callsignjupiter

[callsignjupiter]

[callsignjupiter]

𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔬𝔢𝔱

[callsignjupiter]

[callsignjupiter]

[callsignjupiter]

warm cup of tea feels like a hug 🤎🧸

[callsignjupiter]

ᵃ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉ

[callsignjupiter]

[callsignjupiter]

[callsignjupiter]

Where warmth lives in every shade—coffee-stained pages, handwritten thoughts, soft wool coats, and the quiet comfort of slow days. A palette of nostalgia and earthy elegance.

[callsignjupiter]

@lovesdaya

[callsignjupiter]

the things Nat does (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) what a beautiful love story ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

at first sight ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: the squad challenge hangman to charm any girl in the bar, and phoenix chooses you, but you end up making more of an impression on him than he's is expecting

notes: i asked for some inspo and i got some! i hope this is okay, i wrote it in a day and just had a bit of fun, so let me know what you think! (i also got another request for jake, and honestly if he's who y'all want, i'm so here for it)

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, text screenshots, and it's a little horny but otherwise fine (let me know if i've missed anything!)

word count: 3304

“Any girl in the bar?” Reuben echoes Jake’s words, disbelief saturating his tone.

Jake nods. “Any available girl in this bar.”

Bradley chuckles into the mouth of his beer bottle as he tips it to his lips while Mickey and Bob crane their necks to survey the busy bar.

“What about that one?” Mickey nods toward a high table where a woman is sitting by herself.

Jake rolls his eyes. “I said available. She’s clearly got a date and he’s just gone to get a drink. Do you see the keys on the table?”

As if on cue, a tall man with thick brows and a very square jaw places two drinks on the table before sitting across from the woman.

Javy chuckles as he subtly points toward the main door where two women have just entered the bar. “What about one of those two, Hangman?”

Jake’s green eyes dart toward the door before returning to his friend and narrowing. “Be kind, Coyote. I would prefer under the age of sixty-five.”

Natasha’s brows shoot up. “Prefer, but you’d be open to-”

“No.” Jake scowls across the table at her.

The group share a laugh before they all return to scouring the bar for an acceptable target. Jake Seresin makes big claims about his ability with ‘the ladies�� but the dagger squad are yet to witness such skill in action.

“Her.” Natasha says, brown eyes focused on someone at the bar.

Every single one of them turn to follow her gaze, and Jake’s mouth twists up into that signature smirk.

-

You sigh and slide your phone out of your back pocket, opening the text chain that made you leave the restaurant you’d been waiting at and order an Uber to the nearest bar. Another message pops up as you stare at the screen, asking where you are and if you got a table yet. You roll your eyes and take a screenshot before going to your text thread with your best friend and sending it to her.

You slide your phone back into your pocket just as the bartender places the beer you ordered in front of you. You glance up with a small smile and open your wallet to find your credit card, but someone beside you is quicker to hand the man some cash.

“It’s on me,” the stranger says, wearing an irritatingly gorgeous grin.

Your eyes narrow as you assess the man beside you. He’s wearing a well-fitting pair of jeans and a dark green button-up shirt, untucked. He’s effortlessly handsome, with sparkling green eyes and light brown hair that is perfectly combed into place. It’s almost as if someone cast a spell on a Ken doll to bring him to life. But you can tell by the way this man is grinning at you that he is much more devious than a newly animated children’s toy.

You pick up your drink and turn to face him, silently asking him to explain himself.

“Hangman.” He winks.

You frown. “I prefer Pictionary.”

His pretty smirk falters for a second before he fully processes what you said, and then he chuckles. “No, it’s my callsign. I’m a naval aviator.”

You’d figured as much – duh, you live on North Island – but you’re not in the mood for this guy’s bullshit right now. “That must be so fun for you.” You push off the barstool with your drink in hand. “Thanks for the beer.”

“Wait a minute.” He doesn’t block your path, but his words are enough to stop you out of sheer habit. “I didn’t catch your name.”

You give him a tight smile. “That’s because I didn’t throw it.”

Despite the dim, yellow lighting inside the bar, his eyes still sparkle like freshly tumbled jades. He doesn’t look as smarmy as he had a few moments ago, he looks more intrigued than cocky now. His smile isn’t quite as smirky, and his gaze is less predatory, but his eyes are still raking up and down your body. On any other day, you’d be willing to give this charming man a run for his money. You’d drag him into a booth and see if he could keep up with your verbal warfare before deciding whether or not you wanted to take him home. But not tonight.

