#the way you see and write Jake Seresin is a Gift

[luminousnotmatter]

Fe!!! Darling Fe!! That was ✨Pure Softness™️✨ and I just

homecoming || j.h.s

Summary: This time, he had someone waiting for him. This time, he was coming home to someone. 

Warnings: fluff, jake being emotional and soft (yes that is a warning), no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x f!reader

Authors Note: Thanks to @a-reader-and-a-writer & @demxters for looking this over for me. mwah 😘

Long deployments had never bothered Jake. He had nothing at home waiting for him, so it didn’t matter that he was away for months at a time. Or at least that was what he tried to tell himself. 

For years, he had tried his best to believe that, since it meant that it hurt less seeing all the families reuniting when they docked. It meant he felt less lonely when his colleagues went home and he went back to the housing unit offered by the Navy. It meant he could fool himself that he didn’t need anyone. 

He was wrong. Jake knew he was just as human as anyone else but it hurt to admit because he didn’t have anyone. 

While Javy and his family always extended an invitation to join them, Jake felt bad intruding on their private time, no matter how many times Javy assured him it was no problem. Yet he had always declined. 

But this time it was different. Jake felt almost giddy, bouncing on his feet as he waited for his turn to leave the ship. 

This time, he had someone waiting for him. This time, he was coming home to someone. 

“Excited to see your girl?” Javy clapped him on the shoulder as they waited in line. 

Excited was an understatement. For the first time in years, he had someone waiting for him. Someone who had missed him. Someone who loved him. 

Jake smiled, thinking about Skip. “Hell yeah. I can’t wait.” 

Javy smiled as well, infected by the good mood his friend was sporting. “I’m happy for you. Are we still on for Friday?” 

Charlotte, Javy’s longtime girlfriend had wanted them to get together before their leave started. They were set to have a four-week leave, so she and Javy were planning to visit his family in New Orleans. 

“Yeah. Skip said she took the rest of the week off so we can meet you guys whenever.” Jake wanted nothing more than to just stay at home with Skip but Charlotte insisted on dinner before she and Javy left. 

Somewhere ahead it was announced that they could finally get moving. Jake wasted no time in slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way towards the exit, Javy on his heels. 

The heat hit him as he headed down the walkway, the California sun beating down on them. Javy made a beeline for Charlotte the moment he saw her, telling Jake to call him later. There were bodies all around him as Jake swept the crowd for his girlfriend. It wasn’t easy in the sea of people and for a moment he worried. 

What if she wasn’t here? What if, during his time away, she had found someone better? Maybe she had gotten tired of waiting for him to come home? 

As his mind spiralled, Jake barely heard his name being called. His hand tightened around the strap of the bag as he tried to navigate away from all the people. He felt trapped and he pushed his way past a couple embracing, trying the leave the crowd. 

“Jake!” 

He looked up when he heard his name, heart pounding in his chest. Skip was standing away from the mass of people, a bouquet in her hand. Jake dropped his bag as she barrelled towards him, catching her as she threw her arms around him. 

Jake felt all the tension leave his body the moment she was back in his arms. He breathed her in, arms tightening around her. 

“I missed you so much,” Skip mumbled against his skin as she sniffled into his neck. 

“I missed you more, baby. Are you crying?” The thought that she was crying because he missed him was surreal. Jake never thought someone would. 

“No, I'm not crying. This is just my body getting rid of all the excess water.” She leaned back, smiling. 

He couldn’t help but laugh as he picked her up and spun her around. He cupped her face after putting her down, kissing her gently. More tears wet his cheeks and he leaned back, worry etched across his face. 

“Is this happy excess water or sad?” He joked, wiping away her tears. 

Skip laughed. “They’re happy, I promise. Oh, before I forget, these are for you.” She held out the flowers for him to take. 

Jake felt touched by the simple gesture. Nobody had ever given him flowers before and that fact that Skip had brought tears to his eyes. He cleared his throat to get rid of the emotions threatening to wash over him. 

“Thank you, darlin’. I’ve never gotten flowers before.” Jake tried to sound indifferent, like it wasn’t a big deal but Skip saw right through him. 

“That’s stupid. You deserve all the flowers, baby.” It warmed his heart and he pulled her in for another kiss, unable to say what he was feeling. Skip smiled against his lips, wrapping her arms around his waist. She always understood him, even when Jake barely knew what he needed.  

“Do you want to go home or wanna get something to eat first?” She asked when they broke apart. 

Jake wanted nothing more than to just go home and cuddle Skip on the couch. “Home, please.”

Skip refused to let him drive, pushing him towards the passenger door. 

Stepping through the door into their shared home brought a fuzzy warm feeling to his chest, feeling like he was finally home. 

“Okay, so how about you take a shower and I’ll order some food? We can watch a movie and just cuddle on the couch.” Skip rummaged through the kitchen drawer, probably looking for a takeout menu. 

“You’re too good for me,” Jake mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her, lips finding the back of her head. 

Skip turned in his embrace, a somewhat sad expression on her face. “No. You deserve good things. All I’m doing is exactly everything you deserve,” she paused, hands finding his shoulders, “now, go shower. You smell like a boat and fuel.” 

Knowing she meant business, Jake kissed her once before trudging up the stairs. Her words replayed in his head, over and over. His heart felt full from all the affection. 

The sight that greeted him when he came back downstairs filled his heart even more. Skip had pulled all the blinds down, lighting a lot of candles that were scattered around the room. Chinese takeout was on the coffee table and Skip had pulled out what looked like every blanket and spare pillow they owned onto the couch. 

They ate straight out of the cartons, legs tangled together. Jake thrived on the physical affection as Skip rubbed a foot up and down his calf. Even something so simple told him how much he had missed it for a larger part of his life. 

They barely paid any attention to the movie, content to just be in each other's company again. 

As the end credits rolled down the screen, Skip was snoring quietly, her head pillowed on his chest. Jake took a moment to just take everything in, how it felt to finally be home again. As Skip shifted in his arms, burrowing closer, Jake decided there was nothing better. 

He didn’t want to wake his girl but he also knew what a night on the couch would do to his back. So he only felt a little guilty as he gently shook her. “Baby? We should go to bed.” He whispered, stroking her hair gently.

“No.” Skip mumbled, face hidden in his chest.

Jake chuckled. “But the bed is so much more comfortable than the couch.”

Skip shook her head, inching closer to him. “No.”

Deciding that he could face her wrath in the morning, Jake untangled himself from Skip, ignoring her squeak of protest, stretching his arms above his head before bending down and picking her up. “Let’s go to bed honey. You’ll sleep better there.”

Despite the short walk to the bedroom, Skip fell asleep again. Jake gently pulled the covers over her before going back to the living room to put out all the candles and turn the TV off. When he got back to the bedroom, Jake turned off the lights before crawling under the covers. He was about to reach for Skip when he got hit with the overwhelming feeling that he needed to be in her arms.

As if Skip could read his mind, she reached for him under the covers, pulling on his hand to tug him closer. “C’mere.”

Jake let himself be manhandled until he was resting his head on her chest, Skip’s hand in his hair, scratching his scalp gently. He pressed his nose to her pulse point, breathing her in. It felt very intimate and Jake felt himself relax fully as she continued her mistrations. 

“Thank you.” He whispered softly, eyes falling shut as he melted into her embrace, enjoying the way her skin felt against his. 

Jake took a shaky breath, trying to contain the emotions simmering underneath the surface. For the first time in 10 months, since he left Skip standing on the dock waving goodbye, Jake felt at peace. 

Skip pressed her lips to his forehead, humming softly. “I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Jake couldn’t find the right words, so he simply grabbed her free hand and intertwined their fingers, trying to convey his feelings through physical touch. As always, she understood exactly what he meant, chuckling softly. 

“I love you.” He whispered against her skin and felt his heart flutter when she echoed his sentiment. 

As they laid there, Jake thought about how he finally got the homecoming he always wished for.

Taglist: @wildbornsiren​ @therebeccaw@imjess-themess@antiquitea@fuckyeahhangman@writercole@hederasgarden@yanna-banana@wkndwlff@bobfloydsbabe@hollandorks@anniesocsandgeneralstore@ereardon@luminousnotmatter@roosterscock@thedroneranger@fandomxpreferences@top-hhun@princessmisery666@bradshawsbitch​ @princessphilly@a-reader-and-a-writer@green-socks@angstybluejay@seresinhangmanjake@ayorooster​@notroosterbradshaw​ @indynerdgirl@gigisimsonmars@girl-in-the-chairs-void@bradshawbabes@unhinged-btch@horseshoegirl@sadpetalsstuff@bradshawbaby@ahopelessromanticwritersworld@ummjustfics​ @septemberrie​ @somenamewithepineapple​ @seresinsweetie​​ @crescentwolf​ @seresinhangmanjake​ @sylviebell​ @waklman​ @roosterforme​ @rosiahills22​ @dempy​ @i0veless​ @ilovewriting06​ @kmc1989​ @demxters@amortentiadrops@teacupsandtopgun@hangmanscoming

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Roadside Assistance

Summary: When you breakdown on the side of the road and only one pilot seems to answer the phone.

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Some minor swear words, lots of fluff ahead.

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: So sorry I’ve been MIA. But tomorrow is my birthday and I thought I would all gift you with one of my WIP’s! Hoping to be writing again more regularly! As always, my inbox is open for you. Thanks for reading!!

Your car made a noise you didn’t even know was possible to make. While that might have seemed a tad concerning, you didn’t give it much thought as your car still drove fine. Yeah, there might have been a few lights on the dashboard, but you viewed them more as suggestions to do something later.

You happily continued towards your destination, singing along to a song on the radio, when your car decided to stop working. The entire machine seemed to shut off, causing panic to rise up. It was kind enough to at least give you enough momentum to pull off to the side of the road.

A few choice words spilled out of your mouth as you tried and failed to restart your car. You looked up and saw you were in the middle of nowhere, stranded midday in the California heat.

A sensible thing would have been to call a tow truck, but something about being stuck in a vehicle with a stranger didn’t sit right with you. So, you did the next best thing and started calling your teammates to see if one of them would be kind enough to come and save you.

You started with Rooster and prayed your mustached friend was by his phone. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side as you were met with his voicemail. The same went for nearly every other person on your team until you were left with one number.

You couldn’t exactly fault them. It was the team’s one Saturday off and everyone was taking advantage of it. Something you were in the middle of doing until your car decided it wanted to be dramatic today.

The thought to take your chances with a tow truck came back up as you debated on calling the last number. Even if he did answer, you know you would never hear the end of it.

Who knew how close the nearest shop was and thinking about either trying to make small talk with a stranger or being stuck in an awkward silence, sent shivers down your spine. So, you dialed the number and prayed he wasn’t in his normal, annoying mood.

“Seresin.” He answered on the second ring, catching you completely off guard at the quickness of it.

“Umm, hi. Yeah, it’s me. Look I wouldn’t be calling unless it was a near emergency, and it seems like no one has a phone today. But I’m stuck on the side of the road and need someone to come get me.” You tapped your fingers nervously on the steering wheel as you quickly explained what was going on.

“Side of the road? Are you okay? What happened?” The urgency in his voice made you freeze. Hangman didn’t care about anything but the brand of hair gel he uses. Which led to you asking, “Are you drunk?”

An exasperated sigh was your answer. “No, Y/N. I’m as sober as a judge. No can you tell me what’s going on?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the saying but answered him anyway. “My car broke down on the way to this beach and it won’t start.”

There was a long pause, “And you called me?” You threw your hands up in the air, knowing he couldn’t see your reaction.

“As I previously stated, no one else answered. I also don’t want to call a tow truck for personal reasons. Can you help or do I need to start walking?” You tried not to sound irritated at him, but the heat was starting to get to you.

“Yeah, not a problem. Send me your location and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are your hazard lights on?” You looked down at your car and started trying to find them.

“Uh, yeah.” You didn’t miss the chuckle on the other end of the line, letting you know he caught your lie.

“I’ll be there shortly. Don’t get out of your car until I get there.” You gave him a hum in response and hung up. After a few more minutes of searching, you held your fist up in victory as you found your hazard lights.

It didn’t take too long for your teammate to pull up behind you and you hoped that whatever the problem was, he could fix it quickly. You got out of your car to greet him, and he took his aviators off and looked you over, making sure you were still in one piece.

“You good?” There he went again, asking about your well-being. The jet fumes must be getting to him.

“Yeah, just hot.” You looked away before you saw his smirk at your response

He walked over and reached inside your car to pop the hood. “What happened before it died?”

You thought about imitating the noise it made but thought better of it. Lord knows you would only sound like a dying animal. “It made a weird sound and the died a few minutes after.”

He didn’t ask any other questions until he bent over the front of your car. “When was your last oil change?”

You went to answer him, but he took off his shirt, successfully distracting you for the moment. All the guys in the Navy were in shape, but Jake seemed like he was sculpted from the Gods.

A snapping of fingers brought you out of your daze. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

You shook your head at your obvious misstep in stroking his ego. And his ever-present smirk was the cherry on top.

“I can’t remember. Maybe before my last deployment.” Your eyes followed him as he bent back over, using his shirt to unscrew something. You didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the movements or the sweat slowly dripping down his back. It was hot outside, but not lord not this hot.

You had to physically turn around to stop ogling the man before he caught you again. Hangman didn’t need to know you couldn’t keep your eyes off him, just like every other girl in this world.

He pulled his head out from under the hood and smirked at you. “You don’t know a single thing about cars, do you?”

Although his looks might have nice on the eyes, it was comments like that that pulled you back to reality. “I’m a pilot. I don’t need to know about cars.” Your answer seemed to amuse him more as he shook his head and chuckled.

You thought about your decision to not call the tow truck and mentally slapped yourself. “I don’t see how my lack of knowledge is funny.”

He wiped his hands off on his shirt and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just funny that one of the best pilots in the US can work on an F-18 like it’s nothing, but a simple car engine is out of your depths.”

When he said it out loud you knew it sounded bad. “I’m sorry I’m your typical girl and don’t care about cars.”

He shut the hood of your car and stepped towards you, “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you. But you are far from your typical girl. As for your car, it’s gonna cost you.”

You looked over at the dead piece of scrap metal and asked, “What will? The car or you?”

That question had him throwing his head back and laughing. “As much as I would love to cash in whatever your mind went to, I meant the car. The transmission is blown.”

A person didn’t have to know much about cars to know that a blown transmission was a near death sentence for both your bank account and the car itself. You didn’t know if it was the heat or the situation itself, but you could feel your anger start to bubble to the surface.

Jake must have seen it too and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, no need to worry. We will get the car towed and I know a guy in the area that can give you a good deal. It’ll be fixed by the end of this mission. Sound okay?”

You nodded your head and let him lead you to his truck. He turned on the A/C and told you to sit tight. The cool air on your face had never in your life felt as good as it did in this moment. He walked back out to your car, and you leaned your head back on the seat and closed your eyes. The one Saturday you have off and it’s spent on the side of the damn road.

