kiritella

[kiritella]

Whose Cat Is It Anyway?

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: For the longest time, you thought the cat roaming the tower wasn’t owned by anybody. Then you eventually realize that the “Tower Cat” does, in fact, have a name, and is owned by none other than Bucky Barnes himself, the one team member you aren’t exactly best friends with. After Bucky finds out that Alpine has become fond of you, he starts giving you odd looks and passive-aggressive comments. This leads you to the conclusion that he is jealous of you for taking his cat. However, as time goes on, you come to the realization that it might be the other way around.

Word Count: 9.6k

Warnings/Tags: Bucky is so bad at feelings, Reader is an unreliable narrator, Reader is very oblivious (it's bad)

A/N: Is it realistic for somebody to get jealous over a cat? Probably not (keyword being probably), but I thought it was funny, so here you guys go! First post on this account :) Enjoy!

Cats.

You, like many people, adore the creatures.

They can be affectionate and cuddly on good days, purring and rubbing up against you as if nothing else exists. However, they can also be mischievous little demons.

Either way, you’ve always loved cats. 

Recently, you had been planning on getting a cat, but after moving in with the rest of the team, the plan had been put on hold. 

It was a tragedy. You were really looking forward to adopting one for yourself. You weren’t exactly sure if pets were allowed in the Watchtower. Technically, you didn’t see any rules against it, but you didn’t want to adopt a pet immediately after getting new roommates.

That being said, you did ask Valentina, but that didn’t really go well.

-

You shuffled anxiously, hearing the phone ring before it eventually picked up. “Hey, so—”

“Is this an emergency? You do know this number is for emergencies only, correct?” She said, and you could practically see the eye roll.

“Welllll, not exactly, but you haven’t exactly been around for us to ask any questions. You also don’t respond to my texts…” You trailed off, mumbling the last line. It’s not as if you wanted her around, but it would have solved this issue ages ago.

She remained silent for a moment, and you heard her sigh, exasperated. “Well, what is it?” She asked.

“The policy for pets?”

She sputtered for a moment, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Pets,” you said slowly as if talking to a child, “can we have them?” 

She huffed, and sharp laughter rang in your ears. “Oh, absolutely not.” 

You exhaled, “Damn…” You mutter to yourself, thinking she wouldn’t catch it.

“I do not want to see a pet there. I don’t care if it’s a dog, cat, guinea pig, snake, or turtle. No pets. Now, please, save this number for emergencies only. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone before you got a word in.

You soon realized after that incident that either people didn’t know about the policy, or didn’t care (likely the latter).

You didn’t immediately notice the animals. You weren’t even sure if they were always there or a new addition. The story of how you found out is actually pretty anticlimactic.

Yelena walked in with a guinea pig in hand. 

That's really about it.

You watched as she sat down on the couch, petting the animal without a care in the world. You raised an eyebrow. You weren’t sure if this was a deliberate act of rebellion or if Yelena just didn’t know. Either way, you didn’t mind. You just needed to know where everybody stood, you know, for… reasons.

“Did Valentina ever mention the policy for pets?” You asked casually, walking over to sit next to Yelena. The guinea pig crawls over her lap into yours. You smile as you pet them gently.

Yelena pauses, “You know what? I don’t know.” She looks down at the guinea pig on your lap, “I also don’t really care. I don’t think Valentina knows I have her anyway.” 

You nod, chuckling. “Fair enough. Would you care if she told you otherwise?”

Yelena laughs before her smile falls, “Not one bit.”

Frankly, you find it hard to believe Valentina did not notice the guinea pig. She seems like the type to have cameras everywhere and have constant monitoring. However, you let that slide, after all, it wasn’t exactly an animal that freely roams the tower.

What truly surprised you was the cat, or “Tower Cat” as you began to call her. She just appeared one day. Nobody said anything, no “hey guys we’re going to have a cat around, hope you don’t mind!” You wouldn’t have minded, but it's the principle that matters.

You had just finished up a solo mission. It was nothing too difficult, but you were exhausted nonetheless. You walked into the empty common area, blinking in confusion. Normally, there’s always one person here. You cautiously entered the space, looking around for any signs of life. 

“Uhh, anybody home?” You asked, your voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

You walk over to the couch to try to catch a breather for a moment before you see her.

A cat. A fluffy white cat.

How’d she get in? You aren't sure, but you weren’t going to complain. You look around one more time to make sure nobody is nearby.

“Hello there!” You slowly moved to the cat loafed up on the couch. You tried to extend a hand to her, but she immediately moved away as if offended by your attempt to pet her. “Not the cuddly type, huh? That’s okay.” You now had a new goal: befriend the cat.

Over the next few weeks, you had taken to various methods of befriending Tower Cat. You had bought some toys and treats for her. While she was initially very hesitant, and you mean very hesitant, she slowly started to warm up to you. She would now walk up to you to eat the treats you offered her. You considered that progress since the first time you tried to feed her treats, she hissed at you. 

The first time she approached you was a moment to be written down in history. You were hanging out in the kitchen, making yourself a quick snack, when suddenly you noticed something fluffy next to you.

You immediately paused whatever you were doing, looking down at Tower Cat. You didn’t want to scare her away, so you slowly started to turn your attention away from her. As you cooked, you noticed that she didn't leave the area. She didn't try to engage with you, but she watched you cook, never straying very far. 

Eventually, when you finished, you went back to your room to grab the cat treats. To your surprise, she actually followed and made herself comfortable on your desk. 

“Oh, so you just own my space now?” You asked her, grabbing a treat out of the bag. You hesitantly offered her a treat from your hand. You hadn’t tried this since the initial scratch incident. She stared at you for a moment before eventually deciding to approach you and take the treat. You withheld your gasp, allowing her to lick your hand before she became disinterested and claimed your desk as her own once more.

“You’re cool there?” You asked her.

She watched you silently.

“Okay, have fun, I guess.” You smiled, leaving the door to your room ajar in case she wanted to leave.

You weren’t sure if the rest of the team noticed the new addition, but you can’t imagine they didn’t notice. With how many former assassins and super soldiers you live with? No way they didn't notice. The first time you heard anything about it was when you were talking with Bob and Yelena. 

“Oh, damn it.” Yelena sighed, groaning in frustration. You and Bob, being the only ones in the room, turned towards her. She was looking into her room, looking less than pleased. 

“What happened?” You ask. 

“Damn cat got into my room again. Knocked over all my stuff.” Yelena responded, walking into her room, leaving the door wide open. You watched as Tower Cat came out from her room looking innocent. 

You blink, “The cat? Didn’t realize anybody knew she was here.” You looked between Yelena and Bob. 

“She’s not exactly hard to miss,” Yelena said, walking out of her room, closing the door behind her. She looks down at Tower Cat before shaking her head and walking back over to you and Bob.

“It’s just that nobody talks about her. I just assumed it was one of those things that everybody sees, but never speaks about.” You leaned against the armrest of the sofa. “So I’m assuming she isn’t any of your guys’ cat?” You raised an eyebrow, looking between Yelena and Bob.

Yelena shook her head, “Nope.” 

Bob similarly shook his head, “Not mine either.”

“Huh, do we know whose cat she is?” You asked.

Yelena shrugged, “I thought she just wandered in one day, and everybody let her stay. Haven’t really asked though.”

You hummed, “That’s funny. I was actually considering getting one too. Maybe it’s fate.” You joke, smiling.

Yelena laughs, “Please, take her. The first, and only, time I tried to pet her, she hissed and tried to scratch me.” You nodded in sympathy.

“Yeah, she did that to me the first time, too. She eventually warmed up to me, kinda. She actually came into my room the other day just to relax.” You said, looking over to the cat in question, who is walking through a hallway. Bob and Yelena followed your gaze, watching as the feline slowly walked over to your door before waltzing in like it was her own. “Oh, hey there she goes, what timing.” You laugh at their stunned faces.

“Does she have a name?” Bob asked.

“Well, I was gonna name her, but her original title of ‘Tower Cat’ just kinda stuck.” You explained.

“How’d you get her to like you?” He asked, looking at you with genuine curiosity.

“Treats and patience. Wanna see if we can try and get her to warm up to you a bit?” You asked, grinning. 

Bob smiled, nodding silently. Yelena laughs sharply before bidding her goodbyes for the night. She did not want to deal with that cat any more than she already did that day.

That’s how you started your “Cat Time” with Bob. You grew close over your similar love of cats. However, there’d be times where Tower Cat wouldn’t be anywhere in the Watchtower, betraying her name entirely. You and Bob would walk around, checking around, but there’d be nothing. She always showed up the next day or two after, so you assumed somebody would just let her into their room, but you didn’t know who. 

Eventually, after weeks of exposure, she warmed up to both you and Bob considerably. She’d hang out with you two while you watch TV or talk. Everything was going well. You finally got the cat you wanted.

Then you found she wasn’t your cat to claim.

-

If there was one person on the team where you weren’t sure where you stood, it was Bucky Barnes. 

To be clear, you had tried to establish friendly relations, seeing as you were living together, but after multiple attempts being met with nothing, you eventually gave up. 

When you first moved in, you wanted to make a good impression on everyone, and for all intents and purposes, you were successful. 

Alexei was not very difficult. You just engage in conversation with him often and laugh. He could actually be pretty funny sometimes, much to Yelena’s embarrassment.

Ava was a bit more difficult, but she eventually warmed up to you. Sometimes when you baked, you’d offer her some cookies, and you two would talk. Yelena would join in too occasionally. Those nights were always fun.

John was John, meaning he was kinda an asshole. You eventually got somewhere with him... kinda. You both would banter back and forth, but initially it was not banter. The insults over time turned less aggressive and more along the lines of “you annoy me, but you’re alright, I guess.” In your defense, you did try to be nice to him at first, but he made that very difficult with the way he treated other people, especially in the beginning. You eventually figured it out, though.

Yelena was the easiest next to Bob. She immediately became one of your best friends. She was one of the people on the team you really looked up to. You two would often end up hanging out with each other. This was how you were introduced to Bob.

Initially, it was kind of awkward with Bob. Both of you were friends by association, meaning you both liked Yelena, but didn’t really know each other. Eventually, once Tower Cat came into the picture, you both would hang out. You realized how funny he was once you actually got to know him. This led to a lot of late nights with you, Yelena, Bob, and Tower Cat. Sometimes Yelena would insist that Tower Cat must go, but for the most part, that was your little group.

So overall, you thought you did a good job establishing a positive relationship with the team. If you try to forget about Bucky, that is. You almost feel embarrassed thinking about it. By the end, you had gotten pretty desperate and had tried bringing him coffee in the mornings, or checking in to see if he was injured after missions. If you two were friends and your efforts had succeeded, you wouldn’t be embarrassed. However, they failed, and failed miserably.

The coffee incident? You wince even thinking about it.

“Oh, hey, I left some coffee on the counter for you. Not sure how you like it, so I left the sugar to the side.” You smiled as you watched Bucky walk in. He looked like he had just woken up, hair disheveled, rubbing his eyes.

He looked over to you before glancing at the mug you left for him, filled with coffee. He nodded slowly, walking over to it hesitantly. He stared at it for a bit before clearing his throat, “I was actually going to go to the gym.” 

You tried not to sigh and look over at him. “No worries. I’ll just, uh, clean it up.” 

He nods, looking at you, muttering a small “Thanks anyway.” 

As he walks away, you immediately feel embarrassed. Well, that was pathetic.

Of course, that wasn’t the only embarrassing incident.

Bucky had been returning from a mission with John. However, you only saw Bucky exit the elevator and head toward his room. You noticed that his face had a deep cut on it. 

“Hey, you need help with that?” You asked, walking over to him. He paused before looking at you.

He smiled reassuringly, but you can see in his eyes he’d rather be anywhere else than talking with you. “I’m good, thanks.”

You blinked, watching as blood dripped down his face from the wound. “You sure? I don’t mind-”

“I am fine.” He cut you off. “I will be fine, thanks.” He told you, not even looking you in the eye. His words sounded so final that you didn’t even try to follow him. He closed the door behind him, leaving you staring at it.

That was when you realized that the “good impression” mission you had was a failure. 

You had tried, and maybe it was because of your personality, you aren’t sure. He just did not like you. After that incident, you backed off of him, not offering aid or doing small gestures for him. His previous interactions sent you a clear message, and you received it. 

Were you hurt by it? A little. You did put effort into trying to make him at least think you were an okay person. You couldn't help but admire him from a distance. Anyway, you tried not to take it too personally, after all, he’s been through a lot. He probably just isn’t comfortable with you, which you get, but it still hurts putting in effort for such blatant disregard.

So you can imagine your surprise when he approaches you on a random day.

-

“. . . and  I was so confused, like how did you come to that conclusion?” You raise your hands, gesturing confusedly. Bob chuckles at your outrage. 

You sigh, putting your hands down, petting Tower Cat on your lap softly. “I dunno, I was just so over it. I eventually confronted her, and she had the AUDACITY to act confused.” You continue to rant, neither you nor Bob noticing the elevator opening.

“And I’m assuming you weren’t going to let that slide?” Bob asks with a soft, amused smile on his face. You grin back at him.

“Not a chance. So—”

“Is that Alpine?”

You and Bob immediately turn toward Bucky. You blink. “When’d you get here?” You ask.

“Just now,” he pauses, “since when did Alpine start hanging out with you two?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“‘Alpine?’” You repeat the foreign name back at him. You and Bob look at Tower Cat, or apparently “Alpine.”

You look up at Bucky, “She’s your cat?” You feel your mouth drop in surprise. 

“Whose cat did you think she was?” He asks, looking at you in disbelief.

“I thought she was like the communal tower cat or something.” You say, your voice quiet as if that will quell Bucky’s growing bewilderment.

“The ‘communal tower cat?’” He repeats incredulously. 

“Okay, sorry, sorry.” You apologize profusely, hoping that he won’t murder you for taking his cat. Bucky seems to stare at you for what feels like forever. You shift uncomfortably under his stare.

“Uh, you can have her back, if you want.” You eventually say, mumbling the last part. Bucky just continues to stare at Alpine in your lap. You look toward Bob to see if he is feeling the same awkward tension you are. He quickly glances at you, then Bucky, then back at you before shifting awkwardly.

You try to pick up Alpine without disturbing her. The moment you try, her eyes snap open. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” You coo softly to the cat. You offhandedly notice Bucky shifts stiffly. 

“Bucky’s back, though. Wanna go with him?” You speak softly to her. In response, she pushes herself closer to you, purring against your collarbone. “Aw, I’m sorry, I wanna cuddle with you more too.” You frown at her before gently handing her to Bucky. Your hands brush his as you try to give her to Bucky without disturbing her too much.

She meows softly, and you feel your heart break. “Didn’t realize you liked cats,” Bucky says.

Bob laughs, and you both turn to him before he covers it with a cough and low “Sorry.” He knows you love cats.

“Love them.” You respond with a strained smile. He looks at you for a moment longer. Eventually, you clear your throat and look away from his gaze, “Sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky seems to stare at you for a moment longer before leaving. Not a word said, he just leaves. 

“Well, at least we know why Tower Cat or ‘Alpine’  disappears some nights,” you comment, Bob shaking his head, amused, “but damn, he hates me.” You whisper as if Bucky will hear you, and knowing him, you can’t be too sure. 

“I doubt that. He just has…” Bob pauses for a moment, trying to find the word for it, “struggles.”

You huff, “Yeah, that’s one way to say it. I don’t even know what I did to him. It’s not my fault your cat likes me.” Actually, it is your fault, but Bucky doesn’t need to know the details.

In your defense, Alpine did just waltz around the entire place like she owned it. There was no indication she was owned, let alone owned by Bucky of all people. 

“He do that often?” Bob asks. You raise an eyebrow at him to elaborate. “The staring.”

You scoff, “Only in days that end in ‘y.’” You shift on the couch so that you’re lying down instead of sitting. “I assumed it’s one of his weird quirks. I thought it was just a former assassin thing where he just stares at you as if assessing if you’re a threat,” you hold your hand up to emphasize your next point, “which I am not.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re pretty?” Bob suggests, and you laugh loudly, making him raise his eyebrows at you in slight concern

You smile at Bob, “That’s so sweet,” you put your hand on his shoulder gently, “but so very wrong.”

Bob shakes his head but smiles, “You never know.”

You shake your head confidently. “No, I do. He’s probably planning different ways to kill me if needed. The stare of ‘I’m planning your murder because you took my cat.’” You stick your hands up into the air, doing jazz hands, still staring up at the ceiling.

“Is that a thing?” Bob asks, doubtful.

You look at him, contemplative. “I don’t know, but if it was, he definitely invented it.” You respond.

Bob frowns, but he nods, agreeing with the sentiment anyway.

-

You initially thought Bucky was jealous of you.

After all, Alpine decided that you were now her favorite person, and Alpine was his cat. Therefore, it’d make sense if he were a little upset over how Alpine clung to you. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little smug. 

“Hey, whatcha guys doing?” You walk into the common area, watching as the team stands surrounding the center coffee table. 

“Don’t fuck this up—” 

“Shut up, John. I’m trying to concentrate.” Yelena cuts him off. 

You eventually walk over and see the situation. 

“What are you doing?! Don’t pick that one!” John points at the Jenga tower in front of him. Yelena leans over it, slowly tugging at a piece that’s halfway out.

Yelena stops, turning toward John, “John, I swear if you don’t be quiet, I will knock over this tower on purpose.” She points a finger at him, and he mutters a quick “Okay,” his hands held up in mock surrender.

You notice that on the couch sits Bucky Barnes himself, which immediately strikes you as odd. Bucky, while not explicitly against these little bonding activities, didn’t ever seem to care for participating in them. He’d support them, but from his own room. Seeing him actively engaging with these activities is definitely new. You also notice that Alpine is curled up on his lap. 

Everybody else is standing, eagerly watching the game of Jenga. It appears that Yelena and John are on a team, which is a concerning team-up on its own, and Ava and Alexei are on a team. Bob seems content watching the game.

“GOT IT!” Yelena raises the Jenga piece into the air in victory. 

Ava groans, looking at the tower, and you feel her pain. There were seemingly no good moves. You decide to walk up to Yelena and John to see how they’re doing.

“Oh, finally decided to join us?” Yelena pats you on the shoulder as you walk up to her. 

“Didn’t realize you guys would be out here still.” You admit, you’d come back from a walk around the city. 

John shrugs, nodding his head slightly, “Yeah, I didn’t think we’d still be here either.” He mutters.

You raise an eyebrow, “How long have you guys been at it?”

“Eh, not that long.” Yelena waves a hand casually.

”Two hours.” John deadpans at the same time.

You chuckle, deciding to sit down. “For one game?” 

“We’re determined.” Yelena joins you on the couch.

You smile, nodding, “Say, since when did he start joining?” You quickly glance at Bucky, sitting on the other couch.

Yelena shrugs, “I don’t know, why?”

“Well, I mean, he just doesn’t ever show up to these. Was wondering how you guys got him to actually sit through a game.” You whisper, hoping he can’t hear you. However, you suddenly get the feeling that he’s watching you. You try to discreetly look at him, but when you do, he’s still staring at the game in front of him.

“What happened?” John asks, hovering over you and Yelena sat over on the couch. 

“None of your business.” Yelena rolls her eyes.

“Well, if you are talking about B—”

“Oh, so now you’re eavesdropping.” You click your tongue, disappointed in him.

“You guys aren’t quiet.” He looks unimpressed.

“That’s not fair. We are quiet by normal people’s standards.” You turn to face him. You’re so focused on proving John wrong that you don’t even register Ava yelling “Alpine! No! Get off the table!”

“Well, I thought to inform you that perhaps the person you’re discussing can hear you, seeing as he wouldn’t fall into ‘normal people standards.’” John does air quotes.

You slowly turn to see if Bucky is watching you three have your not-so-quiet discussion. To your surprise, he is looking at you. Also, to your surprise, everybody is looking at you. 

You feel yourself shrinking under their scrutiny. Did they all hear your conversation? “What?”

“The kitty cat likes you! I did not think she liked anybody.” Alexei laughs, and you furrow your brows, confused. You eventually sit up to find Alpine looking up at you, sitting right at your feet. 

“Oh.”

She meows before hopping onto your lap. Yelena immediately shifts away from you, and John similarly moves away. 

“Keep her there, please? She almost knocked over the tower.” Ava sounds exhausted. 

“Uh, yeah sure.” You respond, still processing everything that just happened. No wonder Bucky was looking at you.

