fingers to leave his mark in the form of some prints that would turn purple by morning, then held your hips still so he could grind his length against your core. You moaned lowly, the sound causing him to twitch in his underwear. "What others?" he asked.

You smirked and leaned down to nip at his earlobe. "Surprises," you whispered, and you chuckled at his whimper. "But one of them does come with a tiara. So now you can have a princess whenever you want."

He lightly smiled, eyes lazily trailing over the features of your face as he tucked some hair behind your ear. "You've always been my princess, beautiful," he said, pressing his lips sweetly to yours. "Always."

tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @teacupsandtopgun @himbos-on-ice @xoxabs88xox @happypopcornprincess @violyn20 @jordanturpen @buckymcu12 @jerseybagel @nagygreta @rintheemolion @coldmuffinbanditshoe @avengersgirllorianna @oliviah-25 @talkfastromance4 @ysl-bby @chibijusstuff @kmsryles343 @sky1004 @sometimesicryintheshower @cookielovesbook-akie @yanna-banana @taylahk109 

[ddejavvu]

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

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: 5.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

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

An uncomfortable nap taken out of sheer spite does nothing to improve your mood. Your neck is stiff now, as is your spine, and it pops when you stretch from your place on the tiny loveseat.

“Well, Sleeping Beauty has risen,” Jake grins, the cocky expression boiling your blood, “Ready for dinner, sunshine?”

“I’m going to push you off of this boat.” You grumble, and Jake blinks, toning his smile down into a grimace.

“Well, maybe some food’ll improve your mood.” Jake rises from where he’d been presumably sleeping as well, though you’re surprised he fell asleep after you and woke up before you. His bedhead gives him away, and he runs his fingers through it, “We’ve got a table reserved in the restaurant for 6, darlin’. We should get there a little early, though, wanna head out now?”

Your nose wrinkles involuntarily, though you wouldn’t have stopped it, “You reserved us a table? I’m not eating with you.”

“We eat together all the time,” He scoffs, “Come on, Y/L/N, this is no different from eating in the mess hall.”

“It’s different because everyone who sees us is either going to think we just had sex, or that we’re about to,” You protest, but he’s out of sympathy to feign.

“Or both,” He grins, running a hand once more through his slightly less messy hair. He’s still barely dressed, and it takes effort for your eyes not to naturally drift away from his face. 

“You’re usually wearing a uniform when we eat in the mess hall, Hangman,” You narrow your eyes at him, glancing pointedly below his neck to his bare chest, but straying no further, “Unless they’ve hired you to be a stripper on board, and I’m just now finding out?”

“Nah, I auditioned but they said I was too good,” He crosses his bulging biceps over his chest, a haughty smirk on his face, “I didn’t wanna steal any tips from the ladies.”

“Right,” You drawl, aiming to move past him to reach your suitcase that’s been mysteriously moved from beside your head to the side of the bed opposite from where Jake had been sleeping. Except, the man blocking your path doesn’t move, and you’re stuck in the small hallway-like space that the loveseat is squished into.

“Hangman,” Your teeth are gritted, and they warp your words slightly, “Move. I need my suitcase, I’m going to change for dinner.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with your dress,” He eyes the fabric with feigned consideration, “Except of course that it’s a little long. It only needs to go up to about here,” He snakes a hand towards your waist, laying two hefty smacks against the skin on your hip that lines up just beneath the curve of your ass. He moves faster than you can back away, but you land a valiant smack against his hand when he withdraws it, “Then you could join my stripping act.”

“Hangman, if you touch me again, I’ll rip off your balls,” You swear, but there’s still a glint of mischief far too bright in his eyes for your liking, so you shove past him, making sure to tap your knuckles gently between his legs for good measure.

He groans, hunching over and breathing heavily, “Shit, Y/L/N, you trying to take out the Seresin line?”

“It’s not that bad,” You drawl, setting your suitcase on the bed and delving into its contents, “But a world where you can’t reproduce sounds like one I want to live in.”

You’re already halfway to the bathroom, your evening dress in hand when he calls back, “You act all high and mighty now,” You can hear the grin that Jake’s voice indicates, even if he’s rummaging through his own suitcase for something to wear, “But later tonight I’m gonna have you beggin’ for me to knock you up, darlin’.”

Jake’s efforts to break into the bathroom you’re changing in are certainly impressive, if nothing else. He tries the knob at first, like you’d have forgotten to turn the lock before stripping naked. When you demand a reason he claims he’d forgotten his deodorant, which is a perfect excuse seeing as you miss no chances to point out his sweat-stench after training.

You spot the stick on the counter and give yourself the satisfaction of rolling your eyes, even if he’s not present to see it.

The second time he knocks, having learned his lesson, “Y/N, I need to pee.”

“I’m changing!” You cry, the straps on your dress proving impossible to untangle. Apparently being jostled in a suitcase wasn’t ideal for the dress’s shape.

“Changing what, seasons? By the time you get dressed our leave will be over, and you’re gonna have to get back into uniform.”

“If you’re so anxious to get to dinner, go by yourself!” You insist, frustration laced tight to your tone, “I’ll figure this fucking dress out, enjoy a leisurely meal, and then I’ll meet up with Daniel afterwards!”

You’re so used to Jake’s rapidfire quips that the silence ensuing after your declaration feels awkward. But it’s a victory, one that you don’t often win against the man outside the bathroom door, and you let it ease the sharp sting of annoyance that your dress is needling into you.

A fist lands heavy against the door, and Jake’s voice is unusually devoid of mirth, “Open up.”

“Jake, no!” You spit out his first name like a hex, “I fucking told you-”

“I’m going to help you,” He calls through the door, knocking incessantly, “Come on, you said you can’t figure out your dress, I’ll help you.”

“Nice try!” You scoff, finally pulling at the correct string and watching as the others fall into precarious place around them. You jab your arm into the hole it’s created and slip the rest of them into formation, standing triumphant in front of the mirror and realizing you look quite like you’ve had sex after all.

You smooth down a few flyaway hairs, grab Jake’s deodorant, and fling the door open, just as Jake flattens his hand to slam his palm into the wood, no doubt trying to make more noise than a simple knock.

You’re looking at his face, and he’s looking at yours, but both of you can feel his hand pressed firmly into your tit. You don’t doubt that he’d intended to hit the door instead of you, but he’s not moving away, either. You both stand paralyzed until his brain catches up with his body and he jerks his hand away, lashes fluttering as he blinks bewilderedly despite the wry grin purposefully etched into his features in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Didn’t mean to do that,” He simpers, and you’re certain that’s the closest to ‘I’m sorry’ he’s ever given you. You know him well enough to know he’s adequately flustered, but outsiders might not catch the barely-there pink tinge to his tan cheeks, too distracted by his charming smile.

You overlook the accident if only to save yourself the awkward confrontation, ducking your head and shoving the deodorant stick against his chest. His hands come up to catch it and you make a break for the heels you’d set out by the closet, intent on strapping them on instead of talking to him.

He mumbles a distracted, ‘Thanks,’ when you hand him his deodorant, but the stick remains firmly capped in his hands as his gaze trails after you.

“Your dress looks nice.” He concludes, voice a tone softer than it normally is. It’s- nice. You’re too used to the bite of his southern drawl, the way he pairs a cocky quip with an eye-roll more vicious than even the most belligerent teenager. Now they’re soft and gooey-brown as he stares at the straps on your shoulders. This isn’t the first kind thing he’s ever said to you, but it’s certainly the first in a long time, and you swallow the urge to use it against him.

“Thank you.” You grumble, then, to steer away from the thick silence you’ve been enveloped in, “Not sure it’s worth it, though, those straps were fucking confusing.”

You swear you hear a mumbled, ‘It was,’, but Jake’s back is turned to you as he sets his still-capped deodorant on the bathroom counter, so you can’t be sure.

You’re surprised to find that the elevator is just as empty as you’d left it when you and Jake board to head to the 9th floor. The restaurant Jake had reserved your table at is upscale, and you presume everyone else is too busy boning to manage a sit-down meal. You settle against the back wall of the elevator in silence, looking but not watching as Jake presses the 9 button with a thick finger.

The last time you were in this elevator, Daniel was backing you up against the railing and kissing you.

Just the thought brings heat to your cheeks, and you’re thankful for the support that the wall behind you offers. If it wasn’t there, you’re not sure your weak knees would withstand the crushing weight of your weighty crush.

“Was that where he sucked your face?” Jake’s voice shatters your reverie into a million tiny, unsalvageable pieces, and you forget any momentary truce that you might have had with him only moments ago.

“Excuse me?” You level a glare at the man across from you, unimpressed with his accusation even though it was accurate, “He did not suck my face. He kissed me like a gentleman.”

Jake lets out a bark of laughter, “Right. Because gentlemen smear a woman’s lipstick halfway over her chin.”

Despite knowing you’d have seen any makeup smudges when you’d been in the bathroom earlier, your hand darts to your chin.

Jake takes it as an admission of guilt, and his sharp grin only grows, “Exactly. I’ve sucked faces before, I know what the result is.”

A rather unsavory memory assaults you of Jake crowding a vacationing New Yorker up against a wall of the Hard Deck. You push away the nauseating burning in your chest at the image, intent on never seeing Jake Seresin’s tongue inside of anyone’s mouth but his own again.

“You suck faces,” You conclude, still slightly bothered by what you’d recalled, “Daniel kisses.”

“Daniel,” Jake snorts, grasping for something to tease, “That’s not a very moan-able name, is it?”

“Neither is Jake,” You retort, “Jake sounds like a toddler running loose at the mall.”

“That’s why the ladies call me Hangman,” Jake grins, his eyes narrowed in an attempt at a smirk, “Well, some of ‘em call me Hungman by the end of the night.”

“Oh,” Your face twists into a grimace, and you’re thankful for the dinging of the elevator, “You’re not allowed to talk at dinner.”

“Only way you’ll get me to shut up is if you gag me, darlin’.” Jake laughs, stepping out of the elevator and following behind you even as you storm ahead towards the entrance to the dining room.

It’s an opulent room, chandeliers and crystal adorning every surface. You slow your pace before you reach the reception desk, so that the poor employee doesn’t think you’re going to vault over the counter and attack him, but you’re fairly certain there’s still a scowl on your face when you attempt to speak with him.

“We have a table reserved,” You inform the man, conscious of Jake’s impressive build lingering behind you, present and firm, “Room 838?”

With a quick few buttons pressed on the screen before him, the host nods, customer service smile on full force as he gestures to his left, “Of course, right this way.”

You let him lead, and you try not to get distracted by the grandiose decor. Whether it’s authentic material, or just plastic spray-painted gold, it’s beautiful, and you’re so absent-minded that you don’t acknowledge your table until you’re stopped in front of it.

“Here you are; have a lovely meal.” The man politely excuses himself, heading back to the front to greet whoever else is waiting to be checked in for their tables.

You’d been too overwhelmed by finding out that your hot sexy mystery man was actually your brutally combative fellow pilot to think about what dinner would entail beyond heated bickering. He’d drawn a comparison to the mess hall and your brain had run with it, but this is decidedly different from the drab benches you’re used to.

This is a small, delicate, round table, a white tablecloth draped elegantly overtop. It’s two candles, giving off a small aura of warm light around the dim restaurant, crystalline dishes framed with polished silverware. It’s an enclosed space, it’s knees brushing and eyes twinkling with candlelight, it’s electric shocks when skin meets skin. It’s romantic by design, and you refuse to share it with Hangman.

But you can’t refuse.

The waitstaff is limited and overworked, evidenced by the mountain of covered trays you see them rushing to different tables. It would be rude to storm out, and while you’re not worried about offending Jake, you don’t want to inconvenience the staff.

Jake sniffs out your internal conflict by only a glance at your stiff stance, a skill he’s acquired after years of working out the perfect way to get under your skin. He can read you like a book, and he knows fury and guilt are waging war in your head right now.

You’d like to think he thought fury would win, but it’s guilt in the end. You step towards your chair, reaching out with two fingers to pinch the candle on your side of the table. The flame snuffs out beneath your touch, and the mild burning sensation is worth it to hear Jake scoff.

“Nicely done, killer,” He drawls, sounding offensively unperturbed by your obvious dislike of him. To your complete and utter indignance he reaches behind your back to pull the chair out from it’s seat, offering it to you as a peace treaty.

You are not a peaceful person, not when it comes to Hangman.

You take the opposite seat, maintaining sharp eye contact with Jake as you sit down. He inhales, and you take satisfaction in the puff of his chest, a telltale sign that he’s beginning to get aggravated. He lowers himself into his own seat, but notices the way your hand darts for the one candle that’s still lit, and he snatches it out of your way before you can snuff it out. It causes the silverware on the table to rattle, and you and Jake are required to send placatingly charming smiles to the people at nearby tables who turned at the commotion.

He turns that once-dazzling grin on you like a weapon as he relights the blackened wick of the candle you’d pinched, letting it burn once more to illuminate his features.

You don’t waste a second in snuffing it out again, “The point was so that I didn’t have to see your ugly face.”

“You are the most charming dinner guest I’ve ever had the pleasure of dining with,” Jake croons, unflappable as ever, “Put your napkin on your lap, Y/N, it’ll keep your dress dry when you’re drooling over me.”

You take ash-stained fingers and leave streaky, dark prints on the white cloth napkin, draping it over your lap and folding your hands neatly over it.

“Careful, Hangman,” You warn, your voice low and your face deceptively cheery as you nod kindly at a passing waiter, “They gave me two different knives to stab you with.”

“God, why are you so pissy?” He asks, and for a moment, you don’t know the answer. It catches you off guard, and that’s never supposed to happen, not around Hangman. He speaks again before you have the chance to respond- typical.

“So, we ended up on the same sex boat. Whatever, Y/L/N, shit happens.” His jaw is tense, fraught with annoyance while his eyes blaze like the jet engines he’s so used to gunning, “I’m just teasing, y’know. You know me, I’m not a monster, I’m not going to force you to have sex with me. If you don’t want to, then we won’t, and that’s that. You don’t have to keep snapping at me, I won’t bite you.”

It’s possibly the most heartfelt, sincere thing that Hangman has ever said to you, albeit in exasperation, and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that. Your rapport with the man has always been full of quips and jabs, nothing like what he’s just unleashed. You’d known he must have had a soft side, but you thought perhaps he’d left it back in Texas, because this is something new. You see a waiter approaching from behind Jake and smile politely at them, clueing your dinner date in to their appearance.

“Unless you want me to,” Jake adds with an insufferable wink, using the last few seconds that you’re able to speak freely to tease you. 