A noise had you opening your eyes and you saw the dreaded tow truck start loading your car up. You made a move to get out, but Jake held a hand up telling you to stay in the car. You don’t thank this man for much, but in this moment, he was your god damn savoir.

Before too long, Jake got back in the truck and started driving like he didn’t just send your car off to be slaughtered. Before you could dwell too much on that, you realized the two of you were headed the opposite way of the base.

“Where are we going?”

“Well Darlin’, seeming that neither of us got to spend this day like we originally planned, I figured I’d go buy you a drink.” He was casually holding the steering wheel with one hand while the other rested on the center console. Not looking like he had a care in the world.

“You want to buy me a drink? Me?” You thought about the way you treated him at base and couldn’t fathom why he of all people would go out of their way to buy you a drink. He always acted like he was better than everyone else and you were the constant reminder that he wasn’t.

“Why do you find that so hard to believe? Can’t I take a pretty girl like yourself out?” He tossed you a Hollywood smile. One that got every single girl he talked to, to drop their pants for him. Which is why you said what you did next.

“Yeah, I’m not doing this. Pull over so I can get out and walk.” You took off your seatbelt, just for him to reach over and buckle you back in.

“That. That right there is why I want to take you out. You are the one girl who I know won’t take anyone’s shit. Do you know how hard I’ve tried to get you to even think about spending a minute with me outside of work? Hell, I’ve never in my life tried so hard for a girl to notice me. It took you breaking down on the side of the road with zero other options but for you to call me. So yes, sweetheart. I’m going to take advantage of you being hostage in my truck and buy you a drink.”

You opened your mouth just to shut it, not knowing how to respond to that. Your mind was reeling, trying to put together pieces you didn’t know went to the same puzzle. Jake had been around you more recently, but you thought it had to do with him trying to beat you out of a spot for this mission. Not that he might actually have feelings for you.

Had you been this narrow minded the entire time?

“Still with me?” The southern drawl of a voice snapped you out of your downward spiral. You glanced over at him and saw he was studying your reaction. The casual demeanor was now gone as his fingers tapped along the steering wheel. Was the all mighty Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin nervous?

“Why not simply ask me out? Ever think of that option?” You watched in amusement as he turned to face the road again, clearly thinking over what you just said. Going from nervous to downright frustrated was two things you didn’t get to see from him often. And it sounded a little cruel, but you loved it.

“It was that easy? This whole time it was that easy?” He looked to you in what seemed like complete exasperation, and you nodded your head.

“With all the praise you gave me earlier about not being like every other girl, yeah it was that simple. I’m not as complicated as you make me out to be. Flowers would’ve been nice though.” You gave him a smirk, just like the one he tortured you with day in and day out.  

He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. “Well alright then. Y/N, would you do me the honors in letting me buy you a drink?”

You tried to hide the blush that crept up onto your face by turning to look out the window. “Seeing that you have already kidnapped me, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

His snort had you turning back around and smiling. “Thank you for helping me with my car. Who knows how long I would’ve been stranded on the side of the road.”

He grabbed your hand and squeezed, “No one else I would cancel plans for.”

You froze as you processed his words. “What do you mean by canceled?”

The smirk was back as he said, “I was headed out with Coyote and a few of the other guys. So, with us being gone this long I think it’s safe to assume they know what’s going on.”

You sank back into the seat and shook your head. “I take it back. I’ll walk home from here.”   

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you so so much for reading!!!

[greenorangevioletgrass]

Hi Ava!

I would love love love if you could write a little blurb about Jake 🤠

Maybe something where he's being a little possessive (but in a good way) about his lady and he says "That's my girl" or something along those lines 🥰

Please accept this sexy Glen gift as payment 😂

I hope you're having a lovely day!

EEEEEP! im so stoked for this! i wrote this with my astronaut!reader in mind (fic coming soon 😉) but this can be read as a standalone, general!reader. but listen listen listen

Jake is a possessive guy by nature, but he likes to think he has chilled out more at his age. And instead of getting all territorial every time a guy hits on you when you go out, he has taken to sit back and watch the chaos unravel before him.

Right now, a young Naval officer is talking your ear off at the bar. This is so typical; he can’t go to the bathroom for two minutes without some dumbass trying to win your attention. He wouldn’t blame them, though. Your red lipstick makes him (and all these men) weak in the knees, and that white sundress you’re wearing makes you look angelic—if only they knew you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Your eyes meet as Jake makes his way over, gleaming with mischief, and Jake decides to take the empty seat next to the guy first. Get a load of this, you all but say to him in a single look.

“Yeah, so you know a G-force? Like the accumulation of the force of gravity that we experience in the aircraft is just… insane. We could go anywhere from 5 and 9 G’s— why are you smiling?” The guy smiles at you somewhat nervously.

“No, I just… it’s cute, that’s all.” You sip on your gin and tonic. “I get 12 G’s just going to the station.”

“Pfft! Where do you work, anyway? NASA?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you answer lightly, plainly.

His face falls. Jake can’t even see it, but he can see the shoulders drooping and he laughs quietly, tapping this man on the shoulder. His face goes red.

“Commander Seresin! I—”

“Run along, Ensign… Hastings. That’s my girl.” Jake slots his arm around your waist—a territorial lite move.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”

“Nice meeting you.” You flash him a smile of formality, effectively ending the conversation with that guy. He awkwardly phase out into the crowd and you’re now left alone together again.

Jake laughs, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You are such a menace, you know that?”

“You love that about me.”

And he does. Gosh, he really does.

[topguncortez]

Slap Shot || Chapter 2

A Top Gun Hockey AU

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: Jake heads to his last game before his suspension and hears the speculated news right from the source. Sonny attends her first Dagger hockey game since getting the job.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: grief, mentions of sexism, injuries, losing a parent, locker room talk, hockey inaccuracies, mentions of cheating, workplace harassment, use of the word "puck bunny", mentions of sex

note: I have a graduation/summer celebration going on! help me get back into the writing groove by requesting something or sending in an ask!

There was something about the electricity in the air on game day. The anticipation, the anxiety, the stress, the crowds lining the block hours before the puck drops. It was all things that Jake had grown to love ever since he got up to the big leagues. He could remember the day of his first NHL game, there was a lot riding on his shoulders as the first round draft pick to a team that hadn’t even had a playoff berth in the new century. The line of fans was around the building and down the block, fangirls screaming and pointing at Jake’s truck as he pulled up to North Island Arena, or the Hard Deck, as some fans called it. 

And even years later, the excitement was still there. The crowds were still around the building and down the block. And the fangirls still screamed and pointed at his truck as he pulled into the underground garage at the Hard Deck. Jake parked his truck in the same spot, right next to defenseman Bradley Bradshaw’s shiny blue bronco. 

Jake straightened out his gray suit, a custom made gift from one of the various sponsors he had gained over the years. Aside from being one of the best hockey players, Jake Seresin was also the “pretty boy” of the NHL. And he wore that title with a badge of honor. 

Making his way inside the Hard Deck, he sent a wink to the young social media intern who was in charge of filming the players as they walked inside. He couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered that one trick she could do with her tongue that had his head spinning. 

“Looking good. . .” He nodded towards her, and watched as she nearly fainted from his acknowledgement. 

The locker room was practically empty as Jake walked to his locker, stripping from his suit, and changing into his warm up clothes. He liked to be the first one to the arena, he liked to sit in the quiet locker room, and go over his plays in his head before it was filled with the sounds of his teammates getting ready for their game. Jake wouldn’t say he was superstitious and had precious pre-game rituals, but he had some things he liked to do before every game. 

“Thought you weren’t playing,” A voice broke him out of his trance. He lifted his head to see his teammate, Michael Hendersob, standing in the doorway. His suit had long been shucked off, a pair of black shorts and a blue North Island sweatshirt on his body. 

“Last game for a while,” Jake gave him a half smile, “Apparently, fighting your teammates is frowned upon.” 

“So is sleeping with the coach’s wife.” 

Jake scoffed, looking down at his feet, “I didn’t sleep with her. If anything, she threw herself at me. What was I supposed to do?” 

Henderson rolled his eyes, grabbing some tape to work on his sticks for the game, “I don’t know man, walk away? Say no thanks?” 

“I can’t leave a wanting lady unsatisfied,” Jake smirked and Henderson huffed. It was quiet for a moment, as Jake looked at the stick in his lap, before he spoke up, “Rumor mill says you signed for an apartment in the Villages.” 

Henderson chuckled, “Yeah, a beautiful three bedroom ranch style, right on the beach. Thinking I should get a golf cart and some of those colored loofahs, maybe even a pineapple on the front door.” 

“Oh I bet Liv would love that.” 

If there was one woman who could make the whole North Island Daggers Hockey Team shudder in fear, it was Liv Henderson. The woman was the definition of the perfect WAG: beautiful, smart, classy, helpful, and strong willed. Liv had opened up her house, having most of the team dinners on Sundays when they could. Liv always joked that she wasn’t just raising three boys, she was raising 26 boys (including her own husband). Jake always jokes around that one day he was going to steal Liv away, but never in a million years would he think of doing that. He saw the way Henderson looked at the girl who was his highschool sweetheart. It made him ache for something like that. 

“She’d have my balls in a jar,” Henderson shook his head, both men knowing it was probably true, “But it’s time, man. I’m getting past my prime. I can’t keep up with you young bucks out there on the ice. Besides. . . after everything that happened across the pond. . . I know it was a freak accident, but it scared me. I can’t imagine my wife, my kids, hell, the fans and my team seeing that.” 

Jake nodded, knowing exactly what he was alluding to. The freak accident of two players on the ice, leading to one tragically losing their life. When news of the accident traveled, it made Jake feel sick to his stomach. Hockey was a dangerous sport. He’s seen guys skate off holding their teeth in their hands, or clutching their broken noses. Never, in a million years, would he imagine a team would have to hold their friend up as they took him off the ice. 

“I plan to be here to watch them grow up, and not spend it trying to fix my scrambled brain,” Henderson spoke, breaking the tension, “Bad enough I got three fake teeth. Liv would come after me if I lost another.” 

“It’ll be weird without you,” Jake looked at him. 

For as long as Jake has been a fan of hockey, Michael Henderson has been playing. Jake could remember being a kid, going with the U12 USA team to a North Island versus the Flyers game, and waiting down by the tunnel to get his jersey signed by Michael. To be drafted to the same team as him is like a dream come true for Jake. What would’ve made it better is having Russ Hamilton as their coach. Jake knew there would come a day where Henderson would hang up the skates, he just didn’t think it would be this soon. 

“You’ll get over it,” Henderson nudged him, and Jake scoffed, “You will. You’ll be sitting in this locker room a year from now and be like ‘damn, I'm sure glad that grandpa is gone’.” 

“Never,” Jake feigned hurt, “You are my baby!” 

“You’re fucking weird,” Henderson shook his head in laughter, and then cleared his throat, “You know. . . They asked me if I had a recommendation for a captain.” Jake felt his heartbeat pick up in speed, “The first name that came to my mind was yours. And I wanted to say your name so bad. . . but I couldn’t.” 

“Why?” Jake felt a mix of anger and sadness that the man he considered one of his close friends and mentors wouldn’t have suggested him for the spot. 

“Cause you’re not there yet,” Henderson said, honesty dripping in his voice. If there was one person on the team any of the guys could be honest with, it was Michael Henderson. Man was like a vault, harboring secrets of his teammates, “We all know you are the right man for the job. But you have to prove it. Being a captain is more than just having the skills and the stats. It’s what happens off the ice.” 

“Look,” Henderson ran a hand through his hair, “I was your age when I was faced with either getting captain or getting kicked off. Liv and I had broken up and I just. . . I got sucked into the life of being a hockey player. As a captain, you have so many eyes on you. Not just from the coaches and the GMs. . . but the fans, the sports announcers, the kids. . . Being a captain isn’t just about what happens on the ice, it’s also about what happens off the ice,” Henderson sat down next Jake, “You are the man for the position. But you need to get your shit together. Or they’ll pick someone else and you’ll be sent somewhere else.” 

Jake looked at his teammate, soaking in every word that he said. Even though there was only a 10 year difference between him and Henderson, he felt like there was more. Henderson spoke to Jake like an encouraging father, one that he wished and envied that his boys had. 

“Thanks Hendo,” Jake said sincerely. 

“Of course,” Henderson smiled, “Now, do me a favor. . . Keep the retirement village stuff a secret. Liv still hasn’t picked out the house she wants yet.” 

Jake chuckled, slapping his captain’s shoulder, “Secrets safe with me.” 

— — — 

One part of pre-game that Jake hated, was warming up on the ice in front of fans. Some guys loved it, taking time to smile and pose for pictures and toss pucks over the glass. Jake hated it because it distracted him. The bright signs, the fans pounding on the glass, the blasting music and lights flashing around. Jake just wanted to put his headphones on and ignore the social media girl who held her work phone right in front of his face as he stretched out on the ice. He just knew that his friends and family are going to bombard him with links to the latest thirst trap of him stretching. 

The guys skated around on the ice, passing pucks to one another and serving them to Bob Floyd, their goalie. When Bob first joined the team, Jake didn’t think he had what it took to be an NHL goalie. He was scrawny, and lanky, and looked like he weighed less than his pads. But after he had a game winning save against the Devils and nearly started a fight himself, Jake was suddenly Team Bob Floyd. 

Jake quietly ran through the roster of the guys, checking them off one by one as they skated by, noticing that one was still missing. Jake was about to shout at Henderson asking where Holloway was, when the player in question skated out on the ice, a bubble now attached to his helmet. A prominent cut was still across his nose as bruising grew under his eye sockets. Jake couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips as Holloway skated right by him. 

“Something funny, Seresin?” Holloway asked. 

Jake just shrugged, “Oh nothing, bubble boy,” He stood from where he was kneeling on the ice, “Maybe next time. . . start a fight you can win.” 

Holloway glared daggers into Jake’s back as he skated over to a bunch of awaiting blondes hoping for a chance to get a puck from the star player. 

— — — 

There was a chill in the arena as you walked through the door, being escorted by some intern to the box that Pete and Tom had invited you to. You knew this stadium like the back of your hand, and would have found your way to the box that was named in honor of your father by yourself. Even though your father didn’t spend a lot of time on the Daggers team, he still considered the organization as his family. He told you once that he truly never felt a connection to a team or an area like he did for North Island. It brought a smile to your face as the intern pushed open the door to the box with red letters painted on the frosted glass reading “The Hamilton Box”.

You walked right towards the edge of the box, looking out over the ice as both teams warmed up, skating in circles around each other. The last time you had been in this position, your father was standing next to you, pointing out certain players to keep an eye on and rattling off their stats as if it had been ingrained in his mind, which knowing him. . . it probably was. A strange feeling grew in your belly, it was a mixture of sadness and anger. Sadness that he wasn’t here next to you and anger that cancer had taken him way before his time. 