You glance up at him to find him no longer sitting laxly, but instead leaning forward, staring directly at you. 

You grimace, trying to mouth an apology to him, but his expression stays the same. By this point, everybody else is sucked into the game again, except you two. You think that maybe he’ll just resolve to stare at you for the rest of the game, but no, he stands up.

Alpine purrs on your lap, but not even that can ease your growing stress levels as you see Bucky maneuver his way to your couch. You expected him to talk to you, perhaps ask for his precious cat back, but he does none of that. 

Instead, he sits on the couch with you, saying nothing. He makes himself comfortable as if this is a normal occurrence. He decided to sit on the other side of the couch, pretty much the furthest he can sit from you while still being on the cushions. You can’t help but glance at him a few times, as if that would elicit an explanation. 

Alpine looks up at you as you stare at the game in front of you, rigidly. You don’t dare to move or say anything. After minutes of silence from you two, you eventually turn toward him.

“Did you want Alpine back?” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, as if afraid that any louder would garner the team’s attention once more.

He turns toward you, and for the first time, you are struck by how blue his eyes are. 

“It’s fine.” He matches your volume, glancing toward Alpine on your lap. If you weren’t looking for any sort of reaction, you wouldn’t have caught the way his eyes narrowed as he gazed upon Alpine in your lap. 

You feel obligated to give Alpine back, even if every bone in your body is telling you to keep her. He even said, “It’s fine,” meaning it is definitely not fine. That, combined with the narrowed look towards his cat, probably means that he wants his cat back right now.

“No, really,” you start to shift, Alpine’s purring ceasing, “it’s okay. Sorry about that.” Just as you’re about to pick her up to give her to Bucky, he reaches over and gestures for you to stop, putting a hand on your shoulder.

He says your name, making you pause as your hands freeze under Alpine, ready to pick her up. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. If she likes you, she can stay with you.” You nod, very aware that his hand is still on your shoulder. 

“If you’re sure…” You trail off hesitantly.

“I am.” He looks at you smiling, but can’t help but think it looks forced. 

The rest of the night continued without a hitch. The game of Jenga eventually ended, with Ava and Alexei winning. John swore that he saw Ava cheat and phase her hand through the tower in order to grab a piece at just the right angle, but he couldn’t prove it. He grumbled about it for the rest of the night, taking snips at them, but he eventually let it go. 

Throughout the entire night, you sat there with Alpine. Bucky did not ask for her. However, you did notice that every now and then, he’d turn to look at you, or more accurately, look at Alpine. You thought that maybe he did want to say something, but didn’t want to cause a huge scene. You would’ve assumed it’d be to ask for his cat back, but he seemed insistent that you keep her. 

So you sat, watching as the team started slowly turning in for the night. As one by one went, you waited for Bucky to say something, anything, yet he sat there. 

By the time almost everybody left, it was just you two. You had pulled out your phone by this point in order to look as if you were busy. Feeling a weight lift itself from your lap, you look and see Alpine get off of you, slowly walking across the couch to make her way to Bucky. You decide that this is your cue to leave. 

You stand up, brushing off loose cat fur left on you. Just as you are about to leave, you sneak a glance toward Bucky, only to find he is already staring at you.

“Sorry about that.” You break the silence, casually pointing at his cat, as if his whole behavior hasn’t put you on edge all night. 

He seems surprised that you spoke to him, looking from you down to Alpine. “It’s alright. She seemed to like being close to you.” You thought you could detect a hint of bitterness in his tone.

“Yeah,” you chuckle, unsure how to respond. 

Silence permeates the room once again. “Well, I’m gonna head out.” You slowly start walking towards your room. “Good night,” You bid him before turning around and heading out, not expecting a response.

“Night,” he returns softly. 

You pause in your retreat, turning around, to see him looking down at Alpine. You offer him a small smile before heading back into your room.

-

So yeah, you thought that between the constant looks, bitterness, and not-so-subtle glares, he was jealous.

Not wanting to fuel his anger, you tried to avoid being in the room at the same time Alpine would be with Bucky. Alpine could be cuddled next to you, but the moment Bucky walked in, you’d vanish. 

He gave you weird looks, as if he were trying to figure out what your deal was. You just continued to give him a polite smile every time.

Cooking in the kitchen was always an invitation for Alpine to join. She liked it when you cooked because she’d just watch you, and Alpine decided watching you cook was the most fascinating thing. You didn’t mind, so you let her. 

You wash the final dish before going to consume the results of your Alpine-monitored cooking session. Just as you’re about to eat, Bucky comes walking in. You make direct eye contact with him, before glancing to Alpine perched on the counter next to you. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, approaching you two.

“Eating,” you look down at your plate of food, “I was going to go eat in my room anyway. Alpine is all yours.” You did not plan on eating in your room, but you did that night. 

Incidents like this didn’t stop as you had hoped. 

Whenever you folded your laundry, Alpine would magically find her way onto your clean clothes. She liked the warmth, and so she’d make herself cozy. You pretended to be upset, but you enjoyed her company.

Then you hear a knock at your door, which was already open, so you turn around to see Bucky. 

You can’t mask your surprise before he makes a comment. He clears his throat, “Sorry, I was just wondering if Alpine was in here.” You shift to the side, allowing him to see the very asleep feline on your bed in a pile of clothes. You immediately put down any hangers in your hand.

“I am so sorry. Here, sorry.” You gently pick up Alpine, apologizing to both her and Bucky. She meows softly, annoyed at being disturbed from her rest. You would be upset too if you were suddenly woken up and removed from warmth. “Sorry, she just likes sitting on the warm clothes. Here, take her back.” You give Bucky the fluffy cat, and he looks hesitant to accept her, but does so anyway.

“I’m sorry about that, won't happen again.” You smile, embarrassed. Bucky stares at you as you slowly shut the door on him and cover your face in embarrassment. 

What made all of these incidents worse is that instead of becoming less frequent over time, they seemed to almost increase in frequency as time went on. You’d always see Bucky or Alpine. You couldn’t walk around the tower without seeing one of the two. Even worse, once one shows up, it wouldn’t take long before the other magically appeared.

You would be sitting with the team, Alpine on your lap, when the sound of the elevator would ring out. Most of the time, it wouldn’t be an issue, but since you had Alpine on your lap, it had to be Bucky because the universe hates you.

“Do you still want to try that new cafe you were talking about earlier?” Ava crosses her legs as she leans back in one of the chairs. 

You grin, “Oh yeah! I heard their pastries were amazing.” You pet Alpine as you pick her up to walk around with. She wouldn’t let anybody else hold her, even Bob, but she would allow you to hold her. Actually, now that you think about it, she’d probably let Bucky hold her too, but you haven’t asked him (and you don’t plan to).

“Did you wanna try and go today? I don’t know when exactly they’re busy, but we can always check.” You walk around the coffee table already thinking about what you might order once you get there.

Then the elevator rang out.

Unconcerned, you turned around to welcome the newcomer. That is, until the doors open to reveal Bucky.

Feet frozen in place, you look down at Alpine in your arms. Bucky walks out of the elevator and immediately meets your eyes before he looks at your arms.

You don’t break eye contact with him as you slowly put Alpine down on the ground. Immediately, she heads over to Bucky and rubs up against him. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, despite not being very apologetic. If given the chance, you'd absolutely pick her up again. To make things worse, you completely forgot that Bucky can definitely hear you. Feeling his focus shift from Alpine onto you, you internally wince. 

Forgetting Ava is witnessing this interaction, you hear her call your name out, and you turn to face her. “Sorry, what?”

“Do you wanna head out now?” She looks between you and Bucky, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely, let’s go.” You nod enthusiastically, ignoring the piercing eyes on your back.

“Where are you two going?” Bucky asks, grabbing Alpine for himself and holding her in the same position you were sporting not even a minute before. Hoping Ava won’t say anything, you look dead into her eyes, pleading.

“New cafe,” she ignores your plea, “wanna come with us?” Feeling your stomach drop, you decide to confront the problem yourself by doing the one thing he does best: staring directly into his eyes.

He matches your stare, unsurprisingly, and then looks towards Ava. “You sure?” He asks hesitantly. 

“Yeah, it’s all good. We were planning on asking Yelena to come with us anyway.” Ava dismisses casually, as if this isn’t gonna be a miserable trip.

Continuing your staring contest, he breaks the silence with one dreadful word: “Sure.” He ends whatever trance you two were in, turning to smile at Ava before returning his gaze to you.

“Alright,” Ava gives you two an odd look, “well, I’m gonna go grab Lena, I’ll be back in a minute.” She starts to walk away, and you feel your soul leave with her.

“You sure this is okay?” Bucky questions, startling you.

You nod, turning to face him, “Yeah, she said it was all good.” You smile at him.

He nods slowly, “Yeah, ‘she said,’” he quotes, “I was asking if you are okay with me coming along.”

You nod, “Yep, no issue with it.” You lie.

He nods, watching you and definitely not believing you, “Alright, if you say so.” He walks over to the couches where you’re standing by. “Didn’t realize she liked you that much that she let you carry her.” He comments casually.

You immediately understand the hidden meaning. He may seem all innocent there, standing with a fluffy cat in his arms purring up against his chest, but you know it isn’t that simple. He is challenging you right now. He is asking you how you managed to win her affections over and is silently reminding you that she is not yours. Talk about being passive-aggressive.

You keep your smile, “Yeah, it’s actually pretty crazy. She doesn’t even let Bob hold her. To be honest, I’m surprised she let me carry her around.”

Bucky smiles, it’s softer than you expected. “Perhaps she feels as if you’re a safe person to be around.

You nod, humming in acknowledgment. 

“Alright, are we ready? Come on, I want to get some coffee.” Yelena walks out, Ava at her side.

“It’s almost nine at night.” Ava comments in disbelief.

“Yeah?” Yelena pauses, “Well, I like coffee. Let’s go.” She enters the elevator, waiting for you all to join her.

The elevator ride wasn’t as awkward as you thought. Yelena and Ava managed to ease the tension for the most part. Whether or not they were even aware of it is a discussion of its own, but knowing them, they probably knew.

The walk to the coffee shop wasn’t very eventful either, for the most part. About halfway through, you realize that Ava and Yelena are heavily engrossed in their own conversation. Earlier, you couldn’t stop talking, but as the topics changed, you started to say less and less as they transitioned to your less knowledgeable topics. By this point, you didn’t even know what they were talking about. This led to you walking ahead of them.

To your surprise, somebody else decided to join you in what you thought was your brief solo walking moment.

“They seem to be passionate.” Bucky comments, and you both look behind you to see Ava nodding her head with a drawn-out “Yes!” All of this occurs while Yelena gestures wildly, seemingly approving of Ava’s agreement.

“Huh, yeah, I guess so.” You add on, amused. You two walk in silence for a moment before you eventually just decide to ask the question bugging your mind. “So, uh,” you pause as Bucky immediately gives you his full attention, “why exactly did you want to come?” You look at him.

He seems slightly taken aback by your question, but smiles anyway. “I like coffee, you guys said the cafe was good.”

You nod along, finding yourself questioning previous incidents. You had offered him coffee before, and he had decidedly not accepted it. So either he was lying, or he just really wanted to embarrass you that one time. You can’t tell which one is worse.

“You do? Really?” You ask, unconvinced.

“Yeah.” You laugh at his answer, “What?” He asks, matching the smirk on your face. “You don’t believe me?” He asks, acting as if he’s offended.

You continue to laugh, and he once again stares at you, resolute. “No, no, I believe you.” You smile at him.

He looks at you, nodding as if accepting that to be the end of that discussion. You eventually stop at the door of the cafe. The moment you’re about to open it, Bucky puts his hand in front of you, halting your action. You pause. What is he about to do?

Dazed for a moment, you watch as he opens the door for you. You smile at how unabashedly old-fashioned he is. 

“Thank you.” You tell him, walking in. He smiles at the gratitude, garnering Yelena and Ava’s attention.

“What is it you are doing?” Yelena asks him as she walks inside. Bucky follows in behind her and Ava.

“Holding the door?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“No shit. I meant the” she gestures to her own face then to Bucky, “smile.”

“Am I not allowed to smile?” Bucky asks, disbelief written all over his face. 

“I mean, you can,” Ava asks, but even she seems doubtful of her statement, “you just… don’t.”

“Oh, so you want me to have a restriction on being happy now?” Bucky asks, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. The three of them join you in line.

“I mean, I thought you already did.” Yelena blatantly admits. You all turn to her, “What?” 

“Next up!” You roll your eyes at their discussion before going to the counter and telling the barista your order. Yelena and Ava peep over your shoulder and tell her their order as well. However, Bucky stands behind you three silently. 

“What do you want?” You ask him.

He pauses, “Uh, black coffee.” 

“‘Black coffee?’” You repeat, and he nods in confirmation. It was the exact same coffee he had rejected months ago. 

“Okay, black coffee for him.” You turn back towards the barista, telling her your name before pulling out your card to pay. 

Just as you’re about to tap the card, Bucky pulls you back, “Hey—” He taps his card.

“Oh, thanks, Bucky.” Yelena nods at him. Ava also gives him a quick “Thanks.”

You look up at him, suddenly feeling unsure about everything. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

He shrugs, “I wanted to.”

“Thanks.” You tell him, and he accepts your gratitude with a nod before you all find a table to sit at.

This whole situation is odd. You genuinely thought he hated you. Well, hate is extreme, but he decidedly went out of his way to avoid your previous attempts at friendship. 

Tagging along to a cafe with you, walking with you, and generally acting like a gentleman was not exactly what you expected this trip to be. You expected more backhanded compliments like before. If this was some sort of way to get to you, he was really playing the long game. 

He hasn’t mentioned Alpine once during this whole excursion. It makes you wonder if you’ll have to be the one to confront him about that. That’s not exactly something you want to do, but you feel like it’s coming anyway.

You take a look at him to see how he’s faring here. He’s in a deep conversation with Yelena and Ava, all leaning away from you. You can’t hear what they’re discussing, but Yelena and Ava both make eye contact with you throughout their little talk. You aren’t even sure if you want to know what they’re talking about. 

Hearing the barista call your name, you grab the drinks and pastries for the group, and you thank them before heading back to the table.

“So,” Ava starts cautiously at your return, glancing at Bucky for a split second before looking back at you, “when did you two… start?” She gestures between you and Bucky.

You take a slow sip of your drink. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You know this whole,” Yelena interjects, “thing you two have going on. It’s painful.” She takes a sip of her coffee.

Suddenly, the room feels hot, and it doesn’t help that your drink is also hot. You turn to Bucky, but he just looks at Yelena and Ava, bored. You take another sip, hoping he will say something, anything. 

After a period of silence, you accept the fact that he will not be denying anything, so you eventually speak up. “No idea what you’re talking about.”  You shrug.

What makes it worse is that you truly don’t know. Your excuse is terrible, and so they will think you’re lying when you genuinely have no idea.

Ava nods her head, “Mhm, okay.” She says, looking between you two.

You turn towards Bucky, who has not taken a sip of his coffee once. “Thought it was your favorite.” His attention snaps to you.

”I never said that.” He shakes his head.

“Then why’d you order it?” You raise an eyebrow, amused. 

He looks at you before taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “Happy?” He asks.

You smile, “Thrilled.”

Walking home is not exactly silent, after all, you’re in New York, but it’s definitely quieter. Once again, Bucky decides to walk next to you. He makes a big deal about you being on the outside of the sidewalk, you roll your eyes, but let him have his moment. 

You turn around every now and then to check and make sure Ava and Yelena are behind you. However, every time you turn around, they are already looking at you. Ava gives you a nod with a small smirk, and Yelena gives you a thumbs up. You give them a horrified look the first time it happens. However, by the third time you turn around and they repeat their same shenanigans, you give up, shaking your head, trusting that they will stay behind you and Bucky for the rest of the walk.

When you get back to the tower, you all enter the elevator. The ride up is relatively quiet, but then the door opens. You walk out, Bucky on your left, and John walks by, turning to see who came back, only to look at you two with an appalled expression.

“Did you two go on a date?” John looks at Bucky as if doubting what he’s seeing.

Ava and Yelena step out right after John’s question. “No, they just walked side by side together, and got coffee while teasing each other across our table.” Yelena walks over.

Alpine makes her presence known and walks over to you, rubbing herself against you. “You wanna take her for the night?” Bucky leans toward you, whispering to your ear. You feel your heart rate increase.

“Oh God, they’re sharing custody over the damn cat.” You hear John remark, exasperated. You both ignore him.

You frown at him. For somebody who is so protective of his cat, you would never have expected an offer as gracious as this one. “Are… are you sure?” You ask him hesitantly. 

He smirks, amused, “Yes, I’m sure.”

You nod slowly, “And you won’t be upset?”

He tilts his head slightly, “Why would I?” 

You look at him, his eyes on you with a fondness that sends your stomach whirling. You feel instantly conflicted. Why is he acting like this? What happened to being upset about you stealing Alpine’s affection? Were you wrong? There’s no way you were wrong. He was definitely upset when he commented about how much she liked you. 

“We should go.” Ava looks towards the remaining team members who are watching you and Bucky. “Give them some privacy.”

John scoffs, “‘Privacy?’ There is no privacy here.” 

“Just because you ruined your love life doesn’t mean you have to be bitter over other people’s, John.” Yelena snaps, disapprovingly.

His eyebrows raise, “Jesus, okay. Let’s give them some privacy.” He walks away from them, not even checking to see if Yelena and Ava follow behind him. 

As that whole discussion went down, Bucky continued to look at you, confused. 

“I just thought you might be upset?” You eventually respond to his question, unsure whether you're stating something or asking. 

“Over you sleeping with my cat next to you?” He asks, sounding progressively more perplexed.

You open your mouth to say yes, but the look he gives you leaves you speechless. You try to say something, but everything that your brain comes up with sounds unreasonable. How do you tell somebody that yes, you thought they’d be upset that you were snuggling with their cat? 

He huffs, his voice softening, “Why would I be upset about that?” You briefly wonder if he can read minds, but shove that thought away.

You eventually muster enough brain power to speak, “It’s stupid.”

He looks at you, shaking his head, “I doubt that.”

“No, it’s really fucking stupid. You’re going to think I’m insane after this.” You reiterate.

“I promise I won’t think you’re insane.” He chuckles, picking up Alpine, who was demanding attention. 

You remain silent for a moment, staring at him, holding Alpine in his arms. Both Bucky and Alpine stare at you as if awaiting your response. You look around, as if checking to make sure nobody is going to hear what you’re about to say.

“I thought you were jealous…” you look up at him, finding him patiently waiting for you to explain, “of me taking Alpine all the time.” You look away from him.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you look at him once more. He isn’t reacting at all. You shift on your feet, unnerved. Suddenly, he cracks a small smile, exhaling amused. However, your dismayed reaction causes his smile to fall.

“How on Earth did you come to that conclusion?” He desperately tries to keep the amusement out of his voice, but you can hear it as clear as day, much to your chagrin.

You open your mouth to explain, but hesitate for a brief moment. “So you’re not jealous of me taking Alpine… I just wanna confirm.” You mutter.

He shakes his head, amusement lighting up his eyes, but he humors you, “No. I am not jealous of you taking Alpine.”

You walk over to the couch and sit down, leaning over and placing your palms against your eyes. “So you weren’t making passive-aggressive comments about me taking her?” 

“No, promise.” He confirms, joining you on the couch.

“Okay, well,” you look towards Bucky, who nods for you to continue, “I thought you hated me cause in the past every time I tried to talk to you, you’d just ignore me. So eventually I just kinda assumed that you did not like me. Then you saw me with Alpine, and started acting weird, so I was like ‘oh no, he’s going to be upset that I took his cat.’” You ramble, watching Bucky’s eyes get wider as you progress.

“You thought I hated you?” He asks, as if the concept were absurd.

“Yeah, I mean, there was that time I made coffee for you and you just rejected it. Then I also tried to help out with an injury you got during a mission, and you said no and sounded upset at me, so I just figured you didn’t like me around you.” You explain sheepishly.

Bucky exhales harshly, “I never disliked you. I thought it was sweet when you did all that.” 

You blink, “You did?”

He laughs, Alpine moving off his lap onto yours. “Yes, I did.”

You frown, “But you always rejected my offers.” 

Now he avoids eye contact, “Well,” he locks eyes with Alpine, “I didn’t know how to approach you. I didn’t know how to talk to you without messing everything up, so I didn’t. I was scared.”

“‘Scared?’ Scared of what? Me?” You repeat.