“Welcome,” The waiter smiles, once more with that impeccably tuned customer service politeness as he hands a wine list to Jake, “What can I get started for you this evening?”

As much as you hate to admit it, Jake’s teasing quip is familiar, a well-worn blanket you find comfort shrouding yourself in, and it breaks the awkward tension that had arisen when Hangman had spoken so sincerely towards you.

You don’t dare let a smile grace your features, but one tries; instead you settle for a kick to his shin beneath the elegant white tablecloth.

“We’ll have- mm! The- uh, the…” Jake trails off, eyes roving down the selection and realizing too late that he’s more attuned to cheap liquor in a beachside bar than he is to elegant pairings of food and wine. He recovers quickly, that special brand of Seresin charm, grinning across the table at you, “Actually, we’d like it if you surprised us. Money’s no object,” He throws in a grotesquely over-the-top wink, “Just make it special for my roommate here.”

Your teeth ache as you grind them together in a smile, and you swear you can feel your right eye begging to twitch, “How considerate of you, Jake.”

“Anything for you, dear,” He replies easily, accepting two dinner menus from the waiter and thanking him. You maintain the common courtesy of waiting until the poor man is out of earshot before tearing into Jake, and he’s lucky he’s got both of the menus still in his hands, or you’d smack him upside the head with one.

“I’m not paying out of my ass to get drunk at a candlelight dinner with you.” You hiss, courteous of the other patrons, but barely able to contain yourself.

“No, you’re not.” He agrees, blinking like he’s not sure why you’re close to shouting, “I am.”

“That’s- ooh!” You fume, eyes clamped shut and jaw so tight it hurts. You take a second to breathe, “Hangman, you know damn well I don’t like owing you money.”

You have a very strict no-loans policy, though it only applies to yourself. You have no problem spotting Natasha for a few drinks, or treating Javy to animal fries at In-N-Out, but you’d rather die than let someone use their dollar for your snack at a vending machine. Feeling like you owe something makes your skin crawl, and it’s something your friends have all had to accept. All, of course, except for Hangman, who seems to delight in making your skin crawl.

“You don’t owe me money,” He laughs, taking a sip of the glass of ice water that had been waiting at his place on the table, “And you don’t owe me anything else either, darlin’. I’m paying for the wine.”

“Then I’m not drinking it,” You decide, still caught in your blustering fury, “I’m too tired to deal with your bullshit - you can mill around the ship and beg some poor woman to drink with you, and I’ll go back to our cabin and sleep.”

You wish that the man across from you wasn’t so adept at setting your nerves on fire. You chalk it up to years and years of flying together, at each other’s throats despite being on the same team, but Jake really is able to infuriate you with something as simple as a grin. The way that hollow manipulation glazes over his eyes each time he doles out a charming smile makes your chest burn, and you wish you could get a handle on your frustration. It’s embarrassing, really, that he knows how to pick you apart and induce insanity; you wish you improved at resisting him through practice, but that’s not how it works. It only gets worse, worse and worse and worse until you’re sitting across from him at a candlelit table, yearning to whack him over the head with a black-foldered menu.

“Fine,” Jake snorts, setting the glass down in the wet indent it had made on the tablecloth before, condensation beading at its base, “You don’t have to have any. But you have to take me back to our room - if I get wine drunk, you’ll have to stop me from kissing everyone.”

The startling admission does exactly what Jake intended it to, and you’re caught off guard, the rapidly ticking bomb of frustration inside your chest temporarily disarmed. 

“You’re a drunk kisser?”

“A winedrunk kisser, yes ma’am,” Jake nods, the ammunition he supplies you with a far cry from his typically competitive nature, “First and only time I’ve ever had wine was at my sister’s wedding a few years back.” He reminisces, still holding tight to both menus as candlelight flickers on his tanned face, “She wasn’t necessarily thrilled that I started kissin’ on the groom, but I looked good in the veil when the photographer came around.”

He’s good-natured about the snort you let out in response, and finally he offers the menu to you like an olive branch, “You gonna whack me with this thing?”

“How’d you know I wanted to?” You arch an eyebrow, taking the menu from him. Prices aren’t listed - the cost of your meals was included with the boarding pass, but extras like drinks are something you’ll need to pay a tab on later. Nevertheless, the food looks to be worth your money.

“You get this look in your eye when you’re feelin’ feisty,” Jake notes, taking a look at his own menu, “Your jaw gets all tight, and I start gettin’ the urge to cover my crotch.”

Today was not the first time you’ve ever whacked him in the balls; evidently he does learn, even if he chooses not to apply that knowledge.

You neglect to respond, no longer irritated enough to tell Jake that he’s deserved every hit he’s taken from you, but never vulnerable enough to apologize. Instead you bury yourself in the menu, appreciating the array of cuisine that you’re not often treated to on a naval base. 

Jake lets you remain silent until the waiter comes back with the wine that he’d ordered, and you nod in thanks with a poorly-concealed clenched jaw to the man when he pours you a glass.

“That looks wonderful, thank you,” Jake gushes, eyes slightly narrowed as he raises his glass to his nose, inhaling the aroma wafting from the wine that he swirls gently, “Smell that, darlin’, ain’t it good?”

You reach for your portion with tense fingers that nearly shatter the stem of the glass as they wrap around it. The scent of the wine is oh-so-tempting; surely Jake’s objective for getting you to smell it was to wear you down into tasting it.

You won’t give in.

“Smells fantastic,” You concede, and if the waiter’s realized he’s in the lion’s den, pinned between two aggressors ready to rip into each other’s throats once more, he doesn’t show it. He merely bows, stepping away again and leaving the bottle on your table.

“That’s good,” Jake muses nonchalantly after a sip, glancing down at the menu in his lap as if you’ll believe he’s perusing it instead of plotting a way to make you explode at the table. 

“Well I’m glad you like it, because you’ve got a whole bottle to finish,” You snipe, “I’m not a toddler, Jake, you can’t trick me into eating my broccoli by pretending it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Who said anything about tricking you?” He leans back in his chair, wine set back on the table, “Y/N, I can enjoy a nice glass of wine without it being about you, thank you very much. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you, and you’re not the only thing I think about.”

You’re more than used to Jake’s accusations of your egocentrism, not because it’s true, but because it’s what he defaults to whenever he can’t think of a response, but is too stubborn to let the issue go. They don’t worry you anymore like they used to, but they do irritate you, and you’re glad for the deep, smooth voice that calls your name from your left to distract you from Jake’s insults.

You know it before you turn; Daniel is there with his roommate. She’s gorgeous, her dark hair intricately braided and styled, a compliment to her skin that’s only a shade lighter, and you’re only slightly jealous of the way his arm is draped around her middle. You quell it by reminding yourself that you’d frenched him in an elevator only hours after meeting him, and this is a cruise meant for casual sex.

Perhaps your voice is a notch too sincere when you greet him, “Daniel.”

You miss it, your attention fixed on the couple approaching your table, but a muscle jumps in Jake’s jaw as it tightens. 

“Well, I guess you’re all some people think about,” Jake drawls, his grin now wolfish and lethal, and while your voice was slightly too kind, his voice is slightly the opposite, scathing in a way, “So you’re- uh, Elevator Boy?”

Daniel’s slight smirk is bashful where he bites the inside of his cheek and nods, “I guess that’s accurate. I- uh, I hope you don’t mind.”

“He doesn’t,” You reply before Jake can conjure up any more misplaced snark, “We’re not hooking up.”

Daniel’s brows furrow for only a split second, a confused reaction he hadn’t been able to politely mask in time. His roommate glances back at Jake, and the knit of her brow is less fleeting; clearly she’s thinking you’re out of your mind for not fucking him.

“Random roommates don’t always work out, I guess,” Daniel smooths over the awkward silence that’s befallen your table, and you want to kiss him for it. Well, you want to kiss him regardless, but now you’re positively fiending for a repeat of earlier.

“He’s my coworker,” You explain, “We really can’t.”

“Oh!” He laughs, and his roommate seems equally amused by your poor fortune, “That’s crazy, and- there’s no changing roommates, is there?”

“She’s stuck with me,” Jake continues aiming that deadly grin towards Daniel, and you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on fire yet. 

“Well, if you ever want to switch for a night,” Daniel squeezes his roommate’s side, his fingers ghosting over her exposed skin in the cutout dress she’s sporting, “I’m not an idiot; Danica’s ogling you.”

You marvel at the friendly banter they share after only a few hours of knowing each other, but Daniel seems fantastic to get along with. Danica laughs at his teasing and manages to look barely bashful when she nods at you, “I wasn’t gonna say anything when I thought you two were enjoying yourselves, but I’d be happy to step in if you wanna get lucky for a night.” 

“That sounds great,” You jump at the offer, but Jake speaks at the same time, voice a hair louder than your own.

“We’re not interested.” He dismisses Danica’s offer but he looks at Daniel to do it, something dangerous gleaming in his eyes that you’re only used to seeing on the tarmac.

A laugh escapes your throat, horridly disguised as something casual and not your breaking point, “Oh, we aren’t interested? I am.”

Jake blinks, shifting his sharp gaze towards you, “No switching rooms, Y/N.”

“That’s for official placements,” You sit up straighter in your chair, turned fully towards Jake now instead of angled towards Daniel, “But they’re not gonna come check on us at two in the morning to make sure we’re all in our bunks. We can swap for a night.”

“I don’t know why you’re fighting so hard for a night in his bed, the elevator seemed to work just fine. Maybe Danica and I can have a few drinks tonight, and you can slip off and defile floors 1-4.”

“That’s not-” You’re hot on Jake’s trail, intent on defending Daniel and pointing out the hypocrisy in Jake’s scathing statements, but a firm hand falls on your shoulder that silences you. Daniel’s grip is firm, but not painful, more grounding as his touch practically sucks the fire out of your veins and replaces it with calm.

“I think drinks after dinner are a great idea.” Daniel speaks coolly, with all the perfect composure you wish you had around Jake, instead of the barrel of gunfire perpetually smoldering inside of you.

“Me too,” You add, and one of Jake’s eyebrows ticks up.

“Really? I thought you said you were going to bed after this. Something about being too tired to deal with-”

“Your bullshit, Hangman.”

What you engage in next would preferably be described as a battle of wills, but to the outside eye, might look like a staring contest. It’s your vicious glare against Jake’s lazy grin, eyes alight with mischief as he does what he does best - piss you off.

“We’ll plan on drinks, then,” Danica breaks the ice, and you’re grateful for the tones of her sweet voice, “There’s a bar on the ninth deck, do you want to meet there?”

“That sounds great,” You hope she takes your kind smile for what it is; gratitude, “We’ll head there when we’re finished with our food.”

“Right,” Daniel nods, squeezing your shoulder and letting go, taking Danica by the waist once more to lead her to the table their water had pointed at, “See you then.”

Whatever farewell you murmur is lost in the general hubbub of the restaurant, something that you wish would happen to the grating tone of Jake’s drawl.

“So,” He muses, playing coy, but you won’t have it, “You’re not tired anymore?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” You steel yourself, inhaling and letting your chest puff with the breath, “But whatever you’re doing here; trying to ruin this for me just for shits and giggles - it’s gotta stop. I’ll leave you alone, and you can fuck as many people as you want on this ship, okay? You can have what you came here for, a week-long hookup, and all I’m asking in return is for one chance. I just want one. fucking. chance. to enjoy myself. Okay?”

His eyes cloud over throughout the duration of your speech, and it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. It’s unsettling, like something’s dimming his spirit, though you can’t tell what. You’ve quipped back at him before, practically every time he’s ever teased you. But perhaps he’s just as unsettled with your newfound sincerity as you were with his, because his face settles into a hesitant expression. You press on.

“You told me earlier that you’re just teasing me, and that you’re not a monster. If that’s true, then leave me alone.”

He looks wounded only by a slight twitch of his eye; perhaps the prospect of being around you and not lunging teeth-bared at your throat is too much to bear. But he nods, slow and rickety like the joints in his neck protest the movement, “Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” You respond stiffly, glad for the menu in your lap as it provides an easy out for you; you’re not sure if you can stand looking him in the eyes. You’re afraid you’ll see disappointment there, perhaps real dislike, and you don’t want to find out that the only reason he speaks to you is to mess around with you. You’re content in feeling like you’re friends as well, and if he gives himself away now that you’ve asked him to ease up on the teasing, you’re not sure you’ll enjoy yourself at all on this vacation, no matter how much cheap, distracting sex you have. The truth of the matter is that you value the blossom of his friendship no matter how thorny it can be, and you’re not sure if he’s capable of playing nice without an occasional bite. 

You’re sure things will go back to normal on the weathered tarmac, but until then, bobbing along on ocean waves, you want Jake Seresin to be your friend, not your frenemy. If he’s incapable, you want no part of him.

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

[kryptonitejelly]

Three times Jake takes on the role of your knight in shining armour. Jake Seresin x reader - I’ve imagined this in the Flyboy!universe but you don’t have to read that to read this.

College Flyboy

“12 o clock,” Jake hears you mumble into his ear as you reach up to circle your hands around his neck. Jake’s hands drop around your waist instantly, almost like a reflex as he cuts off from the conversation which he was having with the group of his teammates. They are used to it by now, Jake being distracted and dropping everything for you, so they pay him no mind, picking up easily from where he had left off.

“What am I looking at,” you can detect a current of concern, laced with a hard edge, as Jake’s eyes fan out to the background behind you, scanning over the cluster of faces in the bar to his 12 o clock direction.

“Guy in the blue shirt,” you say, hands still curled around his neck, your body taking a small shuffle until you are pressed flushed against Jake’s chest, “couldn’t shake him so I told him I had to get back to my boyfriend. Pretend, please.”

Your tone has a desperate quality to it, a sign to Jake that the blue shirt chump had been aggressive, likely he had been slimy as well.

“I got you,” Jake’s voice is almost a growl, as he catches sight of the said offender who sees you in Jake’s arm but continues to approach. He looks to be about a similar age range, but doesn’t seem to be from the same college as you both. Jake takes in the red tinge blossoming over the stranger’s cheeks, the wild look in his slightly bloodshot eyes - definitely not sober.

The stranger stops just behind you and opens his mouth to speak but is immediately cut off by Jake who simultaneously holds you tighter but doesn’t bother turning because by hell is he going to even allow the man to touch a single hair on your head. He feels your hands curl around the collar of his shirt as you turn your head to rest your cheek against his shoulder, your lips just ghosting the side of his neck. He identifies your attempt to get closer to him, to get safe, while playing into the ruse.

“Fuck off,” Jake is blunt, to the point and loud. Loud enough that it makes his teammates drop their conversation to collectively take in the sight that is unfolding. They don’t move to back Jake up because they know he’s got this, but they find themselves observing in case he does need back up. It isn’t the first time they’ve seen this happen, Jake playing the role of doting boyfriend to ward of unwanted male attention.