“You miss it?” Tom asked, startling you from your trance of watching the players. 

A sheepish smile grew on your face as you looked back at the ice. Only a handful of people knew the truth as to why you walked away from hockey, and Tom was one of those, “Every damn day.” 

Tom gave you a warm smile, the type of smile only a dad could give to their child as he slung his arm over your shoulders, “Your dad always spoke so highly of you. Told us you were going to give us a run for our money some day.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered those days where you’d spend hours upon hours at the arena with your dad. Running drills until your body physically couldn’t anymore. Your dad never pushed you hard, it was always something you did on your own and your dad was just a grateful volunteer to be there. Those days seemed like a whole other life compared to what you were living now. 

“I haven’t been on the ice like that in years,” You shook your head, looking down at your heels. You could’ve just worn jeans and some sneakers like you would usually wear, but you were still trying to impress your new employer, so dress pants, a deep blue dress shirt and black heels it was, “It wouldn’t even feel the same anymore. Not because of the injury. . . because he’s not here.” 

Tom squeezed your shoulders, “You’d be surprised. I gave it up for years and thought the same thing. But sometimes, it feels better than it used to feel.” 

You nodded your head as Tom walked over to a group of donors, working the crowd just like you remember him doing. Tom was always the face of the Daggers, your dad always poking fun of him for it. Tom always got the glory while your dad was doing all the guts. You shook your head laughing, looking back towards the ice, rolling your eyes as one of the players stood off to the side, flirting with a group of females. 

It seemed as soon as the puck dropped, the Coyotes had already won the game. The Coyotes came in hot, and the Daggers were ice cold as they kept getting out played and out skated. No one seemed to be communicating on the team, simple plays falling apart and dumb goals getting passed Bob. The anger grew in Jake’s body as he got slammed into the boards for probably the 100th time in a row, and it was only the 2nd period. Jake usually thrived when he was behind the net, but his usual tactics were falling apart and he felt like Holloway was leaving him defenseless and open for being used as a punching bag. 

Jake shook his head, a loud groan leaving his gritted teeth as he skated out from behind the net, going right up to Holloway, “You just going to sit there with your thumb in your ass and not do anything!?” 

Holloway just shrugged, “You seemed like you had it,” If looks could kill, Holloway would be dead as he skated over the blue line.

Jake’s eyes move around the ice, watching the puck as Bradley stole it away from a Coyote player, passing it over to Holloway. Instead of skating back to the net, to get set up for a goal or assist, Jake skated right at Holloway, checking him, sending his teammate flying towards the ground. Jake was quick to juggle the puck before lining up to make a perfect slapshot, sending it soaring past the Coyote goalie. The arena erupted in cheers as the buzzer sounded. Jake smirked as he skated past Holloway, who was getting up from the ice. 

“The fuck was that!?” Holloway yelled. 

“I had it,” Jake winked. The small movement being broadcasted on the jumbotron for everyone to see, making the crowd go even wilder. 

The Hamilton Box erupted in cheers as people high-fived and clinked their drinks together at finally getting on the scoreboard. You could hear Tom’s loud cheering as he pointed down to the ice, the players getting ready for the game to get back and action. You rolled your eyes, all the goal did was put the team on the scoreboard, they were still getting beat 4-1. Your eyes landed on the jumbotron hanging above the center of the ice, the goal and Jake Seresin’s wink to his teammate were being replayed over and over, making your blood heat up. If there was one thing you hated, it was show-offs. 

“Not a fan?” Pete asked, noticing the look on your face. 

“Not a fan?” You asked, eyebrow raised, and nodded your head towards the replay still being shown, “Not a fan is an understatement.” 

Tom had walked over to the two, a glass of champagne in his hand, “It was a good play.” 

“That?” You scoffed, “That was bullshit. He bodychecked his own teammate to make a goal, and for what? To make ESPN’s “play of the week”,” You mocked, looking back at the ice just as Jake got shoved up against the boards. . . again, “Hockey is a team sport. You’re only going to be good if you work together. That little display of. . . whatever the fuck, isn’t how you win a cup. If Jake Seresin wanted to play by himself, he should try golf.” 

You turned your body as Tom and Pete shared a look, “What?” 

A smile broke across Pete’s face, “Nothing. . . you just sound like your dad.” 

You tried to keep up your facade, but it slowly faded as your ears turned pink and a smile threatened to arise on your face. You cleared your throat and turned back to the game, stomping your heel for extra drama. Both men chuckled softly, before following suit and watching the second period get under way. 

— — —

They should’ve won. 

They should’ve fucking won. 

The Coyotes were supposed to be an easy, breezy team to play before the Daggers hit the road for 2 weeks. But apparently, the Coyotes had gotten good overnight. . . or the Daggers underestimated them. 

The moment the final buzzer went off, Jake was pissed. A final score of 6-2 in bright block letters dancing around the jumbotron as Jake skated off the ice towards the locker room, not stopping to acknowledge fans or his coaches. Everyone knew better than to stand in the way of Jake Seresin and the locker room after a brutal loss. The second the door closed behind him, he was breaking his stick against the ground with a loud yell. 

“You’re lucky Bauer endorses you,” Bradley mumbled as he walked in after Jake, kicking the pieces of splintered plastic. 

“Shut up, Bradshaw,” Jake muttered, throwing the remaining stick off towards the side. He sat down on the bench with a groan, immediately going to undo his skates, “That was fucking stupid.” 

“We got outplayed,” Bradley shrugged, “What can we do?” 

“Don't get outplayed.” 

Bradley couldn’t even respond as Jake was already shucking off his uniform and pads, before grabbing his towel and heading to the showers. On the nights where they lost, Jake was the first one out of the locker room, doing all that was humanly possible to avoid talking to the press. Tonight, he seemed to be wanting to move even quicker, knowing that the press was going to ask him about the bodycheck he delivered to Holloway and how he felt about his upcoming suspension. 

Jake showered quickly, washing the hotspots of his body, knowing that he would take a more in depth shower at home. Or maybe he’d take a bath. There was nothing Jake loved more than his clawfoot bathtub, it was the selling point for Jake when he was house hunting. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Jake stepped out into the locker room, which was fuller with his team mates all stripping off their uniforms and equipment. A cloud of tension was thick in the air as no one hardly said anything. What was there to say? 

They should’ve fucking won. 

“Seresin,” Coach Simpson said as he walked into the locker room. Jake’s back tensed, his breathing deep, “We need to talk.” 

Jake took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, before reaching for his deodorant, “Not now.” 

“Yes,” Simpson grumbled, “Now.” 

Jake turned around, “No.” Simpson’s jaw clenched as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Excuse me?” 

Jake clenched his jaw, “Not tonight, alright, Coach? I played like shit. We all played like shit. My body hurts. I’m tired. And quite frankly, I think I am the last person that should be talking to the press tonight,” Jake turned back to his locker, grabbing his sweatpants. With not an ounce of shame in his body, he turned back around to his coach, and dropped his towel. Simpson quickly looked away, annoyance even more evident on his face. 

“Fine,” Simpson grunted, “Get your shit and get out.” 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,”  Jake smirked, slipping on his sweatpants and chucking all of his stuff into his duffle bag, “See you in two weeks.” 

“Actually. . .” Simpson licked his lips, as if the next words were going to pain him, “You will be joining us in Edmonton. Won’t be playing, but you’ll be there.” 

“Perfect. . . guessing they didn’t want me and Emma alone in the same place.” Before Simpson could yell at him Jake walked out of the locker room. 

Although his mood had lifted slightly, the moment he was in his truck, and turned on the Paul Marquez Show, his anger returned. 

“Going out West, we had the Coyotes and Daggers. . . and man did those Coyotes chew them up and spit them out,” Paul’s voice sounded out over the speakers as Jake put the truck in drive. He knew it was stupid to listen to sports analysts who hated him after playing probably the worst game of the season. But Jake was a sucker for pain, “Jake Seresin scored both of North Island’s goals for the night getting them on the scoreboard but it wasn’t enough.” 

“Oh it was enough,” The voice of Denny Lester filled the cab of the truck, “Hitting your already injured teammate. . . an injury that you caused, is certainly a new one.”

“Seresin’s time in the penalty box was certainly lower than it was during last week's game stretch against the Devils,” Paul Marquez’s voice sounded through the speaker again, “Could this mean that the Dagger bad boy is turning a new leaf?” Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes towards his sunroof,  “Or could it mean that the trade deadline is fast approaching, and Seresin’s title could be on the line.

Jake quickly turned off the radio, not wanting to hear the analysis on the encroaching trade deadline. He had the date circled on his calendar in bright red marker, and hung it on his fridge. Jake always believed the trade deadline came at the worst part of the season. Teams had been playing together for months, most had players returning from All-Star Weekend, the end of the season was winding down and the playoff teams started to become clearer. Trades could either make or break a team. Even if you were one of the benchwarmers that got traded, it was still a hit to the team. 

If you would’ve asked Jake last season if he was worried about the trade deadline, he would’ve laughed in your face and told you that you were stupid for even asking that question. But this season was different. He was different. Jake hated to say that the years of getting rammed into the boards were starting to catch up to him. . . but those years of getting rammed into the boards were starting to catch up to him. 

Jake pulled into the underground garage of his apartment building, turning his truck off and grabbing his duffle and suit bag from the car. His shoes squeaked against the marble of his luxury apartment building, as he nodded his head towards his doorman and the elevator attendant. Yeah, he lived in one of those buildings. When he first got to the daggers as an 18 year old, he had splurged most of his first NHL check on getting all the things he imagined, including the luxury penthouse on the 15th floor of the “Hamilton Building '' named after nonother than his hockey idol. 

The elevator dinged and opened right into Jake's living room, which was mainly black and white marble floors with black couches, white walls and a black-brick fireplace. He was a simple man, and liked to keep his house simple. He didn’t have time for decorations and besides, it was just more stuff around to collect dust. His housekeeper already had enough to do cleaning the two floor, 8 bedrooms, 6 bathroom penthouse. 

Jake tossed his duffle and suit bags on the floor by the elevator, knowing Donna will pick it up and put it away in his closet in the morning. He didn’t know how she did it, but his bag and clothes were always washed and put away by the time he woke up in the morning. She was like Santa Claus, but with less breaking into people’s houses. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, wanting his post-game snack which consisted of chocolate chip cookies and homemade ice cream, both made by Donna. 

He came to a stop in the doorway, his eyebrows furrowing at the stranger with her back to him, sitting at his kitchen island. The black dress she wore hugged her frame, and the black heels on her feet made her golden tan legs look like they went on for ages. Her hair was curled and flowed down her back, and the slightest hint of a tattoo peaked out from under the neckline. 

“I didn’t order anything, but I am sure glad you’re here,” Jake smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorway. 

The girl jumped, her phone clattering to the island and her hand going to her chest, probably to slow her erratic heartbeat. She waited a moment, before turning around on the barstool, shock written on her face, before it quickly twisted in disgust and anger. 

“Oh you got to be fucking kidding me,” She cursed. 

Jake chuckled, “Nice to meet you too, sweetheart. Usually that’s not the response I get. And usually the girls are wearing less clothes when I walk in. But I get it, want a bit of a-” 

The girl slid off the barstool, holding her hand up to cut him off, “I am not a fucking puck bunny,” She pointed her finger at him, and then waved it between the two of them, “And this is not going to fucking work,” She turned back around towards the island, gathering her phone, purse and coat. Jake couldn’t help but admire her ass in that black dress. He was a sucker for a woman in a little black dress and heels. 

“You’re in my apartment wearing a black dress and heels. What else am I supposed to assume?” 

The girl scoffed, turning her head with her jaw slightly ajar. Jake let his mind wander a bit, wondering how soft her lips were. They were plump and covered in what he guessed was lipgloss by the way they shone in the dim light of his kitchen. 

“You don’t even. . .” She shook her head again, “God you are worse than I remember,” Jake cocked his head in confusion, “I should’ve asked for a fucking name before I drove here. Hell! Before I even agreed to this!” 

“What are you going on about?” Jake asked, his eyebrows furrowed, “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you or-” The girl scoffed again, even louder this time, “Okay. . .” He pondered for a moment, trying to rack his brain for the right thing to say, “Well, I’m not that bad of a lay. I’ve been told I’m pretty-” The glare she sent him was enough to make him shut up, “Okay not here for a lay.” 

“Not even fucking close,” She grabbed her phone again, quickly opening the uber app. 

“Sorry for assuming, sweetheart.” 

“Quit with the sweetheart,” She mumbled, refreshing the app to see if a car could come get her. It was a Friday Night in North Island. . . how was there not a single Uber available? She was contemplating walking back to her hotel at this point, “That’s not my name.” 

Jake nodded his head, moving from the entryway of the kitchen and over to the opposite end of the island. He’s had his fair share of rejections, but none like this. Usually girls were always down for a one night stand with him. But there was something about the way this girl wasn’t even going to give him the time of day that intrigued him, “Can you tell me what your name is?” 

She continued to tap away on her phone, hoping and pleading to whomever that an Uber would become available, but it seemed like she was shit out of luck. She looked up at the man in front of her again, his eyebrows raised, waiting for her response to his question. A strange sensation filled her chest. Embarrassment. Hurt. Anger. She should’ve known that she didn’t mean anything to him, when he had only left a sticky note on the nightstand after what she would consider was the best weekend of her life. She shook her head, pushing away the embarrassment and turning it into fuel for her anger. She set down her purse and coat, holding her hand out to Jake. 

“Y/N L/N, your new personal PR manager. . . oh! And your new roommate.”

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[violentdelightsandviolentends]

For Eternity. (A Sequel to The Orange.)

You and Jake share an orange. He's never loved you more.

This is a sequel to The Orange, but can absolutely be read as a stand alone <3

Pairing - Jake Seresin x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, a little smooching

Word Count - 2614

Author's Note - hi, me again. I hope you enjoy this part 2 of The Orange. I loved that first fic so much, and whenever I go to write Jake, it seems to occur in that universe, so I thought why not make a sequel just as sweet as the first. as always, requests or thoughts, send them my way. all my love x

Masterlist. Requests.

Jake Seresin has always been an awful dancer. Like, seriously, genuinely, terrible. It was one of the main reasons, it turns out, that you fell in love with him.

Upon first glance, Jake seems perfect. Ken Doll perfect. Cover of Vogue perfect. Carved by the Gods perfect. He’s stunningly handsome, ridiculously charming, and one of the best fighter pilots the US Navy has ever seen. He seems almost too good to be true.

Then you see him dance. And you realise that maybe he isn’t quite as perfect as you first thought. It makes you love him 10 times more.

It hasn’t stopped him, though. The two of you have spent countless nights gliding around your kitchen in your socks, slipping this way and that, jumping to the beat of the 90’s R&B that Jake loves so much. On more than one occasion, he’s twirled you around like a ballerina in a music box, sending you both flying precariously into the counters. Strong arms come up to wrap around your middle, steadying you always. He’ll never let you fall.