He laughs softly, “Terrified.”

“I am like the least scary person on the team. Why the hell would you be scared?” You laugh at the idea. 

“Because,” he looks at you, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly before going back up to your eyes. You look at him, anxiously awaiting his response. 

“You said you thought I was jealous of you,” he shifts the topic, “because you won Alpine’s affection.” He shook his head at the thought. “I was never jealous of you.” He reiterates, moving closer to you. You remain in your spot, watching as he grabs your hand. “I was jealous of her.” He looks down, smiling at the ridiculous notion.

“Of… Alpine?” You repeat dubiously.

“Because,” he looks up to meet your eyes, “she was able to get close to you. She was able to just insert herself into your life like she always belonged.” He looks down at Alpine purring on your lap. “Something I wasn’t able to do.”

You take a deep breath, “I thought you disliked me…”

He shakes his head, “I could never. I was stupid, but I have never once disliked you. I never wanted to hurt you, but I guess I did that anyway.” He exhales with a soft huff of laughter, but there’s no humor.

“This whole time?” You ask softly. “This whole time you’ve…” You glance down at his hands, clasped in your own. 

He nods slowly, “All this time.” He confirms softly.

You gape at him, not saying a word. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something. Instead, you say nothing, shifting closer to him on the couch, closing what little space is between you two. Alpine doesn’t even move from your lap despite the disturbance. You look at him, and his lips part open. Your eyes flicker between his eyes and lips, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Slowly, you inch closer, giving him time to back out. You feel his breathing quicken before you close the gap.

It wasn’t a long kiss, but a soft one. You barely linger, removing yourself from him, before he can react. His mouth is slightly open out of pure awe. He looks at you, as if ready to lean in again, pupils dilated. You put your hand on his chest, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. 

“At least take me out on a date first, Barnes.” You smirk, chuckling breathlessly despite the short-lived kiss. 

He grins, looking awestruck, eyes lighting up with that same amusement from earlier, “I did.” He squeezes your hand tighter, trying to move you closer once again.

You shake your head, “No. You tagged along to my cafe quest with two other team members.”

He chuckles, looking down in disbelief that this is even happening. “I would take you out on a date every single day if you asked me,” he rubs his thumbs along your hands. “But all I want right now, all I need right now, is you.” He slowly raises his arm up to hold your face, his hand cradling you gently.

You feel your face heat up at his words, “You drive a hard bargain…” You pretend to think about it. Eventually, you shift yourself so that you're leaning against him. Alpine looks up at you two, annoyed. “Aw, did we disturb you?” You ask her. She meows before climbing to rest on both you and Bucky. You laugh, feeling her purring resume and leaning just a little closer to him.

-

“Oh my God.” You blink away the sleepiness from your eyes. Oh, right, you’re still on the couch from last night. Alpine is on top of Bucky’s chest, peacefully asleep. You are cuddled up next to Bucky’s side.

“What the fuck, we sit there.” John sounds affronted, loosely gesturing to you and Bucky on the couch. “You could’ve gone to your room to do that.” 

Bucky, now also awake, raises an eyebrow at him. “Sleep?”

“You know what you did.” John narrows his eyes at you two. You stand up, stretching as the rest of the team walks in.

“What happened?” Yelena asks, walking in.

“Nothing, we just fell asleep on the couch last night. Nothing crazy.” You shrug, giving a pointed look to John. 

“Oh, so you two figured it out, great.” Yelena walks over to make herself coffee.

“You knew?” You walk over to her, not entirely surprised. You notice in your peripherals that Bucky, still lying down, is now being scrutinized by the rest of the team, John standing over him disapprovingly.

Yelena pauses, giving you a look. “Yes, I knew… Everybody knew. You even asked me about him.”

“Yeah! He stares at you like you hung stars.” Alexei adds on, pointing to the ceiling.

“You mean the moon?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Eh, moon and stars.” He adds on.

You roll your eyes, looking over at Bucky. He’s sitting on the couch, the rest of the team asking him various questions, presumably about you two. Seeing him now, he looks so stoic. Then, almost as if he can feel you watching, he turns towards you, and you physically see his eyes soften. 

“Oh wow, he’s bad,” Yelena comments next to you, watching him. You laugh at her, but continue to admire just how soft he looks. The image is something you could not have imagined merely weeks ago, but now you have the pleasure of experiencing it.

“I’m glad it worked out, it was getting difficult to watch,” Yelena adds. 

You give a small smile, “Thank the cat.” You look down at the feline rubbing up against your legs.

I hope you guys enjoyed that! This is my first Marvel fic so it might take a moment for me to find my footing. I really don't want to make characters too ooc, so feel free to leave any feedback. Thank you for reading if you made it all the way through :D

[kiritella]

Medical Emergency

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fe!Reader -> When Jake gets a call asking to pick you up from the hospital, it's safe to say he's confused. Especially considering neither of you were known for getting along with the other.

Disclaimer: Enemies to lovers, brother's best friend, descriptions of being ill (nothing fully specified, just fainting a lot, low blood sugar and hormones), swearing, fluff, steamy moments, he takes care of you. This has been in my w.i.p for a while now so it's kinda a long one. Not Proof Read.

It was safe to say Jake was confused to find out he was your emergency contact. 

It was known to most people in the town that you and Jake weren’t exactly the best of friends. The hatred started all back when he was brought into Top Gun the first time round. Before he suddenly became the best, of the best of the best. And each year he came back, it only got worse. 

Neither of you would be surprised if everyone in San Diego knew about how much you and Jake didn’t get along. 

So, yeah. Getting a call from a Nurse called Emma telling him he needed to come and pick you up from the hospital…he was confused. 

He’d spent most of the day training the new recruits at Top Gun. He was on base when he got the call, but twenty minutes later, he was parked outside the hospital and was being shown to your room. 

“She’s to take two of these every six hours for the next three days. If she has any drastic changes; dizziness, nausea, vomiting, etc. Bring her back. But she should be okay.”

He hadn’t even been told what had happened. 

Then he saw you. 

On a typical day, your hair was either up or down. You typically wore bright colours since the kids in your class like to point them out and name them. And even at the end of the week when you’d walk into the Hard Deck, Penny already having your drink waiting for you, and you’d look tired and ready to go to bed, you were still…bright. Put together. 

But from where he was standing, you were dressed in grey sweats and a Top-Gun hoodie. Most likely, you thought it was your brother’s. But from the worn hole around the edge of it let Jake know it was his. One your brother had never returned to him. 

You looked…like you needed to be comforted. 

Your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of your skull. Any hints of make-up had been long washed away. Your nail polish was chipped, if not already peeled from your nails. 

Finally slipping your shoes on, you stood slowly. You looked like you needed to sleep for a year, and maybe take another nap for eight months. 

“Just sign here and here and then you’re free to go.”

Jake watched as the nurse’s words just about registered in your ears before you slowly picked the pen up from her hand and signed your name at the bottom of the paper. 

Reaching to grab the rest of your stuff, Jake almost swooped forwards. “I’ve got it.”

You just nodded. “Thanks.”

Any other day, you would have told him you could do it yourself and tell him to fuck off. 

He picked up your overnight bag and, with a hand at the bottom of your back, led you out of the hospital. 

“This way.”

You followed him back to his car and once he knew you were safe inside the passenger seat, he rounded the car and got into his seat. 

“I did tell them just to call me a cab. You can just drop me off down the road. You don’t need to-”

“I’m not letting you walk home.” He told you. “What’s your address?”

Part of Jake wished you’d fight him more about walking home. At least that way he’d know you were actually okay. He still would have driven you home, but…he wanted you back. 

Typing your address into his phone, he followed the sat-nav. 

By the time he pulled up outside your house, you were asleep. He waited for five minutes, letting you sleep whilst he researched and read the prescription you’d been given. 

Then he looked up at your house. You had to have a spare key. 

Carefully, he left his car and walked up your path. He looked in all the typical places until he found a small patch of wood from your porch coming loose. Inside was your key. 

So, opening your door and carrying your things inside, he came back for you. 

Unbuckling your seatbelt, he placed one of your arms around his neck before placing his own arms around your back and under your legs. 

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

And you did. 

Shutting the door to his car with his back, he carried you into your house, shutting your front door with his foot before taking you into your bedroom and laying you on top of your sheets. Looking around, he found a basket of blankets just under your window. 

However, as he covered you up, he checked your temp with the back of his hand. You seemed okay. 

Then you reached for him. 

It was only for a few seconds, but you held his hand before your body fell back to sleep. 

Before he left your room, Jake got you a glass of water and left your window on a latch. And then he stayed. 

Kicking off his boots by the door, he locked everything up around your home before laying down on top of the guest bed with a million and one questions circling around his head. 

Why was he your emergency contact? What had happened? Why didn’t anyone else tell him you were in the hospital for, clearly, more than a couple of hours? 

You spent the next two days in and out of consciousness. The hospital told Jake not to worry and that it was a good sign you were sleeping. He’d wake you every couple of hours and give you your tablets. 

And each time, you’d wake up with the same confusion of how and why he was in your house. And then you’d remember. And apologise. And thank him. Before he’d tell you to lay back down and get some rest. 

By the time you came round, you woke up to texts pinging on your phone. 

How could you not tell me you were dating someone?

We SERIOUSLY need to catch up about this when you’re back in. 

Your boyfriend called the school. Why is this how I’m finding out you’re sick?

Get better soon, honey xoxo

Also, don’t worry about the kids. I’ve got your class covered. 

One of your fellow-teacher best friends. You and her had joined the school as teachers in the same year. She had been away on a cruise for the last two weeks. 

Slowly, everything that had happened over the last two days came flooding back to you. They had called Jake. He had come to get you at the hospital. He kept waking you up. Had he stayed that whole time? Was he the one to call your school?

Pulling yourself from your bed and heading to the bathroom, you caught a look of yourself in the mirror. You looked…rough. And also the exact same as you had when you’d left the hospital. Maybe there was a little more colour in your cheeks. 

And you did feel better. 

The room felt still and you didn’t feel like throwing up all your insides out, despite being unable to do so. 

Drying your hands on the towel, you made your way through your home. Things were…tidy. Militarily so. The last time your place, although tidy, had looked militarily tidy had been when your brother had visited you before he got deployed again. 

So, either, he was here now. Jake was still here. Or you had a ghost haunting your house that just so happened to be in the Navy. 

Walking down the stairs, you found a pair of boots at the bottom of your stairs. They definitely weren’t yours. 

Then you heard someone in the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread and chicken noodle soup wafted through your home. 

It was a minute or two before Jake spotted you. It felt like a fever dream, watching him in your kitchen, dressed normally, a towel slung over his shoulder as he slid the bread buns from the tray to a cooling rack. 

“Oh, hey. You’re awake.”

You nodded. “Did you cook?”

“How are you feeling?” Jake made his way over to you, his hand coming to touch your forehead and cheeks. You swatted his hands away. You could have sworn you saw him smile after you did it. 

“Get off me, I’m fine.”

Jake smiled as he watched you make your way to sit down on the opposite side of the kitchen island. You looked way better than you had done when he saw you in the hospital. 

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.” He told you, continuing to slide all but one of the bread buns onto the cooling back. The final one, he dropped onto a plate before dishing out a bowl of the soup. 

“Eat up. You’re gonna need your strength.”

You looked at the food in front of you. “You made this?”

“I made it.”

You looked at him sceptically. “Is this how you plan to kill me? She was weak, your honour. I just wanted to help her.”

“Why would I take care of you for three days and then kill you? It’d be easier if I did it in three days.”

“So you did think about it.”

Jake rolled his eyes and handed you a fork. “Just eat.”

You couldn’t lie, it was one of the best meal’s you’d had in a long time. And as you ate, you looked around your home. Your books had been tidied away and back onto your shelves. All except two. One you were part way through reading and one that was…almost finished. But not by you. 

You didn’t notice as Jake watched you take everything in. Your books, your pots of pens. You dish towels, your spices and other baking ingredients. Some had even been put into the jars you had been meaning to fill back up. Then you noticed the smaller things. Like how he’d put up the wooden signs in your kitchen you’d been planning to do for months, and how he’d cleaned…everything. 

It looked like he’d done a complete renovation of your place whilst you’d been knocked out. 

Then you noticed the pile of papers on your kitchen counter. 

The English and maths tests you’d given to your class a few weeks ago. You hadn’t finished marking them. 

But Jake had. 

You took the top paper and looked it over. 

“Did you mark these?” You flipped through the pages. Not only were they marked, but they were marked correctly. They even had a sticker on each of “well done” or “great stuff”. 

You heard Jake chuckle. “I am a teacher, too, you know.”

“You’re a…Top Gun instructor. Not a third-grade teacher.”

“I do suppose I am over qualified to help but-”

You shook your head. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so insulting.

“No, I-I mean, thank you. But you didn’t have to do this. Any of this.” You gestured around your home. “You already did enough bringing me home.”

“I wanted to ask you about that. Why was it me that brought you home? Surely you have people who you actually like, to be your emergency contact?”

Tyler watched as you fell silent and searched for the words to tell him. 

“You’re…not.” Taking a breath, you looked up at him. “They…they tried a couple of people. They couldn’t make it. One of the nurses knows Penny so called and asked if she had anyone’s number who I knew. I did try and tell them to just call me a cab.”

He let your words settle over him. 

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who else did you call? Who didn’t pick up?”

You listed them off. Most were people in your family and a couple of friends. 

“I would have fought them on it but-”

“I’m glad you called me.” Jake admitted you. And it struck you. “Give me your phone.”

You slid it over to him. And he called his number from your phone. 

“If anything like that happens again, I want you to call me.”

“Jake-”

He shook his head. “You’re not fighting me on this. Fight me on everything else. Anything else. But not this. Call me.”

So you just nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. And eat up, too.”

You did. “You say that as if we’ve got some place to be.”

“We do.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Twenty minutes later he practically shoved you into your bathroom en-suit telling you to shower and get changed. 

“I thought my nurse was meant to be kind.”

“I am kind!” He said. “And I’m not a nurse. And I’m a friend.”

You laughed a little at that one. 

“I’ve seen the inside of your junk drawer. I’m your friend. I have to be, or else I don’t have a word for it.”

He did have a point on that. Your junk drawer…even you hadn’t seen the inside of that thing in at least a year. 

So, after getting dressed, taking the last of your antibiotic and forcing some kind of health smoothie Hangman had made you with the blender he found at the back of your cupboard, you found yourself back in the passenger seat of his car. 

“Where are we going?”

He said nothing, just smiled and pulled the aviators from his collar and put them on before starting his engine and for a moment you wondered if that was what he did when he got into his jet. Flash his million-dollar smile before starting his jet engine and taking off into the sky. For a moment you wondered what it would be like to watch him land and look over at you just like he did. 

But then you forced yourself back to reality. 

This was Jake Seresin, aka Hangman. Given that name because he hangs his team out to dry. 

But he didn’t leave you. 

In fact, he was the only one to show up. 

And the first to stay. 

You read the road signs as best as you could until you realised where he was taking you. 

“You know there is a beach like ten minutes from my house.”

He nodded. “I know. But you’re there all the time. You’ve seen that patch a thousand times. This is different.”

“How? Isn’t all sand the same?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe. But they always say the beach can work a thousand miracles. Come on.”

It was a five minute walk to the bottom. 

“Is it usually this empty?”

He looked around. “There’s usually a couple more people, but yeah. This is usually it. Not many people drive this far down. They think it’s not the best but to me…couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Huh.”

“What?” Jake asked, looking at you. 

You continued looking out to the water. You shook your head. “No, nothing. Just…never thought you’d be the sentimental type.”

“Well…I’m not.” 

You looked at him. 

“To most people.”

It was at that moment you felt a small crackle. Either in your chest or your gut, something crackled. And you felt the blanket of hatred you had for Jake Seresin start to fade. 

His call sign might be ‘Hangman’, but you had a strong feeling that when it came to those he cared about…he tried his best to stick around. And even if he couldn’t, he’d make a memory of them to last a lifetime. 

 For the rest of the day, you spent most of your time lying on the beach watching the waves or reading your book, which he had packed. And it was…one of the best days you’d had in a long time. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?” Moving the book from his face, Jake looked at you from beneath his shades as you lay on your stomach beside him. 

“This? Less than a week ago I’m pretty sure people would have made money on you and I killing each other. Why are you helping me?”

“Because you need it. And I’m pretty sure anyone else would believe you when you say that you don’t.”

“And you don’t believe me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you.”

You scoffed. “What do you mean you know me?”

You watched as he smiled and tried to kill the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Y/n.”

You were still getting used to the fact he was using your first name. Usually it was your last, or some sweet nickname like ‘Sweetheart’ that would grate through your entire body. 

“You spend most of your time making sure everyone feels okay and is doing okay. The only time you actually let your feelings know is when you’re taking shit to me. You deserve a break. You deserve to take one before your body forces you to have one.”

Hearing his words as he spoke, you slowly sat up until your back was to the water and you were fully facing him. 

“Plus, your brother asked me to look out for you. And I’d rather not suffer his wrath again.”

Okay, that had to be complete bull. Your brother’s wrath when it came to protecting you, that was true. But why ask Jake of all people given he knew your history and track record with him. 

And what did he mean by again?

You barely had time to ask all of your questions before you watched him stand up, throwing his book closed to the ground. You mentally scolded yourself for letting your eyes wander all over him. 

You weren’t blind to the fact Hangman looked, well, like him. A daring smile, enough charm to charm even the most sourest of people and the body to go with it. But before today, you had been immune. At least, you considered yourself immune since the blanket of hatred that you held for him seemed to block plenty out. 

Worst of all, he caught you. 

You knew he caught you because of the smirk on his face and the chuckle that escaped his broad chest. 

“Shut up.” You groaned, forcing yourself to stand. “I’ve been in the hospital. My immune system is temporarily weakened.”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve caught you, Sweetheart.” Seresin drawled just as you looked at him both annoyed and confused. And maybe slightly offended that he thought you had, before today, purposefully checked him out. 

But he just laughed. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

“But what about our stuff?”

“It’ll be safe. I know most of the people on this beach, they’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”

Taking your hand in his, he led you down the beach, under a small cove and through to the otherside where some rocks were covered in seaweed and sand. 

And for a while, you and Jake explored the place. You’d never been this far down the beach so finding out it existed was a bonus. Finding seaweed to pop and watching the crabs crawl across some of the rocks was fun. 

You’d never stop to take a break. Straight out of college, you’d begun teaching. It had been in your home town until your brother got accepted into Top Gun. And, with an internalised fear of losing him, you moved out to San Diego. You knew after a while he’d be stationed somewhere else, but you’d managed to find a home there. And when your brother was stationed not too far from his Top Gun base, the rest of your family moved closer. 

Since then, it has been helping them get settled, tutoring their children after spending all day teaching. It was sleepless nights spent alone at home, living off the quickest food you could make because you simply didn’t have time to cook. It was running yourself so far into the ground that the one person who you never thought would even step foot into your home was the only one to show up and give you enough space to actually relax. 

So watching crabs walk along the rocks was fun. 

And hearing your name, and calling out his name above the waves, without hatred or malice behind it, was fun, too. 

“Come and look at this.”

Carefully, you made your way over the rocks, trying your best not to slip and hit your head. And you did so, until the last rock before you joined him. 

Letting out a small yell as you reached out to try and catch yourself, he threw out his hand and caught you. 

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Can you stand?”

You lowered yourself to a lower rock, still holding onto his arms before letting go and allowing yourself to take his hand and help you up the rest of the way. 

“What am I looking at?”

It was a starfish. 

The rest of the day, you and Jake explored the shore, skipped rocks on the calming water, sunbathed and even took a swim in the water. 

By the time the sun had set, you found yourself sitting with him on the hood of his car, a pizza box between you both, watching the planes fly from the airport. 

A week ago, if anyone had told you that you would have done any of this, especially with Hangman, you would never have believed them. 

“Thank you, for your help.” You blurted out as you watched another plane fly into the sky. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do.” You wanted him to listen to you. “Given our track record for being nice to each other, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t turn up at the hospital to bring me home. But you did. And you made sure I didn’t fall into some kind of coma after it. And today you gave me the first day, I think, ever, where I’ve not done a thousand things for somebody else and enjoyed what I was doing. So, I do need to thank you for that.”

“Are you saying…you…like me?”

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face, but you tried to force it away. “Okay.”

“No, no. I mean, this is a miracle.”

“You’re tolerable.” You corrected him. 

Smiling, he took another slice of pizza. “You like me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You like me. I am now your friend. We are now friends.”