“Just wanted to see if she really had the boyfriend she conveniently pulled out at the last minute.”

“Seen enough?” Jake responds cooly, his gaze not leaving the other man’s. His hold on you doesn’t falter. Jake turns his head just slightly, gaze unwavering as he lets his lips brush the side of your head in an outward display of affection.

“Alright man,” the stranger holds both hands of in defeat, shrugging before walking away with an unsteady gait. His teammates resume their conversation, amused smirks on their face.

Jake doesn’t let you go until he has disappeared from sight, woven back into the crowd.

“He’s gone,” he says with a squeeze to your waist, but Jake doesn’t let go of you; not even when you unfurl your arms from around his neck. It causes you to be standing, body still flush against Jake, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to Jake’s cheek, and he finds thinking for a fleeting moment what would happen if he moved his head to capture your lips with his.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” is what Jake says before he finally lets you go.

-

Pre Flyboy

Jake hears it before he sees you. The uncomfortable fake laugh you throw out catches his attention one supermarket aisle away. It makes his brows furrow slightly and he turns on his heel to follow the sound of your voice, his search for cornstarch forgotten.

Jake’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the problem - a man standing slightly too close to you, his gaze openly dropping down to the your ass which is clad in a pair of workout tights, tracing each of your curves.

“I know a fantastic coffee place near my apartment,” he leers openly, his gaze moving up your body to meet your eyes. Jake sees you attempting to inch away.

“Hey babe, I couldn’t find the cornstarch,” is what Jake says, loudly as he is beside you in a flash, his arm coming around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side, all while placing himself as a human barrier between you and what he’s termed in his head to now be the grocery store pervert.

He sees relief in your eyes as you tuck yourself further into his hold by sliding your arm around his middle before tucking a palm into his back pocket

“You can never find the cornstarch,” is what Jake hears you say with a laugh as you look at him through your lashes with a look thats bordering on smitten - staged, he knows, but it makes his heart skip a beat.

“Help me?” He says as he begins to steer you away by your shoulders, but not before shifting both your bodies so that he is now positioned behind you, his hand on the small of your back, shielding you from further unwanted attention.

Jake throws a glance behind his shoulder, his green eyes steely and swirling with anger. He catches the eye of the grocery store perv who, taking in the way Jake’s biceps bunch under the sleeve of his t-shirt, has turned a shade paler than before.

“Thank you,” is what you say with a visible shudder as you both round the corner.

“Anytime darlin,” Jake says, his hand still on the small of your back while leaning towards you to let his lips brush against the side of your hair.

-

Post Flyboy

“Would you like to grab a coffee?”

“I don’t think so,” you say with a shake of your head and a polite smile.

“What about a drink another time?”

“I -,” you open your mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice that carries your way. You turn to see Jake walking towards you, a coffee cup in each hand.

“Hey baby,” he says, too loudly, large smile on his face. Jake maintains the smile as he walks towards you, but you see his gaze dart fleetingly to the man beside you.

“Sorry,” you say, flashing the man a look. You don’t get a chance to see his reaction, or the moment he walks away because Jake reaches you, his lips meeting yours immediately in a kiss that borders on being just a bit too much for being in public on a Saturday morning.

“He was actually harmless,” you say when Jake finally pulls away from you. You let your eyes flicker open, face feeling slightly heated from the kiss.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead before handing you your coffee, “I quite like playing the role of knight in shining armour.”

[writing-until-i-drop]

Gummy Bears | Comfort Drabble wc: 438

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

You and Jake are on a road trip to visit his sister and you have the most important job, passenger princess.

Warnings! A little suggestive, allusions to smut but no smut, fluffy and domestic

Requested by @closetspngirl

You leaned your head against the window, watching the scenery go by in a blur. Jake had insisted that instead of flying to see his sister in New Mexico, the two of you should drive the 700 miles instead.

The thought of a 12 hour drive hadn't been appealing at first but Jake knew how to convince you. Sitting in his truck in the Hard Deck parking lot he had pulled you into his lap, kissing you senseless before lavishing your neck with attention, bruising the delicate skin while your noises filled the cab. Knowing you were putty in his hands, that's when Jake asked,

"Don't you want to be my passenger princess, darlin'?" When you finally gave in, he made sure you had nothing but good memories of the passenger seat (and the backseat just to be safe).

Now you were curled into yourself in the passenger seat with one of Jake's larger hands resting on your thigh, fighting off a yawn and failing.

"Take a nap, darlin',"

"M'not tired." You spotted a sign for one of the nicer gas stations, "Get off here, baby. I just need some sugar."

"I can give you some sugar," Jake dropped his voice making you giggle.

"Shut up," He laughed as you batted his hand off your thigh for wandering too far and took the exit as requested.

Jake guided you into the gas station, his hand in your back pocket. He kept himself pressed against your back, making sure no one even thought about coming near you and even though it was a tad over protective, you loved it. Jake was always like this in new places, not trusting strangers anywhere near you.

"What does my girl want for her snack, hmm?" He kissed your neck as you debated your options.

"I'm between the gummy bears and the M&Ms." Jake grabbed both and guided you towards the drinks,

"Is there a reason you're rushing me, Lieutenant?" He squeezed your ass,

"Just want to get back on the road and to our hotel room."

"We'd be there by now if we had flown," You laughed, grabbing two waters and a soda from the coolers. "But no, someone just haaaaaad to drive." Jake shook his head at you, stealing a chaste kiss that left you wanting more as he paid and pulled you back to the truck.

Despite the candy and caffeine, you fell asleep not long later with Jake's hand holding yours, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles. When you woke up a few hours later you blindly reached for your gummy bears, only to find the pack empty.

"Jacob!"

[withahappyrefrain]

I ALMOST MISSED THIS?!

“You’re a sweetheart” “Believe me, I’m really not” + Jake Seresin pls? 🥰

FE YES THIS IS SO HIM also would you like a little Jake and Venus AU? We got some language and sub!Jake here aka my favorite

Jake Seresin had a routine.

Step one, find who he wanted to talk to have for the night. Not someone who was clinging to the corner (they were for Bob), but also not the life of the party. He didn't like to share.

Step two, make eye contact. Sometimes Jake would be able to make it happen with the power of his lustful stare. Sometimes it meant playing pool at a different table or going up to the bar.

Tonight it meant going up to the bar, to order his drink loudly, ramping up his accent and 'yes m'am's to Penny. He didn't mind, he loved the spotlight.

Once eye contact was made, he could move on to step three. Bring her a drink.

He noticed she had ordered a gin and tonic at the bar. Jake practically strutted to her table, feeling confident that he would be walking out of here with the woman of the night in less than an hour.

"Howdy darlin'. I've always been told a lady should never have an empty glass. May I?" Jake pointed to her first drink, which was nearly empty.

She pursed her red painted lips together, looking Jake up and down, as if deciding whether he should be allowed to stay. At least, that's how Jake felt under her strong gaze. He tried not to falter, fighting the urge to close his free hand into a fist.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was seductive, dripping with honey like a trap to lure Jake in.

"Aren't you a sweetheart?" Her coy smile gave Jake the confidence to sit down at her table. Though, he couldn't help but chuckle at her words.

"Believe me doll, I'm really not," it was said with a wink as he handed her the drink.

"Oh, I think you are," she winked back, causing Jake's heart to skip a beat, "However, I'm not a doll."

"Then what shall I call you? I was also thinking Goddess," Jake smirked.

She playfully rolled her eyes, "Sorry to break it to ya, but you aren't the first to call me that. My name actually means Venus."

Venus. How fitting, with her full lips and big eyes and hair full of curls. Jake couldn't think of a better name. If she was Venus, he would be her Mars, her fiery, passionate lover.

Just for tonight.

"I'm Jake," he stuck his hand out. He was a gentleman, after all.

She hesitated, just long enough to see his large hand begin to tremble before taking it.

Her skin was soft, though her grip was firm. She never broke eye contact, holding her own. This woman, this goddess, was different, confident. Jake couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't out on the dance floor or talking to other pilots.

"So Venus, what brings you here? Other than faith," He asked with a charming smile.

"Work was hell and my coworkers kept saying I should go here to blow off some steam," she shrugged, "I'm just looking for a sweet man."

Jake leaned back in his chair. Her words didn't match her mischievous tone. And there was that word again, sweet.

Sweet was not what anyone had ever used to describe him. Hot, charming, driven, successful. But never sweet.

"Well Venus," he shrugged as he looked up at her, "I don't know if I can offer you that. But what I can offer is a night you'll never forget."

"Shouldn't sell yourself short, Lieutenant," she giggled before taking another sip of her cocktail, "But why don't we just see where the night takes us?"

Jake expected the night to end one of two ways; either on top of her or going home with someone else.

What he didn't expect was to be underneath her in his car, her manicured fingers stroking his cock as he whined into her neck.

"That's it," She encouraged, "You deserve it. Been so fucking sweet to me."

Jake groaned, not caring if the whole bar heard him. He continued mouthing at her breasts, not caring about the tank top she had on.

"Made me cum with your fingers, let me get off on your thigh," She admired the stain he now had on his khaki pants, "What will your teammates think Lieutenant?"

"Don't....Fuckin' care," Jake gritted between his teeth, hips jerking up towards her.

"I knew you were a sweetheart. Makes up for your ugly as sin car," Venus chuckled.

Jake didn't care about her comment on his car. Truth be told, he didn't care too much about whether he came or not.

Truth was, he was too busy thinking of what engagement ring to get his Venus.

[i314flix]

the one where jake seresin likes to call it ‘welfare checks’ whenever he’s checking how you are—but let’s be real, everyone knows that it’s only an excuse he uses because he can’t seem to erase the uneasiness he feels whenever he knows you’re not fine.

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, enemies to lovers au; ft. naval aviator!reader

warning/s: swearing, alcohol consumption, making out, sexual innuendos, daddy issues(?), mentions of feeling pressured, mentions of drunk driving (nobody drunk drives here though), mention of a near death experience, most likely wrong info about naval aviators and the nature of their job sksks i'm sorry this is strictly fiction okAY

opening note. idk how this ended up being almost 6k LMAO. but anyways, i was so inspired to write this one scene (which you can read below) and ended up just adding so many details and back story that now here we are???? hope you guys like it though! jake seresin brain rot is real and i'm admittedly a goner for—as glen once put it—navy draco malfoy 😭

Jake knocks on your door three times, patiently waiting and looking around the street as if he’s afraid that someone followed him here. He knows that it’s unwise to be at your doorstep at this hour, but he was done eavesdropping and subtly asking around about your absence, bothered that it’s been almost a week and you haven’t been attending training like you should be. He heard Phoenix tell Bob that you were taking a short break because of the near-death experience you had while flying along the course last time, in fact almost quitting entirely if it weren’t for Maverick who instead offered you to breathe for a few days and then come back to see if you still wanted out of the mission. You were considered by your fellow TOPGUN graduates to be one of the captain’s top candidates to lead the mission, so Jake understood why Maverick didn’t let you off the hook that easily.

A few seconds pass and he contemplates on knocking again or leaving, deeming this idea as ridiculous—but then he sees the lights open and you’re peeking through the curtain of the small window beside your front door, disappearing again only to unlock the dozen locks on your door and opening it to greet Jake who meets your gaze immediately.

“What the hell are you doing here?” is the first thing you say, flummoxed by his presence. You and him aren’t exactly the closest among the crew, and there have been several times in which you’ve displayed how annoyed you were by everything Jake either says or does.

“I’m visiting you,” he answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t been in training for a week now. Are you quitting or something?”

You stare at him, appearing in deep thought or perhaps attempting to read his mind, and suddenly, you’re closing the door.

Jake widens his eyes in surprise but is quick to extend a hand out to prevent you from doing so.

“Really?” he complains. “You’re going to slam the door in my face?”

“Look, Hangman,” you begin, sighing and making your tired state known, “if you’re here to give me shit, don’t, because I have no will to show you the patience I typically have on a normal basis.”

“I’m not here to give you shit.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“I told you—I’m visiting.”

“For what? To make sure that I’m not going back so that Maverick can assign you as team leader?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, I’m here to make sure you’re doing okay. I heard you’re doing fine, but I just wanted to see it for myself.”

You’re quiet again, and you revert back to staring at him, as if you’re waiting for him to admit that this is just some prank. Jake doesn’t say anything though, he just returns your stare, appearing sincere for once, worried and waiting for you to realize that he’s not aiming to piss you off every time an opportunity presents itself.

You open the door wider. “Now you see me.”

“You doing good?”

“I’m doing good,” you affirm. “Just… I don’t know. Going through some stuff. Mixed thoughts—feelings—I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“I’m here and it’s past 11 p.m.,” he says. “If I didn’t want to be bothered, I would have done this welfare check another time.”

You snort at the term he used in visiting you. “Are you sure? You don’t peg me as a good listener, to be honest. I don’t want to pour my heart out and end up listening to your life story instead.”

“I’m not like that. I could be a good listener if I tolerate the person enough.”

“You hate me, though.”

He laughs. “I don’t hate you, Goldie.”

Goldie. Jake liked your call sign because he liked the way you scowled whenever he was the one who utters it. The story behind the name was that your very first squadron saw a picture of you wearing these ridiculous platform gold sneakers when they were snooping around your Facebook profile, finding a photograph taken years ago by your mother at some family gathering you no longer remember. Eventually the joke turned into them calling you Goldie, and when the callsign review board was held, every member of the squadron voted for it to be your call sign and got it approved.

“I find that hard to believe,” you say. 

“I just like driving you insane,” he admits with a smirk, and now you’re more reminded of the Hangman you know. “It gives me great pleasure to get under your skin. You never know how to fake that look on your face whenever you’re mad—it’s very funny.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Sure.” He shrugs.

The edges of your mouth twitch. “Fine, come in. I have beer. Or wine if that’s what you prefer.”

Jake contemplates about it—because like what he thought of earlier when he arrived on your porch, it’s unwise to be here. It wasn’t like in TOPGUN or the Hard Deck wherein there were other people around you for him to always be cautious of his actions; he’s afraid that he slips up or let his repressed romantic interest in you get the best of him since he has you alone.

At the same time however, he just didn’t care enough about the consequences for him to miss this chance of getting to know you better. 

“Beer would be nice,” he tells you as he steps inside.

You nod and turn to head to the kitchen.

The house is a standard bungalow. When you walk in, you’re met with the living room, and then a few steps away from that is the kitchen. On the left side of the house, there’s a hallway leading to what Jake assumed to be the bedroom and washroom. He takes a seat on the sofa upon your instruction, scanning his surroundings and taking in the actuality of the situation he allowed himself to be in.