You didn’t realise that it was possible to fall more in love with someone every day. You can’t help but ask yourself – when does it end? When will my cup finally be full? When will I reach the limit?

Jake pulls you back every time he can see you floating away.

He holds your hand, looks at you with those aquamarine eyes of his.

He says, “I love you,” but really, he means - love is not a finite resource.

He kisses your forehead, but he’s telling you - your cup can never be full. It’ll just keep spilling over.

His soft lips find yours, and he’s promising – our love will keep expanding forever. It’ll take over the universe and everything will be beautiful.

You’re convinced you must have been a saint in a previous life to be loved like this now. You didn’t know that a human being could love another human being so unconditionally, so completely, until you met Jake.

Sitting at the bar that day, all those years ago, your universe cracked and shifted. Juice from the orange still sticky on your fingers as you dug them into Jake’s cheeks, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Salt on your skin mixing with his as you pressed your foreheads together. Citrus on your lips where Jake had licked into your mouth. It was as if the Gods above had placed the blond man in front of you and said here. Have something good for once.

You knew, from that moment on, that you would never take him for granted. No one gets to love like this. No one gets to be loved like this. It’s rare, and it’s beautiful, and it’s a gift to be unwrapped and savoured every single day. Which exactly what the two of you have done.

The minute Jake had kissed you, sitting on those bar stools, orange peel filling the air with the scent of a promise, the two of you had become inseparable.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

After every late night shift at The Hard Deck, Jake would be waiting for you, leaning against the back door with a smirk on his face that said he knew something you didn’t. He’d pull you in to him, press his chest against yours, and inhale, as if it was the first breath he’d taken all day. Then he’d push you up against the side of the bar and kiss you stupid, until you both felt drunker on love than any alcohol could ever manage. He’d pull away and beam at you with that million dollar smile of his, before slipping his hand into yours and walking you the scenic route home, just so he could have an extra 10 minutes in your presence.

This routine was a daily occurrence, until one evening, you decided the fleeting kisses weren’t enough. He walks you home, right up to your front door, and presses his lips to yours in a goodbye. Just as he goes to turn on his heel, you grab him by his belt loops and pull him closer.

“Don’t go,” you whisper against his mouth. “Need you to love me a little more.”

His eyes blow wide, and for a split second he looks like a deer in headlights. Then, regaining his composure, he finds his confidence again.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Yeah, Jake,” you sigh, still millimetres from his lips. “Want to feel you.”

How can he say no to that, when you’re saying his name so pretty?

He shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. Placing his hand gently on your throat, he murmurs,

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Been waiting my whole life for you.”

He opens the front door behind you and walks you backwards into your house. You don’t make it more than 3 steps inside before he has your shirt over your head, kicking his shoes off at the same time.

“Don’t know how I lived without this. Can’t get enough,” he tells you. He’s looking at you so intently, you feel the sudden urge to burst into tears. The love you have for each other is filling the room, making it hard to breathe. It surrounds you, fills your lungs, makes you feel like you’re both floating. He pulls you back to his lips as if you’re his oxygen, his life source, his sanity.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “I want to tell you that I love you, but it doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Enough?” you question.

“Love isn’t a big enough word. It doesn’t even begin to describe whatever it is I’m feeling. I’m going crazy with it, sweetheart. I can’t breathe without you. I don’t want to.”

You exhale. It’s as if he’s read your mind.

“Love will have to do,” you tell him. “It’s the only word we have for now.”

He’s kissing you again, hands tangled in your hair, body pressing into yours. You’re vaguely aware that you’re both swaying, too in love to stand still. It’s thrumming though your veins, keeping you levitating above ground.

“It’s everything,” he says when he pulls back for air. “You’re everything.”

You figured that eventually, the electricity in your bones would calm down. That in time, the love would level out, and wouldn’t feel so all consuming.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s been two years, and as you sit on the third floor balcony watching Jake dance with his nieces below you, you’re worried that you might spontaneously combust. The love has only got stronger with each passing day, lighting your world and guiding you through. Your body is alive with it – it’s like you’re invincible. Jake’s love is a shield, protecting you, like a forcefield.

He still can’t dance, though.

He’s picking up the youngest girl, Hailey, and spinning her around, throwing her up into the air as she squeals with delight. Of course, he then turns to Ava, and does the same to her, both of them revelling in being the centre of their Uncle Jake’s attention. He has that ability. When Jake’s focus is solely on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world.

���  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

That first day that Jake walked into The Hard Deck, he strolled over to the bar with the confidence of 10 men and ordered a beer from you. He gazed into your soul with those ocean blue eyes, and you could have sworn the rest of the room faded away. You’re still not sure if you were looking at each other for 5 seconds or 5 minutes. All you knew was that no one had ever been able to see you so transparently before. It was as if he was reading you like a book, with no judgment whatsoever. He saw you exactly as you were. And he loved you for it.

You’ve confessed to him the worst parts of yourself, your secrets, your desires, your worries, your shame, your hopes, your dreams – everything. And he listens. He watches you with those careful eyes, nods his head, asks all the right questions. He listens like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than talking to you. The rarity isn’t lost on you. This never happens to girls like you, you think. But that’s where you’re wrong. Because Jake Seresin loves you so much that sometimes it sweeps him off his feet. Sometimes, he has to hold onto something and steady himself because the force of his feelings for you sends him into a tailspin. The adrenaline of flying a plane is one thing, but that warmth he gets in his chest when you beam a smile at him is a complete other. No jet manoeuvre could ever give him the headrush that you do when you wink at him across a crowded room. Yes, Jake Seresin used to be a notorious ladies man – a player, a heartbreaker, a sneak out of bed before breakfast kind of guy.

But that’s because he was waiting for you. His whole life, he’s been waiting for you.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it takes you a moment to come back to reality. When you do, you look down and realise that Jake is no longer on the dance floor. Hailey and Ava are back with their parents, the four of them dancing and spinning to the beat, laughing as they go. The blond hair, the blue eyes, the cheeky grins – it almost feels like a vision of the future. Jake looks just like his sister, and her daughters look just like her. You know the Seresin genes are strong – yours wouldn’t stand a chance.

The evening is beginning to settle. The sun is setting, and a slight breeze blows the trees. Everyone is still dancing, singing and laughing, and the sound of it floats upwards towards where you’re sat smiling through the balcony railings. You wish you had a camera – but you also know no photograph could ever capture the joy that radiates around this beautiful setting. The lights on the barn twinkle as the dusk creeps in, illuminating the faces of the people you love the most. Bradley, Natasha and Bob are dancing, if you can call it that, while Javy, Reuben and Mickey are stood a short distance away, smiling at them like idiots. If you could freeze time, you would. You’re not sure any moment will ever be as perfect as this one.

You feel his presence before you hear him. Warmth appears in the doorway behind you, and you know without looking that it’s Jake. You can smell the familiar scent of salt, sunshine, and sandalwood. The smell of home.

“Hi, Mrs Seresin.”

He hasn’t come into your eyeline yet, but you can hear the grin on his face. He can’t see it, but you’re wearing a matching one.

“Hi, husband.”

He steps onto the balcony, and wraps his strong arms around your middle, pressing his nose into the junction of your shoulder and inhaling.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you calling me that.”

He scatters kisses along your shoulder, up your neck, and onto your cheek, chuckling as he feels you giggle against him. He turns you in his arms so you’re facing each other.

“Got worried for a sec. Thought maybe you’d bolted.”

He nudges his nose against yours, megawatt smile still plastered on his face.

“After I’d married you? What would be the point in that? If I was gonna run, I’d have done it before we said I do.”

He pinches your sides lightly, making you yelp, both of you laughing. The sound of it echoes through the air, the soundtrack to your evening.

“You okay?” he asks genuinely, eyes scanning over your face. The softness of it makes you want to melt.

“Of course I am. Just wanted to take a minute. Savour the moment, you know.”

He nods back at you, and presses his lips to yours. No matter how many times you kiss Jake, you can never get enough. You’re always begging each other for just one more. You’d stay here with your mouth on his forever if you could. You can only hope that when your time comes, you take your last breath with your lips pressed to his – a last image of your love.

“I brought you a gift,” he says when he pulls away.

He retreats into the room, and comes back with an orange in his hand. A bright, beautiful, bold ball of light in his palm. A promise.

A tear escapes your eye at the gesture. Oranges became something sacred to the both of you after that first one you shared on the bar of The Hard Deck. Neither of you can eat them in everyday life anymore. They’re solely reserved for special occasions, momentous moments.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Jake proposed to you in the dim light of your kitchen on a random Friday evening, you knew your answer immediately. You’d been dancing around, swaying in each other’s arms, when all of a sudden, he stopped moving and looked you dead in the eyes.

“Marry me,” he said with so much assurance it made you dizzy. Like he’d never been surer of anything.

“You are the love of my goddamn life, honey. I always thought soulmates were a thing of fiction, and then I walked into The Hard Deck that night and I just knew. You started peeling that orange that day and I just knew. I am going to love you for eternity – there’s no doubt about that. So, marry me. Marry me, baby.”

You jumped into his arms and kissed him so hard that the both of you fell to the floor, laughing on the cold kitchen tiles.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” you replied between kisses.

He beamed at you with a grin so bright you were worried the lightbulbs were going to shatter. You were sure yours was just as sparkling.

Jake rose from his place on the ground, reaching up for something on the counter. A part of you wonders if it’s a ring, but then he produces something better. An orange. The brightest, ripest, most promising piece of fruit you’ve ever seen.

You split it while sitting on the kitchen tiles, drunk off each other, leaning into Jake’s side like you can’t get close enough. You’re convinced it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Now, Jake starts to peel the orange, before pausing and shrugging off his suit jacket. God, he looks so handsome in his tuxedo. You think he looks beautiful no matter what he wears, but there’s something about that man in a suit that makes your knees want to give out.

He places the jacket over your lap.

“Don’t want you getting orange juice on that pretty white dress,” he smiles, resuming his place next you.

He peels the fruit and splits it in half with practised precision. Almost like he’s done this before.

You eat your halves in silence. No words are needed. You love Jake, and Jake loves you, and today all of the people you both love most in the world got to watch you declare that to each other. And now here you are, sharing an orange with the man you’re going to share oranges with for eternity.

Jake Seresin is in love with you. Nothing else matters.

[blackwidownat2814]

Merry Christmas Lieutenant (J.Seresin)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female reader

Word Count: 1440 (ish)

A/N: Written for @sailor-aviator’s Christmas Writing Challenge. My word was candy cane. To be super honest, I completely forgot I had to write this until last night and went through about 5 ideas before I landed on this today. Thanks to @buckysdollforlife for the quick beta-ing they did earlier. Part of the Jake & Dewey ‘Verse. GIF by @babyrooster

Dividers by: @saradika (Go check out her others, they're awesome!!!)

Warnings: Super fluffy and honestly? The most suggestive thing I’ve written…ever. So yeah, implied future smut I guess?

Masterlist

MERRY CRISIS EVERYONE!!!

When you’d told Jake that your favorite thing about Christmas was candy canes and other peppermint flavored things, you didn’t think he’d go this hard with it.

On December 1st, you shambled into the kitchen to see Jake standing at the island with a steaming mug in his hand and a big smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips and when you pulled away, you took a sip of your coffee.

“Jake! You made me a Peppermint Mocha?!”

“Of course I did, it’s your favorite.”

“Maybe you should change your callsign to 'Starbies'.”

On December 2nd, you woke to find a big bag of the Ghirardelli Peppermint Bark Squares on your nightstand with a short note I love you so much baby. Enjoy your minty snack!

You took the bag with you to work and shared the love with your coworkers. On your lunch hour, you headed over to the Exchange to meet up with Bob for lunch and shared some with him, giving him extra to share with the other Daggers.

“Hey Bobbers? Could you give Jake something extra for me please?”

“Sure Dew, what is it?” You planted a kiss on Bob’s cheek and he turned red and smiled. “I can’t guarantee he’s going to appreciate it as much since it’s not coming from you.”

It went like that for the next week or so. Candy cane themed gifts for you every day. Knee high socks covered in candy canes, some earrings you’d seen on TikTok, all kinds of candies that were putting out their peppermint flavored things.

Two weeks before Christmas, Jake came home with news that he and the other Daggers (Mav included) were going to be gone until a few days before the holiday to several Naval Air Stations starting in New Jersey and ending back home in San Diego. You didn’t know all the facts, because all Jake could tell you was that it had to do with the Uranium Mission (since you were Mickey’s only family and Jake’s partner, Mav had said that all you could really know was that it was dangerous and that the squad called it the Uranium Mission).

Jake promised his gifts would keep going in his absence, even when you told him they didn’t need to.

The first day he was gone, you went to the Hard Deck to have dinner with Halo, a recent friend. Halo waved when she saw you walk in and you joined her at the end of the bar, where you greeted Penny.

“Hey Pen, missing Mav already?”

“Always do”, she replied with a smile. After you and Halo gave her your dinner order, she placed a glass down in front of you.

“What’s this?”

“Hangman asked me to get you a peppermint flavored drink every time you come in while they’re all gone.” She pulls a mini-candy cane from under the bar and sticks it in the glass. “This here is a Peppermint Piña Colada. Enjoy.”

“What’s with all the peppermint?” asked Callie.

“Last month, I told Jake that one of my favorite things about Christmas was candy canes and peppermint flavored stuff. Since December 1st, he’s given me something peppermint flavored or candy cane themed every single day.” You took a sip of your drink, “Oof…that’s actually better than I thought it would be.”

“Oh. So that’s why Hangman asked me to give you this.” Callie pulled a small red and white gift bag from the bar stool beside her and slid it your way. “He said to tell you not to open it until tomorrow though.”

“Ugh! But I want to open it now!”

“He said, and I quote: ‘One a day Dewey, that’s the rule. Be a good girl and follow the rules.’” Callie made a face like she wanted to vomit. “I don’t kink shame, but I did not need to know that.”

You’re not sure how long you laughed after that.

The next day, Callie came to visit you at the library.

“So, what was in the bag?” she asked. “Wait. After that message, I’m not sure I want to know.” You gave a small laugh as you placed two small spray bottles on your desk.

“He got me hand sanitizer spray in Twisted Peppermint from Bath & Body Works. One for the office and one to carry in my bag.”

“Can I have some?”

“Sure!” You give her a couple sprays and she rubbed her hands together.

“This smells awesome. Like I’d dipped my hands in Christmas or something.”

While he was gone, Jake had cookies from Tiff’s Treats (a dozen minty chocolate) delivered, a box of only peppermint chocolates from Copper Coast Confections, a new red and white striped apron from Hedley & Bennett with your name embroidered on the front. After watching Next Level Chef a few months ago, you’d expressed to him how you wanted an apron from H&B one day and that it might take you a while because they were pretty expensive. You couldn’t believe he’d remembered. After that, when you invited Callie and Penny over and the three of you would cook or bake together, you smiled big as you sported your new apron.