You shook your head, holding in a laugh. “Just shut up and eat your pizza.”

It was safe to say after that, that everyone was shocked at the dynamic between both you and Hangman. 

They had all gotten so used to the insults and borderline flirty comments you’d both sling each other's way, it had become like white noise. So, when it was gone and replaced with laughter and smiling, it gave everyone a terrified feeling. 

“I’m guessing they’re not here yet.”

Penny shook her head as she poured another pint. With a smile, she nodded over to the other end of the bar. “They’re over there.”

Twenty minutes later, it had become like a social study for everyone in the bar to watch you and Jake. 

“Do you think they fucked? Got all that pent up energy out?”

Coyote shook his head. “No, he would have told me. How long have they been like this? Maybe they’ve been hypnotised into liking each other?”

Rooster shook his head. “The hypnotist left like three months ago. Maybe they’re…faking it. Do you think they heard us talking about them last week? About who would kill who first? Maybe they’re teaming up so nobody wins?”

Penny shook her head as she wiped down the bar. “Well, whatever it is, it’s a nice change. She looks a lot happier. They both do. Who knows, maybe next we’ll be holding a wedding here.”

“Not their wedding?” Rooster seemed shocked. “Penny, they were about three insults away from killing each other three weeks ago.”

“Love is blind, as they say.”

For the rest of the night, people watched you and Jake sat together. Seresin and Y/l/n. Hangman and Sweetheart. 

And then they watched as you walked home. 

Together. 

It was safe to say everyone was shocked to their core. For the first time ever, there had been a night where both you and Jake had not only been in the bar at the same time but had also sat together for the whole night, and not once killed each other. 

Verbally or otherwise. 

“You know, you’re not as big of a dick as I thought you were Seresin. Tonight was a nice change.”

“I have been known to be kind once in a while.”

“Keep this up, you might be fit to see another day.”

“So might you.” Jake replied as he watched you climb the steps of your front porch. “I meant what I said, about taking a break. You deserve one, Y/n.”

You took in what he said with a small nod before adding. “You know, it’s still freaking me out, you even know my first name.”

“If it helps, the nurse had to tell me.” He said. “Guess I’ve called you by your last name so much, I forgot your first.”

“Is that why you keep saying it? So you don’t forget?”

He shrugged, a slight smirk on his face. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You know, it is okay if you forget it once in a while.”

Jake smiled a little at that. “How could I forget the name of the woman who once dumped three shots of tabasco sauce into my drink?”

“Hey, you can’t prove that was me.”

“Hey, the bottle was in your hand.”

You unlocked your door. “I still plead not guilty.”

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart. Sure you’re okay on your own?”

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you have an early start in the morning?”

He nodded. “Even so. Call me.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, Sweetheart.”

He waited for you to lock your doors before he got into his car and drove back home. 

The following weeks continued the same way. If anybody who was anybody saw you and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin together, in the same room, talking. They would stop and watch. 

Never in a million years did anyone expect you and Jake to talk, never mind actually become friends. 

Each Friday, you met each other at the bar. You both have a drink. You’d both sit and talk. Maybe some of your old ways were still there with each other, but there was less “25 to life” about it and more “affection” in the words you both said. 

However, it nearly gave people an aneurysm when they thought you were both actually dating. 

Two people who were thirty seconds away from physically fighting each other every day had gone from, well, that, to…to…to dating?

It couldn’t be…could it?

And the rumours that had been spread by one of the bar regulars, after she’d spotted both of you grocery shopping together before spotting Jake’s car leave from the top of your road hours later, were only fueled when they heard about what happened at the school. 

It had been months since you fainted and you had been getting better. You felt better, you felt like you had more energy. And with Jake’s help you started to feel like a person again. A person who wasn’t wholly consumed by their work constantly, whether they were ten miles from the building or not. 

Except, one morning, you woke up and felt…off. 

Something wasn’t right. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. Maybe your period was coming early. It has been doing that lately. Surprising you when you least expected or wanted it. 

Just a few weeks ago, it had arrived early once again. And the pain you’d felt in the days before nearly floored you. And when you hadn’t showed up at the bar like you’d agreed to with Jake, he came looking for you. That night he’d taken a quick trip to the grocery store after you told him what happened. He looked after you. Made sure you were okay. The next day, he drove you back to the store and you stocked up on supplies and snacks. 

It was also later that night when he surprised you by making dinner. 

Opening up your fridge, you took one of the healthy smoothies that Jake had left you the last time he’d come round, before packing it into your bag and heading to work. 

Your queasy feelings only got worse. And then…you felt it. 

Sticking on a documentary for your class, you took your phone and slowly made your way towards the teachers bathroom, stopping off at the next class. 

“Can you keep an eye on them for a couple of minutes?” 

Your best friend nodded. “Course’ honey.” Before asking her TA to go next door. 

“You okay?”

You tried your best to look okay, despite everything you were feeling inside. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I will be.”

As the TA headed next door, you made your way towards the bathroom, then dialled his number. 

“Hey,” Jake said as he answered. “Just about to call you. They’ve got a showing of The Wizard of Oz tonight at the theatre, if you wanted to go-”

“Jake.”

“Are you okay? What’s happened? Is everything okay? Is it your brother-”

“Every…” You swallowed thickly before carefully lowering yourself onto the floor with your back against the wall, and unlocking the door. “Everything’s okay, it’s just…”

Jake had a strong feeling he knew what was happening. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“School bathroom. Teacher’s.”

“Okay.” You could hear him leaving his office and getting into his car. “Is the door unlocked?”

You didn’t answer. 

“Y/n.”

“I’m here.”

Jake breathed. “Y/n, Sweetheart. Is the door unlocked to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Does anyone else know you’re there?”

You explained what happened as best as you could. 

“Just, please get here soon?”

“I will, Sweetheart. I promise. I’m almost there.”

You didn’t know how long had passed but it wasn’t long before you heard your name being called out by Jake. 

Pulling the door open a little from the floor, Jake ran towards it and peeked inside. There you were, sat with your knees close to your chest, against the wall. 

He stepped inside before crouching down. 

“I-I’m sorry I called. I just-”

Checking you over, Jake cupped your face. “Hey, no. No. I’m glad you called me. You can always call me. How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy. It’s better now but still like the room is spinning. And I’m not harnessed in.”

“Okay. Do you think you can stand?”

You gave a small nod. “Maybe.”

Helping you up, Jake took your hands in his and you stood up. 

“Come on, we’re getting you checked out at the ER.”

You would have fought him on it but considering the last time it happened they kept you in overnight, you went willingly. 

Thankfully, you didn’t pass out even when the dizziness and the nausea felt like they were getting worse. 

By the time the doctor saw you, she did all of the routine checks before turning and looking at Jake and back to you. 

“Is there a possibility you could be pregnant? I’ve seen a lot of couples come in here with similar symptoms and-”

Oh shit. 

“Oh, no. I-I’m not. And he’s not-”

“We’re- We’re not together.”

A few more awkward moments like that filled the next couple of hours until both yourself and Jake seemed to give up on correcting people. 

By the time they discharged you, they told you your blood sugar levels had dropped and your hormones were beginning to change with your cycle. Along with the advice to try and reduce stress. 

Driving you home that night, Jake made a detour. Towards the diner and then towards the beach along The Hard Deck. 

It was quiet for a Tuesday evening, but yourself and Jake just sat and ate dinner whilst watching the water push in and pull out constantly across the sand until eventually, laying your head on his shoulder, he placed his arm around your own. 

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

“Thank you for calling me. Are you feeling any better?”

You nodded, gratefully. “Just a little tired, that's all.”

“I’ll drop you off at home, soon, if you’d like.”

You nodded then looked at him. And before you could stop yourself, you asked him; “Would you stay with me? Tonight? If you can’t- or if you don’t want to-”

“I’ll stay.”

“A-are you…sure?”

Jake nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ll stay with you.”

You didn’t know what else to say other than thank you, so pressing a light kiss to his cheek, you said as much. “Thank you.”

You could have sworn you saw him blush as he smiled and looked down. “Anytime.”

It was odd really, laying beside the man you thought you’d be telling your kids about when you were older. About how much you hated him and how much he hated you, and why neither of you could sit next to each other at the Thanksgiving table every year. 

Jake had decided to stay in your guest bedroom, but the minute you heard him lay down in his bed, you felt…awake. Not wide awake. You were still tired. But you weren’t settled. Something inside of you wanted to be closer to him. 

So, after an hour of laying on your back, staring at your ceiling and listening to the distant shore line, with the odd rumble of a car’s engine running up and down the road every now and again, you got up. 

Jake had left his door open. If you shouted for him, or needed him, he would be able to hear you. Usually, he’d be out like a light, waking up at the smallest of noises. But this time, he couldn’t sleep. 

Instead, his mind was going over the fact you had called him when you were at work. And the fact that he enjoyed it when you were with him. That he was the one you chose to lean on. And the fact that he wished he was down the hall with you at that moment, then lay alone in the dark in your guest bedroom. 

Then he heard you. 

From the dim, moonlit hallway, he saw you. 

“Hey, everything-”

“Can I stay with you?”

Already half way up, Jake paused for a second. Then nodded. “‘Course. Come ‘ere.”

Walking over, Jake pulled the covers back and you climbed under them before feeling his arm wrap around you. And your arms came around him, one over his shoulder and round his neck, the other by his side. 

Instinctively, he pulled one of your legs across him and held it there whilst his other arm remained securely around your back, holding you to him. 

“Is this okay?”

He felt you nod and he nervously swallowed. 

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?”

In a quiet voice, your breath against his neck, you answered. “Better now.”

Pressing a kiss to your head, you nuzzled into each other. 

“Good.”

Not too long after that, you both fell asleep. 

And when you both woke up, neither of you wanted to move. 

If this had somehow happened six months ago, you probably would have thrown each other to the other side of the room. But it wasn’t six months ago. And you’d come to know Jake as…Jake. Who took care of his friends, and made sure everyone was okay and was kind and caring and…a lot of other things you didn’t want to think about at six o’clock in the morning. 

And the way he was looking at you at that moment made you think about other things that you didn’t want to think about. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jake asked after a few moments of watching you study him. 

“That you need to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you…like me.”

Jake smiled. “I do like you, Sweetheart.”

“Jake.”

Then, for a moment, everything felt…serious. His tired smile dropped a little from his lips as he looked at you. 

“Do you trust me?”

You felt your heartbeat pick up in your chest and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear it. 

“Yes.”

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you felt him cup your cheek. “Y/n…”

He seemed nervous. 

“Can I kiss you?”

If you had let yourself think about it long enough, you never would have guessed Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who went after whatever, and usually whoever he wanted, would ask if he could kiss. You’d always assumed that he was so confident in life and with women that he’d know. That he’d see the small signals. Or even the loud ones. And just…kiss a girl. 

But no. 

He asked. 

And something in your gut jumped. 

So you answered; “Yes.”

Nervously, he licked his lips before he leaned in. And kissing him felt…weird. Because it felt…normal. Unlike anything else you’d felt in your life. 

You managed to pull him closer, until he was leaning above you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

From there, the softer, searching kisses slowly faded away and turned into something more. More wanting, more needing. Feeling his hands move down your body before he gripped your hips, and pulled you closer to him and carefully slid them back up until the fabric of your t-shirt began to bunch together. 

Feeling him press into your thigh, you let out a small noise that was only swallowed by his kiss. Swiftly, he pulled you across him, your legs straddling his lap before he sat up. Once more, he pushed the hair from your face and took you in, in the rising daylight. 

No words were spoken out loud, but everything was said. 

Leaning down, you kissed him again before letting your own hands move down his chest and towards the hem of his t-shirt. Except, just as he pulled you closer by your waist, his hips rocking into you, you both jolted at the sound of his alarm. 

“Sorry.” Jake quickly turned and switched it off. You were both going to be late for work. 

“If we don’t get ready now, we’re gonna be late.”

Looking at him, you didn’t know fully what to say. It had just been the hottest make out session of your life, with a guy six months ago people would have bet money on you killing. And you’d both been cock-blocked by his alarm. 

“I’ll meet you here, after work?”

That made you smile. “Okay.”

Then he did, too. “Okay.” Before throwing his phone to the side and pulling you down to kiss him. But as you pulled away, he groaned, trying to pull you back to continue but you walked a good three feet away from the bed. 

“Can’t be late, Hangman. You’ve got pilots to teach.”

With a coy smile, he was standing in front of you within seconds before lifting you onto the dresser behind you. This time, it was you trying to pull him back when he stopped kissing you. But he just stood back and let out a small chuckle. 

“We’ve both got students to teach, Sweetheart. We stay here any longer, they’re both gonna miss us.”

One final kiss to your lips, he stood back and practically ran away before you could grab hold of him. 

Twenty minutes later, he was showered and dressed for the day and had poured you a coffee to-go as well as packed you another smoothie and grabbed your lunch for you before you’d come downstairs, dressed and began loading the last of the exam papers into your bags. 

He dropped you back off at work, however, when you realised he was waiting in the parking lot for you to enter, you left your bags by the pillar and walked back. With his window already being down, you leaned in and kissed him, feeling his hand cup the back of your head. 

“See you tonight?”

“See you tonight.”

The day for either of you couldn’t have felt longer. And by the time Jake came walking through your back door, dropping his bag onto one of the pantry hooks, he couldn’t have been more relieved to see you. 

And for a moment, he just watched you as you sat on the sofa with crossed legs, flipping through a textbook and making notes. Softly, he approached you from behind before wrapping his arms around your shoulders. 

You smiled. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

“You’re back.”

You felt him relax against you. “Finally.”

“There’s some food. I made you a plate in the oven.”

He pressed a kiss to your head before walking towards the kitchen. “I would have cooked.”

“I know, but I needed the distraction.”

Waltzing back inside holding onto the warm plate, he smirked as he popped a fork-full of veg into his mouth. You could already feel your cheeks heating and from the look on his face, he could see it clear as day. 

“Distraction from what?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Nothing, huh?”

At some point, he put down his plate and rounded back to the sofa, standing behind you before pressing soft kisses into the side of your neck. 

“Jake.”

The way you said his name went straight to his dick. 

As he moved your hair, you leaned to grant him more access. A satisfied smirk came to his lips as he watched your legs move to straighten out. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, Sweetheart.”

Eventually, you felt Jake move away but he appeared again, lowering himself in front of you. Taking the textbooks and notes from you and placing them on the coffee table behind him, he leaned forward and pulled you in to kiss him. 

“Have you been thinking about me?”

Feeling his hand move up your thigh and towards your shorts, you leaned in closer. “Have you, Sweetheart?”

“Yes,” your voice came out breathy. 

“Is this okay?”

You nodded. 

“I need words, darlin’.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s okay.”

As time passed, the small part of you that was still able to function started to ask questions. Like why you had hated him so much in the first place? And how you almost missed…him. 

And by the time you woke up in the morning, Jake practically wrapped around you like a boa constrictor, you had come to a new conclusion. 

You didn’t hate him anymore. 

You hadn’t hated him for a long time. 

All opinions you had of him, especially after a night of mindblowing sex, had been shot out of the water. 

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was no longer the man you thought he was. The man you had come to know and lo- 

The man you had come to know was a man that showed up. And stayed. He was someone that took care of the people he cared about. He was someone that would fix things in your home without you asking. He was someone that cooked meals, even if it was almost one o’clock in the morning and you were craving a grilled cheese. He was someone that, even after sex, took care of you in a way nobody had ever even thought about doing before. He was someone that you could trust and respect, and did so. 

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was a man that had proved your theories wrong and he was a man that you realised you were falling for. 

And in some ways, that scared you. And in some ways, it didn’t. 

Because, for as much as he could be so sure of himself. So bold. So confident, it bordered on cocky. You were also sure of him. Sure that, if he was feeling the same things you felt, that he wouldn’t let you hurt yourself when you fell, but rather he’d catch you. 

And it, surprisingly, didn’t take him very long. 

By the time you woke up in the morning and headed downstairs, freshly dressed in a worn Top Gun hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts, you started making breakfast. However, as you stood at the stove, flipping the bacon, you felt a newly familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind. 

Dropping his chin to your shoulder, Jake pulled you close to his chest. 

“Good morning.”

“Morning’.” He drawled. “Whatcha’ cookin’?”

“Bacon and eggs. There’s also toast in the toaster.”

With a smile, Jake pressed a kiss to your exposed collar which caused you to let out a small giggle before quickly turning the stove off. 

“You’ve gotta be careful, Hangman. You’ll make me burn breakfast.”

He hummed a response. “I had a couple other meals in mind.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

With his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck where you suspected he’d just left another hickey, he slowly turned you around. “I can think of one.”

Finally facing him, he kissed you as you fumbled with the last temperature gauge and turned it off. Picking you up, he carried you away from the counter near the stove to the one complete opposite. 

“You’re driving me insane dressed like this.” He mumbled against your kiss. “Wearing my shirt.”

“Your shirt?” You asked as his lips moved to your neck. 

Looking at you for a moment, half drunk on your kiss, he nodded. “Didn’t you know, Sweetheart? This here is mine.” Pinching some of the fabric between his fingers he shook it as he told you so. 

You laughed. “No it’s not.”

He nodded. “God's honest truth. Your brother stayed at mine one night after he’d gone out drinking. Lost his shirt, don’t ask me how. Stole one of my hoodies. Never got it back.”

“How do you know this is yours?”

With a smile, Jake showed you the small hole that you’d made a little bigger over the years from when you’d get nervous. “This right here. Loose thread got caught in a cabinet I was fixing in my room. Pulled at it too hard. And…”

Jake watched as your expression changed a little, hungry for more of his touches, as he pushed his hand slowly up the inside of your- his hoodie. 

A slight smirk, he pulled at the side tag and showed you. And it baffled you how you’d never noticed before. 

J.H.S

“See. But, I have to say, Sweetheart. It looks better on you than it ever did me.”

And as he was looking at you, he asked you something else. “Let me take you out on a date. A real one. You know, seeing you like this…I never want to see anyone else like this but you.”

“Jake…”

“I’m being serious. Sweetheart, I want you. And not just temporarily.” Then he looked away as he said the next part. “I’d get it…if you didn’t want that. God knows you and I don’t have the best history when it comes to even getting along but-”

“I want to date you.”

He looked up at you. 

“I want to date you,” you repeated. “Believe me, half of the time I don’t get it myself. How we’ve gone from one extreme to the other, but I know…I know I want you around.”

“I want you around, too.”

“So, yes.”

Jake smiled. “Yes?”

You smiled back. “Yes. Take me out on a date, Jake Seresin.”

Leaning forwards, he kissed you. And before long, your hands started to feel for the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head. 

It was safe to say, when you and Jake walked into The Hard Deck in the evening after your official first date, hand in hand before he pressed a kiss to your lips, a lot of people were shocked. 

And lost a lot of money. 

But Penny won it all. 

She knew the minute Jake saw you, and your brother scolded him, that something would happen. After all, Hangman was known for going after what he wanted. She just never expected to have to be the one to force you to be in the same room and for that room to be a hospital.

[kiritella]

The First Time He Lets You Drive - Tyler Owens x Reader

Tyler’s usually possessive over his truck, but one day he tosses you the keys with a smirk. It’s more intimate than any kiss.

Day 1 of Twisterversary! Prompts: No Dialogue + Golden Yellow

No warnings

Word count: 527

If you could tell a person only one thing about the infamous Tyler Owens, it would be that he is overly protective of you, but his truck came a close second. You and Boone had a running joke that if it was between you and the truck, the truck would win. While that wasn’t actually the case, the unspoken rules were that Tyler was the only one allowed to drive his truck and the only one to fix things on it. So when Tyler invited you out that afternoon for some alone time, you weren’t expecting him to toss the keys into your hands. 

It was hot and humid, as most summer days are in Oklahoma. You close the door to your motel room, turning around and look over the balcony. Tyler was leaning against his truck, with the keys dangling in his right hand. He started smirking when you started walking down the stairs. He holds the keys up a little higher and then tosses them to you when you reach the bottom. Your hand catches the keys midair, for a second, you just stand there. Tyler’s smirk fades into something more earnest, and for the first time, you notice the slight tension in his shoulders, as if he’s not sure how you’ll take this change.

You walk over and tilt your head slightly, as if asking him if he is sure. Once you reach him, he bends down slightly and kisses you gently on the lips, almost hesitantly. But it’s enough to stir something inside of you, something that says this is more than just a game or a gesture. He’s letting you in. You run around the back of the truck to the drivers side with Tyler running around the front of the truck to beat you to opening the door.