“Here you go.” You hand him an opened beer and he mutters his thanks, watching you go to the chair near him and plop down.

There’s silence, the two of you just drinking. You engage in small talk for a while, conversing about the most trivial things and matters that he’s not that even keen to know. The topic bounces on and on, until he can’t help but finally break it, impatient now and wanting to know what’s really been going on with you for the past few days.

You smile, amused by his little outburst. “You really want to talk about what’s bothering me?”

“I'm certainly not here to drink and talk about how hot it is on the beach.” He points out. “Just get on with it. You don’t have to tell me your whole life story. Just tell me why you’ve been gone since the accident.”

He catches you wince at the mention of an accident. “I’m resting.”

“You’re resting?”

“Yeah. It’s what Maverick wants me to do. He insists that I take a breather and then go back once I’m feeling better.”

“And have you been feeling better?”

“No,” you admit. “Actually, I…” you hesitate, flickering your eyes to Jake who’s listening intently. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You’re the last person I should be—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I know. But that’s the thing, Hangman,” you say. “I think I have to tell someone about it or else I’ll end up more conflicted about the whole thing. And you know what? You might actually be the right person for this.”

“How come?”

“Because I don’t give a damn whether I have  your approval or not.”

He scoffs out a laugh. “Wow. Thanks, I guess?”

You grin; you loved teasing him as much as he did the same to you. “I’m planning to quit.”

His hand halts as he’s raising it to get another sip of the beer. He didn’t expect you to drop the bomb that quickly. “What?”

“I want to quit.”

“Because of what? Because of a near death experience? I know your record, and this isn’t even the first time you experience an occurrence that involved—”

“It’s the third time,” you clarify before he’s even done speaking. “I promised myself I’d quit if I almost ended up dead three times.”

“That sounds ridiculous. You know that, right?”

“I never wanted to be a fighter pilot, Hangman.” You confess and he’s stunned by the revelation.

It seemed impossible and untrue. You graduated at the top of your class and you have the reputation of being one of the best in the field. Your leadership skills were top tier, your flying was superb, and you were fearless in the face of danger. He didn’t understand how a person who didn’t want this occupation to have all those qualities and be an overall amazing naval aviator.

“You’re lying,” he says, not knowing how to reply to that other than accusing you of being a liar.

You lean back on your chair, bringing your feet up and holding your knees together. “It’s because of my dad. It’s the typical shit you hear about a daughter wanting her dad’s approval. He’s just… he used to be a fighter pilot himself—and then he got into an accident, lost one of his legs after it happened, and got forced to retire.” You bring the rim of your beer bottle to your lips. “I think he was depressed for a while. He didn’t talk that much anymore and when he did, he was always so angry. Mom always encouraged him to talk to a therapist, just to release all the pent up frustration he must be feeling about what happened, but he refused. He didn’t believe in therapy. He was convinced that he could solve it all on his own.

“Anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I thought if I could live the life he couldn’t continue and be a naval aviator myself, he’d feel better—or at least, he’ll be the father I used to have. Turns out I was right. Do you know how much he changed when I told him I sent an application to the Naval Academy? He was so pleased. He did a complete 360. Suddenly, it felt like I was his daughter again. It was clear to me then that if I wasn’t Goldie, I wasn’t anyone worth knowing.” You bite your lip, trying not to get emotional. Jake can see that, noticing how your lips are slightly quivering and how you’re avoiding eye contact. “But in a way, I still had some self-respect left. So that’s why I told myself that if I almost get myself killed in three different instances, I’d quit and I wouldn’t care about what Dad thinks. I’ll just go and live my life how I’d want to live it.”

“And last time was the third time.” He reiterates.

“Yep.”

He nods and downs the last gulps of beer.

There’s that silence again, but it’s not awkward. Jake is absorbing everything you just shared to him and you’re trying not to regret the fact that you told all of that to Jake. It’s a story you’re not used to disclosing to just anyone, especially not to someone like Jake who before this night was the reason why your temper was often brought to its highest limits. Yet you can’t deny that a huge weight has been lifted off your whole body thanks to the impromptu venting session; you appreciate the manner in which he stayed quiet and let you finish talking, not once interrupting and not once taking his attention away from you.

“Does Maverick know about this?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m already drafting my request for resignation.”

“You know that most of the time, those requests get rejected, right?”

“Yeah.” You groan, finishing your beer as well. “But I don’t care. I’d at least try. Then if they won’t allow me, maybe I’ll just orchestrate a fourth near death experience and—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jake cuts you off and you raise your eyebrows at him. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I was just joking.”

“It’s not a good joke. You know better than to joke about things like that.” He’s serious, the most serious you’ve seen him in a long time.

He’s right. You know he is and it pains you to admit it to yourself. You swallow hard, abruptly ashamed. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just all over the place these days.”

“It’s fine.”

“I was being stupid.”

“You’re going through a hard time.”

“I’m sorry for trauma dumping.”

“It’s alright, Goldie.”

You stand up, getting his empty bottle and trudging to the kitchen to place them on the counter. “If you want to go, you’re free to. It’s late.”

“I can stay here if you need company.”

You laugh humorlessly. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“It’s not babysitting.” He pushes himself off his seat and follows you. “I just don’t feel good leaving you in this state. You’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m okay,” you correct him. “Like I said, I’m just all over the place these days. I need time alone to think and be sure of what I want to do.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great loss to the Navy if you quit.”

You snort. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. Why do you think I like pissing you off? It’s because you’re competition. You’re almost as good as me.”

You’re leaning on the counter and Jake’s standing beside you, his hand a few inches from your waist. 

“Actually, I’m better than you, Hangman.” You smirk. “And maybe so is Rooster. He’s certainly better than you when it comes to being a leader.”

“Yeah, but I’m faster than him.”

“You’re reckless compared to him.”

“I can beat him in a dogfight.”

“He doesn’t leave his teammates behind.”

“Yeah, he forces them to go as slow as he is.”

“It’s not a bad thing. He’s being careful.”

“Slow doesn’t equate to being careful.”

“It doesn’t matter. I like him better than you anyways.”

“You like him better? You sure about that?”

You don’t know how it happened but you’re suddenly standing very close to Jake, your faces tilted towards each other that you’re certain if one of you moves any nearer, you’ll end up kissing. You’re reminded of how the squadron often teases you both, saying that the reason you bickered a lot was because of the sexual tension that both of you shared, but you always made an effort to deny it, declaring that there was no way in hell that you saw Hangman in the sense and you’d rather make out with a frog than the said cocky pilot.

Being in this situation with him right now though? After sharing a beer and letting yourself show your most vulnerable side to him? Seeing how genuinely concerned he is for you? How he actually see you as a highly skilled and capable naval aviator? It messes with your head a bit, makes you think that maybe you’re just really excellent with pretending that you’re not affected by his stupidly handsome smile, or drawn to gazing at his toned body whenever he’s in his uniform, or distracted when he’s sputtering off nonsense meant to rile you up and instead you’re noticing how pink his lips are, how soft they must be, how dozens of girls have fallen victim by his charm and how good he must at working those lips of his…

“You’re staring,” he whispers.

Your eyes move up. “What?”

Jake grins, like he understands what’s happening at this second. “You’re staring at my mouth, Goldie,” he says. “Is there something on my mouth?”

You shake your head. Your cheeks are warming up. Your heart is beating faster. You’re aware that he’s teasing, that he wants to get a reaction from you, and you’re annoyed that he’s getting what he wants. “It’s late,” you repeat your statement from earlier. “You should head back. Get some sleep.”

He thankfully steps back and you exhale.

“When are you coming back?” he asks.

“I’m not sure.” You start leading him to the front door. 

Once you’re there and opening the door for him, he stops for a second, looking at you. “Hey, if you need someone to talk to… you can call me, alright?”

You find yourself smiling in amusement. “Tonight doesn’t make us friends, Hangman.”

“Good.” He returns the smile, sly and that teasing glint still in his eyes. “I don’t want to be friends.”

Before you can quip back a reply, he’s saying goodnight and marching down the steps of your porch, going inside his car and driving off.

****

You came back two days later and returned like you never left.

He didn’t talk to you again after that night. You didn’t call if ever you did need someone to talk to, and he didn’t approach you unless he really had something to say. You two weren’t avoiding the other per se; there just wasn’t a need to be within the other’s vicinity nor the obligation to initiate the conversation that much. However, in Jake’s case, he wanted to check on how you were doing, especially after being briefed on why you were having second thoughts about your position in the Navy—he just didn’t think it was okay for him to do so, not when he had a feeling that you didn’t want acknowledge the fact that you did tell him your story out of everyone in the squadron.

Eventually, it was decided and announced by Cyclone that Maverick would be appointed team leader to conduct the mission, seeing him to be the most fit among the graduates he was supposedly training for the job. Maverick chose Phoenix and Bob to accompany him, picked Rooster along with Payback and Fanboy to head the second strike team, and assigned Hangman as the emergency action pilot.

Jake saw how you were disappointed not to be given responsibility for anything for the mission, which didn’t make sense since you didn’t even want to be here in the first place. He figured you must have been looking forward to being appointed nonetheless, maybe driven by your desire to make your father proud still that you were willing to go on this dangerous operation to please him.

“Hey,” you called just as he was about to hop on his aircraft. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He grinned, tilting his head at you in a mocking manner that makes you regret for saying anything. “Are you going soft on me, Goldie?”

You scoffed, but you were flashing him a grin in an instant. “You wish. I just don’t want you to get yourself killed so I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, that’s totally why.”

“Shut up, Bagman.”

He gave you a wink before carrying on with what he was doing while you made a show of rolling your eyes before walking away.

After that, despite how the events weren’t as smooth sailing as you liked, nobody ended up arranging anyone’s funeral and Jake was even hailed as one of the heroes since he successfully saved Maverick and Rooster when they were heading back to the carrier. 

And now, the whole squadron is doing some kind of post-mission celebration. It’s held in the Hard Deck, the bar near the naval base, and as Jake drinks with the rest of the crew and secretly relishes how everyone no longer saw him as only an arrogant pilot but an arrogant and reliable pilot, he finds himself trying to spot you among the crowd of aviators and every significant staff that made this mission successful, wishing he can know what are your thoughts about what has happened today.

“You see Goldie anywhere?” Jake asks Javy, placing the empty bottle of beer on the counter.

Javy scans the area and shakes his head. “No. But I think I saw her going out earlier.”

Jake nods.

Without further ado, he decides to go out of the bar and try starting his search there. He’s grateful he doesn’t need to explore the whole seaside to spot you plodding to where he’s guessing your car is parked, your legs wobbly and all, appearing you’re preoccupied with no regard to your surroundings that allow him to catch up beside you inconspicuously. As soon as you notice him though, you’re blinking multiple times, pausing for you’re surprised to see him here when you know he should be with the others.

“Jake,” you say, and he ignores the odd feelings that erupt in his chest upon hearing his name from your lips. “What are you—”

“Welfare check,” he explains. “Where are you going?”

You laugh out loud. He realizes you’re a bit drunk. “These welfare checks are becoming frequent.”

“It’s the second time. Don’t exaggerate.”

“Two times is too much for you.”

He changes the subject. “You’re not planning to drive home when you’re drunk, are you?” 

“No, I’m not that stupid.” You scoff. “But I was planning to sleep in my car, just until I’m feeling okay to drive.”

“I can drive you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Let me do it anyway.”

You stare at him and he holds the stare, green eyes piercing through yours that you can feel right in your core. You’re mesmerized, caught in the moment, similar to that time in your kitchen, and before you understand your actions, you’re handing him your keys and going to the passenger’s side.

****

You don’t verbally invite him in but he follows you regardless, taking the sign of you opening the door wider for a few seconds as he walks from behind the invitation itself. You allow him to act as some shadow as you cross the living room and go to the kitchen to get a water bottle from the fridge, no words spoken from the both of you, and it’s only when you turn around to say something that it’s dawning onto you how it was maybe a bad idea to have him over.

You trust Jake as a man who won’t take advantage of you, but you don’t trust yourself with the thoughts you’ve been having about him lately. After that night when he did his first ‘welfare check’, you couldn’t shake him off your mind as fast as you usually could; you’ve spent a lot of your free time thinking of him and how you don’t exactly hate being in his presence like you’ve been telling yourself. Worse, you’re considering how you might truly be attracted to his infamous charm, captivated by that Texan accent and confidence whenever he went, steering the attention of everybody in the room.

You watch him take slow strides in your direction. You’re not moving, you’re not attempting to get away, and when he stops directly in front of you, your heart is doing that thing again—palpitating and striving to burst out of your ribcage.

“Are you going forth with your resignation?” he suddenly asks.

“Not yet, I suppose. I talked to Maverick about it today, and he’s offering to endorse me to the Admiral and Vice Admiral to make me an instructor in TOPGUN.”

“And are you taking it?”

“Maybe.”

The lights inside the house aren’t open. It’s only the lamp you had beside your sofa; its warm hue illuminates your faces and creates this sense of intimacy that you can’t brush off. Jake’s expression tells you he’s in deep thought, as if he’s having a dilemma of his own, and you’re under the impression that perhaps he’s confused with what’s going on right now as much as you are.

“If you take that job, then you’re staying here, aren’t you?” he guesses, and you shrug.

“Most likely.”

“Then there’s no chance we’ll be deployed again in the same squadron.”

“I wouldn’t say there’ll never be a chance again but—it’s a high possibility,” you say. “Why? Can’t stand to be directly in the same team as me anymore?”

He chuckles. “Partly.”

“Partly?” you exclaim. “You really don’t like me that much, huh?”

“It’s not that. You think I’d be here if that was the case?”

“You said the other day you didn’t want to be friends.”

“Yeah, and being friends is still the last thing I want with you.”

“Fine by me. My feelings are very much mutual, I assure you.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re not understanding what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean I’m glad we won’t be placed in the same squadron again because there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest.”

You’re left speechless, the implication of his words causing you to overthink. Is he telling you what you think he’s telling you? Are you completely missing his point? Is he just messing with you? Playing mind tricks to have you wrapped around his finger? Whatever it is—whether your suspicions are right or not—you don’t let yourself think about it further, for this tension between the both of you is heightening and there’s a voice in your head that tells you to kiss him to find out what he really sees you as.