Finally, the day Jake and the rest of the Daggers were due home arrived. They weren’t due until late afternoon, so you changed in your office at the library. You wore your candy cane earrings, striped Santa hat, bright red lipstick with peppermint gloss, and made sure your new manicure (candy cane themed of course) shone brightly.

You stood with Penny and the other families that waited for their sailors. You hugged Bob and Phoenix when they walked over to you guys and when Reuben and your brother arrived, they both gave you a big wet kiss on either cheek. Distracted as you were wiping your cheeks off while laughing, you didn’t see or hear Jake approaching.

“What are you doin’ givin’ my girl kisses, Payback?”

“JAKE!” You whirled around with a scream.

“Hey sweetheart.” You practically jumped into his arms and pulled his face to yours (thank goodness for long lasting liquid lipsticks!). Jake took it a step further and dipped you backwards while still kissing you…like that sailor kissing a nurse in New York City on VJ Day in 1945.

“What am I?” you heard Mickey ask. “Chopped liver?”

Later that night, you were in bed reading while Jake finished his shower. You could smell the shower gel he used because it was one he’d gotten you while he was gone (a delicious pepperminty scent from LUSH), and he finally emerged from the bathroom in a peppermint scented cloud.

“Boy, am I happy to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home too, Jake.” You pecked him on the lips when he leaned down over you. “I missed you and even though I loved absolutely everything you got me--especially the candy cane themed flower bouquet--none of it replaces having you here with me.”

“You sap.”

“Shut up. You love how sappy I am.”

“True.” He put on his sleep pants and got in bed next to you. “Do you want today’s present?”

“I thought you were today’s present?”

“I’m just the bonus”, he said with his traditional Jake Seresin smile (it was your favorite of his smiles).

“Then gimme!” You put your book down and made grabby hands at him.

“Here you go m’darlin.” He handed you a small box with a red and white bow on it.

“Jake. Jake. This isn’t…?”

“No, it isn’t. I wouldn’t do that without Mickey being present.”

“Oh okay. It’s not that I don’t want to…”

“Baby, don’t worry, I understand.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” He winked at you and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Nerd.” You turn back to the small box and open it. Inside was a necklace with a small ruby and diamond encrusted candy cane on it. “Holy shit.”

“I take it that means you like it.”

“I love it Jake.” You settle onto his lap and kiss him. When you pull apart, he takes the necklace from the box and moves to put it on you. “Thanks cowboy. I think this is going to beat one of my gifts to you for sure.”

“Oh? Do tell.” You hop off his lap and run into your closet. A few minutes later, you emerge wearing your new candy cane themed robe and your necklace.

“I wanted to put on my necklace and see what you think about how it looks.”

“Let’s see it.” Jake’s jaw drops comically when you throw off your robe, because standing in front of him is you. In your necklace.

Just your necklace.

“Merry Christmas Lieutenant.”

[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

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Stairway To Heaven

Top Gun: Maverick - Jake “Hangman” Seresin x gn!reader [no use of y/n]

650 || Jake attempts to break up with you, but you aren’t having it.

====

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

CW: none!

Author’s Note: i’m too sad to write soft!jake and i’m too unstable to make it really angsty, so appreciate hasnocluewhatfeelingsareandatthispointistooscaredtoask!jake

===

===

"I don't think this is going to work out." The words fell off Jake's lips with a practiced cadence. Nonchalant. Toothpick from dinner resting comfortably against the plush cushion of his bottom up, which quickly pulled back into his signature smug grin. Arrogant. Completely unaware, painfully unaware, of the way his words would affect the world around him.

Just the way he practiced.

There was one slight miscalculation. One Jake often set aside in his mind because of how rare the experience was, but he wished he had steeled himself for regardless because when it happened, it took everything in him to hold himself together.

"What?"

He could hear the indignance creeping into your voice. An anger that, no doubt, would soon be replaced with cold apathy. Just the thought of how it would sound when you greeted him, or worse - ignore him - during exercises Monday morning sent a rising panic through him. Clawing at the back of his throat. The hair on the back of his neck started to stand straight up. The more Jake spoke, the more he would be solidifying himself into that rare state of heartbreak.

"Doll -"

"Don't you dare try to 'doll' me right now, Seresin." You swung around to face him and his heart squeezed. Maybe taking you to the beach to break up with you wasn't the smartest option. "Don't you dare open your mouth right now."

So Jake did what he did best when it came to you: he shut his mouth and watched. The setting sun lit you up in vibrant hues of orange and yellow. A  fire dancing across your skin that matched the fire in his heart. Every breeze moved your hair which had been steadily slipping out of its military regulated hold. If he had any sense, he'd take back what he said. He would get dramatic with it too. Threaten to walk into the waves and have them swallow him whole if being with you was not an option.

Jake merely walked alongside you, letting those words he spoke hang in the air, and said nothing else. This was for the best. Sense had nothing to do with it. All sense seemed to leave him when it came to you. He'd let himself get too close, too comfortable, And that had to change. But, as Jake could see in the downturn of your lips, his idea of change only ever ended up hurting those around him.

It had been so long since Jake’s idea of change had hurt him back.

"No.”

"No?" Jake turned his head to face you fully. He could feel the warmth of the sun beating onto his face. Maybe this was the moment to start being dramatic. To crack open his chest, reach around his ribs, and pull his frozen heart to thaw as a gift just for you.

"I reject your rejection."

His toothpick hit the sand. Never before had someone taken the hurt in his heart and bandaged it before. “You mean to tell me-” he could hardly contain the smile on his face (so much for nonchalant)- “that you’re not letting me break up with you?”

You did not match his grin. The red sun behind you illuminated an angry aura. “Don’t look at me like that Bagman. You’re taking your ass straight back to the barracks and we’re staying up all night-”

He caught your hand as you reached out to smack him. “I’ll gladly stay up all night with you, Doll.”

“Jake,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “We’re staying up all night to talk about why you felt the need to break up with me because things are going well. I’m going to psychoanalyze the shit out of you.”

It sounded like his own personal hell.

“I’m in,” he told you… because who was he to deny a stairway to heaven when an angel presented it to him?

[nixie-deangel]

ask game! 🍷✍️✨ :)

🍷 Jake's family causes the hangster break up

following this ask.

You lied to yourself, Jake, because you thought your family loved you and supported you. Because you didn’t want to see all the ways they let you down. You were desperate to not lose them, when you’d already lost the person who saw you entirely and thought would love you no matter what.

✍🏻 insecure bradley - hangster

Bradley isn’t entirely sure how he got here. Here being with Jake Seresin spread gloriously naked out on his bed, with golden thighs spread wide for him to be settled between. Here being given the chance, the gift, of hearing every whimper, pleading, needy sound as he gives his everything to make the other man feel good. To feel like he’s being worshiped and praised by Bradley’s mouth, his fingers, his cock.

✨ Retired Bradley, Jake climbing Command

follows up from this directly!

He feels like his eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he takes in the near ridiculously tiny pink shorts Bradley’s wearing. They barely come down enough to hit the tops of his thighs. How the fuck did he get even hotter than he was, Jake questions in his head. Or well, he fucking hopes it’s just in his head and he’s not making an ass out of himself by asking that out loud where Bradshaw can hear him.

Make Nixie Write!

[averyhotchner]

Avery's TopGun:Maverick recs pt.2

alrighty, almost 3 months later, here is my list of favourite TopGun: Maverick fics that no one asked for. like last time, it's mostly hangman, rooster and a bit of bobby boy. but i am slowly starting to fall for mickey and coyote.

please make sure to follow the age limit set by the writers!

jake "hangman" seresin

Fuck: The Universe (mini-series) by @roosterbruiser

okay maybe this is recency bias, because i did read this whole mini series yesterday and today, but still. it checks all the boxes, and of course i love the trope of jake is an ass to everyone but his girl, who also happens to be way better than him. also part 7 cracked me up.

real friends (series) by @starlightstories

i read real friends then found fuck: the universe, and i realized i really really really like the loverboy jake grumpy reader trope. i have no shame.

hey stupid, i love you (one shot) by @callsignseagull

okay this fic is very personal to me. i genuinely felt like the reader in this fic because i'm going through a very similar thing right now, and it tamed so many of my insecurities. i can't wait to reread soon!

loving you is... (series) by @demxters

guys frat hangman. that's all.

sleepy baby (series) by @discount-shades

the lengths at which this man goes just to find his princess, goals.

Where I'm From (one-shot) by @sometimes-i-write-good

sweet man jake, back at it again stealing hearts

Minimal Losses (series) by @ohtobeleah

this series and the rooster prequel NCIS ARE SO GOOD. im a sucker for this shit.

Sweet Nothings (series) by @sweetlittlegingy

yup! yup! yup! make sure you get your blood sugar checked before reading this because it's so damn sweeeeeet

Seeing Red (series) by @call-sign-jinx

picture this: its 2015, you're on wattpad and every single fic is a social media fic. but THIS? this is everything. the amount of work that goes into making a single text screenshot, not to mention the plot! its truly incredible and had be crying, laughing and sitting on the edge of my seat. i can't praise this series, and the other fics in this universe, enough.

yours (one-shot) by @theharddeck

this one... yeah its cute. but its down right sinful as well

bradley "rooster" bradshaw

I Will Always Love You (one-shot) by @amysteryspot

this one is short and sweet and honestly made me cry while eating my blt quarter pounder.

Pamper Night (on-shot) by @dagger-wren

okay this fic started as a cute little date night/self care night fic. BUT THEN, the ending had me falling in love with this dysfunctional squad. of course rooster and his girl are mom and dad, like who else.

Eat It, Twilight (one-shot) by @fandomxpreferences

okay i know this is a hangman fic, but i dont care. the rooster bff part was what i loved the most. also the plot is highlarious, and its probably because i was high when i read it, but still. chefs kiss.

Terms of Endearment (series) by @ohtobeleah

this series will be the death of me. each time a new chapter gets released im holding my breath on whether its gonna be all angst or all fluff. but either way i know its beautifully written.

And They Were Roommates (series) by @starryeyedstories

this. its hilarious and i cannot wait for more!

robert "bob" floyd

Christmas Gift (on-shot) by @call-sign-jinx

one of the most common bob fics i see is him with a teacher, and honestly i love it. who else would be as sweet and as patient as this man. i have the utmost respect for anyone who works in education, ESPECIALLY those who work with kids under 13. anyways, love this fic.

King of My Heart (one-shot) by @croimilis

dunk bob is the sweetest person ever!

Apple pie (mini-series) by @andorskenobi

the warning is very real, pls take it seriously <3

honorable mentions:

@sunlightmurdock @callsignvalley @toms-gf @make-me-imagine @callsignsaturn @madsnowstorm @jupitercomet @katsu28 @sehnsuchts-trunken @roosterforme (literally anything emily writes will be on a rec list i make)

i just wanna send my love to all the writers on this platform. whether you're just posting your first fic, or just finishing your 5th series, i appreciate you so much. i don't always have the time to comment and i'm dumb and don't understand how to reblog efficiently (working on it), but please know that all the effort and time you put in to making these works is truly admirable and i wish i was as talented as any of you.

okay thats all for now. i need to start making these more often cause theres so many i left out, i was just too lazy to scroll and find them.

[horseshoegirl]

Horseshoegirl's Masterlist

❗️Back on a trial basis. We shall see.

18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗️Reposting fics, including designs, line breaks, banners or any graphic materials, including binding fics, is strictly forbidden without my written consent. Be a decent human being, and don't steal people's work.

❗️I write because I enjoy it. I post because I can. Anything that I might receive from posting is a gift. That being said, please leave your comments and reblogs if you want to (I understand if it's intimidating, scary, etc. Your feelings about it are valid! I don't write looking for notes; I do it cause I want someone to get something out of it). But I do ask if you would like to leave a comment, please do not let it be something you would not want yourself to read or get on a piece of writing that you wrote - if the opposite, I kindly ask you to back out and not say a word. Think and ask yourself, will I hurt someone with my words if I type this?

^ PSA ABOUT THAT: I don't tolerate hate. Never have. Never will. Nobody should have to suffer putting up with it or should be spreading it. If you send me that shit, anon or not, you will be blocked. Silence is an answer too, and you have no idea what someone is going through when you send in your awful comments. It might lead to the end of someone's life. Think about that for a second.

Being an Anon is a privilege. Abuse it? It's gone. And it's never coming back.

Damn Those Dog Tags

Your sister Ridley has passed away, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter, Sadie. The Dagger Squad goes out of its way to ensure you and Sadie have people you can count on. Boring Saturday nights turned into game nights, rowdy dinners, and cheering events at Sadie’s soccer games. Any milestone or opportunity they want to be there. But the last to join the group is Hangman. The moment you met Jake Seresin, your heart screamed the cocky pilot was looking for a good time, not a long time. Deciding to keep him at a distance to protect your heart, Sadie has other ideas when she learns he was purposely left out.

Set Me Alight

When you agree, somewhat apprehensively, to a week-long camping trip courtesy of your best friend Nat, you end up irate to discover Jake Seresin is also on the guest list. He's everything you hate, everything you want to believe you hate. Because the day you met him, he said some things he could never take back. Not to mention his nickname for you grates on your every f-ing nerve. But when the two of you get stranded in the Washington wilderness, it's not just the elements or the creepy feeling you're being watched that has you feeling trapped, it's the emotional baggage too. Struggling to survive the wilderness is one thing, but navigating the labyrinth that is "Jake the asshole" is another beast altogether. Somehow, you've got to deal with both if you're gonna make it out of these woods in one piece.

Coming soon

In a universe where the ink on your wrist seals your fate, finding your soulmate is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of your life. For you, however, this joy is overshadowed by a hidden truth only unveiled in the rarest of circumstances; you are a second-chance soulmate. The secret, you may ask? Your existence, held hostage by fate until your soulmate, "Jake Hangman Sersin," loses his first match.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Way Down We Go

DTDT ONESHOT: Rooster knows he fucked up. Badly. Sadie kicking him out was the wake-up call he never knew he needed. With nowhere else to go, Bradley finds himself knocking on the front door of the last person he ever expected to turn to.

GreyWarden!JakeSeresin

DalishRouge!NatashaTrace

[cowboysandpilots]

For the Love of Hockey— Ch. 1

Disclaimer: I love hockey, and I love watching it, but I have absolutely no idea of the inner workings of the NHL, what it's like to play on a team or the rules and regulations of any hockey association. Please take everything I write in this fic with a grain of salt, as I've taken a lot of creative liberties to make the story work out as I want and have planned.

A/N- Hi, I'm so happy you're here. :) If you would like to support me and my writing, please remember to hit the reblog button, as Tumblr has no algorithm and likes (while appreciated) do nothing to get creators work seen. If you would like to support me further, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi. If you're curious about where your support would go, I'm currently at $80/$200 for my monthly groceries, so any support would go towards that. :)

Amazing hockey text divider was made by: @writercole ❤️ (If you have your Tumblr palette set on goth rave, it may be a little hard to see)

Bradley Bradshaw is a legacy player. His dad played hockey, both his uncles played hockey, and if he had any brothers, he's sure that they would've played too. It's not that he doesn't love the game; he does; it's just that he's under so much pressure, and he can never seem to live up to it. He plays it safe; he doesn't rush the puck or take illegal hits. He has a clean record with zero minutes in the penalty box, and he's very proud of that.