“I’d be willing to earn your name if you give me a chance.”

You look down at your beer and sigh quietly before glancing back up at him. “Look, Hangman, I don’t doubt this routine – this charm – works on most girls, but you have really picked the wrong one tonight.”

He raises one challenging brow. “You look like the right one to me.”

“The right one for what?” You cock your hip and hold it with your free hand. “A good one-night stand or something real? Because you don’t strike me as a guy who’s looking for something real, and I’ve just about had it with one-night stands.”

His mouth pops open, but no words come out.

“And while I don’t doubt that it would be a really good one-night stand, because- well, I’m not blind, I’ve just had a really crappy day and would like to drink my beer in peace while I craft a careful and incredibly scathing text to the asshole who put me in this mood.”

You pause, waiting for him to respond or tell you that you’re crazy, but he doesn’t. He just looks at you with that same curious stare, like you’re a fascinating piece of art in a gallery.

“So, thank you for the drink, but could you please let me have my pity-party alone? You can go tell your friends you got my number, and we can just pretend that I reacted to this whole situation like any other normal person would have.”

His brows pinch as you offer him another tight smile before turning and walking toward a spare table. Once you settle in one of the chairs – your back to the room –, you have to resist the urge to turn around, because a tiny part of you wishes that you could have humoured him. He was hot, there’s no denying that, but he also seemed like an actual gentleman – an experienced gentleman, but one, nonetheless. Which is something that your life is sorely lacking.

You pull your phone out again and open up your text conversation with Declan – the guy you thought you’d been dating for the past three months.

You were supposed to have met for dinner at 7PM, and you'd been waiting at the restaurant since 6:45PM because you were so excited for your date. But after those texts, you threw your napkin on the table and walked right out the door. You hailed a cab and told the driver to take you to The Hard Deck, a bar you’ve only heard of from your friend. The same friend who you’d sent the screenshots of your conversation with Declan.

You shake your head and decide to compose a ‘get fucked’ message to Declan later. You're tired and a little upset, so you tip your beer to your lips and scull the rest of it, plonking the glass down harder than necessary as you stand up.

You call an Uber to take you home and when you slide into the back seat, you feel utterly drained and more than a little guilty about blowing off that gorgeous guy. You open your phone and tap on your text messages, pulling up your conversation with your best friend and typing out a few new messages.

Natasha’s ambiguity would usually make you nauseous with curiosity, but after the day you’ve just had, you can’t find the energy to be anxious about whatever it is she wants to talk about. You send her an affirmative text, accepting the boozy brunch, before tucking your phone away and staring out the car window for the rest of the drive home.

-

Jake has been lying awake for over an hour by the time his alarm goes off. It’s Saturday, which means he doesn’t have to be at the base, but he still likes to start his weekends early with a good workout. Normally, he’d jump out of bed at the sound of his alarm and slip straight into his gym gear, but not today. He’s barely slept, and he feels like his consciousness is on a completely different plane of existence.

He can’t stop thinking about you.

You’d caught him completely off-guard last night. When Natasha had pointed you out, he could clearly see that you were gorgeous, which is why he was more than happy to accept the challenge of ‘charming’ you. Then you had the audacity to be witty, and Jake Seresin is nothing if not a sucker for a woman with a sharp tongue. You didn’t fall for his smirk or his cheesy lines, but you weren’t rude about it either. You’d clearly had a bad day, and he felt bad for borderline harassing you, but now he feels even worse for not at least getting your name.

Jake has never believed in love at first sight, but last night is starting to prove him otherwise.

His workout today is half-assed, and he knows it, but he doesn’t bother pushing himself any further by the time his hour in the gym is up. Usually, he wouldn’t leave until his whole body was slick with sweat, but not today. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see your face, and then he doesn’t want to open them again. He’s worried that the details will start to fade, and he never wants to forget the face of the woman who has so thoroughly rocked his foundations. So that’s why when he gets home, he lays on the couch and closes his eyes, trying to burn your image into the back of his eyelids.