So you do. You kiss him, closing the gap between your lips and throwing your arms around his neck to tug him closer. It’s probably because you’re drunk that you’re brave enough to execute such a crazy gesture; you think how liquid courage indeed does wonders to your brain and your ability to know what’s wrong and right. And you can literally hear the gears in Jake’s brain moving as he stands there, hesitant at first to reciprocate, but eventually succumbing to it with an intensity you didn’t know he’s capable of giving, a hand falling on your hip while the other presses against your cheek, his fingertips inching forward to your hair that you quietly moan at.

Every sense you have is enhanced as the two of you make out. You can discern the pounding of your hearts; you can hear every pleased sound he makes as well as yours; you’re aware of every action he does, what he decides to do with his hands which moves to your waist, to your back, and lower… and even lower than that… 

However, it ends as fast as it starts, and before you can properly react, Jake’s already breaking the kiss.

 He looks grudging. It’s clear that he didn’t want to stop. “You’re drunk,” he whispers, an explanation to why he still did.

“Just tipsy,” you correct, about to try kissing him again but he dodges it, instead placing a lingering kiss on your cheek that spreads chills all over.

“We’re not sleeping together unless you’re sober.” His lips are on your ear, and you’re awfully getting mixed signals. It’s like he’s saying no yet continuously seducing you.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“I drove you home because you are.”

“No, you insisted on driving me home.”

“Because you were planning to sleep in your car, Goldie. Come on, are you seriously arguing with me on this?”

You groan, frustrated. Your head is starting to hurt because of the aftermath of the kiss and the thinking and the analyzing when it comes to what he’s saying to you and the actions he’s showing tonight.  “Am I getting the signals wrong? Isn’t the reason you went here because you want to sleep with me? You just told me you didn’t want to be friends—because obviously, friends don’t fuck.”

Jake’s laughing once more. It certainly doesn’t seem you’re sober from the way you’re talking to him, too blunt and careless. “You didn’t read the signals wrong. I do want to sleep with you.”

“Then why are you rejecting me? I’m practically begging here. It’s goddamn embarrassing.”

“____,” he utters your name, still grinning in amusement yet his features are softer now as he stares at your half-lidded eyes boring into him, “if you were any other girl who’s asking me, I’d gladly sleep with you. You’re not some girl though—and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“What?”

“I want to date you.”

“Okay, hold on.” You whip your head back in shock but you’re not pushing him away which Jake takes as a good sign. “Are you kidding? You better not be messing with me right now.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

“There’s no way in hell you want to date me, Hangman.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“You don’t even know me that well.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to elope and run away with me.” He chuckles and steps away, giving you a bit of room to breathe. “I’m just saying I like you and I want to get to know you better.”

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline that’s never going to arrive. “You’re nuts.”

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I thought you only wanted sex!”

“I still want sex.” He smirks and you squint at him in distaste. “But after a couple dates maybe. I take it slow with women I actually like.”

“You take it slow? You?”

“In relationships and in bed—if that’s your thing.”

“God, you’re giving me a migraine.”

You head to the part of the kitchen where you have a pouch of medicine for instances like these. From your peripheral vision, you see Jake already getting your unfinished water bottle to hand it to you as soon as you popped the aspirin in your mouth. 

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” he says. “You should rest.”

“I should wake up from this nightmare.”

“I didn’t know jumping on me and begging for sexual intercourse was part of your nightmares, Goldie.”

“Fuck you.”

He grins. “Go to bed. I’ll leave right after.”

“How are you going back to the Hard Deck?”

“I’ll book an Uber.”

“Okay.”

You let Jake usher you to your bedroom, saying that he’ll visit you first thing in the morning. You tell him that he doesn’t have to bother but he replies that he needs to do another welfare check which you roll your eyes at, reckoning that it was cute the first time but now it was getting old and corny. He just laughs at you, for what seems like the nth time that evening, the reality of what happened between the both of you is beginning to sink in—and you’re not freaking out anymore. You think you kind of like it; you like the idea of Jake taking you seriously and conveying how serious he is by making his intentions clear.

“Good night, darlin’,” he says, brushing a portion of your hair away from your face.

You take a deep breath. You still kind of want to jump on him still but you immediately push those inappropriate thoughts away.

“Good night, Jake.”

****

The next day, a huge part of you genuinely thinks that everything that transpired last night was only an infuriating almost-sex dream. 

You would have slept all day if it wasn’t for the heat of the sunlight seeping through your windows. When you opened your eyes, you saw that it was past 11 a.m. and your head was already killing you, causing you to sit up and head groggily towards the kitchen to wash your face, brush your teeth, and find the aspirin that could help with the headache. You’re the type of person who prevents a matter from worsening while it’s still possible, and you don’t want to spend the rest of your day wincing and complaining about your condition when it could easily be solved.

The moment you swallow the medicine, your brain thinks it’s the perfect time to bombard you with memories of what commenced the day prior. In an instant, you’re remembering the drinking, and then Jake driving you home, that odd tension between you two, and—oh, God. The kiss. The conversation after the kiss. Jake confessing what he felt for you and what he was going to do about it now that he said it out loud.

As if on cue, a knock pulls you away from your thoughts and like a robot, you mechanically go to your door to greet whoever it is that’s on the other side. You don’t even have the energy to peek through the curtains first like you usually do, and you realize that it’s a huge mistake that you forgot that step because once you’re swinging the door open, there’s Jake on your porch.

“Woah, not so fast.” He puts a firm hand on your door as you attempt to shut it on his face, very reminiscent of the other night. “I see you’re not planning on using an amnesia card on me because of yesterday.”

You grimace at the reminder. “Go away. My head hurts and I can’t deal with you today.”

“Good thing I bought hangover soup then. Can I come in?”

“No.”

“What if I say please?”

“Still no.”

“Alright, come on,” he’s still resisting the force you’re putting on the door to close it, “at least take the soup.”

You glance at the paper bag he’s holding and reach for it. However, he slyly moves it to the opposite direction.

“Hangman.” You grit your teeth.

“If you’re taking the soup…” he trails, “then that means you’re agreeing to a date. Will you still take it?”

It’s ridiculous. It’s such a middle school tactic, you think—yet there’s a little something fluttering inside your chest, a bit amused at how Jake is approaching this. There’s truly nothing like a man who goes out of character for the woman he adores; from the manner in which he’s acting, it’s apparent that he’s not afraid to show you a side of his personality that isn’t the usual macho, cocky, and self-absorbed one. Somehow, even if you’re aware that he’s going towards the cheesy route, you’re digging it.

With a roll of your eyes, you snatch the paper bag from his grasp and saunter back to your kitchen.

“Are you coming in or what?” you call, noticing that he hasn’t stepped in.

He strides to where you are, this cheeky look on his face as he reverts to his standard overconfident self. You remark how he goes after you, soon caging you by the sink while you’re getting the utensils from its designated cabinet to use for this so-called hangover soup he brought with him. You’re not fazed despite the proximity and how this scene mirrors last night when you face him, even raising your chin a bit higher to appear further composed.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he says.

Jake makes a familiar show of his eyes flashing from your eyes to your lips, smirking, and just when you think he’s leaning down to continue where you left off, you tease him by placing a palm on his face and gently shoving his face away.

“Shut up, Bagman.”

gentle reminder: this author is a sucker for validation so please don’t hesitate to share your thoughts about this! ♡

[lieutenantfloyd]

Jake misses home.

Maybe not the people or the town he left behind, but the little things. Friday night lights, the rattling sound of cicadas high up in mesquite trees on long summer nights, the smell of red dirt earth before it rains.

Between Jake's flourishing career and trying to build a life together, things between you have been nothing but hectic lately. It'd been months since you both had the opportunity to spend any meaningful length of time together.

Last week, Jake barely managed to shut the front door before yelling that, after having some strings pulled, you'd have you'd one week of time together starting that weekend. The wait was agony, but you persevered knowing that it would all be worth it when you two were alone. Excitement meant you both were packed and ready to go long before it was necessary, but you brushed it off by saying that taking a road trip through multiple states took advanced planning to be successful.

The first 5 days of your trip were blissfully uneventful. Packed with side quests and hours spent flying along beautiful stretches of US highway. This was something you used to your advantage when convincing Jake to let you get behind the wheel on your sixth day. Your defense was, aside from him clearly tiring himself out the days prior, you were only a few states from home in a mostly uneventful area. It took some convincing before he eventually relented, though he only did after you swore to wake him if anything were to happen.

Not even five minutes later, he was passed out in the passenger seat of his truck. Something that gave you ample time to reprogram the GPS and take an exit for a small detour. 

It was just before dinner time when you pulled off the highway and threw his truck into park underneath the glowing orange and white sign.

You sit quietly for a minute, thinking of the best way to wake him, only for him to stir awake now that the highway's rhythmic movements have ended. He's as groggy and whiny as always when you try to get him out of the truck. You choose to ignore his protests and questions as to why you couldn't just go through a drive thru before playing slamming the door in his face and crossing the parking lot alone. You barely make it five feet before he's falling in step with you, still muttering and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Ever the gentleman, you laugh when his pace quickens so he can open the door for you. You step inside, and after deciding they you've played it cool this long, you turn around just in time to see a streak of realization dawn on his face. His hand drops from his eyes as he steps inside behind you. He blinks twice, then three times, before turning slowly on his heel as he takes in his surroundings. Completing his rotation, he faces you with knitted brows, forcing you to bite back a smile.

"Are we...?" He questions, only to turn away and push open the door you'd just entered through. Your smile breaks through as you watch him stare up at the massive Whataburger sign you had parked under.

You didn't have the pleasure—or displeasure, considering the occasional story he'd told you— of knowing Jake in high school, but the man sitting in the plastic booth opposite you looks every bit like the boy you'd seen in worn out yearbook.

Considering that you were still several fly over states away from where he was born and bred, things in this place probably weren't identical to how he remembers them. Though if he minded or even noticed those differences, he made not one mention of it. If anything, the sparkle in his eye as he downed a massive sip of his Dr. Pepper shake told you that he loved it all the same.

Taglist: @rosiahills22 @princessofglitterland @bella-law @callsignaries @blue-aconite @katesmadness @oliviah-25 @another-tblr-fangirl @luckyladycreator2 @eliseline @xoxabs88xox @lisedanie @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @nyx2021 @teti-menchon0604 @sass-masterkittenmama @kmc1989

[tongue-like-a-razor]

AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5K- YOU DESERVE ALL OF THEM AND SO SO MUCH MORE (I’m absolutely obsessed with your account it makes me so happy)

If you’re still taking requests could I have a bbf!Jake one where they’re at a bar again and this time someone really creepy is hitting on baby Bradshaw and even though she’s trying to get away from him, he won’t leave her alone. Cue super Jake to the rescue (and he’s pissed)

I hope this is okay and if not, don’t worry about it :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY <333

OOOH I LOVE ME SOME PROTECTIVE JAKE! And thank you sm for your kind words, lovely <3

I'm gonna say this drabble is an extension of Part 4 of BBF but really can probably be read on its own. Here we go!

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - N-O Spells No

Jake Seresin x Reader

“C’mon, sweetheart, let me buy you a drink,” says the man with the slicked-back hair and smarmy leer for a third time, taking a seat at your table on the patio.

His friends at a neighboring table guffaw, apparently finding their friend’s persistent approach hilarious. You find it extremely disrespectful. “No, thanks,” you respond, again.

The man’s grin broadens as though your rejection spurs him on. He slides his chair in closer and leans in to whisper something in your ear. But, before he has a chance to speak, you decide that you’ve had enough and rise from your seat. You’d rather forfeit your table than put up with any more of this bullshit.

You start for the door to go into the bar, but the man leaps up to follow you. He catches up with you just as you’re about to enter and takes you by the arm, spinning you around to face him. “You don’t know what you’re missing, honey,” he mutters and his voice makes your skin crawl.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Jake as he’s about to place his drink order at the counter. The disturbance near the front door has made him glance in your direction and his expression darkens when he sees you. He immediately steps away from the bar, forgetting all about the drinks he just paid for, and marches determinedly toward the door.

Before you could tell the creep to watch out, Jake is outside, curling his arm around your waist to relocate you so that he could turn back and grab a hold of the man’s shirt, ramming him into the wall, back first. “Who the fuck are you?” he growls at the – now cowering – man.

“I’m a friend, I’m a friend!” the man exclaims in alarm, his hands shooting up to show that he’s not looking for a fight.

You give the man a disgusted scowl when he looks over at you pleadingly, hoping that you’ll corroborate his statement. Jake glances over his shoulder at you too. “This true?” he asks. “You know him?”

You’re silent for a moment, wondering what Jake would do if you told him the truth. You really don’t want him getting banned from the Hard Deck for starting a fight on your behalf.

But Jake takes your lack of a response as a no and pulls on the man’s collar just to slam him back into the wall again. The man, to your great satisfaction, looks like he’s about to cry. “She didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend!” the man cries.

Jake grimaces aggressively. “Did she tell you to fuck off?” he asks dangerously.

The man gulps anxiously. “If she’d just told me she was with somebody” –

“What the fuck does that matter?” Jake shoves the man into the wall for a third time and the latter whimpers pathetically. “No is a full fucking sentence.”

“Okay, Jake, that’s enough,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I think he got the idea.”

Jake glances down at you with a heavy sigh and then back at the snivelling man. Then, he lowers his head and mutters in a low, intimidating voice, “You come near her again, I’m not gonna be this nice.”

The man nods vehemently and, the moment Jake lets go of him, he slips away, ditching his friends – who, admittedly, hadn’t even come to his aid – as they scramble to collect their things before following him out.

Jake turns to look at you worriedly. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step toward you.

You nod. “Yeah, thanks for coming to my rescue,” you reply. “Although, I totally could’ve taken him.”

Jake draws his lips together to keep from smiling; he’s not ready to find the humor in the situation quite yet. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he remarks.

You shrug and meet his gaze. “I’m glad you were here.”

Jake nods and then takes your shoulder and pulls you into an embrace. “Me too,” he says.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to enjoy the hug because there isn’t often an excuse to lean in while Jake Seresin just holds you. In fact, you can’t think if a single time in recent history when this type of scenario has taken place. Suddenly, you’re not too mad about the creep that almost ruined your day.

“Where’s my brother?” you ask once the two of you separate.

Jake sighs with a grin and shakes his head. “He took off.”

“What? With that chick he just met?”

Jake nods sheepishly, as though he’s somehow to blame for Bradley’s promiscuity. You grin at him. “Perfect,” you say. “Now, we have plenty of time to talk about the thing.”

Jake cringes and lets out a defeated groan.

5k Celly

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi honey!! if you’re still taking requests for your holiday event, can I get ⟼ Cranberry and Peppermint Honey cake with shy!reader and jake seresin pls? love u sm x

Hi baby! They’re still very open!! I hope this is okay, it’s been a while since I wrote for Jake!