He may not be the best player, but he's got the best sportsmanship, and no matter what fans or reporters say, no one can take that away Until Hangman comes along. The man gets under his skin like no other. He's a cocky rookie, first year in the NHL and the talk of the town. He has no respect for the older players and no problems breaking the rules. He has more penalty minutes than any other rookie in the league, and somehow, people love him for it.

The first time that Bradley sees Jake's smug grin, it's on the TV. He doesn't know the kid, has never played against him, but the way he's boasting about the team he got drafted to and the way he's answering every reporter's questions like he's god's gift to hockey, has Bradley's blood boiling. He clicks off the TV and chucks his remote to the other side of his couch; he should go to bed; he's got training in the morning anyway.

Despite his best efforts, Bradley can't get to sleep. He gravitates toward his phone, which is what always happens, even though the blue light makes his tired eyes burn. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that the internet would be full of praise, love and ridiculous fawning for the rookie whose teammates had dubbed 'Hangman; he still opens Twitter and scrolls through his feed. It's like he can't help it, and why he chose to focus on this asshole instead of sleep, he'll never know.

The morning practice, surprisingly, isn't hell, even though Bradley barely slept and has to listen to his teammates go on and on about Hangman.

"What do you think about the new guy, Roo?" Mickey asks once they're off the ice and all crowded in the locker room.

"Don't think about him at all," Bradley answers coolly, passing him to get to the showers;— That's a lie. He spent last night scowling at his phone. He had to stop doing that; he needed to focus on this year's season and helping his team make it to the Stanley Cup. What kind of captain would he be if he let some cocky rookie get to him? It wasn't even guaranteed that the two teams would play against each other.

As Bradley's terrible luck would have it, the media coverage and general hysteria about Jake "Hangman" Seresin only got worse. The kid could apparently do no wrong, which only made his insufferable ego so much bigger. It gets to the point where Bradley doesn't even watch TSN anymore because Jake's smugness is practically dripping through his flatscreen; it makes his skin burn.

By some sort of miracle, Bradley has three days of blissful silence. Well, silence from hearing about Hangman anyway. Three days off to travel and get settled into a new city for another away game where he bonds with his team, doesn't watch the news, and spends most of his time on the ice. It's amazing. It's the most calm Bradley has felt in his life.

Much to the dismay of their coach, part of the team's bonding consists of going out to drink. Bradley, as captain, makes the case to Iceman, their coach, who got and kept that nickname when he, himself, played in the NHL.

"C'mon Ice, it's called team building!" Bradley grins. It was true that the team was a lot looser and in better spirits after a night out as long as they kept themselves in check and made sure the hangovers wouldn't be too bad.

Ice couldn't help but sigh and shake his head. He knew all too well what a team could get up to on a night out. It's not that he didn't trust Bradley; he did. It was hard to say no to the kid, and it didn't help that he was his uncle. Or really, his Godfather but Bradley's been calling him uncle since he was a kid, of course not anymore, now it's 'Ice' or 'Coach' and sometimes when he's in trouble, it's 'Sir'. He guesses that's how none of the other players know, he's sure that they would give Bradley a hard time if they knew so it was always an unspoken rule that neither of them would say anything.

"You'll look after them, won't you? Make sure that no one gets too drunk and nothing happens to your team?" Ice always calls the team Bradley's team, always emphasizes it when he's talking about being a role model. That's what the captain's for for everyone else to look up to, but Bradley had to admit that it was a little draining. Sometimes, he wanted to let loose like the rest of them.

Bradley nods. As always, he'll make sure that nothing gets broken, bones or otherwise, and no one gets arrested. "I'll make sure." He nods dutifully.

The day goes by in a blur after that, and when he gets back to his hotel room, Bradley takes a much-needed shower. He almost collapses into his bed with just the damp towel around his hips, but not before there's a knock on his hotel door. He pulls on his briefs, a nice pair of jeans and runs his fingers through his curls before he walks up to the door and pulls it open. The person who is standing on the other side is not to he expects.

"Hey, Bob." He offers easily.

The man makes no attempt to hide the fact that he's looking Bradley up and down but not in the way of checking him out, more like the way he's judging Bradley, buttoning up his Hawaiian shirt. "Are you wearing that to the bar?"

"I was planning on it. Why, what's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, just... you want to meet girls, right?" Bob gives a small and teasing smile. He has a way of making jokes that are just on the edge of mean but somehow never make Bradley angry.

"Ha-ha," He huffs sarcastically. "I can't be a designated driver if I leave with a girl, now can I?" Bradley has to admit that he would like to meet someone, but it wasn't really on the top of his priority list.

The bar is much too loud and crowded for a sober Bradley. The sound of the bass buzzes behind his eyes, and it makes him want to slip his sunglasses on, but there are only two types of people who wear sunglasses inside, blind people and douchebags. Bradley was neither.

He was making his way back to the bar for a second round at his teammate's request when he was knocked into. He doesn't exactly know what happened, but he knows he wasn't carrying a drink, so why is his shirt all wet? "Fuck." He grunts, looking down to assess the damage.

"What the hell, man? You know you owe me a drink." The voice is accusatory, like the entire thing was Bradley's fault and not the guy whose words are slurring enough; he probably didn't need that drink anyway.

Bradley looks up, lips parted, ready to tell the asshole off, except he recognizes that asshole; it's the same one who's been lighting up his TV screen and making him roll his eyes so much he's surprised they're not stuck. Jake Seresin.

A/N- Thanks so much for reading! Right now, this fic is looking like it's gonna have at least 10 chapters, and because I'm a crazy person, I've already started outlining a sequel. Lol until next time, friends. 💕

Tagging people who said they were interested: @cryinginthebronco @jojobeaner @rigmarole-07 @agent-elle @nerdygirl1234 @milobyelo @callsign-crow @itshoneywhatever @flowersonmymind1016 @seresinning @bloodanddiamonds

[film-in-my-soul]

fic stats meme

Thank you @clawbehavior for the tag! I always have a good time taking a look at the diversity of my pieces and seeing what kind of things land where so this was fun!

Full disclosure- As 100 Different Kisses (a Top Gun kiss-fill collection) is a collection of 102 chapters I will not be counting it in this meme.

most hits: [20,852 hits] Bite and Bruise and Bind [The Untamed || Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng || Wèi Wúxiàn || Rated E || 4,539 words] - One of my first popular fics in a fandom that I still think about all the time. Also probably one of my first smut pieces, now that I think about it.

second most kudos: [1,709 kudos] Feels Like the First Time [Top Gun: Maverick || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin || Rated E || 12,532 words] - My everything and the kitchen sink virgin!Jake fic. Ah, memories. Mostly the memory of a writing fugue state that lasted roughly 14 hours.

third most comments: [179 comments] I'll Be Home for Christmas (And I'll be Making it Your Problem) [Top Gun: Maverick || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin || Rated T || 26,496 words] - This is also my longest single narrative fic! This fic honestly took me out at the knees but I'm still really happy with how it turned out, and knowing people loved it enough for these many comments is really rewarding :3.

fourth most bookmarks: [188 bookmarks] I'll Be Home for Christmas (And I'll be Making it Your Problem) [Top Gun: Maverick || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin || Rated T || 26,496 words] Placing twice! Right after this was Gift Me Your Love [Top Gun || Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell || Rated G || 3,721 words] with 152 bookmarks!

fifth most words: [18,062 words] Xavier's School for Completely Unfair Youngsters [ Young Avengers || Teddy Altman/Billy Kaplan || Rated G || 18,062 words] - I decided to not count the prompt fills or the works that were done with multiple people, so this is my solo, single narrative, 5th most words fic. I honestly think about going back to this fic and revamping it since I wrote it all the way back in 2015, and I've changed so much as a writer since then. Maybe I might!

fic with the least words: [295 words] Holodeck Fun [ Star Trek || Nyota Uhura/Nyota Uhura || Rated M || 295 words] - Y'all ever have those pieces where you just... did it and forget it? This feels like that to me. Part of the time when I was accepting any and every prompt thrown my way when maybe I shouldn't have.

tagging: @yikes-00 @icemav86 @icemankazansky @katierosefun @anadorablack @perishablealex @gothampot @barnes-brain @katiesharms @moorishflower and @softest-punk

(please go read moorishflower and softest-punk's works; I've been devouring them over the last few weeks.)

[princessmisery666]

PM666Reads - Fic Recs - January 2023

I didn't read that much in January, sorry. I will try to do better in February.

Fic Title - Author - Summary & warnings (if any) copied from author original post.

���Dean Winchester

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas (parts 5-7)- @deanwinchesterswitch - Summary: Dean receives a gift but isn’t pleased about the proviso… until he hears about the compensation. Warnings: Flirting and more flirting; Implied sex (lots of it); Some angst was thrown in for good measure; Canon divergence

If We Make It Through December - @minefield-of-a-ninja - Prompt from @thesassywallflower for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday. Chapter warnings/tags: finale-fix it, there was no rebar, explicit (eventually), fluff (? Idk), angst (? light), domestic (can’t get much more domestic)

Baby I Surrender - @girl-next-door-writes - Summary: Dean Winchester has a certain way of dealing with problems, either you fight them or you bottle them up and pretend they don’t exist. Either way, his latest problem looks like neither of these responses will provide a solution, so what if he just surrenders?

Rainy Days & Mondays - @kellyn1604 - Summary- You and Dean reminisce about your childhoods and decide it’s never too late to play in the rain. Warnings- Little bit of angst, mutual pining, fluff

📖Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

You Don't Own Me - @justagirlinafandomworld - Prompt: “It’s just apple cider. I promise.” Warnings: Dubcon, violence, adult themes (aka sex but not explicit), daddy issues with Crowley as reader’s dad.

📖Sam Winchester

Don't Call Me Sammy - @carryonmywaywardwriters - Warnings: Oral sex- female receiving. No plot, really. Short sweet, and straight to the point. No real editing. Read at your own discretion.

📖Jake ' Hangman' Seresin

North Star - @violentdelightsandviolentends - It's New Years Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

📖Andy Barber

To Love Me Is To Drown series - @cockslutpadalecki - Summary: When exactly does love turn into obsession? Warnings: student/teacher relationship, non-con/dub-con, explicit sexual content, mentions of prescription drug use, somnophilia, cheating, reader is 18, dark!reader, female masturbation, obsessive behaviour, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), blackmail, daddy kink, cream pie, sexual tension, Andy being the best goddamn teacher ever (you’ll see), hand jobs, nipple sucking, brief insight to reader’s unhinged yet impressionable mind, bit of cum eating, cum swallowing, possessive behaviour, jealousy, mild gaslighting, mentions of violence, blow jobs, angry Andy, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, reader loses the plot, stalking, angst, heartbreak, real Fatal Attraction vibes, forced orgasm, hate fucking, overstimuation, squirting, 18+. MINORS DNI. Please assume warnings apply to all parts.

📖Steve Rogers

Looks Better On You - @navybrat817 - Summary: Steve can’t stop thinking about how good you look in his shirts. Warnings: Mentions of explicit sexual content, referenced vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), a bit of fluff, talks of having a family, slight feels (it’s me), Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?).

Hymnostic - @heli0s-writes - I would sacrifice like thirty virgins for a Steve body worship fic 🥲 (Also I agree with u he would be more of a giver than a receiver imo).

📖Bucky Barnes

Ravenous - @navybrat817 - Summary: Bucky has a big appetite. Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, implied oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?).

📖Thor Odinson

Beautiful View From The Backseat - @cockslutpadalecki - Summary: Some mortal things, Thor can get used to. Except traffic jams. Warnings: explicit sexual content, semi-public sex acts, thigh riding, female orgasm, implied sex. MINORS DNI.

[sleptwithinthesun]

are you still take tgm requests? I’d love to see hangman w/ allergies 🥺❤️

holy fuck, this got so very out of hand. i honestly wasn't planning on writing anything over 1.5K and well. the plot grabbed me by the neck and held me hostage for a good three hours and here we are; i offer 4.1K words written in a single day that i didn't proofread at all. enjoy!!

(also i. do not celebrate the holidays at all so forgive me for any possible inaccuracies. i have no idea how any of this works ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

In Jake's defense, he didn't know he was allergic.

His family was never all that into the holidays. It never seemed like a big deal to him, or his brothers, or his parents; every year, when Christmas rolled around, they'd get a couple of small gifts and a handful of ten dollar bills, and that was it. No tree, no lights, nothing. Jake didn't mind, because that's just how it was.

But then he'd hear other kids in school excitedly talking about finding their tree over the weekend, or stringing up lights around the house, or snooping through presents, and something twinged in his chest. The wanting, when he realized what it was, felt awful. He had plenty. There was no need for him to ask for more.

And yet, he still wanted. The feeling never went away.

It starts like this:

His phone rings two days before his leave begins, and the caller I.D. reveals it as none other than Maverick. So, of course, Jake picks up, says, "Seresin," and waits for tragedy.

Instead, Maverick invites him—along with the rest of the Daggers, apparently—back to North Island to spend their leaves with him, which just so happen to be over the week of Christmas and coincidentally line up with Maverick's declaration of his retirement, which is at least four months overdue.

(Afterwards, Bradley calls him, lets out a shaky sigh before he asks, "Is it bad that I'm relieved? About his retirement?"

"Naw," Jake says, willfully ignoring the tugging in his chest when he realizes it was him that Bradley chose to reach out to. "Mav has a special talent for getting himself in trouble. I can't imagine that's easy for you to watch every time."

"Yeah, it fucking sucks," Bradley says with a wet laugh. They both pretend not to notice as he sniffles, chokes back his tears on the other end of the receiver.

They've grown... closer, ever since the mission. The thing that Jake has realized about saving a person's life is that afterwards, there's no going back to how things were. Bradley is entirely unavoidable, and he watches from the eye of the storm as their relationship begins to settle around them. It doesn't feel right to label it something as simple as friendship, but Jake really doesn't have a better word for what they are to each other.)

Obviously, he accepts Maverick's invitation without question. Texas is miserable in the winter, and he's even less eager to go back home with the predicted weather for the next week. He's seen how bad his state's drivers are normally; putting them on the road with no more than an inch of snow is a nightmare he's really not eager to deal with.

He accepts Maverick's invitation without question, of course. Texas is miserable in the winter, and he's even less eager to go back with the arctic snap making its way across the United States. He's seen how bad Texas drivers are normally; putting a bunch of them on the road with no more than an inch of snow will be an absolute nightmare that he does not want to deal with.