When he opens the door, you slide into the drivers seat, taking a moment to savor the moment. The inside of the truck smells like him: leather, dirt, and faint traces of coffee. With your seatbelt clicking into place, it starts feeling like the start of something new. As you pull out of the motel parking lot, the sun starts to sink lower, casting shadows over the road. You put the windows down, enjoying the wind in your hair. Tyler’s hand resting on your leg, grounding you to this moment as you drive the backroads of Oklahoma. The silence between you is thick with everything left unsaid, yet there’s a quiet contentment in knowing that now words are needed in this moment.

The road in front of you stretches out, endless, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you and the horizon. The golden yellow light from the sun setting wraps around you and the truck. Tyler’s eyes have barely left you, looking at you has the sun forms an almost halo around you. His eyes are full of love and a new found trust with you driving his truck. He makes a silent promise to himself that for all the miles ahead, for every storm and quiet road, he’s not just driving through life. He’s doing it with you.

[kiritella]

I actually LOVE this, because it FITS SO WELL!

It never really struck me as a remake because it was too unique in its own right, and it didn’t QUITE make a sequel.

But it WAS an amazing continuation! Think about the references to Dorothy, how Javi said it was field tested equipment referencing the original Twister movie. The method of data collection they used as well. It’s referencing that things have happened in the past, but making it clear this is it’s own thing. They are their own people.

They were never meant to be replacements to the original, but a story that continues off the original source material. Which, to be fair, is CLOSE to what a sequel is, yes, but I feel like this movie wasn’t trying to be a sequel exactly, but more content in the same universe!

Just a little take, some clarification, and one hundred percent my opinion.

Twisters is not a sequel. Twisters is not a remake.

Twisters is a modern continuation of storm chasing set in the same cinematic universe.

Feel free to quote me on that because it’s not comparable to the original 1996 movie. They are both great and entertaining in their own, separate rights, as individual movies.

So if you haven’t seen it yet, go watch it and see for yourself. Tell your friends, tell your family, and if you feel it, chase it!

(GIF is not mine.) Twisters, 07/19/2024

[kiritella]

Title: The Storm Back Home: Chapter 2

Pairings: Tyler Owens x Reader

Words: 3,000~

Warnings: Mentions of Prior Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Prior Depression, Implied Alcoholism (not reader),

A/N: I might rewrite this so it sounds better a little later. Im not a fan of how forced this chapter felt 🥲

Series Masterlist

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

At six in the morning, you crawled your way out of the closet with sleep still catching on your eyelids and a back aching in far too many ways. You’re pretty sure your arm was going to be numb for the rest of your life. And then the pins and needles started and you wished it would’ve stayed numb. You could figure out life with one less arm, right?

By eight o’clock, you’d cleaned the house of all the odds and ends, put new sheets on the beds and towels in the bathrooms, and hit your hip on way too many corners and door frames. Once dinner was pulled out of the freezer to defrost, you wondered if you had time to stop by the store to pick up some of Lily’s weird snacks and beer. Alcohol hadn’t been in the house for several months, but it was probably fine. Besides, it wasn’t you with the drinking problem.

You were pulling back into the drive and carrying in groceries by half past nine. Then everything was put away, you checked your outfit three different times, poked the defrosting chicken twice, and then decided the clock hanging in the living room was driving you insane. So, you yanked out the batteries. It now laid haphazardly on the counter.

And then you waited, seated out on the front porch with a heart trying to work its way out of your chest. The rocking chair creaked as your bare feet nudged the deck. The storm from last night left puddles out in the yard, and even though the sun broke through patches of clouds as it took a break, it would settle back in heavy over the next couple of days.

You rubbed your hands down your thighs, eyes trained on the tree line where your gravel driveway disappeared just before the road. Was it wrong you were more excited than worried? Was it going to be awkward? Probably. But it being a bit awkward didn’t hit as hard as the thrill of seeing them again. Seeing them as you again, not the broken version they’d seen at the funeral. The one who couldn’t look them in the eye or say more than a handful of words.

Come whatever might with the reconciliation, you’d face it if it meant they’d be sitting in the same room as you once again. You’d also take whatever verbal thrashing they’d give out about you not callin’.

That explanation still says in your lungs like a vice. You hadn’t figured out a way to tell everyone. The fear, the depression. The slow loss of your sanity over the span of just a few months leading you straight into your ex’s arms. Arms you still couldn’t think about.

You’d gone through a dozen scripts, and maybe you could find a word now and then but it wasn’t the right one. They’d listened to you stumble through explanations before, so it’s not like it would be anything new. You knew however it came out, it would be okay.

This was just…different. Because this wasn’t you trying to explain the ecological importance of mosquitoes as they all cursed the bloody things. This was you cracking open the vault sittin’ in your chest and letting them have a look inside. You wanted it to be right. For the mess it was in there, like a storm blowin’ though and tearing it up, you wanted it to look like you’d at least tried to clean up.

Because you had.

Before you could get lost too deep into your head though, the sound of an engine pulled your attention to the end of the drive. A smile nearly split your face in two as a familiar RV rolled up and parked in front of the barn. You were already jumping off the porch by the time they’d opened their doors.

Dani and Dexter slipped out of the van just as Lily pulled up. You were pretty sure she didn’t even turn her car off before she was barreling toward you.

“SuGaR!”

You were jogging toward them one second, and in the next, you were fighting for your footing as three body’s slammed into you, wrapping you up in a group hug. You screamed out laughing as a tangle of arms you could barely tell the difference between squeezed you tight. The crunch of tires on gravel had your already elated heart jumping, and looking over what you thought was Dexter’s shoulder, that classic red truck you’d spent years sitting in parked up next to the others.

Before you even had a chance to breathe as Dex pulled away, Boone was shouting. “Make some room!” he said, wrapping you up in a hug. He lifted you up, toes barely leaving the ground before he set you back down. “Damn, its good to see you Sugar Cube.”

You scoffed at the nickname, but smiled, shoving his shoulder. “It’s good to see you too, Boone. A’ight, grab your bags and head inside, you’re stayin’ a while. There’s BBQ for dinner.”

A round of cheers went up as Tyler’s truck door slammed closed. The crowd parted to grab their things, and Lily tossed you a knowing look.

You fought the heat creeping up your neck as you took in the man walking up with a smirk playing an inch too close to suspicious for comfort. He was in his red button down and that damn cowboy hat, duffel bag hanging from his hand. Your eyes narrowed as he got closer. That glint in his eye gave him away before he even opened his mouth. You took a step backward.

“Tyler…” you warned.

“Good to see you, Darlin’,” he said, but his smirk only grew as he settled right in front of you. Too close, chest nearly brushing yours. Your hands twitched at your sides.

You bit back a smile, reaching up and flicking the brim of his hat. “Good to see your hat.”

“Just the hat?”

You crossed your arms, letting your eyes trail over his shoulders and down to his feet. “I guess your boots are good-lookin’ too.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed, and that smile of his turned mischievous. You squealed when he dropped the bag, swooping low and scooping you up by your knees. “Tyler!” you screamed as he tossed you over his shoulder and spun you around in a circle. Gravel crunched under his boots as you slapped his shoulder, laughing. The team hooted and hollered as they shuffled into the house. “What are you doing!”

“I’m glad you asked, Darlin’. Since you seemed to like my hat and boots so much, figured you’d want a good view of my ass for appraisal. How’s it lookin’?

God, you could hear the grin in his voice. You steadied yourself against his back as he adjusted his hold on you, coming still but not letting you go. “It looks within’ biting distance. Put me down.”

Tyler snorted. “Kinky, but I think it’s more within kissing dis—”

Okay, yeah, you walked right into that one, but never mind that. His sides were wide open targets and about to be the victims of your assault. Before he finished teasing, your fingers tickled into his sides and you had the pleasure of hearing the Tyler Owens screech like a schoolgirl. His whole body jolted. You had a solid, singular second to laugh in victory before his grip slipped.

And that’s when you screamed.

“Wait—” Tyler scrambled to keep hold of you. “Darlin’—Shit!”

You both fumbled to the ground, Tyler twisted and you landed, somehow, right on top of him in the least grace-like manner and in a tangle of limbs. You laughed as you rolled off his chest and onto your back, lulling your head to the side to watch him shake his head.

“Menace,” Tyler grumbled, sitting up. But his chest was shaking, and no matter how hard he tried to narrow his eyes on you, he couldn’t hide his amusement.

“I don’t think I was the menace in this scenario. You started it, so I’d say I’m only 20% liable for the results.”

“You’re at least 70.”

“40%, at most.”

Tyler shook his head. “You couldn’t gotten hurt.”

You tilted your chin up in victory. “Would’ve been worth it. Besides,” you reached out toward the sky and mimicked a picture frame with your hands. “I would’ve had that Grade A rear end of yours in my sights as I went out to ease the pain.”

Tyler chuckled. A hint of red crept out from the collar of his shirt and you grinned, dropping your arms. He scoffed. “Seriously?”

You laid your hands out in innocence. “Hey, you’re the one who submitted it for appraisal.”

He shook his head, but his eyes softened as they looked down at you, still sprawled out on the ground like you had nowhere better to be. Tension subtly eased out of the hard lines in his face, making his smile a little more genuine, his eyes just a bit brighter. He knocked your knee with his foot before he stood.

“C’mon,” he muttered, reaching down to help you up. You accepted happily, and he pulled you to your feet with enough ease to make your stomach flutter. He didn’t let you go, though, tugging you gently into him and wrapping his arms around you.

You melted immediately, arms slipping around his waist, head resting against his chest like they had been so many times before. Cedar and rain swirled around you, and the knots you didn’t even know were there unraveled in your stomach. Neither of you said anything for a moment. His hand cupped the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. And for the first time in forever, everything was quiet.

“I’ve missed you,” you said quietly. It was raw, honest, but it carried a hell of a lot more weight than it should have, and Tyler heard it.

His lips brushed your temple, not a kiss, but there. An aching step closer to the blurring line you both danced around. “I’ve missed you too,” he whispered. His thumb traced behind your ear. “You gonna tell me what’s been going on?”

You nodded, cheek brushing against the buttons of his shirt. “Yeah. Just…later?”

He hummed, and you felt the vibrations in his chest. He didn’t press, didn’t push. He waited, steady and patient, hugging you until you were ready to let go. When you did ease up you hold and step away, he left a hand on your back even as he dipped and picked up his hat and duffel bag.

You heard music as you both walked up the front porch stairs and got inside. Country twang filled up the house in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Gosh, when was the last time you’d even used those speakers?

Lily sat cross-legged on the couch by the window, and by the smirk she was wearing, you knew she’d been spying. You rolled your eyes, and she shrugged.

It took a half hour or so to get everyone situated in their respective rooms. Tyler lost a game of rock-paper-scissors to Boone, and so tossed his bag under the couch’s side table. And soon enough, everyone was back in the living room, card games spewed across the floor, Boone arguing that Dani read the rules wrong, and catching up over the last season.

No one mentioned the storm brewing out west.

No one looked at the data to find it had excellent conditions.

Today, there wasn’t a storm worth chasing more than being right where they were.

That didn’t mean storm-chasing didn’t come up, though.

“Do you think you’ll chase this year?” Dani asked, tipping back a beer as the evening crept in. The smell of barbecue lingered on the empty paper plates and sticky fingers.

You sputtered on your soda, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. The blood slowly trickled out of your face. “I hope to, yeah.”

Boone nudged your shoulder with a grin. “You should come with us on the next one.”

Your heart jumped. “Yeah?”

Dani scoffed. “What, you think we’d crash at your place and not drag you into the next storm? You think we were just gonna leave you behind?”

You swallowed thickly. Yeah, maybe you did. Maybe you thought they’d be more disappointed in you. Maybe you the fact they weren’t felt like the seconds before a bomb went off. They hadn’t even asked you to apologize for anythin’. The clock Dexter “fixed” ticked above the couch.

Boone nudged your shoulder again. Tick. “You missed most of last season.”

“No need to miss what you don’t have to this year,” Dexter added. Tick.

“I’d…really like that,” you managed to say, working through the tightness in your throat. Everyone cheered in their own ways, bottles of beer raised, clapping you on the back. Except for one.

Your gaze flickered to Tyler. His legs were stretched out, back eased into the couch cushions and watching. Eyes narrowed, lips pressed together. His brows barely creased but they still held a question in them. Searching. Inspecting. He was looking at you like he saw past the casual smile you were wearing to hide the anxiety curling around your chest.

Tick.

What would he think of you if he took a step inside the vault sitting in there?

Tick.

What did he think of you now?

Tick.

You skin still held the grime of another man’s touch. Stuck in the cracks and crevasses you haven’t been able to wash out. No matter how often your skin had been scrubbed raw in the first few weeks of healing. No matter how your hands had cracked and bled from how often you washed them, and even now were still barely healed. You’d given yourself to someone else when Tyler had been the one who was always there for you, and it felt like betrayal.

Would he still look at you the same if he knew just how filthy you’d become?

You froze as it crossed your mind, back straightening like a pole as Boone laughed beside you, completely unaware of the old thoughts seeping back in through the cracks. His beer stained breath wafted over your senses for just a moment, and it hit you.

Beer. Alcohol. Broken glass and steel-toed boots.

Oh. Oh…you were spiraling.

Shaking your head, you yanked yourself out of your thoughts and focused on the present. Focused on what was real, what you could control. Everyone was laughing in your home. They were here because they wanted to be.

Subtly, you clasped your hands in your lap, listening to Dexter talk about the storm coming in tomorrow. Your fingers found your pulse easily, and you counted each beat. It was calm, steady, your anxiety already receding, but the rhythm kept you focused. Kept you out of old patterns.

And in the midst of conversation, somewhere between Dani cursing mosquitoes and everyone shifting around the coffee table when Boone pulled out your box of card games, you found yourself again. Tyler situated himself beside you, tossing out Uno cards for everyone. Boone wailed like a child when Lily dropped a draw-four on him. Dexter told a joke dark and messed up on way too many levels. And eventually, you were laughing until your stomach hurt, forehead pressed against Tyler’s arm to keep from falling over.

And you missed the way Tyler looked at you. Soft. Longing. But you felt his arm find a place right behind you under the excuse of finding a more comfortable way to sit. Just enough so your back touched his arm and your head brushed his shoulder. Your hand just barely grazed his leg, and pinky mindlessly tracing the patterns in the fabric of his jeans.

You melted into the way your heart fell back into an age old rhythm. Warm. As natural as the way you inched closer to Tyler, and how his arm subtly curved around you. Not quite holding your waist, but close enough to question which side of the line he was standing on. And as the night eased on, your eyes started to droop, head lulling to the side and falling against his collar bone. His lips brushed your forehead, you wondered if you were fooling yourself.

Was there even a line between you anymore?

Or were you standing in front of each other, pretending there was one because you knew there would be no turning back?

You sighed, eyes falling closed as you leaned into him. Tyler shifted.

“You gettin’ tired?”

You smiled at the way his voice slurred at the edges and hummed. “M’bye.”

“You should get some sleep. It’s gettin’ late.”

“You’re tired too,” you argued. “Don’ see you goin’ to bed.”

“I’m sleepin’ on the couch, sweetheart, so technically you’re in my room,” he said and you huffed, not awake enough to bother arguing. You missed how everyone was starting to trickle out of the room to bed. He chuckled. “We’ll be here in the mornin’, you know.”

“Promise?”

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded. “Yeah. I promise.”

You hummed, seemingly satisfied. Slowly you lifted yourself off his shoulder, crawling up to your feet with half-lidded eyes. He missed the warmth immediately, eyes following you until you disappeared up the stairs mumbling a goodnight.

The imprint of you lingered even when he laid back on the couch and sleep pulled him under. He felt you wiggle your way between his ribs, curling up around his heart and making a home there. And for all he was worth, nothing had felt quite as right. Nothing else fit in that space like you did.

The line disappeared the moment you stumbled into his arms this morning. The moment he realized nothing would ever feel the same as your head on his chest, your laugh in his ears. Being the one you called, and the one you ran to. And with it went the pretending.

Before he even knew what was happening, his heart took that last step.

And it felt like coming home.

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

Taglist: [Open]

@tgmreader @samwisebennet @hellkaisersangel @caitsymichelle13 @stephv213 @1r1s-23

[kiritella]

I think it’s hilarious how @homunculus-argument just POPS UP on my feed every once in a while with a MILLION posts 🤣 like, slow down algorithm, I like them, but holy smokes that’s a lot!

[kiritella]

I mean, technically, 5 notes is perfectly acceptable. He just has to learn how to mix it up 😎

How do I communicate to this bird outside our window that its song is repetitive, derivative, and frankly kind of ass. You can't get bitches by just repeating the same five notes over and over, buddy.

[kiritella]

DO IT!!! We desperately need more people 🥲

(I’m currently writing a Twisters fic, so you aren’t alone 😉)

Might fuck around and trying writing for Twisters and Top Gun Maverick

[kiritella]

Hi! I'm just writing to let you know that someone in your Bucky community has been harassing me and my mods and friends in the Danny Ramirez community for months. Her name is Rinie, just wanted to let you know 🖤

Oh! Thank you so much for letting me know! I think I was able to take care of it? Maybe? If it was the same person.....either way, there's someone that's been banned lol

[kiritella]

Finally finished writing chapter 2 of The Storm Back Home. Just needs a quick re-write and edits. Hoping to have it out on Saturday morning!

I’ll make sure to tag everyone who’s asked so you’ll be updated properly 😉

[kiritella]

two sugars

chapter summary: As the Avengers team medic it's your job to take care of everyone. So why does Bucky feel like he gets special treatment? Surely a medic wouldn't know the exact way he likes his tea. word count: 4.0k+ pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader notes: this is sometime post civil war but the avengers are a big happy family :) i just love the idea of medic!reader, and a reader who take cares of bucky even when he thinks he doesn't deserve it warnings/tags: medic!reader, mentions of violence, mentions of blood/injuries, fluff, angst, possible inaccurate depictions of medicine

The quinjet’s rear ramp hissed open onto the compound’s flood-lit tarmac. Everyone scattered toward post-mission routines—Thor to the kitchen, Natasha to the debrief, and Tony already complaining about “arrow residue” in his repulsors. Bucky tried to drift with the crowd, jacket pressed close to hide the dark bloom seeping through his side.

“You can limp faster than that, Barnes.”

You fall into step beside him, sweatshirt sleeves shoved to your elbows, med bag bumping your hip. Bucky answered with his best frown. “Took a scratch, that’s all.”

“Scratch?” You tugged the jacket hem and the fabric stuck to his ribs with an audible peel. “That’s shrapnel and at least two stitches.”

“Good thing I only need one.”

“Math is not your strong suit tonight. Med bay—now.”

He could’ve kept walking, you’d seen him yank bullets with pliers before. But the way you were already cataloging his breathing, the way your fingers hovered without quite touching—something in him unclenched. So he followed.

---

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you snapped on gloves, murmuring absent comfort. “Top bunk’s free if you need to crash after.” Bucky eased onto the exam table, metal fingers curling off the edge.

“You really hate me, don’t you?” he grumbled while you cut away the ruined shirt.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, then winced theatrically. “I just hate that you treat medical like a voluntary suggestion.”

“That’s a lot of sugar-coating for ‘pain in my ass.’”

“Sugar-coating? You take two sugars in your tea.” You sterilized the wound, and he hissed. “Hold still.”

He did, but only because you asked. Because the gentle press of your palm over gauze was somehow louder than the sting of antiseptic. Because—though he’d never admit it—he trusted those hands more than the vibrating hum in his own metal arm.

“Shrapnel’s shallow,” you said finally, suturing. “You’ll live to brood another day.”

“Lucky me.”

You tied the final knot, slapped a gauze pad over it, then—softly—tapped his knee. “Go shower. I’ll re-dress it in the morning.”

“Thought you were off tomorrow.”

“Barnes, I saw you take that hit through a concrete wall. I’m not clocking out until I know you didn’t bleed through the mattress.”

He opened his mouth—some dry retort about over-caring—but you were already disinfecting the tray, back turned, humming off-key.

---

Bucky padded into the kitchen wearing sweats with damp hair, intent on pilfering chamomile. The compound was dark but for the fridge glow and the soft blue of tablet screensaver fish.

A lone mug waited by the kettle. Steam coiled up, lazy with two sugars stirred in.