“Darlin’ you gonna come out so I can see it?” Jake’s on the other side of your changing stall, a couple of pants options thrown over his forearm as he waits.

You’ve been in there trying on a pair of thick linen blue trousers- something that you’d been eyeing on the stores website.

“I’m not sure if I like it,” you say through the door, though you know Jake is gonna want to see it for himself.

“Can i be the judge of that, pretty thing?” He flirts, listening to the door unlatch and then stepping back so he can see you fully.

The pants look amazing on you and Jake doesn’t hold back from letting you know.

“Babydoll, are these painted on?” He hangs the rest of the pants on the rack of the door and lets his hands hover over the curve and dip of your hips. “Gimme a spin, god damn you look good.”

When you spin, Jake does a low whistle that has you hitting his chest before hiding your face between the muscles of his chest.

“Stop it,” you murmur, completely embarrassed as you clench your eyes shut.

“But these look amazing on you, little lady.” He’s busting out all his southern charm and it’s hard to stay mad when his Texan accent gets all the more thicker for it.

“Jake,” you try for stern but he knows you’re just getting more and more flustered.

“Babydoll,” he says with less ‘vitriol’ and more fondness. “Do you think I’d lie to ya? No I wouldn’t, now go try it with this low cut top,” he produces a top from the selection hanging on the door. “Its gonna be perfect.”

He stamps a kiss to your lips before you can close the door and chuckles when he hears you muttering about ‘southern charm’ and ‘that damn dimple.”

[sebsxphia]

pov. | chapter one.

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader.

￫ description: you wish you could read jake’s mind in the heat of an argument and see his point of view.

￫ c/w: argument, mentions of sex, swearing, crying, angst, kiddo agenda and jake standing naked in a doorway.

￫ a/n: this is based off mcfly’s song, ‘pov’ which is my favourite song by them. i’d highly recommend listening to it as you read! @seriouslyseresin @callsignmayhem this one’s for the kiddo agenda, and mcfly (plus kiddo agenda) for you @kryptonitejelly! <3 my main masterlist and guidelines can be found here! 💌

￫ edit: chapter two is in the works! please let me know if you want to be tagged! <3

“Jake, I'm getting tired of asking. Is this the final time we’re doing this?”

You sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from Jake and hauling your jeans up your legs. You stood up and wrapped the belt around your waist.

You’re so beautiful in the afterglow. I wish we didn’t have to discuss this now.

Your glance flicked over at Jake who had been uncomfortably quiet since. His body was posed on the contrary. Jake sat up comfortably in his bed with his stupidly toned torso on display. His thousand thread count bedsheets were sprawled out perfectly to cover what lay underneath.

One of his hands lay on his stomach that was still glistening with a sheen of sweat from your prior activities. His other arm was rested behind his soft locks, cradling his own neck and flexing his bicep muscles.

Jake could only raise one eyebrow at you quizzically in response to your question.

Who’s going to be the first to say it? Don’t make me go first.

Was this the final time you were gonna hook up, caress each other’s bodies like lovers and then move on, only for it to rinse and repeat two weeks later?

You were left lingering in the uncomfortable silence until Jake finally parted his lips to speak. He’d given in and spoke first, but you felt your stomach drop ten feet at his question.

“Did I make you happy?”

I hope I did. I hope this makes it easier.

Fuck. You knew what was coming, but no amount of High School breakups could soften the blow.

“Because you cried an ocean when I told you this wasn’t a relationship last week.” Jake continued coldly. This was a matter of fact to Jake and it meant nothing to him.

I’m doing this to protect you, kid.

“You do make me happy, Jake. Relationship or not, you do.” Your voice wavered and you could feel your bottom lip starting to tremble, but you managed to hold your ground. You didn’t want to have to beg and plead for him. You learned very early on that was futile against Jake.

Please don’t beg me, please don’t make this harder than it is.

“Kid, there's a thousand lines about the way you smile written in my mind. But every single word's a lie.”

Another lie.

The final and pummeling blow hit through your very core and it knocked the wind out of your lungs.

“Jake fucking Seresin!” It was a bloody and horrible scream that came from your throat. You were gasping as you tried to catch up with the breath that left your body. It was a scream that made Jake’s own blood run cold.

Your hand twitched at your side and you bent down to throw the first thing you could find. You grabbed Jake’s old navy sweatshirt he’d given you to wear for the night, and threw it across the bed to hit his chest.

Please keep the sweatshirt, kiddo.

Your own chest heaved as you desperately tried to catch up with your labored breaths due to the previous nature of your movement, and because you were fucking pissed.

It was pure and liquid rage that ran hot through your veins. You held your furious gaze with the stupid blonde, who much to your annoyance hadn’t moved a single one of his perfect muscles. The only muscle that twitched was Jake’s cheek. If you were kidding yourself, you would think Jake was biting back tears.

Don’t cry Jake. Don’t cry in front of them.

“Kid-”

You held up a shaking finger to Jake as a firm warning, like scolding a child who’d swore for the first time.

Sorry, baby. Let me make this better, let me tell you I-

Jake parted his lips to speak again, but your finger twisted to point at him as if you were condemning him. You were the judge and executioner now.

“I never wanted everything to end this way, Jake! You have this incredible habit of taking the blue sky that you fly your stupid fucking planes in and making them grey.”

Every time I’m up in the sky, I think of you.

“I swore to you, I swore to you,” your finger planted firmly in your own chest now, “that I would do the best to change and make this work, but here you are telling me it doesn’t matter?”

I should’ve been the one to change. I’m sorry kid.

“I’m looking at you from another point of view. I don’t know how the hell I fell in love with you. I never wish for anyone to feel the way I do.”

The confession left your lips quicker than your brain could register, but it didn’t matter now. Apparently nothing mattered to Jake.

You love me? Kid, please. I lo-

“Maybe this was a sign from heaven? The savior God complex that is ‘Jake fucking Seresin’ is stripped bare for all to see and I can see the light again.”

You spit the last of your deadly venom whilst gathering your shirt and shoes from the floor, slinging them haphazardly over your rigid frame.

“And it doesn’t contain you coming through the fucking clouds this time. I’m better off without you, Jake, so we can leave this entire relationship tonight.”

You grabbed your bag from the wicker chair. The last remaining item of you left in Jake’s room. You stormed out of Jake’s room in a flurry of hot rage and headed for his front door. You wanted to make your escape quick and less painful than this had already been.

You whipped your head around at the sound of Jake coming after you. He stood naked and vulnerable in the doorway connecting to his hallway. He had his old navy sweatshirt bunched up tightly in his hand, angled and reaching out to you.

I need to tell you. I need to tell you how much I lov-

You watched as Jake swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You heard him suck in a gulp of air through his teeth and wet his bottom lip with his tongue.

You had been patient. You had waited for Jake to tell you you meant something to him, maybe even say “I love you” back, but you were growing irritatingly impatient with each passing second. Your face contorted into a horrible scowl. Eyebrows knitted tightly together and your jaw set tight.

You’re in so much pain. I’m sorry for hurting you, kid.

“It don’t matter.” Jake finally mumbled. He pulled back the sweatshirt and nestled it tightly into his side to keep it safe. To keep it safe from harm.

Your scowl alleviated and turned into a scoff of laughter at your own foolishness. How could you ever believe Jake had feelings for you in the first place? You reached for the lock and clicked it upwards. Your hand rested on the lock and you took one last look at Jake.

If this is the last time I see you, I never want to forget what you look like. I never want to forget the crinkles in your eyes that light up when you smile. I never want to forget the scar on your forearm when you fell off your bike as a kid. I never want to forget the strands of hair that always fall softly in front of your face. I never want to forget you from my point of view, kiddo.

“Don’t you dare come back and try to make things right like you always do. I’ll be ready for a fucking fight this time.”

That was the last thing you said to Jake before his front door was slammed shut and he was left alone in his apartment. Jake had nothing but his sweatshirt that smelled like you left.

When night eventually came, you lay in your bed and stared mindlessly up at your ceiling. Normally you would trace your eyes over the cracks that appeared in the paint when you couldn’t sleep, but something else was eating away at you tonight.

“You said it don’t matter.”

I love you.

“You said it don’t matter.”

I love you.

“You said it don’t matter.”

I love you.

Your index and middle finger tapped on your hand as you rhythmically recounted, out loud, the last thing Jake said to you before you left.

“What was it, Jake? What were you trying to say?”

I love you, kiddo.

taglist:

@tallrock35

@luckyladycreator2

[allisluv]

hello! may i request a flufftober fic where jake's new girlfriend invites him over for a halloween themed movie night, and when he comes over he is surprised by the amount of cozy halloween/autum decorations she has up. and she surprises him with warm apple cider and jack-o-lantern shaped pumpkin cookies and a disney halloween movie marathon and her apartment smells all autumn-y and when he brings up the sheer amount of autumn-ism she is exuding she just shrugs and says 'it's my favorite season'. just jake with a girlie who really loves fall, and doing all the cutesy fall things with her.

flufftober -- day two

pairing: jake seresin x girlfriend!reader

content warnings: new established relationship, use of pet names, not edited but apart from that it's just fluff!

summary: when you invite your boyfriend around for halloween, he's surprised to see how much you love the holiday.

word count: 400

jake wipes his hands down the front of his blue jeans and knocks, knuckles brushing against the autumn wreath hanging from your knocker. your apartment door swings open, casting it's light into the hallway.

jake kisses your cheek and shoves the bouquet of red and orange flowers he bought on the way here into your hands. you smile and it's a cheesy, dorky thing that makes his heart skip a beat. "you look beautiful," he says, stepping into your apartment but stopping short when he sees the dissaray your space is in.

orange tinsle hangs from your ceiling and candles bathe the room in a warm glow. it smells of spice and something sweet, and pumpkins with faces carved into them are placed by the back door.

"shit! our cookies!" you rush past him, throwing on a pair of oven mitts, and rescuing your junk food before they burn to a crisp.

jake peeks his head around the corner, green eyes scanning the sitting room, only to find even more autumn decorations on every available surface. "i take it you like fall, huh?" he asks, grinning as you grab his arm and guide him to sit down on the sofa.

"what gave it away?" you tease, carrying a tray of jack-o-lantern-shaped cookies into the room and setting them down on the coffee table. jake laughs and takes a sip from the glass of warm apple cider that you hand him. "do you like it?" he nods around the rim of his glass. "it's homemade!"

one corner of his mouth twists into a smile and he pecks you on the lips, swallowing your squeal as you melt into his touch.

"what was that for?" you ask, grinning like an idiot, eyes shining with excitement.

jake lifts his shoulders up into a shrug. "just 'cause, sugar." he pulls you in close until you're tucked under his arm. "now, what we gonna watch first?"

you hum thoughtfully. "what about halloweentown."

"sure thing, sweetheart. i've never seen it before." jake winces when your mouth falls agape and you look at him as if he's personally killed your kitten. "i'm gonna regret saying that, aren't i?"

"oh absolutely. we're watching all four of them now."

[ddejavvu]

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

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: 4.8K / navigation / inbox

A/N: Day two begins!! thank you to everyone who's been reading along, and if you're just finding this series for the first time through this part, welcome! I hope you enjoy, and though this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, it packs some punches. You will get more insight into why they act the way that they do in this chapter, in the next chapter! bear with them please, they're dumb </333 please let me know how you're feeling about the series so far! <3

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

Daniel’s shoulders are so broad that they block your view of both the cabin and his face, everything completely obscured by the heaving, sweaty, tanned mass of muscle flexed over you. Daniel’s toned arms frame your head, his lips tug your own into a string of merciless kisses, kisses that leave you panting when you’re granted even the slightest of respite. His cock pumps in and out of your throbbing cunt with every thrust of his strong hips, and all that you’re capable of is a pathetic stream of whines and whimpers as Daniel undoes you.

“Oh Dan- Daniel! Please, harder, I want- I want more, please!” You babble, gripping at his back, smoothing your hands and scratching your nails over every inch of his glistening, taut skin, “Please, please, I need more, please, more- harder, more, I need you!”

Pleasure shoots through your core stronger than you’ve ever felt it before, and you chase the feeling desperately, lifting your hips to press yourself into Daniel’s steady thrusts. The new angle of your body allows for your head to be tipped backwards, and you catch sight of the hazy face that had eluded your vision before. But where Daniel’s scruff blankets his face, there’s only tan, smooth skin, squared at the chin and leading into the tight, determined snarl of none other than Jake Seresin.

“Jake!”

You wake like it’s from a nightmare, a gasp leaving your throat and your stomach dropping at the image of Hangman having his way with you. You’re sweaty and sleep-ruffled, and you realize with a still-throbbing core that you’re clinging to one of his arms, rutting your hips against him like a man starved. 

Fuck. Fuck, your throat is dry which probably means that you’ve been moaning, god forbid his name, and- and he’s going to tell everyone that you’re desperate, and you’re never going to be able to look him in the eyes, and you might as well quit your job because he’s won and there’s nothing you’ll ever be able to do to make up for how ashamed you’re going to be… when he wakes up.

He’s asleep.

His lashes are softly resting above his strong cheekbones, lids covering eyes that did not witness you at your most vulnerable. He didn’t see, he’s been asleep- he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know, which means that you never have to talk about it, which means that you can go to the bathroom and take a cold shower and pretend that you woke up on the floor instead- maybe you’ll even tell him he kicked you off in the middle of the night so that he feels bad enough not to tease you for the day. And nobody ever has to know that he’s in your dreams, whether they be that or nightmares.

You stagger out from under the bedsheets and over to the small bathroom faster than you’ve ever been awake and alert in your life, and you’re instantly relieved by the sanctuary of the bathroom when it lets you shut a door between you and Jake.

--

The slamming of the door or the squeaking of the shower knobs is not what wakes Jake. It happened to be a very loud, very wanton cry barely minutes prior, when he’d woken to find your pinched-up face buried into the heated skin of his bicep. You’d whined and whimpered and moaned until a very sizeable tent had grown in his pants, and you’d fucked your hips onto his thigh over and over and over again until he’d felt a wet patch blossom that stuck his boxers to his thigh. He’d remained civil- respectful about it, keeping still even if his mind was racing, but when you’d suddenly moaned out his own name- Jake would have reached for his cock but that was when you’d woken, and he’d already had his eyes snapped shut in the desperation of conjuring a mental image of you writhing below him so that it seemed like he was still asleep. Blessedly disguised, Jake listens as you beeline for the bathroom, and when the door slams, his eyes fly open.