"Are you sure?" Maverick still asks, only a minute into their conversation and already trying to argue his way out of any company because he's Maverick and clearly doesn't think he's deserving of the Daggers. "I don't want to take away from your time with your family."

"Pops, do not tell me you're relinquishing your invitation already," Jake says, poking him right in the nerve, and Maverick splutters indignantly.

"What, no! Of course not, Jake, I just—"

"—don't want to be alone," Jake finishes for him. "Don't worry, Bradley'll be there no matter what, and the more company you have, the better. Can't let you handle too much by yourself, especially not in your old age."

You don't know what to do now that Ice is gone, remains unspoken.

Maverick sighs, and the sound is a hurricane in his ears. "Sure, kiddo. Whatever you say."

"I'm thirty-four," he points out, and Maverick only laughs before hanging up all too soon.

And that's how he finds himself on a plane heading to North Island, far more unsettled than he's ever been in the cockpit of his own jet. Similar to many other Naval aviators, he hates flying like a civilian, even though he knows the commercial pilots are more than capable. Jake just prefers to have control. To be in charge. It's part of what makes him such a terrible leader; if he doesn't know exactly what's going on at every moment, he'll fall to pieces.

(Nevertheless, he persists, as if he's not threatening to do just that already.)

-

Maverick, for some reason, has absolutely lost his mind.

Jake's pretty sure there isn't an inch of the house that doesn't have some sort of decoration, and to be honest, it's making him a bit dizzy just to try and navigate it all. He's only the third to arrive, after Bradley, who doesn't exactly count, considering that Mav's practically his father, and Natasha, who greets him with a warning that doesn't do nearly enough to prepare him for the absolute chaos of Maverick's house.

"How the hell...?" He starts, stops, tries again. "How did he—?"

"Don't ask," Natasha advises, urging him with a hand to toe of his shoes at the doorway before waving him inside. "Bradley's making hot chocolate. Take advantage of his kindness while he's offering."

(It's Carole's recipe.)

Glancing around the house once again, Jake absently scrubs at the side of his nose, and laughs when he notices there's even mistletoe in the doorway to the living room. "Holy shit, Mav really didn't leave anything out, does he?"

"I did not!" the man himself calls, walking into the room and casually dropping a kiss onto Bradley's forehead as the younger aviator leans into him for a moment, continuing to stir the pot on the stove. "I tried to take into account your different holidays, so there's a tree in the corner of the living room and a menorah on the console by the window for Bob and Reuben." He smiles at Jake, and it's so eager he can't help but smile back. How an adult man manages to look just like a puppy, he doesn't know, but it's clearly a skill well-practiced.

"Hey, Mav," he greets. "Thanks for inviting me."

He waves it off with little more than a shrug and nonchalant flap of his hand. "Thanks for coming down, kid."

"Don't worry, this is so much better than going home this year would've been," Jake assures. "It's supposed to snow, and believe me when I say Texans do not know how to handle their snow."

"I'm surprised you managed to get all of us," Natasha chimes in, accepting her mug from Bradley and passing another one to Maverick. The third makes its way to Jake, notably lacking in cinnamon like Natasha's, and he glances up at Bradley in confusion as Maverick continues his conversation with Natasha.

It takes Bradley a moment to notice Jake's stare, but eventually, he catches on. "What?" he asks, cocking his head slightly to the side the way he always did back in flight school.

"Was I supposed to get cinnamon, or...?"

He brightens. "Oh! Yeah, I wasn't sure if you wanted it or not. Or if you were allergic, because that happened with one of Mav's flight buddies from Top Gun back in eighty-nine, and it was not pretty. Mom was really upset about it, too."

"Huh," Jake says, blinking. "That's... not what I expected."

"I remember that!" Maverick calls, no longer in the kitchen and instead standing in front of the tree in the living room with Natasha. "Wood freaked the fuck out the entire time, and Wolf had the nerve to laugh at him, as if his life wasn't in danger." He shakes his head to himself, muttering something they're too far away to hear. Natasha, standing next to him, muffles a snort behind her hand.

Jake widens his eyes for just a moment at the snippet of an anecdote, but Bradley's already approaching with the cinnamon in hand and tapping it out over Jake's mug. "That alright?" he asks.

"It's perfect," Jake says, curling a hand around it, leaching the warmth from the ceramic. "Thank you."

Bradley nods and smiles at him. "Don't tell Payback and Fanboy when they get here," he says conspiratorially. "They'll be here in an hour, so make sure you're done before them." He winks at Jake, and he can swear that his heart stops for a moment as he stares right into the other aviator's eyes, the two of them frozen around each other.

The moment's ruined when Jake ducks into his elbow with a sneeze, his body jerking with the sudden force of it. "hDT'TZSHH!" His mug, still clutched in one hand, skates over the counter for a second and hot chocolate splashes over the edges.

"Oh, shit!" Bradley exclaims, immediately whirling around and ripping paper towel off the roll. "Did you burn yourself?"

"Don't think so," Jake murmurs. "Sorry."

Similar to Maverick earlier, Bradley waves it off. "Don't worry about it. It's just a bit of hot chocolate, and besides, I can always make more."

He smiles again, and Jake feels himself relax unconsciously, accepting the paper towel from him. "If you say so."

-

Jake wakes up the next morning feeling like shit.

Really, he should have expected this. He'd started feeling off around dinner last night, after Mickey and Reuben arrived, three hours later than they'd originally planned for, grinning and citing traffic as they placed a jug of homemade eggnog in the fridge. It hadn't been much at first, just a couple of coughs and the occasional sneeze, but congestion is pressing against his sinuses when he wakes up and the tickle in his throat is a full-blown itch. A handful of barking coughs do nothing to dislodge it, and a glance at the clock tells him it's still only seven in the morning. The rest of the Daggers are more than likely sleeping in, taking full advantage of their time off.

He sighs, sliding out of bed and not even attempting to breathe through his nose. Maybe Maverick'll have tea, and even if he doesn't, Jake could probably pester Bradley into making more hot chocolate when the younger aviator wakes up.

Jake passes by Mickey and Reuben's shared room on silent feet, smiling slightly as he hears Reuben snoring through the walls, evidently dead to the world and a content, half-asleep sigh from Mickey. He doesn't know them as well as he does Bradley and Natasha, not yet, but they seem sweet, which isn't usually a word he'd use to describe Naval aviators. Still, it fits them, far better than stubborn or intimidating or arrogant would.

Maverick and Bob are both awake when he steps into the kitchen, and the former glances up from his phone at Jake's entrance while the latter puts a kettle on the stove before glancing over to him. "Morning," Maverick says, his hair still sleep-mussed and far more casual than Jake's ever seen him. "You sleep alright?"

"Fine," Jake says, but it comes out as little more than a breath of air. He clears his throat, and tries again, but it doesn't go much better.

Maverick frowns, already standing from his chair and walking toward Jake. "Woah, kid, are you getting sick?"

"I don't think so?" he rasps, pausing to cough into his shoulder. "Honestly, Mav, I feel fine. Throat's a bit sore and I'm congested, but it's not like I've got the flu, or anything."

"A bit?" Bob questions, taking out a second mug from a cabinet without another word.

Maverick's still got a hand to Jake's forehead, and he can't even blame him for being skeptical. Their kind really doesn't have the best track record with admitting to injury, but Jake's being completely honest. He's not sick, he just feels terrible, for some arbitrary reason he can't quite pin down.

"There should be honey in the tea drawer, Bob," Maverick says, and the WSO spins on his heel to pull out the bottle. "Huh."

"What?" Jake asks.

"You're right, no fever. And nothing other than the sore throat and congestion?" he asks, clearly in full dad mode. Jake supposes that Bradley's childhood has given him more than enough practice.

He shakes his head. "Not really, no. And Bob, when'd you get here?"

"Last night," he says, scrutinizing Maverick's collection of tea. "Around eleven, I think? The snow delayed my flight. How do you feel about chamomile?"

Jake shrugs, sitting down next to Maverick. "I don't know. Not really a tea person, so just give me whatever."

"Alright," Bob says, grabbing a packet and tearing it open before dropping the bag into the mug. They're silent, only interrupted by a coughing jag from Jake that lasts half a minute too long and leaves him winded as Maverick rubs his back, wincing sympathetically.

"Easy, kid, just breathe," he says quietly, and Bob passes him a mug, honey drizzled into the bottom and not quite fully mixed in. "Are you sure you're not sick?"

"I don't feel sick, but..." He trails off, puts a finger up, and sneezes harshly into his elbow. "hh'DTZZH'uh!"

"Bless you," Maverick says, frowning again. "I'm going to see if I have DayQuil, or something; the snow's too bad for us to get anywhere today. Hopefully, that'll head off the worst of this before tomorrow."

"We can hope," Jake says, still not quite convinced he's actually sick. Maybe it's because he hasn't been sick in more than six years, or because Christmas is tomorrow, or because he really, really doesn't want to be sick. Either way, it really doesn't make a difference in the long run, does it?

-

"Okay, that's definitely not normal," Bradley says, pointing an accusatory finger straight at Jake, effectively drawing everyone's collective attention straight to him.

"What?" he asks, utterly clueless.

"Mav," Bradley calls, ignoring Jake and the others entirely. "His eyes are starting to swell, I think he's allergic to something."

He catches Maverick's mumbled, "Do not let this turn into another Leo Wolfe situation," as he walks into the living room to stare at Jake, then says, "Oh my God, this is another fucking Leo Wolfe situation!" and throws his hands up before rushing off.

Natasha, of course, laughs at him. Their whole group is seated in the living room, playing Uno to absolutely disastrous results. Bob's cursed more than Jake thought him capable of in only three rounds, and he's honestly not eager to continue with the game if this is how it's going to go. "You're killing him," she teases.

Less than ten seconds later, Maverick's chucking a pack of Zyrtec at him from the doorway and Mickey's joining Natasha in her laughter. "Take two," he demands, leaving no room for argument.

Well, at least the whole thing makes sense now.

"You know what this means, right?" Natasha asks. "We have to figure out what it is that you're actually allergic to."

"Is that really necessary?" Jake asks, popping two of the tablets out from the blister pack and throwing them back without any water, which proves to be a mistake as he almost immediately gags on them. Reuben is nice enough to shoot up from his spot on the floor and fill up a glass of water in the sink while Natasha rolls her eyes and Bradley thumps him on the back, grinning.

"Absolutely," he proclaims, without a hint of sympathy. "Don't worry, Jake, we'll make it fast. After all, we only have thirty minutes before the medication kicks in."

Jake groans into his hands, then whines, his voice slightly muffled, "Mav, they're being mean to me."

"Oh, are they?" Maverick asks, moving around Payback as he returns with a glass of water. "Bradley, are you guys being mean to Jake?"

"No!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Hey, you haven't fallen to the floor gasping and choking, so clearly it's not that bad. I think we should get to bully you a little bit," Bradley says, and do their reactions to this whole situation really go back to Mav's friend from eighty-nine? If that's the kind of baseline Maverick has for an allergic reaction, Jake's probably going to wind up getting an EpiPen stabbed in his thigh if he breathes wrong, now.

"That's fair, actually," Maverick concedes. "Have away at him."

"Mav!"

He grins. "You're on your own, kid."

Natasha cheers in victory and starts scrutinizing the room, Bradley at her side, for anything that might be triggering Jake's reaction. Bob and Mickey, thankfully, stay on the ground and just stare at the elder two aviators while Reuben raises an eyebrow at Jake, as if to say, you're really going to let them do this?

Jake shrugs. You really think I could stop them?

Fair point, Reuben concedes with a nod, then stands up to join them.

Traitor.

"Try this," Bradley says, dropping down on the couch next to him. There's a pinecone in his hand, and Jake furrows his brows.

"Where the fuck did you get this?"

"They have them outside some of the stores," Natasha explains. "They're, like, spiced pinecones or something."

Mickey finally speaks up, starting at Bradley and Natasha with abject concern painted on his features. "Guys, this seems like a bad idea."

"What do you mean, this is brilliant," Bradley says, and shoves the pinecone up to Jake's face. Jake bats it away a second later, but not before getting a strong whiff of the scent on it. It's strangely cinnamon-y, and if he focuses, he's pretty sure he can pick out nutmeg, or something like that. Regardless, it doesn't do anything.

"Try the cleaner," Natasha suggests.

"I'm not your fucking guinea pig!" Jake protests, or, at least, attempts to protest. If any of them thought Maverick was stubborn, he's got nothing on Bradley. Jake idly wonders if that's something Bradley learned from him, or if that's just how Maverick's kids are, even if Bradley's not his biologically.

(He fails to realize that in accepting this invitation, the rest of the Daggers have effectively become Maverick's kids as well.)

Natasha shoots him a dangerous smile. "Of course not," she says sweetly. "Just our friend, and you're about to learn that might be even worse."

-

"Maybe try the candle?"

The suggestion comes from Bob, who's completely given up on trying to stop the rest of them from torturing Jake. The only one still holding out is Mickey, and even then, he's mostly just ignoring them now, opting instead to help Maverick with the dinner preparation. He's been oscillating between the living room and the kitchen for the past handful of minutes, just to check up on them and to make sure Jake isn't actively dying, if only for Maverick's sake.

"It's not even lit, how the hell could it be doing anything to me?" Jake tries to fight back, but by this point, nearly twenty minutes into the Daggers searching the room and shoving random things in his face, he knows any argument on his part will be completely futile. Sighing, he leans in and sniffs the candle when Natasha holds it out to him.

It only takes a second before he wrenches to the side with a sneeze, but he can tell that the candle isn't what's causing the reaction. "TZZSH! Nope, that's not it."

"Bless you," Reuben says, petting his back sympathetically. It's telling of his exhaustion that he's actually letting the elder aviator, instead of putting up a tough front as he normally does. With three of them actively seeking out his suffering, no matter how well-intentioned they think it is, it's hard to hide how awful he feels.

"That's it, though," Natasha says as Jake sniffles tiredly. "There's nothing else that could be it."

"Should we go through them again?"

"Don't you fucking dare," Jake warns, thought it probably doesn't come off as much of a threat, what with his red and itchy his eyes are. They started tearing up about halfway through the whole ordeal, even though they're yet to identify exactly what's setting him off. The medication doesn't seem to be dong much, either, considering that he doesn't feel any better than he did this morning.

To his left, Mickey rips part of the tree from its branch, then holds it out to Natasha, who raises an eyebrow at him. "You know it's usually the other type of pine that people are allergic to, right?" she asks.

Mickey nods, still offering it to her. "Yeah, but there's nothing else that it could be. It's worth a shot."

"Alright," Natasha says, and holds the section in front of Jake's face, the same as she did with everything else. There's barely a second between the moment it's put in front of him and when he twists away to sneeze into his elbow.

"HD'TZSHH! TDSH'UU!"

"It's the fucking tree!" Bradley yells, right as Mickey whoops in victory for having been the one to figure it out. "Jake, move to the kitchen."

He doesn't waste a second in obliging, grabbing the box of tissues on his way out. Maverick's head whips around the second he enters, and his face tenses with concern. "Christ, Seresin, what happened?"