A couple of hours and a lot of unsuccessful internet sleuthing later, his phone rings, the screen lighting up with Natasha’s caller ID photo.

“Hello?”

“Bagman, you sound tired.”

“I’m busy. What's up?”

“Well, now you sound depressed.” He can hear the amusement in her voice. “Are you still bummed about striking out last night?”

He doesn’t care about striking out, he cares about the fact that he’s now seemingly obsessed with a mystery girl he might never see again.

“I’m not in the mood, Phoenix.”

“Alright, alright. I just wanted to see if you were coming to the beach barbecue tonight.” He can hear another muffled voice in the background, but he can’t discern who it is. “It was Payback’s idea, and everyone else is in, but you didn’t reply to the group chat. So?”

There’s a beat of silence. Jake is usually always down to hang out with his friends, but he has half a mind to spend his night scouring every bar and restaurant in town to see if he can run into you again.

“Come on, Seresin,” she presses. “One of my friends is coming too, and I really think you’ll like her.”

At that, Jake’s curiosity piques. Natasha has never offered to set him up with any of her friends before. In fact, she has distinctly threatened him should he ever try to go near any of them.

“You want to set me up with your friend?”

She scoffs. “Well, no, but- Look, you’ll understand if you come. Am I counting you in?”

He lets out a long breath as he falls back against the couch cushions. “Yeah, sure.”

- Three Hours Earlier -

You stare at your best friend in disbelief. You’ve barely taken a sip of your first mimosa, and she’s already telling you that not only was she at that bar last night, but she was the one who told the gorgeous man to approach you.

“Are you mad?” she asks, holding her champagne flute in front of her face as if it could protect her.

You take a deep breath before blowing it out through your nose. “Well, no, but I’m kind of hurt that you saw me walk into the bar and didn’t come say hi.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “That would have ruined all the fun.”

You raise your brows. “The fun of sending one of your friends into a losing battle?”

Her smile is sheepish. “Look, if you knew Hangman like I do, you’d completely understand. And when I saw you sit at the bar, of course I wanted to come and give you a hug, but then I had this beautiful opportunity presented to me. You got to take out a little bit of frustration on the male species, and Hangman got a nice big bruise on his ego. It was a win-win.”

You take a generous sip of your mimosa and point a finger at her. “Win.”

She gives you a wink before taking a big gulp of her own drink. You spend the rest of the morning talking about Declan and crafting a simple but nasty message to send him before you block his number. After three mimosas and a shared croissant, you’re starting to feel a little boozy.

“Okay, I think we should stop.”

She nods. “Probably. I still need to go shopping for tonight. You’re coming, right?”

You roll your lips and avert your eyes, instead deciding to stare at the crumbs on the plate between the two of you.

“Come on, please.” She leans forward, doing her best puppy-dog eyes. “I know you don’t know my navy friends, but you’re never going to if you keep avoiding meeting them. Plus, Hangman should be there.”

Your heart begins to thump heavily against your sternum, which is ridiculous because you barely know the guy.

“I guess I should probably apologise to him.”

She scoffs. “You don’t need to apologise. I was kind of hoping that maybe you’d reject him again.”

You roll your eyes. “Nat, come on. I was rude to the guy, and he was perfectly-”

“Wait.” Her eyes go wide. “You actually think he’s cute, don’t you? Like, not in a flippant ‘that guy is hot’ kind of way, but in the way where you can’t stop thinking about him.”

Your pulse thrums even faster. “Pfft, no.”

“Oh, my God.” She holds a hand up to her lips to stifle her laughter. “You don’t want to apologise to him, you want to fu-”

“Nat!” you exclaim. “We are in public.”

She can’t stop giggling, her brown eyes like saucers above the hand covering her mouth, and it only takes a few more seconds before you dissolve into laughter too. You’ve definitely had enough mimosas for the morning.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually you compose yourselves enough to pay and exit the cafe. Neither of you had driven this morning, thankfully, so you decide to Uber to the nearest grocery store to get supplies for tonight’s beach barbecue.

You’re turning into the cold aisle where all the meat is cut and packaged when Natasha pulls out her phone and calls Hangman. It’s stupid the way your heart races when you hear his muffled voice, but you can’t help it. You’ve been thinking about this man nonstop for the past fourteen hours and now you’re going to see him tonight. You’ve never really believed in love at first sight, but the memory of those sparkling green eyes is starting to convince you otherwise.