A quick glance beneath the sheet reveals a stain of translucent slick that’s soaked into his boxers, big enough to account for the way you’d been grinding so desperately onto his thigh. Knowing that you’d said his name, not Daniel or Damien or Dallas or Dalton or Devon- you’d been dreaming of him. It’s enough to have Jake frantically prying at the hem of his boxers, tugging on his cock with one rough fist while the other hand prods desperately at the wet spot on his boxers for something to lick up. Jake was the name you’d said, Jake is the man you’re thinking of.

--

Jake cannot be the man you’re thinking of. You don’t have nearly enough energy when you close yourself into the bathroom to shower right away, so you take to sitting dejectedly on the lid of the toilet rather than scrubbing down right away. But you feel dirty, you feel wrong for fantasizing about the jerk from work instead of the dreamboat you’d frenched in an elevator less than 24 hours prior. It’s not fair. Why does your brain have to latch onto Jake? Why can’t you just be peacefully separate from him, why does he have to nail himself to your door and bleed through the gaps? 

And why did he have to dress you in lingerie? 

You realize you’re staring down at your pink silk-covered stomach, and your nose scrunches when you note how little fabric there is to cover what’s between your legs. Christ, he couldn’t have dressed you in something a little more modest?

Although, you suppose, you didn’t bring anything more modest. Actually, the pink getup is probably the most modest nightgown you’ve got- you’d anticipated sex. So he gets a pass on that one, but you’re still peeved about the way he won’t leave your head. 

The shower is warm and being clean feels delightful against your slick skin, washing away the sins you’d rubbed into Jake’s thigh, but you’re so disturbed by your dream- or more so it’s subsequent meaning, that you can barely enjoy any of it.

In stepping out of the shower you realize you’d been in such a rush to get in that you’d forgotten to take clothes with you. But if you’re lucky, at least Jake will still be asleep, and you won’t have to endure any-

“Fancy droppin’ that towel, darlin’? Since you got in the shower without me, I figure it’s only fair I get to see what I missed.”

Any teasing. If Jake was still asleep, you wouldn’t have to endure any teasing. But there he is, hair tousled from sleep, eyes slightly bleary, but smirk in full force as he stares at your towel-clad form.

You’d be locked and loaded with a quip back any other day, but the memory of the pleasure writhing through your veins like blood itself at Jake’s hands has thrown you severely off-kilter. Instead you stand there, winded, lost for words as a strange and unexpected surge of tears sting at your eyes.

Jake notices, blinking as the smirk vanishes instantly from his face.

“Hey, woah, that’s- don’t do that. I was just teasing, don’t- don’t do that.”

“I’m not-” You defend uselessly, blinking rapidly as you back towards your suitcase, but Jake’s concern dims into something like disappointment.

He recites, “We didn’t do anything last night. You were shit-faced and you passed out the second you were in bed. I’m not…” He struggles, glancing away from you and towards the wall in thinly-veiled distaste, “I wouldn’t do that.”

You’re almost as stunned by the accusation as he seems. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind at all, but- in another man’s hands, you might not have been safe. You hadn’t felt a sliver of distrust towards Jake, and there’s something strange about that. Would you have felt comfortable going home with Daniel? Perhaps last night, several drinks in, you would have. But now you feel a strange camaraderie with Jake, now he feels familiar and safe and you’re glad he was the one to escort you to bed. You’re not used to respecting him, to relying on him, to letting your guard down around him. But you had, and you had even forgotten that you might not have been safe until he’d brought it up himself, convinced your crying fit is because of some awful thing you think he did to you last night.

You’d much rather use that excuse, but you’ll give credit where credit is due.

“I know,” You admit softly, clutching your towel tight around your body, “I didn’t think- thank you for taking me to bed.”

He doesn’t speak- he doesn’t think he ever could. But he nods, once, face tight and stiff because if it wasn’t it’d be soft. And you’d already shorn deep into his newly unguarded, tender flesh- he doesn’t need more wounds.

“Are we eating breakfast together?” Is your indirect way of asking- nay, demanding that he eat with you as thanks for the night prior without actually asking. Because asking would be crazy, you don’t even like him.

And you don’t want to eat with him, except for the fact that you eat with him near every day, and if you’re not going to be in a candlelight setting, you might be able to convince yourself that you’re not on a sex cruise, and that you’re just eating with your fri- teammate. That you’re just eating with your teammate, and all else can be ignored. Especially your dream.

“‘Was plannin’ on it. Hey, wear your bathing suit under that,” Jake nods at the romper you’ve chosen for the day, “We’re goin’ swimming after breakfast.”

You raise a brow at his tone, “Oh, are we? I was planning on meeting Daniel.”

“Where?”

“He mentioned going to the pizza place for lunch.”

Jake snorts, “Real romantic. Well, I walked by there the other day, and the pizza place is a poolside bar. So, put on that skimpy little bathing suit I saw in your suitcase, and you can swim with me until Danny-boy gets there.”

“I don’t want to swim with you,” You feel a little like a petulant toddler snapping back at him, but it’s true. You don’t want to be splashed and dunked and held down in what will surely prove to be the most stressful time you’ve ever had in a body of water- which is really saying something, because you’d had to eject into the Pacific before. Breakfast is one thing- a thank-you. This is different and you’d rather have a tooth pulled.

“Fine, then, princess. Sit on a lounge chair and read a book. I don’t care, just come with me.” You think this might be an invitation, a genuine hand outstretched amidst the numerous other jabs you’ve taken over the duration of your voyage so far. You meet his eye, but there’s a mischievous glint in them and it’s too late to stop him before he continues, “I’ve gotta keep my lady close, or else there’ll be a swarm of other passengers beggin’ to hang off my arm, and we’ll sink the ship if everyone rushes to one side.”

It’s pathetic to admit that you have nothing better to do than go with Jake. His cockiness creates scenarios that are so easy to refuse- so tempting to reject if only to see the light in his eyes fade into a more manageable dulled hue. Now though, you’re stuck. You’re not willing to spend the entire time on board locked away in your cabin hiding from Jake- you came for the fun and sun, dammit. And being in the sun sounds lovely, and the main character of the novel you’re reading will bring you a welcome respite from Jake until Daniel comes to sweep you off of your feet.

“I am not getting in the water,” You warn, fishing your bathing suit out of your suitcase while keeping a firm hold on your towel, “I am going to sit on a lounge chair and read a book. And you’re going to leave me alone, and do whatever it is you like doing in the pool. Chase those little diving rings, maybe?”

“I’m not six.” Jake wrinkles his nose in distaste, “I use the torpedoes, like a real man.”

Your eyes itch to roll back into your skull until they’re stuck there, and you never have to see his smug face again.

“Your torpedoes, then. Get my book from out of my bag,” You nod towards your purse, “And bring your own towel, because I’m not getting one for you.”

The door drowns out the beginning of Jake’s bitching when it slams behind you, but even in the tiled bathroom you can still hear him speak.

“-prissy today, aren’t you! Y’know, the hunk on the cover of this romance looks a lot like me. And- ohhh,” Jake’s wicked laugh instills fear- real, actual fear in your chest as you rush to get dressed, “This is one of them porn books, ain’t it?”

He’s holding the book like a trophy when you finally step out of the bathroom in your bikini, the way a fisherman would proudly display a 38 pound halibut. It’s got a cowboy on the front that’s wearing a hat similar to the one Jake wears at ‘Honky Tonk Night’ at the Hard Deck, and the female lead is draped over his chest, leaning in for a kiss.

“Wanna roleplay it, darlin’?” Jake moves forward, his free hand reaching for your waist to force you against him like you’re on the cover of your novel, “You could do exactly what it says on the cover, ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’.”

You catch his arm instead and use it to give you leverage in your attempt to take back your book, but he’s holding it high over his head, and he’s tall even without his combat boots giving him a good extra inch or two. 

“Daniel’s got a bit of a southern drawl,” You choose to fight with words if you can’t win a battle of heights, and Jake’s bicep tightens in place as he tenses, muscles flexing.

“That boy’s got nothin’ on mine,” Jake tilts his chip upwards- ah, so you’ve hit a weak spot: that precious Texan heritage he boasts about.

“I like his better. It’s subtle, not too in-your-face.” You shrug, and now that Jake’s frozen, buffering, you’re able to reach up and take back your book without him fighting back. But he follows you when you step away, and your back hits the wall of the cabin when he leans forward and down to match your height.

“See that?” He inspects your expression, and even though you’re wide-eyed in bewilderment he finds something satisfying in it - “You like it when I’m in your face.”

Maybe it’s your proximity- the way his face is closer to yours than it was even in your dream last night, or maybe it’s the way he murmurs the words instead of boasting them, like they’re a secret. Something strips you of your ability to fire back, and you share a moment of silence before he pulls away and gathers a set of towels from the corner of the room.

He’s wearing his swim trunks already. You hadn’t noticed. Well, you’d noticed his lack of a shirt, but you hadn’t bothered to check what was below that. You’ve seen him in them before, a beach day with the dagger squad or a pool party for Penny’s birthday, but you’re not sure you’ve ever noticed the faint fish hook outlines on them.

“I can feel you lookin’,” Jake snickers, giving you a rather impressive view of his ass, “I’ll let you squeeze it if you admit Daniel’s not all that great.”

“The only thing I wanna squeeze is your neck, Hangman,” You scoff, hurriedly looking away from his ass and gathering your belongings- key card, phone, book that’s been discarded on the bed, “Now let’s get out of here before I change my mind and lock you out of our cabin.”

“Oh, but you’d be so bored in here without me,” Jake’s croon exudes fake sympathy, “Who would you bicker with all day?”

“Not Daniel.” You purr, grinning mischievously as you head for the elevators, your door clicking shut behind you as Jake nearly steps on your feet, “If I was with Daniel, he wouldn’t be able to talk through all the pussy on his tongue.”

That shuts him up.

The elevator ride is silent, and by the look on Jake’s face, you’d have thought he’d been declared a spare on a mission amongst a group of new recruits. HIs jaw is stone-set, sharp and tight, and his eyes bore uselessly but fiercely into the silver wall as the elevator moves up- something is brewing in that hard head of his.

Finally, some fucking peace and quiet.

Something about the ding of the elevator snaps him out of his funk, and he holds the door open to the breakfast hall for you with his signature shit-eating grin. It’s the same place you’d eaten lunch the day before, and you wish again for Daniel to knock knees with you beneath the table. It had been so cutesy, so intimate, so-

“Here,” Jake plucks two trays off of the stack, one for you and one for him, “I’ll hold it while you load up a plate.”

“I can do it myself,” You insist, snatching the tray from his hands and setting an empty plate on top of it, “I’m not falling for that act, Hangman. You’ll steal my breakfast if I let you hold it.”

“Now that’s not true,” He scolds, scooping eggs onto his plate, “I’ll steal it no matter what.”

The ship’s pancakes look surprisingly well-made, and you’re starting to marvel at how nice the amenities are for the price you’d paid. Maybe you’d been the guinea pig voyage, and they’re testing how feasible this sort of thing really is. 

“Hands off my syrup, Hangman,” You elbow him in the side, bumping him out of line for fresh pastries while you snag one for yourself, “I don’t want your sticky fingers getting all over my book.”

“So you do want me readin’ that thing,” He grins, reaching over you to pluck a chocolate croissant off of the tray, unbothered by your teasing, “I guess I’ll need to get into character. Tell me, how big is he? Anything under nine inches just won’t be realistic for me.”

“Please! I’ve heard things from Rooster,” You laugh, topping your plate off with butter packets, “Four is more like it.”

“You tell Rooster,” Hangman shoots a hand out, stopping you from snagging an empty seat at a table for two, “That he’s gotta stop swapping our measurements. Tell him to keep my name out of his mouth.” He pulls the chair out, clearly expecting you to sit.

Under his fiery, watchful gaze, you sit.

You don’t know what makes you do it; you’ve always felt Hangman’s faux-chivalry was condescending at best. He always seems to be mocking you- let me do it because you can’t, or let me do it because I don’t think you should.

Now it seems more like let me do it because I want to. And for that reason, you’ve obeyed.

Hangman’s terse mood from earlier seems to flicker in and out, but breakfast is pleasantly casual- nothing like your tense candlelight dinner the night before. 

“You’re lucky Phoenix isn’t here,” You raise your brows briefly at Hangman, eyeing the way he’s sprawled out over the bench, “She’d tell you to quit manspreading.”

“I like manspreading,” Hangman grins, thankfully concealing his mouthful of food in the process instead of showing it off, “Let’s everyone know what I’m working with.”

After a quick, fake look at his crotch, you decide, “Nothing?”

He takes the teasing good-naturedly, rolling his eyes and insisting, “You’re gonna be sorry when you find out how wrong you were, darlin’. First time y’see it your eyes are gonna bug out of your head.”

“I’d prefer not to see it at all,” Your nose wrinkles, “I’m perfectly happy with your current state of dress.”

“I know that’s right,” He snickers, “I saw you eyein’ up my tight little swim trunks earlier.”

“I was not.” You snap, but he’s only goaded into being further convinced, “Your back was to me, how could you have possibly known where I was looking?”

“I heard you stop moving the second I bent over,” He winks at you, and it’s a gaudy, grotesque display of cockiness, “You were transfixed, darlin’. One look and you forgot what you were doing.”

“That was because I couldn’t believe how skimpy your legs are,” You speak around a mouthful of pancakes, perhaps not the best etiquette but you’re not trying to impress anyone. “Next time you hit the gym, work on your calves.”

“Skimpy? Skimpy?” He shoves his foot into your lap, forcing you to stare at his exposed calf as you try avoiding the sole of his flip-flop on your bare stomach. You shriek, and you try tamping down laughter that threatens to escape as you attempt to shove him off of you. 

“These things are tree trunks,” Jake insists, and when you finally manage to wrestle his leg off of you he leaves it on your side of the table, his foot resting just beside your own, close enough to touch.

“You want some?” Jake offers you a forkful of scrambled eggs, but you shake your head, leaning away from the fork.

“Fine. Picky.” Jake shrugs, eating the eggs himself, “How come you’ll eat off of Payback’s fork but not mine? You think you’ll get all blushy if our lips touch the same thing?”

“I’m thinking I’ll vomit, not blush,” You correct him, “Payback brushes his teeth every once in a while, so eating off of his fork’s no big deal.”

“Damn, you’re vicious today!” Hangman observes, but he doesn’t settle into the back of the seat like you’d expected him to. It unnerves you when he leans forwards, “I brush my teeth twice a day,” He insists, and this time his antics are a little more intense than hiking his foot into your lap, “See?”

He stands so that he can lean farther over the table, flashing his grin in your face like you’re the lens of a camera he’s modeling for. It’s so forcibly charming, so irritatingly dazzling that leaning away- showing weakness - doesn’t even cross your mind, and you’re stuck staring at his pearly whites mere inches away from them, a sour scowl on your face.