There was a sticky note with your handwriting: “For not bleeding on the mattress. —Night watch”

He stared and noticed the tiny doodle of a star in the corner with five uneven points. The soft spot in his chest, poorly armored, thudded once.

He made himself a second mug—because the first felt too much like you standing there—and carried both down the hall.

---

The only light came from the vitals monitor you’d dragged over “just in case.” You were slumped in the visitor chair, hoodie hood halfway over your face, but awake—eyes on the empty bunk you assumed he’d take.

Bucky set the untouched mug on the table and slid the other toward you. “I figured you could use a refill.”

You blinked up, sleep-rough voice. “I thought you hated chamomile.”

“Growing on me.”

A beat. Then your gaze dropped to the clean bandage at his ribs, then to the tea. “Vitals look good,” you said quietly. “Pain level?”

“Manageable.” He nudged your foot with his socked one. “Go sleep in a real bed.”

You made a face. “Orders?”

“Suggestion.” His mouth twitched. “I hear those are optional.”

You laughed—soft, tired, the sound a little cracked around the edges. But you stood, stretching. “Fine. Wake me if it starts hurting worse.”

He saluted lazily. “Yes, doc.”

Before you left, you hovered in the doorway, studying him like another chart to file. Bucky lifted the mug in thanks.

When the door whispered shut, he exhaled into the quiet. The compound was never truly silent—vents sighing, arc reactor pulse traveling the pipes—but tonight it felt close. Close enough that he could hear the scrape of your chair being pushed into a corner, the distant thump of your sneakers heading for the dorm wing.

He took a sip. Too sweet, like always. But he didn’t mind.

Across the room, the monitor’s soft beep kept time with his heartbeat—steady, unhurried. Unusually calm.

Maybe he’d never say it out loud, maybe you’d never ask, but the truth sat warm in his hands—for someone who used to be a weapon, he was surprisingly okay being someone’s patient.

And maybe, just maybe, you were becoming the safest place he’d ever been patched back together.

He lay back, closed his eyes, and let the steady beep carry him toward sleep. No dreams, no ghosts—just chamomile with two sugars cooling on the bedside table.

---

When you walked into the kitchen, Wanda was already massaging her temples. Before you could ask why, she spoke. “Apparently, Clint’s midnight snack was the last of Thor’s Pop Tarts.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow from the coffee machine. “That man has a death wish.”

You shrugged out of your hoodie, sleepy grin in place. “‘Again’ has to be implied. What flavor?”

“Frosted cherry,” Wanda muttered, as if reciting a crime scene. “Thor’s favorite.”

Bucky whistled. “Clint better start running now.”

You laughed, then popped open the cabinet beside him and grabbed a mug—one of the few without cracks or Stark-brand snark printed on it. You poured coffee for yourself, then, almost absently, reached around and refilled Bucky’s too. Two sugars and a quick stir. Your left hand remained braced on the counter while your right did the pouring. He noticed the way you didn’t ask if he wanted more—you just did it, then dropped a tiny packet of vitamin C gummies next to his mug like it belonged there.

He blinked. “Uh… thanks.”

“Breakfast of champions.” You nudged the gummies closer. “Take those.”

Wanda smirked into her own cup. “Mother hen back at it?”

“Hush,” you said without heat, already fishing in the fridge. You snagged strawberry jam—he liked that brand, the one with whole berries—and set it next to the toaster before sliding two slices of rye into it, same as last time.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to Sam and Steve, who were locked in an animated debate over training schedules and paying zero attention to you. No one else seemed to be getting stealth-medic treatment.

The toast popped. You buttered it, then passed the plate his way. “Eat. Protein shake later if you’re still looking pale.”

“I’m not pale,” he muttered.

You tapped the inside of his right wrist, just where yesterday’s IV line had been. “Humor me.”

Steve reached for the jam and found an empty spot—your hand was there first, sliding it to Bucky. Steve redirected to peanut butter without comment.

Bucky sipped. Sweet, perfect. “You remember how I take it?”

You shrugged. “Memory’s my job.”

“Don’t see you memorizing Clint’s coffee,” he mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He bit into the toast.

Thor stormed in then, cape swinging. “Who has eaten the sacred pastries of Pop-Tart?” he bellowed.

Clint darted behind Vision like a toddler hiding behind a sofa. Chaos erupted—Wanda sighing, Vision tilting his head, and Tony strolling in with an energy bar and an amused grin.

You, unfazed, passed Bucky two ibuprofen tablets, whisper-soft: “Take with food.” Then you patted his left shoulder once, and crossed the room to break up Thor’s thunderous rant before it hit Category Five.

Bucky watched you go, tablets warm in his palm. Nobody else got those taps, that quiet voice.

Steve elbowed him. “You spacing out?”

Bucky slid the pills into his mouth and chased them with sweet coffee. “Just thinking.”

“Anything good?”

He watched you over by the fridge, coaxing Thor into accepting a toaster strudel peace offering. You glanced back once, checked the bandage line beneath his tee, subtle as blinking, then returned to the thunder god.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Good.”

Sam squinted. “Why’re you smiling like that?”

Bucky’s face smoothed. “I’m not.”

Steve chuckled. “Sure, pal.”

The kettle hissed again—fresh water. You were already setting out a chamomile bag beside it. Just one cup this time. For him. Bucky swallowed more toast and decided maybe gummies at 0800 weren’t so bad.

---

Tony paced, ranting about arrow residue again while you stood on a step-stool rewiring Bucky’s prosthetic calibration dock.

“This will cut recharge time by half,” you told him, finishing with a screwdriver flourish. “Left side ports were overheating.”

Tony paused. “You don’t do house calls for my suits.”

You shrugged. “Your suits don’t bleed.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He flexed the metal fingers experimentally and they were already smoother.

---

You nearly collided with him outside the med bay, arms full of supply boxes.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He took the heavier crate with his left arm while you kept the lighter. Inside, you labeled shelves while he stacked gauze packs. “Dinner?” you asked without looking up. “Kitchen has turkey chili. I set aside a bowl, no beans.”

He stilled. “You remembered that?”

“Try forgetting a thirty-minute rant about legume betrayal,” you teased.

He coughed, embarrassed. “Wasn’t a rant.”

You just smiled, scribbling a date on a vial.

He noticed: no one else had personalized bowls waiting. No one else’s preferences pinned to sticky notes.

---

Bucky exited the shower, his shoulder stiff. You were leaning against his door with a pill bottle in hand. “Forgot your evening dose,” you whispered. “Take with water.”

He accepted it. “You chasing everyone around like this?”

“Only the stubborn supersoldier who forgets he’s breakable.”

A beat hung between you. He swallowed the pill and handed the bottle back. “Thanks,” he said, soft.

You patted his metal wrist—short, warm contact that didn’t clang like steel should. “Sleep. I’ll check the bandage tomorrow.”

You pushed off the wall, heading for your quarters. Bucky watched you go, mind replaying the day’s subtleties: the mug, the toast, the custom dock fix, the bean-free chili, the midnight meds.

He’d been trained to notice patterns—threat vectors and escape routes. Tonight, all he saw were gentle fingerprints no one else seemed to receive.

He brushed the healing edge of his sutures, feeling the ghost of your careful pressure. The soft spot inside his chest thudded, confused.

With a quiet sigh, he stepped into his room, door sliding shut behind him. The compound settled, vents humming. Somewhere down the hall, your laugh floated out of a late-night movie with Wanda.

He found himself smiling at the sound—unbidden, uncomplicated—then shook his head, still not quite understanding why any of it felt different.

But he noticed. Oh, he noticed.

---

The mission had been small. Routine, even. Just recon, in and out. But somehow, recon turned into a shootout, the shootout turned into a building collapse, and the building collapse turned into Bucky sitting on a gurney again, shirtless, with dried blood streaked down his spine.

You weren’t saying anything.

That was the part that made him nervous.

You were always talking. Even if it was just quietly—nagging, joking, grumbling about the lack of gauze. But now you were just… cleaning.

“I’ve had worse,” he offered.

Your latex gloves snapped as you peeled them off and tossed them into the waste bin. “You didn’t say you were hit,” you said flatly. “You walked off the quinjet, sat through debrief, and then I found out from Steve that there was blood on your back.”

Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed. “…It didn’t feel like a big deal.”

You grabbed a new pair of gloves, and didn’t even meet his eyes.

He winced. “Okay, maybe not the best choice of words.”

“I’m not mad,” you said, finally stepping forward with fresh antiseptic. “I just—if there’s something wrong, I need to know. That’s literally my job.”

“I know,” he said. Then quieter, “Didn’t want to make a fuss.”

Your fingers slowed. You sighed. “You never do. That’s the problem.”

The sting of antiseptic burned, but he didn’t flinch. Just watched you—how focused you were, how your brow furrowed when you worked, how you used your bare palm to gently steady his vibranium shoulder without hesitation.

---

Bucky wandered in, shirt finally replaced, hair still damp. You were at the stove, humming. Something savory simmered in a pot, and when you turned, your expression softened. “Sit. You look like hell.”

“I feel like it,” he muttered.

You slid a plate across the counter. Roast chicken, soft rolls, roasted potatoes. All stuff he actually ate. You didn’t even ask.

“No peppers?” he said quietly.

You shot him a look. “I learn.”

He glanced toward Wanda, who was eating leftover takeout. Sam was microwaving a burrito. Steve had a protein shake. Natasha wasn’t even around.

Just you, making an entire meal—for him.

“Did you… cook this just for me?” he asked before he could stop himself.

You didn’t answer right away. Just poured him water, nudged it toward him, and said, “you didn’t eat after the mission. Figured you’d need something.”

That was all.

No smile, no brag. Just facts.

He stared at the plate. Then the water. Then you.

And suddenly, it clicked. Really clicked.  You didn’t do that for anyone else. He watched as you turned back to the stove, scooping out a second helping for him without asking.

---

“Left arm up.” You raised your voice slightly over the compound’s gym speakers, watching Bucky jog to a halt near the sparring mats. He’d been training with Sam—light footwork drills, nothing too intense—but you’d caught the wince when he landed on the wrong foot. Twice.

Bucky didn’t argue. Just stood still while you tugged his sleeve up past his elbow. The metal gleamed under the overhead lights, scuffed from friction burns. You pressed your fingers to the joint just above his wrist.

“Feels fine,” he said, too quickly.

You didn’t look at him. “You ever consider letting me finish an exam before making declarations?”

“Not really.”

You held out your hand. “Knife.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Back of your waistband, Barnes. Don’t pretend it’s not there.”

With a grunt, he pulled the hidden blade and handed it over. You set it beside the med kit you’d brought out for him, then gently tilted the arm back and forth, checking the rotation.

“I adjusted the resistance last week,” you murmured, mostly to yourself. “Feels like it’s dragging again. Could be a wiring imbalance.”

“You’re the only one who notices stuff like that,” he said before he could think better of it. You glanced up. He didn’t move. “…I mean,” he continued, “I don’t think Tony even knows how this part works. But you always—”

“That's because you clench your fingers when you're in pain,” you interrupted, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Metal doesn’t bruise, but tension still shows.”

You flexed his hand slowly with both of yours, checking the motor response. Warm hands on cold vibranium.

Across the gym, Sam watched for a beat before wisely deciding now was the time to disappear.

---

He came back from the shower and found the bandage drawer in his bathroom neatly restocked. Same with the small jar of the eucalyptus balm you’d quietly started using on the nerve scars along his shoulder. He never asked for it. Never mentioned when it ran out. But there it was.

A sticky note sat on the lid, folded in half.

“Start with a thin layer. Don’t overdo it or you’ll smell like a tree. —Y/N”

Underneath was a doodle of a tiny pine tree with a frowny face sat in the corner. He set it down, sat on the edge of the bed, and rubbed his hand over his face.

You were everywhere, quietly.

In the gym, reminding him to stretch after missions. In the kitchen, always placing the sugar on his side of the table. In the med bay, adjusting the light so it wouldn’t buzz when he sat under it. In the way Wanda handed him a book and said, “Y/N thought you’d like this one.”

You never called attention to any of it. Never asked for anything back.

And somehow, it all hit him right now, in the silence of his own damn room.

You weren’t just being kind.

You were being kind to him.

He leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. The balm sat next to him, untouched.

And suddenly, all he could think was: When did I start needing her?

Not just the medical part. Not just the stitches and the vitamins and the “take your painkillers or I’ll sedate you myself” threats.

But you.

All of it.

He grabbed the sticky note again, turning it over in his hand.

Then grabbed the balm, because yeah, maybe he did smell like a tree. But if it meant you’d still be hovering nearby tomorrow, clipboard in hand and eyes soft with concern?

He didn’t mind at all.

---

You were in the med bay, updating reports and reorganizing supplies. Calm, routine stuff. A protein bar sat on a napkin next to your tablet, but you hadn’t even taken a bite.

The team had been deployed on a perimeter sweep near Budapest—low threat, minimal risk. You hadn’t worried… until the comm crackled to life.

“Y/N.” It was Steve. His voice was tight. “We need med bay prepped. ETA fifteen minutes.”

You were already standing. “What happened?”

There was a pause. “Bucky’s hit. Left side. Took a hit shielding Nat from debris. We’ve stabilized him, but he’s not great.”

Not great.

Your stomach dropped. “Vitals?”

“Still with us. But you’ll need to dig deep.”

You were already moving. Vitals cart on, sterilizers heating, IVs prepped, and sutures laid out. You opened the drawer with the trauma shears and had to stop—both hands braced on the metal edge as your throat locked tight.

A cold rush of adrenaline prickled your skin.

He’s still with us.

But “not great” was a hell of a distance from okay.

You scrubbed your hands, twice, and blinked hard. A few tears fell anyway, streaking silently down your cheeks before you wiped them off and pulled your gloves on. No time for panic. No time for feelings.

You weren’t his person. But somewhere along the line, he’d become yours.

---

The rear ramp dropped. Tony hovered in with the stretcher as Sam helped guide it. Natasha’s jaw was set, her hands smeared with blood—his blood.

And there he was.

Unconscious. Pale. Lips slightly parted like he was stuck in a breath. His vibranium arm was twitching involuntarily.

You snapped into motion. “On the table—now. Hook up the monitor. Nat, give me the full report while I—damn it, someone get this vest off.”

Natasha rattled off the damage as you cut open the combat suit. Shrapnel through the lower left ribs. Vascular trauma. Debris burn across the shoulder. One lung likely bruised.

“Vitals are dropping,” Steve muttered. “Y/N—”

“I know.” You clamped gauze to the worst bleeder, then barked, “Steve, scrub in or get out.”

The room cleared fast.

You didn’t notice your hands trembling until you felt the blood pooling under your glove, hot and sticky. You dug in anyway.

---

He was stable. Bandaged and hooked up to monitors. His chest rising and falling, slower now. Normal. You sat beside him, stripped of your gloves and gown, hands raw from scrubbing, and eyes blurry.

You hadn’t left. Hours had passed. Everyone else had, but not you.

“You okay?” His voice rasped through the quiet.

You startled, looking up—Bucky’s eyes were half-lidded but open, watching you.

You sniffed, tried to smile. “You’re awake.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” You exhaled, shoulders dropping. He blinked slowly. “Your eyes are red.”

You rubbed your sleeve across your face. “Long day.”

His brow furrowed. “Y/N.”

“I’m fine.”

“You were crying.”

“No, I—”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, low but steady. His vibranium arm, clumsy but precise, reached up and caught your hand. Gently tugged.

You tried to resist, just a little.

“C’mere.”

You let him pull you. One second you were sitting stiffly in the chair, the next you were curled against his good side, your forehead tucked under his jaw, cheek pressed to the edge of his shoulder.

He held you. A warm, real, heartbeat under your ear.

“I told you not to be a hero,” you whispered into his collar.

“Wasn’t trying to be. Just saw Nat about to get flattened.”

“You took a rebar to the ribs, Barnes.”

“Still breathing, aren’t I?”

You let out a weak laugh—half sob, half laugh. His hand came up and cradled your head gently before he pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I’m okay.”

“You weren’t,” you said, voice cracking. “Not for a while. You weren’t.”

His hand never stopped stroking your hair. “But I am now. Because you’re here.”

You gripped his shirt harder, hiding your face. “Don’t do that again.”

He didn’t say anything. Just held you closer. And for the first time in hours—maybe longer—you finally let yourself fall apart. And he didn’t let go.

---

The med bay was quieter than usual.

Bucky was sitting up now, monitors off, bandages fresh. He’d been cleared for light movement earlier that morning, and now he sat on the edge of the bed, tugging awkwardly at the edge of his hospital tee like it was itching.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him. “Looks like you’re getting ready to make a break for it,” you said lightly.

He looked up, lips twitching. “If I had my boots, I might try.”

“You’d make it about ten feet before collapsing.”

“Worth it.”

You pushed off the frame, stepping into the room. There was a new cup of tea in your hand—same chipped mug, same two sugars. You set it down beside him on the table without a word.

Bucky stared at it for a second, then up at you. “I’m getting the feeling you’re trying to fatten me up,” he said.

You shrugged. “Easier target.”

That earned a quiet laugh. He picked up the mug and sipped, but his gaze didn’t leave you. “You didn’t sleep,” he said after a beat.

You blinked. “I did.”

He gave you a look. “Y/N.”

You sighed. “Okay, maybe not a lot.”

“You stayed with me. Again.”

“I always stay with patients.”

“No, you don’t.”

Silence. He set the mug down, slow and deliberate, and reached for your wrist—not fast, not demanding, just enough to make you stop retreating. You let him take your hand.

“I remember,” he said quietly. “When I woke up. You were crying.”

You swallowed. “You were bleeding out. I didn’t know if I was gonna lose you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I could’ve.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “But you didn’t.”

Your breath hitched. “I can’t lose you, Buck,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I can’t.”

He tugged gently, pulling you between his knees, one hand still cradling your fingers, the other resting lightly against your hip.

“You’re not gonna,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere. Not from you.”

Your eyes were glassy again. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“It is,” he said. “Now it is. Because this—” his vibranium hand tapped his chest, just above the fresh bandage “—hurts like hell. But not half as bad as seeing your face when I woke up.”

Your breath caught.

And then he leaned up, slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Your lips met his—warm, careful, steady. Like a promise being made in real time.

When you pulled back, your forehead stayed pressed to his. His eyes were half-lidded, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“You kiss all your patients?” he whispered.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Only the ones who try and disobey medical orders.”

He grinned, a little crooked. “I wasn’t gonna disobey.”

You arched a brow. “Liar.”

He kissed you again. This time a little firmer, more sure. And when you pulled away again, his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close.

“Stay a little longer?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

[kiritella]

Three for One

pairing; jake seresin x fem!reader

summary; Jake Seresin never planned on kids—until he fell for a woman who came with two. Now he’s fighting for something more than love: a place in their family.

word count; 7.9k (yikes)

warnings; jake is in his late-thirties in this one, a bit angsty but nothing big, domestic!jake, the daggers giving him a hard time, english is not my first language happy ending!!!

a/n; i've just started writing for jake but i can't stop lol, i also can't stop writing him as a softie, if you have any other concepts requests are open!! thank you for reading <3

masterlist

Jake Seresin never wanted kids. Not in the casual, maybe-one-day kind of way, but in the firm, I’ll-pass-on-the-whole-diaper-and-daycare-deal kind of way. He liked his life just fine the way it was—clean, uncomplicated, and blissfully quiet. He was content to play the role of the charming, overenthusiastic uncle who showed up twice a year with expensive gifts, got everyone riled up on sugar and bad jokes, and then peaced out before bedtime. It was perfect. No PTA meetings, no meltdowns over mismatched socks, and certainly no existential parenting panic at two a.m. He wasn’t built for the full-time responsibility of small, emotionally complex humans. That was for other people.

And yet—here he was.

It was eight in the damn morning. On a Sunday. He was sitting in a flimsy folding chair that might have been made of recycled soda cans, parked on the sidelines of a grassy field that was already too hot, too dusty, and too full of screaming parents. He sipped burnt coffee from a paper cup that was somehow both scalding and lukewarm. And next to him sat a fifteen-year-old girl with crossed arms, a withering stare, and the kind of quiet contempt usually reserved for people who talk during movies. Olive. Your daughter. She hadn’t said a word to him since they’d arrived—unless eye rolls counted as conversation, in which case they were having a spirited debate.

Jake shifted in his seat and dared a glance at her. She was scrolling on her phone, earbuds in, gaze flicking up occasionally just to make sure he didn’t get any bright ideas about speaking.