Hours later and after trying on every bathing suit you own, you find yourself walking toward the gazebo on the beach where Nat’s location on your phone is pinging. There’s a fold out table with a portable barbecue on it and half a dozen beach chairs scattered across the sand. There’s also a volleyball net set up, where two very fit men are batting a white ball back and forth.

You’re starting to think that maybe you were doing yourself a disservice by not meeting Nat’s navy friends sooner.

“Hey!” Nat exclaims, yanking two beers out of the ice tub before jogging toward you. “I’m very impressed that you didn’t bail.”

You roll your eyes and try to be discreet about surveying the group for a face you’ll recognise. “Of course I didn’t bail.”

“Come meet everyone.” She links her arm with yours and leans in to whisper in your ear. “Hangman isn’t here yet.”

She points at the two men playing volleyball and tells you that they are Rooster and Payback. Then she pulls you into the gazebo’s shade and introduces you to Coyote, who is manning the barbecue, and Fanboy, who is second in charge. Harvard, Fritz, and Halo are occupying a few of the beach chairs, and apparently there are two more naval aviators on their way. One of which you’ve already met.

Everyone is super nice and incredibly fucking fit. It doesn’t take long for you to relax and enjoy the conversation with Fanboy while Nat argues with Coyote about what ‘medium rare’ looks like.

“Oh, and here’s another one,” Fanboy says, glancing over your shoulder with a grin. “This is Hangman.”

Your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you turn around and come face to face with those gorgeous green eyes.

He smiles, and it’s hot enough to melt your bikini bottoms. “Pictionary, right?”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, that’s right. Nat tells me you’re actually Bagman?”

He rolls his eyes and turns to your best friend, who is grinning like a maniac. “Jake Seresin, this is my best friend. Have you two met?”

Jake.

He says something to Natasha along the lines of calling her evil, but you’re not listening anymore. You’re too busy drinking him in, and oh my, is that a big drink.

He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of khaki shorts, and his taut tan skin is making your mouth water. He has to have been sculpted by the gods, that is the only explanation for this man. Your eyes rake across his broad chest, the smattering of hair at his sternum, and down his defined abdominals. You can imagine licking every line, tasting every inch of his skin and following that V with your tongue below the waistband of his shorts.

Natasha nudges your ribs as she walks past, and you only just catch her wink before you look up and find Jake’s eyes on you. He’s smirking, and this time, it’s working. “Phoenix said you wanted to tell me something.”

Oh yeah, he definitely knows you were just checking him out.

You clear your throat. “I- um, I wanted to apologise for being rude last night. I’d had a bad day, but you honestly didn’t do anything wrong. Any other day I’d probably have jumped right into bed with you.”

Your eyes widen and you smack a hand over your mouth, heat crawling into your cheeks as you realise what thoughts you just let slip through your lips. Jake laughs, his smirk morphing into a genuine and breathtaking grin.

“I’m so sorry,” you say quickly. “I have no filter sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He licks his lips and looks you up and down, like a predator sizing up its prey. “You don’t have anything to apologise for, but considering this is any other day, why don’t you start by telling me your name? Then we can see about jumping into bed.”

You can feel yourself melting faster than a popsicle in the sun. It’s not that you want to be immediately smitten by this ridiculously gorgeous and charming man, but you can’t help it. Ever since last night, you’ve had a weird feeling about him. A feeling that makes you think he’s important to your story, one way or another.

All you can do now is hope that it’s in a good way.

END.

[callsignjupiter]

how bad of the brother (っ- ‸ - ς) let's see what happens with Moonie's situation, I hope she can go to New York ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)

Road To Perdition: Prologue

Road to Perdition: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol, Allusions to alcoholism, Death of parents, Pessimism, Historical Inaccuracies probably. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: Just under 1.2k

Series Masterlist

Light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting shadows across the walls as your eyes slowly fluttered open. There was a stillness in the air that was all too familiar for those that lived as far out of the city as you did, nestled in the trees that scattered the farmland surrounding your home. You heard the shrill chirping of the birds as you adjusted back to life in the waking world, stretching with a grunt as you glanced over at the clock sitting on your nightstand.