“No cavities in sight,” He drawls, “But if you don’t believe me, you can inspect it yourself. Thinkin’ your tongue might work.”

“You’re a sicko,” You decide, your face blank, if not a smidge downturned as you sit inches away from Jake’s grin in full-force, “Sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“I’m embarrassing you.” He corrects, sinking back into the plush booth with a hiss of air and the spreading of his legs once more, “I can tell you’re blushin’ over there.”

“Must be an allergic reaction to something,” You sigh morosely, observing your plate, “There’s probably an ungodly amount of chemicals in all of this.”

“Tastes fresh to me,” Jake shrugs, reaching his fork across the table to pick at your fruit, “Give me that.”

“No- not the melon!” You clash your fork against his, an ugly scraping sound created by metal-on-metal as you fight to protect your fruit, “You can take anything else, just not the melon!”

“You can have my melons,” A smooth, melodious voice straight out of a porn intro comes from beside the table, and you and Jake look up in unison to see a woman in stiletto pumps and a skirt standing next to your seats.

Jake barely takes a second to process her bold words, and his face melts like butter into that greasy grin he’s always sporting around the ladies.

“Is that so? Well, thank you darlin’, that’s very kind of you. Might take you up on that if this one keeps holding out for a nobody.”

Jake points his fork vaguely, uncaringly at you, eyes still glued to the woman’s low neckline- her melons are, admittedly, nothing to sneeze at.

You find yourself incapable of speaking, so you take to pulverizing your fruit on your tongue instead of talking to the woman.

Once she and Jake have properly eye-fucked she struts away, and your nose curls to make way for a sneer at the clicking of her heels on the floor.

“What a bitch.” You retort, and Jake’s all-too-pleased with your indignance, “And those fucking heels? Who wears heels to breakfast on a cheap cruise?”

“Hey, I thought you were into all that girls-supporting-girls stuff,” Jake munches on a grape, “Ain’t that a little judgy? Maybe she feels pretty in the heels.”

“Girls support girls’ girls,” You insist, shaking your head disapprovingly, as Jake tries processing the tongue twister, “She was not a girls’ girl. She was trying to take my man!”

“Your man? I’m your man now?” Jake leans forward again, suddenly extremely interested in you rather than Miss Miniskirt, “When did that happen? The second someone else tried snatching me up?”

“No, you’re not my man,” You scoff, fork clattering against your plate, “But when we’re on a sex cruise together as unfortunate roommates, and we’re dining together, conversation flowing, clearly engaged with each other- when you were just leaning across the table asking me to lick your teeth two seconds ago- no girls’ girl would swoop in and try to take you away from me!”

“I think you’re just jealous,” Hangman points that damn fork at you again, and you still in your seat, prickling with annoyance, “I think you’re pretending to be all wrapped up in Daniel so that I go crazy, but it almost backfired on you when she started chattin’ me up. Hell, you called me your man! You can’t have it both ways, Y/N. Either let me go, or make me stay.”

“Go.” You seethe, eyes flashing with anger, with the indignance of being accused of puppetting him. You’ve been on edge this whole voyage, but something about his audacity combined with the sheer mortification of your dream last night means that your mouth is running without a filter. “I’m not pretending anything, Hangman, and- and I’m not going to ‘make you stay’, that’s ridiculous! I’m interested in Daniel. If you really want a woman who swoops in on what looks like a couple, then by all means, have at her. But you don’t get to bitch about Daniel and then act like I’m some controlling monster when I try to stop you from talking to bad ideas.”

“I’m not bitching about Daniel,” There’s a dangerous edge to Jake’s voice, the one that’s typically heard on the tarmac, “I’m trying to-”

“You’re trying to control me!” You accuse, and now it’s you that wields the fork, aiming it violently at Jake.

“I wasn’t done.” Jake snaps, but you don’t care.

You continue over his meager protests, “You are bitching about Daniel, 24/7. You’re trying to knock him out of the way so that you can schmooze me like you schmooze women back home, and it’s not going to work. You use people, Hangman, you hook up with women and then you push them away like they’re pathetic when they try staying with you for longer than a night! But I know you better than they do, and I won’t fall for it. You think I’m dumb? You think I don’t realize how much of a leg up you’d have at work if you got to tell everyone I fell for your little game? That’s why you want it so bad,” You huff, “You’re, like, obsessed with winning now- because I fly with you, and because I’m the only woman who’s ever told you no, you’re going crazy trying to get me to say yes! You are the one freaking out whenever Daniel talks to me! You are the one that’s clinging desperately to the unfortunate coincidence of us being roommates, and you are the one who refuses to let go. You won’t win. You cannot make me stay.”

Jake’s mouth had been open during your vicious speech, ready to fire back in a tone that would have made your skin crawl, but when you finish off, it falls shut. He stares, on the brink of disaster, one slip of the controls away from tailspinning. He’s always been like that: dangerous. 

You don’t give him the option to spin out.

“I’m not hungry anymore. You know what? You can have the fucking melon,” You stand, dumping your remaining fruit unceremoniously onto Jake’s plate as he stays frozen stiff, watching, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and score hers, but I doubt she’ll be interested if she’s not competing with anyone anymore.”

You barely remember to grab your belongings on the way out of the breakfast hall, and you don’t spare Jake another glance as you beeline for the elevators.

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

[kryptonitejelly]

Flyboy!Jake coded.

i love love love flyboy asks (but i admit i don’t get to them all…. that’s in me) entirely flyboy!jake coded.

also look at those arms 😵‍💫 i can’t even with him in this photo. that casual lean, hand behind his head. his legs..

reading this in the flyboy!era, but post part 6.

-

“Geez Jake, manspread more why don’t you,” Emma says as she walks back to the area where your group, a small sub-group of the Seresin brood, has positioned themselves. She punctuates her barb at her brother by raising a foot to kick his shin lightly.

“Ouch,” he says in response without even a slight change in expression or movement.

“Uncle Jake, your legs,” the little voice that trails behind Emma protests, as Kyle follows after his mother, picking his way past the obstacle that is Jake’s unmoving legs to scramble his aay onto the sofa, arms and legs first, rolling his body up to wedge himself in between his Uncle Jake and father.

“You did just fine buddy,” Jake teases in response, winking down at his nephew as Liam, Emma’s husband and Kyle’s father ruffles his son’s hair.

“You could have moved your legs,” you muse, voice tinged with amusement as you take a step forward, having been trailing behind Kyle.

“I could have,” is what Jake responds, moving his hand from behind his head so that he is reaching out to you. You slip your hand into his, letting him tug you down gently into his lap. Once you’ve perched down onto his lip, and thigh, your legs knocking against his other knee, Jake lets his arm slip around your waist while raising the glass he is holding in his other hand to let you take a sip out of the straw of your drink he had been holding for you. “But then I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

“Have you become my own personal armchair,” you joke, “complete with a cupholder?”

“I’ll have you only sit on me for the rest of your life if I could,” Jake’s response is cheesy, sappy and with a tinge of innuendo and it makes the group around you, save for the children, groan in a mixture of disgust and horror.

“You’re the worst,” is what Emma helpfully supplies for the group as she balls up a paper napkin to toss it at her brother’s head.

“Your worst,” is what Jake says as he ignores Emma and tilts his head up towards you asking for a kiss, which you oblige. It promptly earns him another round of groans.

[spasmsofthought]

the risk (is drowning) [jake seresin x f!reader]

This little 1k piece is 100% inspired by the song Risk by Gracie Abrams. What a masterpiece this song is.

Also a special dedication to all my anxious wallflower girlies (especially those in their mid-to-late twenties). You are seen and loved. You will be wanted. xoxo

Warnings: Some indirect allusions to anxiety/social anxiety.

Please like, comment, reblog. Let me know what you think! xo

on A03 here

+++

"It feels like the universe is pranking me."

The bar is loud and bright and crowded, even in the shadows of the back corner where you and your roommate Alexis are sitting on stools. A remixed pop song is playing from the speakers in the room - it sounds like something you heard in CVS three days ago while picking up your prescription strength Benadryl. Damn hives. You knew better than to let Jessica be the one to choose the takeaway order for lunch. She never remembered anybody's food allergies.

"I wonder," You continue speaking as you swirl the straw in your club soda, "if I'm on some alien reality version of punk'd. I feel like there's a camera trying to catch me over my shoulder. I keep waiting to hear a laugh track in the background."

Alexis just sighs from across you. Then she gives you the look that she's been giving you all evening - full of love but also half-reproach and half-amusement.

"I think you might've coordinated my outfit for nothing," You look down at the number you're wearing. It's something that's much different than you're usual look - not as casual and more flashy. It screams look at me with several exclamation points. You don't remember the last time you wore something to make someone else notice you - not intentionally. You don't really know for sure if it's helping you feel more confident or more like a poser.

"I wore mascara for no reason." You slump against the wall at your back. "He hasn't shown up. I don't even think he's going to be here tonight."

There's a minute of semi-silence where you take in the ambiance of the place. You notice that the music over the speakers has changed genres to a popular country song that has some people by the pool table swaying or singing along at the counter with beer bottles in their hands pretending that they're microphones.

"Speak of the devil," Alexis smirks at you and then points her chin towards the direction of the front door. She's not wrong.

There he is in all of his golden glory. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant, Naval aviator, Top Gun graduate.

He's never actually introduced himself to you; you've never met him. It's not that hard to get a beat on who he is though - he's all anyone ever talks about in this place. You notice you're staring and swivel your attention back to Alexis.

The amount of times you've daydreamed about his eyes or, God, his hands feels almost wrong due to the fact that you've never even spoken a word to the man.

He really is just your type: a blue-eyed all-American boy with a killer smile and all the confidence in the world. You can practically feel the rush of heat to your face and you bring your soda to your lips for a quick swallow.

It had been really challenging at first, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and intentionally choosing to spend time with crowds of people, even if it's really only Alexis you ever talk to. It's taken months to feel much more comfortable even hanging in the back corner of a bar like this.

Jake had been a regular before this became your weekend hangout spot with Alexis and ever since the first day you saw him you'd known that he wasn't the type of person to escape anybody's notice. Whether it's his natural charisma or a learned charm, you looked at him once and haven't stopped looking.

Your life has always felt more monotone - shades of black and white with spots of blue or green or yellow or pink here and there. Even from far away, you can tell that Jake Seresin's life is in full, vibrant technicolor. You keep wondering what that must be like.

"If there's any time to shoot your shot it'd be now, before the groupies surround him." Alexis advises you.

He's just making his way to the bar counter after calling out greetings or doing that weird bro handshake guys do with each other when they're acquaintances but don't know each other that well.

You don't know why you came tonight, why you confessed this to her in the first place. You don't know why your mind has been stuck on a Jake Seresin loop. Why this has been the one thing it hasn't let go of.

You're almost ready to bolt out of there, indecision weighing heavy on your shoulders. The indecision isn't even the worst part because you're friends with indecision. It's been there for you all your life.

It's the fact that you want to go up there and introduce yourself to him that's actually terrifying. You can't remember the last time you wanted something like this. Have you?

"If you don't get up and go over there yourself, I will make you."

Your mom used to tell you that the only way you started learning how to swim as a young girl was when she tossed you into the deep end of the pool with a swimming instructor and you had to learn first-hand, in the moment, how to paddle in water to keep from drowning.

"But he's so hot," You whisper, leaning across the table as your hands start to shake, "I'm no supermodel on a runway. I've never even had a boyfriend."

"How have I never known that you're in your late twenties and never had a boyfriend?" Alexis gapes, one of her hands coming to cover your shaking ones.

"Never even been on a real date, actually." You grimace and lean away, pulling your hands out from under hers.

"I'm not going to force you," Alexis softens, "If you're really not ready, we can go and come back some other time."

You take a deep breath in, then a slow breath out. "What if he shoots me down?" What if I drown in rejection?

"Remember what you said when we took that philosophy course on morality in grad school and we were arguing about what it means for a person to have 'character'?" You frown at Alexis' words. Grad school, where you met her and became life-long friends, feels like a lifetime ago. "You said, 'It's your motivations and actions that make you who you are.' If you go over there and he's the one that rejects you, that is communicating something to you about who he is. His rejection is not about you."

You take a second breath and shrug, "That makes sense, I guess."

"There's a reason I'm your best friend y'know." Alexis flips her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm worth this," You nod your head adamantly, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. But your eyes don't meet nothing. It's only a quick glance, but there's a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Something that tells you that you won't be making a complete fool of yourself.

"Damn right you are," Alexis says.

You slowly stand up from your seat against the wall, shaking your hands out. You're going to let what you want override your indecision and anxiety, even if it's just for sixty seconds.

"Okay, okay, okay," You whisper to yourself. Taking a step and then turning back towards Alexis.

"You've got this," She reassures you. "Go, be brave."

Your turn around and walk forward, Jake Seresin in your sights. Maybe you in his, based on the second glance your garner. You turn your head one last time to give Alexis and anxious, unsure smile and then you walk the rest of the way to the bar counter by yourself. You don't look back.

[cherryobx]

Hi! Congrats on the celebration!!!!!

Turn the radio up! - give me a song you love, and a character and I’ll write a blurb or a full-sized fic based on that With Jake Seresin and Black and White by Niall Horan, please? Thank you so much!

a/n: thank you so much nonnie! i absolutely love this song!

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

summary: Jake is unable to keep his tears at bay when you sees you walk down the aisle

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a dress, jake is an emotional mess

Jake always knew he was going to cry at his wedding. It wasn't even a question. It was a fact.

But he never expected to start crying just at the sight of you. Maybe during the vows, yes, but not before that.

The second he saw you walking down the aisle in your absolutely stunning dress his eyes welled up. You looked as beautiful as the day he met you. You were glowing with happiness. The tears to hit him like a freight train. He wasn't expecting it.

Without saying a word Bradley handed him a handkerchief.

Jake swore he was ascending to heaven at that exact moment. He thought he was going to die because the last couple of years were replaying in his mind, his life literally flashing in front of his eyes. All the big and little moments. When you first met, first date, your first kiss, when you moved in together. All of it.

He knew he was going to marry you the moment he met you because there was no one out there who could measure up to you. You were it for him.

He's completely wrecked by the time you reach him, tears streaming down his face.

"Hi, baby." You smile at him and place your hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb.

"Hi."

He struggles to get through the vows, making you also tear up.

You're so in love it seems unreal. You had the kind of relationship people dreamed of. You loved each other conditionally. You were made for each other and he can't help but worship the ground you walk on.

You promise to love each other until death pries you from each others hands.

He can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.