"I told you to stop them," Jake says, turning away to sneeze again. "DT'ZZSHu!"

"Bless you," Maverick says.

"HD'ZSHH!"

"And again." He scrutinizes Jake more closely for a moment, and then asks, "No hives, right? Or anything else?"

"Nothing," Jake confirms. "Just fucking itchy."

Maverick sighs. "At least you're not dying on my floor."

"Seriously, what the hell happened with your friend that one time?" he starts to ask, but he's interrupted by a resounding crash from the living room that causes him, Maverick, and Mickey, the latter of whom is peeling an apple over the compost bin, all to jump.

"We're fine!" Natasha yells.

"What did you do?" Mickey calls back, peeler still in hand as he walks into the loving room. "Oh my fucking God."

Reuben's under the tree, holding it inches above the ground while Bradley and Natasha do their best to wrestle it back to a standing position and Bob takes pictures of the three of them, giggling slightly to himself.

"What are you doing?" Maverick asks, utterly confused.

"Okay, well, you see," Bradley hedges, just as Reuben shoves the tree upwards and back to standing. He ends up with a faceful of needles, and yelps appropriately as Bob takes another picture.

"We were trying to move the tree," Natasha explains. "Jake's allergic to it, so we wanted to move it farther away from the couches so that he can still hang out in the living room with the rest of us."

Maverick only sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Why the hell didn't you ask me to do it?"

"Because you're short!" Bradley says. "And Nat's as tall as you are!"

"That doesn't mean I can't help!"

"We already have a Natasha," Bradley explains patiently, sounds like he's said this to Maverick a thousand times before. "We don't need another height-equivalent. You'd just get in the way."

Maverick splutters at that, and Bradley smirks like he's won, turning back to help Natasha and Reuben continue scooting the tree across the floor and farther away from the couches so that Jake can come back and sit with them when his allergies calm down.

It causes his chest to ache, but in a good way. Jake's not really used to people going out of their way to include him, especially not when they go so far as to move an entire goddamn Christmas tree just so that they can all still gather in the living room with him. It's so stupidly sweet of them, and he finds himself tearing up a little bit at the gesture. It goes unnoticed by everyone but Mickey, who pats him gently on the back as Maverick stands next to Natasha, presumably comparing their heights to prove a point.

"Merry Christmas, Jake," Mickey says, shooting him a small smile. The arguing from the living room is loud enough for the both of them to hear the entire thing, and it's oddly endearing to watch Bradley defend himself against Maverick's short-person anger while the rest of them—Reuben, especially—flaunt their six-foot-and-change heights over him. It should be annoying, but Jake's heart just twinges again and he feels a smile of his own cross his face.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

[sebsxphia]

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#5

The “who hurt you “ trope but you show up at Rhetts door at 2am

-🥊😘

@sandbarbirdie bIRDIE YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS TROPE WITH RHETT, TURN THIS UPPP <;33

“who hurt you?”

rhett abbott x reader

￫ c/w: mentions of violence and injury, descriptions of injury, mentions of abuse, swearing, kissing, rhett is a big softie who wants to protect you.

￫ a/n: i started writing this and it turned into a full fic, woah! i understand this topic is heavy so please, please dm or inbox me with any c/w that i’ve missed or if you just want to talk, i’m here to listen, always <;33

Rhett’s sure he heard the knocking on his front door. He was coming out of his slumber and couldn’t work out if it was in his dream or real life, but then he heard the knocking again, louder this time. He’s sure it was a pounding on his front door. He slipped on a pair of boxes from the day before and a plaid shirt thrown haphazardly over his shoudlers. It was freezing in the Wabang winters now and he would be damned if he was going to catch a cold.

He padded down the stairs and into his hallway to hear another pounding, the door shaking with the force. “I’m coming, Jesus fu-” he unlocked the door and opened it to see you with your hands wrapped around your arms trying to incase some warmth into your shaking frame from the cold. You peered up at him and squinted your eyes at the warm brightness inside his home. The light purple bruise on your eye that was starting to form made it harder to look at him and the gash on the side of your temple was boring into your skull with dried blood trickling down onto your cheek. “Jesus Christ.” he muttered your name in tow and ushered you inside.

He shed the plaid shirt and wrapped it around your quivering shoulders. He gently cupped your face in the hallway where you both stood and tilted you up to look at him. He was hyper aware that there could be other injuries he wasn’t aware of. You looked at him with guilt spreading across your face. It was sheepish almost, but Rhett wore a look of only worry on his face. “Who hurt you?” His tone was firm and unwavering.

You were childhood sweethearts long ago and you’d both enjoyed your younger teenage years together and early adult lives, but things got in the way and you were no longer together.

“Shit happens,” is what you told Rhett, however you found in the more recent months you were getting closer to each other again. Sometimes you wondered late at night if you could ever truly tear apart from one another. The relationship you held with each other could never be argued about or understood. The only thing he knew is that he would bury someone in the ground for you and protect you with his still, beating heart.

His eyes bore into yours awaiting your reply. He was waiting for the name of who he was going to ruin the next day. You knew your Rhett and his tendencies to loose all control over anyone who would even dare to look your way, so you opted for the safer option, not looking him in the eye when you told him. You pulled away from his soft hold and stumbled to the kitchen chair and slouched down. “Darren.” You muttered out, looking down at your scuffed cowboy boots, a gift from Rhett for your twenty first birthday.

“Darren.” Rhett repeated with a grunt and clenched fists by his sides. Darren was your new fling and while Rhett knew about him and he knew he had no real hold on you anymore, it burned at his insides like acid. Rhett also knew he had no place to ask what you were doing with Darren, but he needed to know why you showed up at his door at two in the morning with blood running down your face and a nasty bruise forming on your eye.

Rhett reached for the first aid kit in the top kitchen cupboard and came to kneel by your side in the dimly lit kitchen. Rhett’s nostrils were flared and you saw how he was trying to steady his breathing. Shallow and deep breaths came out of him and you knew he was already plotting his downfall.

Rhett broke the tense silence first. “What the fuck did Darren do to you, angel?”

That name. Fuck sake. That fucking name. Rhett’s words were laced with venom, poised and ready to attack your attacker but the name ‘angel’ made tears swell in your eyes and it stung the bruised one. You remembered when Rhett called you angel. It was always during the softer times at night when your bodies were entwined with each other, talking about your future together, or when he consoled you after you didn’t get into your dream college.

“He wasn’t aiming for me. He went for some guy standing next to me but he ducked at the right time and Darren’s fist met me instead.” Rhett scoffed and made a mental note that Darren had a lazy punch. That would be good to know for tomorrow.

He dipped the cotton ball in the luke warm water and dabbed cautiously at the wound on your temple. You let out a hiss, gritting your teeth together and scrunching your eyes shut. Another groan left your chapped lips as the pain in your eye swelled from the scrunching. You felt one of Rhett’s hands rest on your jean clad thigh and give it a reassuring squeeze, his thumb running soothing circles over your flesh. “I know, I know. It’s gon’ sting, I’m sorry.” Rhett never apologised to anyone. Only you.

“If it were me punching some guy for you I wouldn’t do it anywhere near you.” You huffed out a small laugh at Rhett’s attempt to ease the pain. “I know. I remember.” You reminded him.

“Did you drive?”

You hesitated on your answer. No matter the response, it wasn’t going to help you try and hide what happened.

“No, I ran.”

Rhett’s eyebrows twisted downwards ever so slightly.

“I live a good mile away from town, angel.”

“After everything happened I screamed at Darren, like I lost it Rhett.” You twiddled with the hem of your t-shirt as Rhett continued to patch you up. You still couldn’t look at him. You felt shame clouding your senses. “He lost it back at me. I’d never seen him like that. I mean sure, we’ve only been dating like a month, but- but you really see peoples true colours when they’re drunk, huh.”

Your statement was laced with a double meaning. You remembered when Rhett got drunk, sure he would defend you within an inch of your life, but he would never scream at you. Never. He would cling to you all night and whisper sweet nothings in your ear about how you were the only one for him. It stung more than the wound on the side of your face to know you might’ve lost that.

Rhett stuck a butterfly band aid to the side of your face and cleaned up the rest of your blood. “And the gash?” He paused. “He punched you, angel. You don’t get that after a blow to the eye.”

Now Rhett was finished with bandaging you up he could slip his hands to yours and give them a light squeeze. He wanted you to know he was here. He was going to listen to anything you had to say and reassure you with all his might. The tears that had pooled in your eyes from before were now slipping over and onto your cheeks. You held his gaze and bit your bottom lip harshly. You were trying to stop the sobs that wanted to tear from your throat. You winced as you reminisced what followed after and how you got the gash.

You didn’t need to say it, Rhett knew.

See the full post

655 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

#4

tag game!

thank you so much for the tag @thesluttyarchivist !! 💌

game— make yourself using this picrew and what you envision when you read reader insert fics!

absolutely no pressure tags! <3

@beachbabey @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @thedaredevilsgirl @sandbarbirdie @seriouslyseresin @kryptonitejelly @bradshawswife e @casperlikej @princessofglitterland @floyd-luvr @notyoursbutlewis

674 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

#3

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699 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

#2

pushing his buttons

rhett abbott x reader

￫ description: maybe you pushed it too far with rhett this time, or maybe he wants something else.

￫ c/w: p in v, rough sex, swearing, blood, rhett and his severe breeding kink, rhett puts his fingers in your mouth, derogatory language towards reader, shouting, argument, it ends in forgiveness and fluff, aftercare.

￫ word count: 2.5K.

￫ a/n: rhett abbott has a breeding kink and i won’t be taking questions. this also stemmed from this post and this wonderful ask, thank you so much my dear anon!! &lt;3

Rhett opened the front door and you followed after him, closing the door behind you. He stumbled through the hallway into the kitchen, pinching his bloodied nose with his already blistered, red knuckles. Reaching over for the tattered wash cloth hanging off the edge of the ceramic sink, he soaked it under the tap, hissing when he made contact with his face, the cold water stinging his open wounds.

“I love you and I want you in one piece.” You said firmly, stood in the middle of the dimly lit kitchen.

Rhett leaned against the sink, clicking his tongue, turning around as he threw the damp rag in the basin, “yeah, but he had his fuckin’ hands on you.” He gritted out, southern drawl becoming heavier, puffing his chest out at the thought.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hold your ground, trying to make a point he would listen to. “I want a baby with you, Rhett. But I swear to God, you’ve got nine lives, and you’re on your eighth.”

“He was a fuckin’ asshole! You can’t tell me who I can and can’t-” he raised his voice, taking a step closer towards you, pushing away from the sink.

The way he looked at you, narrowing his eyes with his eyebrows knitted together made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. But yet, you couldn’t help your arousal that you felt drip into your underwear.

“I don’t fucking care! You keep pulling shit like that and you’ll be a no good, washed up fuckin’ rodeo rider.” You snapped quickly.

Too quick.

The words left your mouth before you could register any real meaning that they had against him.

You always felt like the diamond girl with Rhett. The way he would look after and protect you for what you hoped would be forever, but at the back of your mind, it frightened you to death thinking it could be the last time.

He didn’t retort with anything back. No quick witted remark, no insults thrown back at you.

Why wasn’t he say anything?

All that was there was one look in his eyes. He was fucking pissed.

It took him one brawny stride, and he crashed his lips onto yours, biting down onto your bottom lip, making a lewd cry from your gut get lost in his mouth.

You could taste the blood running from his nose and the bitter taste of beer on his tongue as he ran it across your bottom lip and into your mouth. He groaned as you slid your tongue into his mouth, your hands wrapping around his neck, fumbling in the loose strands of curled hair at the base of his neck.

He guided you backwards with a push, until your ass hit the kitchen table. With an instinct pitted at the bottom of your gut, you lifted your legs up to wrap around his waist, hands still holding onto the base of Rhett’s neck.

He moved his hands down, skimming over your breasts and stomach. His rough touch over your body causing your nerve endings to electrify. He brought his hands around your thighs to grip under your ass, giving it a rough squeeze. You yelped, but it came out too quiet as he was still running his tongue in your mouth, wanting to taste every inch of you.

It was like he had all but forgotten what it was like to kiss you, and he was trying to remember it desperately.

He lifted you up onto the kitchen table, your legs still tightly locked onto his waist. One hand still resting on your ass, kneading it roughly, he brought his other hand up to your breast, finding and circling your nipple roughly, pulling on it, eliciting a cry that bubbled up through your throat.

You pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air, desperate to fill your lungs. Rhett had a way of using his hands and mouth that always made your brain short for oxygen, making you damn near delirious.

Pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned your head to look at him.

“Say that again, I fuckin’ dare you.”

With the breath knocked out of your lungs and the delectable feeling you had pooling in your underwear, you didn’t dare say a fucking thing.

Moving his lips away from yours, he trailed his fervent kisses down your jawline, along your neck and ended along your collarbone. You could feel his teeth sucking into your skin, making lewd noises as he pulled at your flesh, creating bruising marks on your skin.

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728 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

How would Rooster, Bob and Hangman all react to sharing a bed with you for the first time? (Separately of course, not all 4 together 😅)

why not all together eh dear anon 😏

but this is a very good question! and i’m gonna go with the one bed trope and you’re not actually together, cause god, what a trope! 💖

a/n: part two for all four of them here!

i hope you enjoy the below! 💌

Bob. He would be so polite and incredibly respectful. “I’ll get changed in the bathroom. I won’t look, promise.” You giggle as you pull your shirt over your head. “It’s okay, Bobby. We’ve all changed in front of each other before.” He takes one look at your bare back and his brain turns to mush. He’s never seen your skin in such an intimate way before.

When you roll over to him in the night he freezes up, but when you wake up in the morning nuzzled into his chest and his arms around you, you can’t help the blush running hot over your cheeks. “Morning, B.” You mumble out, shuffling to move out of the position. He pulls you straight back into his arms. “Don’t.” He replies with a sleepy smile on his face.

Rooster. He’s grumpy that he has to share with you to be honest, even asking the receptionist if they’re sure there are no other rooms with two beds. He sets a very firm line, “this is your side, this is my side.” You can’t help but giggle and throw your hands up defensively, “ok porn tache.”

But somehow throughout the night you end up curled into his chest and when stirs and looks down at your peaceful, sleeping figure he thinks, “ok. Not all that bad.”

Hangman. He’s being a total flirt about the whole thing. “No peeking, sweets.” He snickers, throwing a lazy wink your way when he’s getting changed. The idiot is definitely wearing just his boxers, showing off everything.

But when he sees you in just a lil tank top and shorts his brain short circuits. “You know you can always come over to my side, perfectly warm.” You narrow your eyes at him and scoff. “No funny business, Bagman.”

When you wake up in the morning and feel his arm draped over your waist you can’t help the little smile on your face. Little do you know he’s smiling too. and rubbing his hard on up your ass

1,209 notes - Posted August 17, 2022

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