It was still early, something you both lamented and thanked the lord for. You had things to do today, things that would require you to sneak past your brother who had undoubtedly passed out on the couch once more after a night of drinking himself silly. He had been like that before your parents passed, one of the many things he and your father had in common.

It had been only a couple of years since your father died, leaving your brother his illegal business of moonshining - a business you had been a part of at one point before finding other means of making money. Your father hadn’t been too keen on the idea at first, always commenting on how you seemed to have a special touch with the liquor, earning you your nickname of Moonshine or Moonie for short.

He had accepted it in stride, though. Especially when he saw the amount of your first earnings as a part-time photographer for the local paper. The camera had been a gift from a family friend, having purchased it for his son who quickly let it fall to the wayside as other pursuits caught his interests.

“Shouldn’t go to waste,” he had said, handing it to you with a small smile on his usually stern face. “Here, Moonie. You should have it.”

You had felt wrong taking it at first, but the feeling quickly left you once you held your first photo in your hand, your brother having saved up enough to set up a makeshift room for you to develop them in. That was before he started sampling his own product, of course.

“These are really good, Moonie!” Jack had grinned as he held a particularly stunning shot of a doe you had encountered in the back field one morning. She had turned to face you, and that’s when you had taken the shot, just before she ran back into the safety of the woods. You were particularly proud of that shot, but you ducked your head down in humility.

“They’re not that good,” you mumbled shyly.

You smiled wistfully at the memory before letting out a sigh as you pulled yourself up out of the comfort of your bed. You were quick to tidy up, fluffing the pillows before marching down the hall towards the bathroom. The sound of snoring echoed from your brother’s room, and you snorted in surprise at the change, but continued on.

After relieving yourself, you washed up, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror. Most girls your age had a whole counter full of makeup, but you simply couldn’t see the need for it, or justify it for that matter. No, you were saving up what little you could to make your escape. You weren’t sure where you’d go yet. New York perhaps? You’d heard there was always an opportunity for someone there. The thought of making your way in the growing city sent your stomach fluttering, and you clapped your hands against your cheeks to settle your mind.

There was no time for daydreaming. You had to focus on the task at hand. You were able to squirrel some of your earnings away from your brother’s greedy hands, and you made weekly deposits into a private bank account. People had been weary of the banks since the crash a few years back, but you trusted them more than your snooping older brother. Work had been hard for people to come by, but people were always looking for a photographer. So for now, non-essentials like makeup would have to wait.

You dressed quickly, double checking to make sure your camera was tucked away in your messenger back alongside your rainy day fund, and set out only to stop short at the sight of the living room.

Bottles were strewn all about the place along with cards scattered alongside them. Letting out a heavy sigh, you dropped your bag down onto one of the chairs as you set about cleaning the place up. You were surprised that the noise of what was surely many men hadn’t woken you up. You had had a long day, though. The fresh wad of bills sitting in your bag proof of that.

The bottles clanked together as you gathered up as many as you could, taking them out to be washed later. Coming back inside, you glanced over to observe the state of the kitchen, the sight having a growl leaving your throat before you could stop it. Plates were stacked high in the sink, and you knew you’d have to take care of them now lest they stink up the place for the rest of the day. The last thing you needed to deal with was unwanted pests in your home.

You actually enjoyed doing the dishes, if you were being honest. It was time to let your mind wander, plotting your way out without being disturbed. No one wanted to be drawn in to helping, of course. So you washed and scrubbed in silence as the noise outside picked up with the late morning. You wouldn’t get to the bank until this afternoon, at this rate. That left little time to go snooping for your next lead, which left you more irritated than before.

You drained the sink once you were done, wiping your hands with the dishcloth with a grimace. You’d have to do laundry tomorrow. Another chore left for you to take care of.

Perhaps you wouldn’t be so quick to want to leave if it wasn’t only you holding this place together. Your brother had been your rock once upon a time, but then your mother had passed due to illness and your father followed her not long after. Of course, you had been devastated, but you took it upon yourself to be the strong one after Jack fell apart. He started drinking then. It had only been one here or there, but it quickly grew into several bottles a night, and no amount of begging would get him to stop. So you quit trying.

It had come to a head only a year ago when you came home early to find your room tossed upside down, anything of value missing along with Jack. It was a week before he came home.