Right, he thought. Definitely would push me off a cliff if she thought she could get away with it.

Maybe he was being dramatic.

But maybe not.

After all, she had muttered “God help us” under her breath when he offered her a donut that morning. He was trying, damn it. He’d gotten up early, worn the team shirt (even though he didn’t know what sport this even was until last night), and brought snacks. Snacks! That had to count for something.

He sighed and looked back toward the field, where your son—Matthew—was running after the ball like his life depended on it. Jake smiled a little despite himself. The kid had hustle. Grit. And sure, maybe he hadn’t said more than three words to Jake all week, but he also hadn’t told him to go to hell. Yet.

Progress. Probably.

Jake leaned back, trying to ignore the way Olive turned slightly away from him, as like even their folding chairs touching might contaminate her. This wasn’t exactly the version of his life he’d pictured for himself.

And yet—he hadn’t thought about leaving once.

You met exactly a year ago. Jake swears the moment you walked into the Hard Deck—laughing at something your friend said, eyes scanning the room like you belonged there—his whole world shifted on its axis. By the time you made your way over and introduced yourself, it was already over for him. Completely and hopelessly gone.

The version of him that had once thrived on casual flings and a phone full of first names and vague memories? Dead on arrival. The guy who used to change numbers every few months just to keep things light, to make sure no one ever got too close—that guy hadn’t stood a chance the moment you smiled at him.

Jake didn’t fall often. But with you, he didn’t fall.

He plummeted.

He didn’t care that you were divorced, or that you came with two kids and a complicated past shaped by an ex-husband who barely remembered to call on birthdays, let alone show up. None of it scared him off. Because you were worth it. You were worth early mornings and cold bleachers, worth waking up at six a.m. just to watch your ten-year-old sprint in the wrong direction on the soccer field with mismatched socks and untied cleats. You were worth every withering stare and dramatic sigh your teenage daughter aimed his way, as if his very existence was a personal offense. You were worth the nights spent helping with school projects he didn’t understand, sitting through animated movies he didn’t care about, and learning how to braid hair badly but with genuine effort.

You were messy and real and grounded, and he had never wanted anything more.

He was in love with you—undeniably, irreversibly, the kind of love that settled into his bones and made everything before you feel like a half-lived life. Truly, madly, deeply. But even in the glow of that certainty, Jake understood something crystal clear: no matter how deeply you loved him back, it wouldn’t be enough if he couldn’t find a way into the hearts of your children. Sooner or later, that unspoken wall would become too heavy for even the strongest love to carry.

And he couldn’t let that happen.

Not when—for the first time in his life—he was certain he’d found someone worth becoming more for. Someone who made him want to be softer, better, different.

You were the one. And he was determined to prove it… not just to you, but to the two people who mattered most to you in the world.

"You did so well! That was a great game, sweetheart!" you beamed, pulling your son into a hug the second he was close enough—not caring that he was dripping with sweat, covered in mud, and tracking grass across your shoes. He grinned, breathless and proud, his cheeks flushed from the effort.

"Nice job, buddy," Jake added, clapping a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. "You were the only one who scored a goal out there."

He said it just loud enough for a few nearby parents to hear, smirking when a couple of them shot him thinly veiled looks of irritation. Was it petty? Maybe. But he was riding high on team spirit—and frankly, their kids had sucked a little.

To be fair, so had Matthew, but Jake wasn’t about to let accuracy cost him stepdad points.

"You're such a liar," Olive muttered under her breath, arms crossed and tone dripping with teenage disdain. "He almost scored for the other team more times than his own."

Jake raised an eyebrow but wisely said nothing.

"Honey, that’s enough," you said evenly, not missing a beat. Your voice was calm, practiced, the kind of tone that had been honed over years of parenting and wasn’t up for debate. "Why don’t you be helpful and take out the earbuds—maybe start folding the chairs?"

Olive sighed dramatically, like you'd asked her to lift a car instead of clean up after her own brother’s game. But she yanked out one earbud anyway and trudged toward the chairs, muttering something about child labor under her breath.

Jake watched the whole exchange with cautious admiration. You handled her like a pro—firm, loving, and entirely unshaken. Honestly? It was kind of hot.

“Thanks for coming, Jake!” Matthew grinned up at him, cheeks still pink from running, his voice full of that unfiltered, ten-year-old sincerity that made Jake’s chest tighten just a little. Then he turned and took off toward the car, eager to help his sister load up the gear.

Jake’s eyes lingered on him for a second longer than necessary, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t much—but it was something. A crack in the wall. A win.

“One down, one to go,” you teased beside him, slipping your hand into his just long enough to give it a squeeze and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

Jake turned his head, not fast enough to catch your lips, but just in time to catch the warmth still lingering in your smile before you walked away to help your kids.

And God help him—he felt like he’d just been handed a trophy.

[...]

“Who would've thought a fifteen-year-old would be your downfall?” Rooster laughed, clapping a heavy hand on Jake’s shoulder as he took a long sip of his beer. “Hangman, taken down by a teenager. It's almost poetic.”

Jake rolled his eyes, leaning back in the patio chair with a groan. “Wait until you meet her—then we can talk.”

Rooster smirked. “What’d you even do to make her hate your guts so much? Steal her charger? Eat the last slice of pizza?”

“Nothing!” Jake threw his hands up in defeat. “I’ve been on my best fucking behavior since day one. I’ve carried grocery bags, I’ve watched musicals, I sat through a three-hour cheer competition in a gym that smelled like feet. And the most I’ve gotten out of her—the most—was a stiff, one-armed side hug after I gave her Taylor Swift concert tickets for her birthday.”

Rooster nearly choked on his drink. “You gave her Eras Tour tickets and she hugged you like you were a tax auditor?”

Jake stared off into the distance, hollow. “Didn’t even make eye contact.”

Rooster whistled low. “Brutal. You’re in deep.”

Jake shook his head. “Deeper than I’ve ever been. And I can’t even bribe my way out of it.”

“And what are you gonna do?” Phoenix asked, raising an eyebrow over her drink as she leaned back in her chair.

Jake let out a sigh that came from somewhere deep in his soul. “I have no idea. None. But if I can’t get her to at least stop rolling her eyes and groaning every time I walk into the room, I can kiss my beautiful girlfriend goodbye.”

Phoenix smirked. “That dramatic, huh?”

Jake nodded grimly. “She doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. I walk in, she sighs like I just ruined her whole life. I say good morning, she looks at me like I’ve personally offended her entire bloodline.”

Phoenix snorted. “Yeah. That sounds about right for fifteen.”

“I’m fighting for my life out here,” Jake muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “And she’s winning.”

Phoenix leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Okay, so… maybe stop trying so hard.”

Jake blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” she said, shrugging. “Teenagers can smell desperation from a mile away. If you’re going in guns blazing with snacks and fake enthusiasm, she’s gonna see right through you. Ease off. Give her space.”

“She has space,” Jake argued. “She has an entire closed door between us at all times.”

Rooster laughed. “That’s not space, man. That’s a fortress.”

Phoenix smirked. “Which you’re not getting into by showing up with concert tickets and forced smiles. You need to stop trying to impress her and start trying to understand her.”

Jake slumped in his chair. “I don’t even speak teenager. She talks in memes and sarcasm. I tried asking her about school and she hit me with a ‘that’s crazy’ and walked away.”

Rooster raised his beer. “Classic.”

“Okay, what do you know about her?” Phoenix asked, cutting in more seriously now. “What does she like—besides Taylor Swift?”

Jake thought for a second. “Um. She likes… sketching. I’ve seen her doodling in a notebook. She listens to those true crime podcasts. And she watches these weird movies where no one smiles and everyone stares out windows a lot.”

“So she’s an artsy, brooding little gremlin,” Rooster said, nodding thoughtfully. “Got it.”

Phoenix rolled her eyes. “She’s fifteen. It’s basically a requirement.”

Jake tilted his head, something shifting behind his eyes. “She had a pencil in her bun the other day. I asked about it and she looked at me like I was interrupting a sacred ritual. But she didn’t roll her eyes. Just kind of… blinked. And then walked off.”

Phoenix grinned. “That’s not nothing. Find a way in through that—her art. Ask her about it without being weird or fake. Be curious, not performative.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You think she’ll talk to me if I ask about what she’s drawing?”

“She might,” Phoenix said. “Or she might grunt and leave the room. Either way, don’t take it personally. Just show up. Be consistent. Let her see you’re not going anywhere.”

Rooster leaned in. “And don’t try to be cool. You’re not.”

“Hey!” Jake protested.

“You’re Hangman, not ‘cool stepdad TikTok guy.’ Know your lane.”

Jake huffed a laugh, then shook his head. “You guys are the worst support group.”

Phoenix raised her glass. “And yet, here we are—saving your ass one reluctant teenager at a time.”

Jake smiled, just a little. “One day, if she ever stops sighing when I breathe, I’ll buy you both dinner.”

“I want steak,” Phoenix said.

“I want her to not call you cringe at the table,” Rooster added.

Jake leaned back and sighed. “God, I’m doomed.”

But there was a flicker of something behind the complaint. Hope, maybe. Determination.

Because maybe he was doomed.

But he was going to keep trying anyway.

[...]

Jake pushed the cart with one hand, the other resting comfortably on your lower back as you wandered down the cereal aisle. It was a lazy kind of Sunday afternoon, the store humming with the sound of rolling wheels, distant chatter, and the occasional beeping of price scanners. The fluorescents buzzed overhead, but you didn’t seem to notice, happily weighing two boxes of granola like the fate of the world depended on it.

“This one has flaxseed,” you said, holding up a box. “That’s supposed to be good for digestion, right?”

Jake leaned over to glance at it. “Sounds like it tastes like mulch.”

You laughed—warm, unbothered, familiar. The sound settled in his chest like something sacred. “It does. But Matthew likes it for some reason.”

Jake tossed the box into the cart with a dramatic sigh. “Of course he does. The child eats like a seventy-year-old yoga instructor.”

You snorted, nudging him with your hip. “He’s trying to be healthy.”

“Right,” Jake said, steering the cart around the corner. “And Olive only eats organic chicken and lives off sarcasm.”

You didn’t say anything right away, but you reached out and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. The simple gesture—casual, instinctive—hit him harder than he expected.

Jake glanced sideways at you as you pushed the cart together, and something in his chest gave a quiet, almost painful tug. The way your hair fell loosely down your back. The curve of your smile as you scanned a list on your phone. The comfort in how you moved beside him like he’d always been there.

This was your life—grocery runs, granola debates, two kids and a household full of routines he was slowly learning to fit into. It was ordinary and messy and sometimes chaotic.

And he wanted it. God, he wanted it.

He’d never imagined himself here—debating flaxseed cereal and comparing price-per-ounce on almond milk—but standing next to you, stealing a kiss near the end of aisle seven like it was nothing, Jake knew with stunning clarity:

He couldn’t lose this. He wouldn’t.

He’d take a hundred awkward side-hugs from Olive and sit through every chaotic soccer game Matthew played if it meant he could keep showing up next to you like this. Laughing in grocery stores. Holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re staring,” you said softly, eyes flicking up from your phone, amused.

Jake smiled, a little slower, a little softer. “I just like watching you do normal things.”

You tilted your head, skeptical. “Normal like… read cereal labels?”

“Exactly like that,” he said, pulling you a little closer by the cart. “You’re hot when you’re being responsible.” You laughed again, shaking your head as you continued down the aisle.

“Careful, Seresin. You keep talking like that, and I’ll make you do the budgeting next time.”

Jake chuckled, following after you, already reaching for the next item on your list.

And in his mind, he was already planning dinner for four.

[...]

Jake didn’t get much detail—just a rushed call from the school saying you’d been stuck dealing with a work emergency and couldn’t make it in time to pick up Olive. It was already past six, and her practice had ended twenty minutes ago. Without thinking, Jake had grabbed his keys and left his half-full grocery bags on the counter.

He didn’t even turn off the engine when he spotted her sitting on the curb outside the gym, arms crossed, hoodie pulled over her head, glaring at the pavement like it had personally offended her.

“Hey,” he called as he rolled the window down. “Sorry I’m late.”

She didn’t answer, just stood and yanked the car door open. Slammed it shut behind her like she was hoping it might shatter. Jake swallowed whatever sarcasm was on his tongue and pulled away from the curb.

The silence lasted a good two minutes.

“Do you want to grab something to eat on the way back?” he asked carefully, glancing at her. “I know your mom won’t be home for a bit."

“No.”

“Alright,” he said slowly, trying to keep his tone neutral. “You don’t have to bite my head off. I’m just trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for help,” Olive muttered, eyes fixed on her phone.

Jake’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Look, I get that I’m not your favorite person—”

“You’re not even a person to me,” she snapped, not looking up. “You’re just some guy my mom is dating who thinks buying popcorn and giving rides makes him part of the family.”

Jake exhaled hard through his nose. He made a sharp right and pulled over to the side of the road, throwing the truck into park with more force than necessary.

“What are you doing?” she asked, finally looking up.

“We’re not doing this passive-aggressive bullshit in the car,” he said flatly, turning to face her. “You don’t like me? Fine. But at least be honest about why instead of pretending I’m invisible.”

She blinked at him, stunned for a second, then shoved her phone into her hoodie pocket. “You want honesty? Okay.”

Jake raised his eyebrows, bracing himself.

“You’re not my father,” she said, her voice rising with each word. “You’re not even close. And you never will be. You can keep pretending like this happy family thing is gonna work, but it’s not. My dad doesn’t even care enough to call. He forgot my birthday. Again. So no, Jake, I don’t need another guy pretending to care when it’s convenient.”

The car went quiet, her words hanging in the air like smoke.

Jake blinked, stunned silent—not by her anger, but by the pain behind it. “Olive…” he started, but his voice caught.

She shook her head, eyes glossy now, but she blinked the tears away before they could fall. “Just drive.”

He wanted to say something—anything—but everything that came to mind felt like it would make things worse. So he shifted the truck back into gear and pulled away from the curb, the silence between them sharper than it had been before.

No more words. No music. Just the hum of the engine and the ache in his chest.

They didn’t mend things that night.

But for the first time, Jake saw the truth clearly. Olive wasn’t just angry—she was hurting. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fix it with concert tickets or car rides.

Not yet.

But he wasn't giving up.

You knew something was off the second Jake walked through the door. He didn’t say anything at first—just set his keys on the counter a little too quietly, slipped off his boots, and ran a hand through his hair like he was trying to ground himself.

“Thanks for picking her up,” you said gently, glancing up from the dinner you hadn’t touched. “I know that wasn’t ideal.”

“She’s safe,” he replied, voice low. “But… it wasn’t great.”

Your stomach twisted. “What happened?”

Jake leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh. “We had a fight. She… she said some stuff. I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve.”

You nodded slowly, trying to blink back the sting in your eyes. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Jake looked at you then, really looked at you. You weren’t crying, but you looked tired—bone tired. The kind of tired that didn’t come from work or errands, but from carrying too much for too long.

“She told me I’m not her father,” he said carefully.

“She’s right,” you whispered, pressing your lips together. “You’re not.”

The silence that followed wasn’t bitter. It was honest.

You turned away to busy yourself with clearing the dishes, even though they hadn’t been used. “You know… I didn’t expect my ex and I to stay friends. I didn’t even expect him to be particularly involved. We hadn’t loved each other in years, and ending it was mutual. We were better as two than we were as one.”

Jake stayed quiet, letting you speak.

“But I thought…” You swallowed. “I thought that at the very least, he’d show up for them. I thought no matter what happened between us, he’d still be their dad. And for a while, he was.”

You paused, gripping the edge of the counter like it might anchor you.

“And then one day, the calls stopped. The visits stopped. Olive made excuses for him for a while—said he was busy, said he forgot. But she knew. And Matthew… he still asks if they can call him at bedtime, like maybe tonight he’ll pick up. And every time he doesn’t, I have to lie through my teeth about why.”

Jake’s chest ached.

You finally turned to face him, arms crossed, but not in defiance—just holding yourself together. “Olive’s not mad at you, Jake. Not really. She’s mad at him. But you’re here, and he’s not. So she gives her anger somewhere to go.”

Jake moved toward you, slowly, giving you space to stop him if you needed to. You didn’t.

“I’m doing everything I can to keep them okay,” you said, voice cracking just enough. “But Olive grows colder every day, and Matthew still believes in people who have already left. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I can. Some days I feel like I’m failing them both.”

Jake didn’t say anything at first. Just closed the distance between you and gently pulled you into his arms.

You let yourself fall into him, your forehead resting against his chest, breathing in the calm that always seemed to follow him—even if it wavered sometimes.

“You’re not failing them,” he said softly, his voice vibrating through you.

“You’re doing everything they need, even when they don’t know how to ask for it.”

He paused, then added, “And I’m not going anywhere. Even if Olive wishes I would. Even if she never likes me. I’m still here.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself believe him for a moment. Letting yourself rest, even if just for tonight.

Because if nothing else, you didn’t have to carry it alone anymore.

The next morning passed in the kind of hush that only comes after a storm — not tense, exactly, just careful. Olive had emerged from her room wearing headphones, sunglasses, and the universal look of don’t talk to me unless it’s life or death. Matthew, in contrast, was chatty and barefoot, eating dry cereal out of a mug like it was popcorn.

Jake was at the stove, flipping pancakes with the kind of cautious determination of a man who hadn’t cooked for kids much but really didn’t want to mess it up. You leaned against the counter beside him, sipping coffee, giving him an amused but supportive look every time a pancake came out semi-round.

“Do I get a gold star if these are edible?” he muttered under his breath.

“You get two if no one cries before noon.”

“High stakes,” he said, flipping another one onto the plate.

From the table, Matthew asked, “Do I have to go to school today?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Yes. Nice try.”

Jake turned around with the pancake plate in hand. “Alright, team. Syrup's on the table. Who’s ready to pretend this is better than it looks?”

Matthew cheered and Olive rolled her eyes — but quieter this time, more out of habit than spite. She took a pancake, poured a little syrup, then sat down and picked at it.

You caught the glance she gave Jake — not warm, not soft, but not full of fire either. Neutral. Tired.

He didn’t expect anything. He just sat across from her and let the silence sit.

A few minutes passed before Olive spoke, voice low, eyes not leaving her plate.

“Sorry about yesterday.”

Jake blinked, surprised, but didn’t jump on it. “For what?” he asked gently.

She shrugged. “Being... a lot. I was mad. I still am. But you didn’t deserve all of it.”

He nodded slowly, meeting her halfway. “It’s okay. You’ve got every right to be mad. Just... for what it’s worth, I’m not trying to take anyone’s place. I’m just trying to be around. That’s it.”

Olive didn’t answer, but she didn’t flinch away either. She just nodded once and went back to eating.

Matthew, bless him, completely oblivious to the emotional breakthrough happening five feet away, asked, “Can we watch a movie tonight? The three of us?”

Jake glanced at you. You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, bud,” Jake said. “We can do that.”

The living room looked a little different when it was dimmed down and filled with soft lamplight and the sound of popcorn popping in the kitchen. The couch was a chaotic mess of mismatched blankets and pillows, a fortress cobbled together by Matthew earlier in the day, complete with a sign made from notebook paper that read: "Cuddle Zone: Entry Requires Snacks." Jake had laughed when he saw it, then took it as a personal challenge and returned from the kitchen with a bowl large enough to feed a small army.

Now, the three of you were curled up in the fortress, the movie halfway through, glowing on the screen in that bluish tint that makes everything else look soft and tired. Matthew had claimed the spot in the middle, legs sprawled across both your laps, his head resting on a cushion balanced between your shoulder and Jake’s arm.

You’d chosen a movie everyone had seen before—an old animated favorite, predictable and comforting. Something that didn’t ask too much of anyone.

Jake had come prepared. He didn’t try too hard, didn’t make any awkward jokes or commentary. He just sat, present and warm, occasionally handing Matthew more popcorn or brushing your knee lightly when he passed the bowl. He wasn’t filling the silence with effort. He was just… there.

And Olive was there too.

She sat curled on the far side of the couch, knees tucked under her, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, a quiet presence at the edge of the moment. She hadn't said much since dinner, but she hadn't disappeared back into her room either. She’d chosen to be here. That was something.

At one point, Matthew mumbled something about a plot hole in the movie and Jake leaned over, voice conspiratorial. “I mean, the main character is a singing raccoon. I think we passed logical realism a while ago.”

To your surprise, Olive gave a soft snort, barely audible. She caught herself almost immediately and looked down, as if embarrassed.