You had learned your lesson, and now you bided your time until you could withdraw your money and make a break for it. The sun shone down on you as you began the trek into town, dreaming of the day you would make this journey for the last time.

A/N: Just something to tide you guys over until I can formulate the next chapters of By Its Cover and Fool's Fare. I'm excited for this one though!

If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[callsignjupiter]

you’re on your own, kid - taylor swift

[callsignjupiter]

Live the life you love 💚

[callsignjupiter]

Iceman: Why are there little handprints on the walls?

Maverick, to baby Bradley: Why are there little handprints on the walls?

Bradley: Because I have little hands.

Maverick: Because he has little hands.

(x)

[callsignjupiter]

how cute this was, I loved it (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

Two Lines

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x female!reader

The last thing Jake expected to see first thing in the morning was a pregnancy test in the trash can. And he definitely didn’t expect a debate with his wife about what those two lines meant. 

Word count: 1.5K

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

It took a lot to shock Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

Not only had he made it through a military academy, he was a combat pilot who’d seen action in two war zones and had medals to back up his claim that he was one of the Navy’s best.

But the sight of the pink-capped test in the bathroom trashcan had him choking on his toothbrush.

Adrenaline shot through him, waking him up from the half-stupor he’d been in. It was still early before your alarm went off. But you’d been restless all night, tossing and turning and grumbling about what a stupid idea it was to get your work-mandated flu shot at the same time as your COVID booster.

“Not sure why you did it,” he’d teased, brushing the hair from your eyes. “You always feel like crap after.”

“I know,” you whined, curling closer to him even as your body ached and your stomach clenched. “I just needed to get it out of the way, and since I don’t have any clients tomorrow, I figured I could call out sick if I needed to.”

But that didn’t explain the pregnancy test in the trash.

After just under a year of marriage, you weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but neither were you trying to prevent it. Both of you were in agreement that you’d be happy to have kids if it happened, but you were also satisfied with it being just the two of you for a while, or even forever.

Your period being late wasn’t uncommon, especially when you were stressed. And with the clinic officially understaffed and you taking on a larger client panel while trying to balance groups and to promote to a leadership spot, Jake knew you were stressed. For the first time, he’d seen you working on the weekend to catch up on session notes and submit consults, making sure your clients were getting connected to the services they needed.

The test was probably just for peace of mind, he reasoned, forcing himself to finish brushing his teeth while keeping his eyes on the trashcan. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken one, but it was the first time you hadn’t told him about it… that he knew of. And if you’d thrown it away, it had to be negative. You’d stumbled back to bed just an hour ago after using the bathroom, waking him as you collapsed back onto the mattress and declaring that you were calling in sick. When he’d pulled you to his chest and kissed your forehead, he’d felt your low-grade fever.

Just like he’d expected. It was why he’d stopped at the Commissary on the way home from work, grabbing bananas, applesauce, and bread to make sure you had something to eat while wallowing on the couch between naps.

Besides, he knew he’d be joining you on Saturday - he had his appointment to stop at the base hospital and get his mandatory annual flu shot, too. While it didn’t take him out like it did with you, he’d never pass up an excuse to have a lazy weekend.

With a forced nonchalance that he didn’t feel, Jake put away his toothbrush before reaching for the pregnancy test. Turning it, he saw two lines.

Two lines.

Jake stared, mouth dropping open. His eyes darted from the lines to the diagram on the side of the window, explaining how to interpret the results, feeling a strange sensation of excitement and terror at the confirmation.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

Confusion tempered his joy as he set the test on the counter and took a step back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to scrub away any lingering sleep. But when his vision cleared, there was no denying it.

Two dark lines.

Grabbing the door handle, Jake forced himself to take a deep breath before walking back into the bedroom. You’d dozed off again, breathing even and face half-hidden by your sleep mask. He’d bought you the first one as a joke when you’d moved in after a week of grumbling when he turned on the lights to get ready for work. While you both left the house at the same time - him to head to the base, and you to the hospital - he enjoyed taking his time with his morning routine, while you preferred hitting the snooze button as many times as possible before sprinting to get ready and out of the house on time.

You groaned when he sat at your hip, planting one hand on the mattress and reaching up to nudge the mask to your forehead. Refusing to open your eyes, you slapped at his hand, “Lea’me alone,” you grumbled.

“You got something to tell me, sweetheart?” he asked, forcing his voice to be even. While he was excited about the pregnancy, if you’d thrown the test away, you might not be.

“‘M not goin’ to work,” you sighed, rolling onto your side and hugging your pillow tightly.

“I know. Anything else?”

“Love you, have a goo’day.” Your words slurred as you started to drift again. When he said your name, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, you sighed and rolled onto your back. Kissing the tips of your fingers, you held them up for him. “I feel gross and don’t wanna kiss you in case it’s not the shot.”

“Is that why you took the pregnancy test?” One eye cracked open, and you saw your husband smiling down at you, a slightly manic gleam in his sea-green eyes.

Shrugging, you yawned, “Kinda. But it was negative.” Jake was silent for a long moment, and you felt him place a hand on your stomach.

“Darlin’… the test wasn’t negative.”

“It was.”

Jake barked a laugh. “There are two lines!”

“I know.”

“Two lines is pregnant!”

“Two lines is negative.”

“No, it’s not,” Jake argued. Huffing, you opened both eyes to glare at him.

“I read UAs twice a week at work, Jacob. I know what a negative result looks like.” As the person in charge of the Contingency Management program in your clinic, you administered and read urine drug screens, knowing with a quick glance if there were prescription or illicit substances in your client’s sample. If the two lines popped up for a negative result for their targeted substance - meaning they’d been abstinent - they earned the opportunity to draw for a prize. A single line meant that they had traces of the substance in their system, providing a positive result.

“Maybe for drug tests, but obviously not for a pregnancy test.”

“Move,” you grumbled, bumping your legs against him to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked.

“To prove you wrong.” Chuckling, he stood and smirked when you threw your sleep mask onto your pillow and brushed away the hand he offered to help you out of bed. The bathroom light was still on, and he followed behind you as you picked up the test he’d left on the sink, holding it in front of his face. “See? Two lines. Negative.”

Taking the test, Jake put his thumb over the Not Pregnant example and held it in front of your eyes. “See? Two lines. Pregnant.” He could only smile as your gaze shifted from glaring at him to squinting down at the test - you hadn’t put your glasses on yet. He watched your eyes widen with shock, darting from the instructions to the result window. Your lips parted, but no words escaped as your eyes rose to meet his again. “Say somethin’, sweetheart.”

“Why the FUCK are my POC cups the only damn thing that has a single line as positive?” you demanded.

That startled a laugh out of him, and Jake tossed the test back onto the counter and tugged you into his arms. Your fingers dug into his back, and he could feel you shaking. “You alright, darlin’?”

You were silent for a long moment before sighing, “Just realizin’ that I’m gonna be triple-checking results for a while. It’s gonna make my appointments run so much longer.”

Chuckling, Jake pulled away just far enough to meet your watery gaze. “What about this one? You gonna triple-check it?”

“I mean, you’ve pretty much done it.” An embarrassed smile flit across your mouth. “Is this where you say ‘I told you so’?”

“Pretty sure this is where I say I love you,” Jake replied, leaning down to kiss you softly. Carefully, he backed you up until your ass hit the counter and lifted you onto it. Your legs wrapped around his hips, arms draped across his shoulders as his hands slid under your shirt to wrap around your waist.

“Love you too. You ready to be a daddy?”

“Hell yeah. You ready to be a mama?” The question made you pause, but the steady confidence your husband exuded made you smile. Even if you weren’t quite ready, he would be there to help you get there.

“Yeah,” you said after a moment.

It would take you a couple of weeks to feel confident interpreting the UA results with a glance again, but you even chuckled when you started telling people about the pregnancy, and Jake boasted that he was the one telling you that you were pregnant.

After all, how many fathers got the chance to do that?

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

Author's Note: This little fic has been on my mind since yesterday when I had to fill in last minute for our CM clinic when a clinician called out sick, and had to administer and interpret 2 UAs in 30 minutes, then do brief counseling with the gentlemen before going. I've laughed with my friends before about how our POC cups (the same ones in the graphic above) are one of the only tests where two lines is negative.

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[callsignjupiter]

x reader she's like Barbie. she can be anything. she can be everything. she can do whatever I'm not dare to do in rl and she can choose her man. *sigh* Life've never been better.