Jake didn’t push it. He just offered her the popcorn bowl wordlessly.

She took a handful.

It was small. Just a passing exchange. But you felt it—the shift. The subtle way the room warmed just a little more.

You glanced at Jake and found him already looking at you, his expression open and gentle. There was something in his eyes, something that looked like awe. Like peace. Like this. All of this—blankets and popcorn and one-word apologies and fifteen-year-old silence broken by reluctant laughter—it was everything.

Jake had never wanted kids.

But now? He couldn’t imagine not wanting this.

Not the clean, filtered version of family life. Not the perfect dinners or the Instagram-worthy moments. No—he wanted this. The complicated, messy, real-life version. The half-mended relationships, the learning curve, the quiet victories of a single laugh or a shared couch. He wanted every sigh, every sarcastic eye-roll, every awkward moment that came with loving people who didn’t owe him anything.

Because he loved you.

And whether Olive knew it yet or not… he was learning how to love her too. In her own time, in her own language.

The credits started to roll. Matthew blinked up at the screen, then yawned wide and dramatic like he’d just climbed Everest. “I’m not tired,” he said, his voice sleep-drenched.

“You’re literally falling asleep mid-sentence,” you said, brushing his hair back.

“Can I sleep on the couch?” he asked, already halfway curled into your side.

Jake smiled. “I’ll get the good blanket.”

As he stood and stepped toward the hall closet, Olive shifted slightly, pulling her knees up to her chest, her voice soft in the quiet.

“You don’t have to try so hard,” she said.

You looked over at her, surprised. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, not looking at you. “Jake. I know he’s trying. I just… I don’t want him to think he has to do all this just to make us like him.”

You studied her, your heart aching in that complex way only a mother’s heart can. “He doesn’t think that, baby. He’s doing it because he wants to. Because he cares.”

Olive didn’t say anything right away. But when Jake returned with the blanket and tucked it gently around Matthew, she didn’t pull away when his hand brushed hers.

And for the first time, she looked him in the eye and said, “Thanks.”

Just that. A single word. But it was a door cracked open.

Jake gave her a small nod. “Anytime.”

The house had finally settled.

Matthew had been carried to bed without so much as a protest, half-asleep and mumbling something about needing more popcorn next time. Olive had disappeared into her room without a word, not slamming the door this time, which you counted as a solid win. The movie was long over, the lights dimmed low, and the living room was scattered with the remains of a cozy night: blankets askew, half-full mugs of cocoa on the coffee table, and a trail of popcorn Jake kept crunching underfoot.

“Okay, seriously, how did he get it this everywhere?” Jake asked, stooping to pick a kernel out from between the couch cushions.

“He eats popcorn like a wild animal,” you said, amused as you folded one of the blankets. “It’s part of his charm.”

Jake gave you a look. “Charm, huh? That’s what we’re calling it.”

You tossed a pillow at him. He caught it easily, laughing as he dropped it back onto the couch and crossed the room toward you. His T-shirt was slightly wrinkled, his hair a little messy from where you’d run your fingers through it earlier, and he looked so completely at home it made something in your chest swell.

“You’re beautiful when you’re smug,” you said softly, reaching out to straighten the hem of his shirt just to have a reason to touch him.

Jake leaned in, resting his hands on your waist. “I’m always smug. Does that mean you think I’m always beautiful?”

You grinned. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

“Not fishing,” he said, dipping his head to kiss your cheek. “Just confirming what I already know.”

You laughed quietly, leaning into him, hands slipping beneath his shirt to press against his warm skin. He didn’t flinch or tease — just let out a long, contented breath and wrapped his arms around you like you were the thing grounding him.

There was something sacred in that moment. The late-night hush, the soft rustling of the house settling, the way your bodies fit together like you’d been built to find each other.

Neither of you noticed the hallway light shifting slightly.

Just down the corridor, Olive stood tucked in the shadows outside her bedroom door, barefoot and quiet, the glow from the living room casting long shadows on the floor. She hadn’t meant to spy. She’d gotten up to get water, headphones off for once, and she’d paused when she heard you laugh.

Not your mom-laugh — the one you used when someone spilled juice or told a corny joke. But the real one. The laugh that used to live in old photos and short-lived moments before things got complicated. The laugh that lit up your whole face.

And it wasn’t just that you were laughing.

It was him.

Jake had his arms around you like he didn’t want to be anywhere else. He was smiling into your neck, whispering something that made you swat at him half-heartedly, laughing again like the two of you were the only people in the world. You looked happy.

Not polite-happy. Not “holding-it-together” happy.

Just... happy.

Olive didn’t smile. But she didn’t look away, either. She stood there, quietly watching this version of you, one she didn’t get to see often. One she didn’t know if she even remembered.

And without knowing why, without even wanting to admit it yet, she started to understand something:

Maybe Jake wasn’t trying to take anything from her.

Maybe he was just giving something back to you.

Quietly, she turned and padded back into her room, the door clicking softly behind her.

In the living room, you leaned your forehead against Jake’s and whispered, “Thank you. For tonight. For all of it.”

His thumb traced lazy circles over your hip. “You don’t have to thank me. This is the best part of my day.”

“You say that even when we’re cleaning up popcorn at eleven-thirty at night.”

Jake kissed you again, slower this time. “Especially then.”

[...]

Jake glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see Olive roll her eyes —again— though this time, there was no venom behind it. Just the practiced exasperation of a teenager being forced into an uncool weekend plan.

“A bar,” she deadpanned, arms crossed, legs kicked up on the back of the front seat. “Seriously?”

Jake smirked, shifting lanes. “It’s not like I’m dropping you off at a biker dive in the middle of nowhere. The Hard Deck has food, good views, and I didn’t feel like cooking. Plus, your mom said she didn’t want you guys surviving off cereal and vending machine snacks while she’s stuck at work.”

“You say that like cereal isn’t an elite meal option,” Olive muttered.

“Reese’s Puffs and orange soda,” Matthew added from the back, proudly. “A classic.”

Jake shook his head, trying not to laugh. “Well, luckily for everyone involved, Penny makes real food. Burgers. Fries. That grilled cheese with the fancy bread you liked last time.”

“I did like that,” Olive said, almost to herself. Then: “Is Phoenix gonna be there?”

“She might be,” Jake said, glancing at her. “Why?”

“She sounds cool.”

Jake tried to hide the pleased smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, she is.”

There was a pause, just long enough to notice. Then Olive spoke again, her tone more curious than challenging. “So… how long have you known them? Phoenix. Rooster. The others.”

Jake blinked, surprised — but not wanting to spook her. “A while now. Since flight school, for some of them. Since Top Gun for most. The Navy’s big, but we all kind of circle back around eventually.”

“Are you all, like, best friends or whatever?” she asked, eyes fixed out the window.

Jake chuckled. “More like siblings. We love each other. We also want to strangle each other sometimes. Rooster leaves wet towels on the floor. Bob color-codes his spices. And Phoenix—well, she has this very charming way of calling me out in front of entire rooms full of people.”

Olive cracked a smile before she could stop herself. “So basically, she’s me.”

“Exactly,” Jake said, grinning. “You’d fit right in.”

Matthew leaned forward between the seats. “Do you fly with them all the time?”

“Not always, but when we’re all stationed together like now, yeah. We train together, run drills. And when we’re lucky, we just sit around Penny’s bar and talk about nothing.”

“That sounds kinda boring,” Matthew said.

“That’s because you’re ten and think ‘fun’ means screaming at soccer practice and losing socks at sleepovers.”

Matthew opened his mouth to object but then nodded. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair.”

They lapsed into an easy silence. The kind that didn’t need to be filled. Jake’s hands rested loosely on the wheel, the salt air drifting in through the open windows as they got closer to the beach. The radio played low in the background — some mellow '90s rock song that Matthew was humming tunelessly along with.

Then Olive spoke again.

“Why’d you even say yes to all this?” she asked, and Jake turned his head slightly.

“To lunch?”

“To… us,” she clarified, not looking at him but not bristling either. “Me. Matthew. All of it. You didn’t sign up for any of this.”

Jake took a moment. He didn’t want to brush it off or make a joke. He owed her more than that.

“I didn’t plan for it,” he said honestly. “I never thought I’d end up in a relationship that came with two extra humans and a whole built-in chaos package. But I met your mom… and suddenly, everything I thought I didn’t want didn’t matter anymore.”

Olive finally turned to look at him. Her expression wasn’t skeptical. Just thoughtful.

Jake smiled, eyes flicking between the road and the mirror. “You and your brother? You’re not some inconvenience I’m putting up with. You’re part of the deal. And not in a bad way.”

Matthew piped up again. “Does that mean I get to be your copilot when you fly?”

“Absolutely not,” Jake said instantly, laughing. “You’d eject us just for fun.”

“I would,” Matthew agreed proudly.

Olive let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You guys are such idiots.”

Jake didn’t miss the warmth in her voice. The ease. It wasn’t a truce, not quite. But it was something better.

It was normal.

When they pulled into the Hard Deck lot and she unbuckled her seatbelt, Olive paused, hand on the door handle.

“I liked talking like that,” she said quietly. “Don’t make it weird.”

Jake gave her a soft smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She nodded, then opened the door and got out.

Matthew immediately shouted, “LAST ONE TO THE DOOR’S A ROTTEN BURRITO,” and took off sprinting.

Jake followed at a slower pace, the sun warm on his back and something lighter in his chest than he’d felt in weeks.

Progress.

The minute they walked into the Hard Deck, the scent of salt and fried food hit them like a wave—along with the sound of jukebox music, clinking glasses, and the easy, familiar laughter of the Dagger Squad. They were already gathered around their usual corner table by the open windows, nursing cold drinks and arguing over a pool game that had clearly gotten personal.

“There he is!” Rooster called out, tipping his sunglasses down his nose to get a better look. “Look who finally showed up with his entourage.”

Jake shot him a look. “Try not to scare them off in the first ten seconds, Bradshaw.”

Rooster put both hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m charming. Kids love me.”

“Bold of you to assume,” Phoenix said, leaning back in her chair. “Remember your goddaughter cried every time you looked at her for the first six months?”

“She had a very expressive face. I don’t think that was about me.”

Jake glanced sideways at Olive, gauging her reaction. She was standing just a half-step behind him, arms crossed, doing her best unimpressed-teenager impression. But her eyes flicked from face to face, quietly taking everyone in.

Matthew, meanwhile, had already made himself at home.

“Whoa, is that a real fighter pilot?” he whispered loudly to Jake, pointing at Payback as if he were spotting a celebrity in the wild.

Payback grinned. “Guilty.”

“You look like a superhero.”

Jake muttered under his breath, “Hey, I'm also a fighter pilot. And don't feed his ego,” but Payback was already puffing out his chest and striking a mock pose.

“You hear that, Phoenix? Superhero.”

“You fly like a sidekick.”

The laughter that followed was easy, unforced. Jake nudged the kids toward the table. “Everyone, this is Matthew and Olive,” he said. “Be cool.”

“Define ‘cool,’” Fanboy said, eyes twinkling.

Jake gave him a warning glance, but it was too late — Fanboy was already leaning across the table toward Olive. “So… what’s your favorite way to torment Hangman? We’re always looking for new ideas.”

Olive blinked, startled, and then — before she could stop herself — smirked. “Well. His taste in music is awful.”

“I knew it!” Phoenix slapped her hand on the table. “He tries to pretend he doesn’t listen to country on long flights, but I’ve seen the playlists.”

“You made one called ‘Maverick Would Hate This,’” Rooster added, laughing.

“I never claimed to be perfect,” Jake said, deadpan.

“Yeah, well,” Olive said, sliding into a seat with a little more ease now. “Neither did we.”

Jake met your daughter’s eyes — and saw it. That spark of dry humor. The subtle shift. The door staying open, just a little wider than before.

He smiled and slid in beside her.

Matthew had launched into a full monologue about his soccer team and how he definitely would’ve scored a goal last week if the referee hadn’t been “so obviously blind.” Bob listened like it was breaking news, nodding thoughtfully and asking follow-up questions like he was analyzing game tape.

“You’re gonna love Bob,” Jake said under his breath to Olive, handing her a menu. “He’s quiet, but he’s the smartest one here.”

“You say that like it’s hard to believe.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You trying to roast me in front of my friends?”

Olive didn’t smile exactly — but there was something dangerously close to it tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe.”

Phoenix raised her glass from across the table. “To Jake’s teenage nemesis. You’re already my favorite.”

Jake groaned. “God help me.”

But he was glowing. Everyone could see it.

And Olive, tucked between the teasing and the fries and the general chaos of fighter pilots acting like children, finally looked like she belonged — not just as your daughter, but as part of this.

Part of his world.

Everything was finally settling in. Then his orders came.

The tarmac was already humming with motion by the time you pulled up.

Waves of heat shimmered up off the concrete as the carrier loomed in the distance, the size of it enough to make Matthew’s eyes go wide. Planes gleamed in the morning sun, crews moving with swift, practiced efficiency. Everything smelled like metal, jet fuel, and goodbye.

You stood next to Jake near the open trunk of Rooster’s truck, your hand curled tightly around his. The duffel bag at his feet was heavy — so was the silence.

This wasn’t the first time he’d deployed. He was built for this life, raised for it, molded by it.

But this was the first time he was leaving you.

The first time he was leaving them.

And it felt different. It felt real.

You glanced to your left. Matthew was trailing a few feet behind, eyes locked on the nearby jet being prepped, quietly awestruck. But Olive was still near the car, arms folded, face pulled into that careful blankness she’d been perfecting since the day Jake told her about the assignment.

She’s come, though. That meant something.

Jake glanced down at you, brows drawn. “You okay?”

“No,” you said honestly, because there was no point pretending now. “But I will be.”

He nodded once and leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering a moment longer than usual. “You’ll hear from me as soon as I can write. I swear.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You forced a small smile, one hand slipping into the pocket of his flight suit, needing just another second of closeness before it was taken from you.

Then Matthew bounded up beside him. “Hey, Jake?”

Jake turned, crouching to his level. “Yeah, bud?”

“Can I still be in charge of bug killing while you’re gone?”

Jake grinned, eyes shining. “You’re my first choice.”

“And can we—” Matthew hesitated, glancing at you for a second before continuing. “Can we call you sometimes? Even just to say hi?”

Jake’s voice cracked just slightly when he answered. “If I get one of those calls, that’ll be the best part of my day.”

You tousled Matthew’s hair as he nodded and wandered back, already chattering about planes to Rooster nearby. Jake exhaled and reached down for his bag.

“It's time.”

But then—

“Jake!”

His whole body stilled. You turned.

And there she was.

Olive had moved before she even realized it — now jogging across the tarmac, ponytail bouncing, Converse slapping against the pavement. Her face was twisted in something caught between panic and fury, tears brimming and very much not contained.

She didn’t stop until she reached him, and then she threw her arms around his waist so tightly it knocked the breath out of him.

Jake froze for half a second — stunned — and then wrapped his arms around her just as fiercely. His eyes slid shut, his chin dropped to her shoulder.

“Be careful,” Olive mumbled into the fabric of his flight suit, her voice cracking. “I mean it. You have to come back.”

Jake’s hand rose, gentle, to the back of her head. His voice was low and uneven. “I will, kid. I swear.”

“I’m not a kid,” she shot back, tears slipping past her lashes, “but I will not be okay if you don’t come back. So you better.”

He gave a small, choked laugh. “Deal.”

You blinked through tears as you watched them, that hug — tight and trembling — undoing every ounce of distance she’d tried to keep between them for so long. No performance, no pretense. Just a girl scared to lose someone she never meant to love, and a man terrified to leave behind the family he never thought he’d have.

When Olive finally stepped back, her cheeks were wet and she immediately wiped at them with her sleeves. “If you die, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Jake laughed, raw and real. “That’s fair.”

Rooster called his name then — a signal, one final warning. Jake slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to you. Your arms were already around his neck, holding on like he was a lifeline.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you more,” he said. “Take care of them for me.”

You kissed him like it had to last you six months. Because it did.

And then he stepped away.

He didn’t look back.

Not because he didn’t want to — but because if he did, he might not be able to keep walking.

The three of you stood there on the tarmac, shoulder to shoulder, watching him disappear toward the carrier — a green figure swallowed up by steel and sky.

Matthew took your hand.

Olive took the other.

And even with the ache in your chest, you smiled.

Because for the first time in a long time, it truly felt like family.

[kiritella]

The Pilot’s Private Song.

pairing; Jake Seresin x wife!reader

summary; How each member of the Dagger Squad found out Jake's been married for over a decade.

word count; 3.6k

warnings: nothing. established relationship, secret/private marriage, found family, fluff, all good stuff.

a/n; i am a SUCKER for a secret relationship trope. this concept is so cute i want to write a hundred different pieces about it. also, if you're reading my jake series, next part should be up tomorrow :))

masterlist

A year after the Uranium mission, the aviators once known as the Dagger Squad were summoned back to Miramar. Expecting another top-secret assignment, they were instead offered something unexpected: a chance to stay on at Top Gun indefinitely. Their answer was almost immediate—a resounding yes, with an enthusiastic "hell yes" from Fanboy.

But when they arrived, one thing was clear: Jake hadn't accepted the offer yet.

"Can't believe Hangman's playing hard to get with Admiral Simpson," Phoenix muttered, eyeing the empty spot where he should’ve been.

"Bet that promotion to Lieutenant Commander already went to his head," Rooster quipped.

"If you’re talking about Jake, he’s coming," Maverick said. "He just asked to report in on Monday."

He left the room without another word. The Daggers exchanged looks, then shrugged. It was Jake, after all—he probably just wanted to make an entrance, with nothing but his damn ego walking through the door first.

When Monday rolled around, he strolled in with that trademark smirk and a swagger only he could pull off. Annoying? Absolutely. Eye-roll inducing? Without question. Missed? More than anyone was willing to admit.

“Be honest—did you tear up a little when you thought I wasn’t coming back?”

Bob and Phoenix.

Bob had a thing for those absurdly healthy smoothies from a place called Erewhon. Overpriced, organic, and influencer-approved—it was his guilty pleasure. Naturally, it wasn’t long before he dragged his favorite front-seater into it.

“What the hell is a Hailey Bieber Strawberry Glaze Skin Smoothie, and why does it cost twenty bucks?”

The line was a nightmare—packed with people who all looked like they drove Teslas, had just come from Pilates, or were on their way to pitch a startup to their fiancée’s hedge fund bros.

Phoenix couldn’t quite figure out what Bob saw in these overpriced green sludge drinks, but she was usually down to try something new, even if her wallet cried a little every time.

“I don’t really get the hype either, but my husband’s obsessed,” You said with a shrug. “If it’s your first time, I’d go with something simple—maybe the pitaya, or the post-workout one is solid too. You look like you work out.”

They startled slightly when you turned around, smiling and introducing yourself after your unsolicited smoothie rant.

“I’ll take your advice—I’m Natasha,” Phoenix said, shaking your hand. It was only then that you noticed the massive emerald-cut ring on her finger, catching the light like it knew it was expensive. Bob followed with a shy introduction, a soft blush creeping into his cheeks.

Sticking to your word, you went ahead and ordered the absurdly named Hailey Bieber Strawberry Glaze Skin Smoothie, along with a few other things. Once you paid, you turned back to them with a grin.

“If you’re free, my husband’s just parking the car—want to sit and chat for a bit?”

“Oh, we’d love to,” Phoenix said, “but we’re running late for a few apartment showings—this line took forever. But we should exchange numbers, maybe grab lunch sometime?”

“I’d love that! We actually just moved here, so it’d be nice to make some friends.” Your smile didn’t waver; wide, bright, and straight out of a movie scene.

After saying your goodbyes, you grabbed your order and stepped out of the line, letting them move forward. With one last wave—bright, effortless—you pushed through the door and disappeared into the sunlight.

Phoenix turned back to the cashier, halfway through her order, when her gaze drifted to the large front window—and froze.

"Holy shit."

Bob instinctively looked where she was staring, and his brows shot up so high they nearly vanished into his hairline.

Jake Seresin was outside, casually leaning against a matte black Jeep Wrangler like he belonged in a magazine ad. Arms crossed, aviators in place, his flight jacket unzipped just enough to hint at the crisp white tee underneath. That usual cocky smirk was on his face—or at least, they thought it was.

But it wasn’t a smirk.

It was a smile—wide, open, and so bright it looked like it had cracked straight through his usual armor. Jake Seresin was glowing. Radiant. Practically lit from within.

And then they saw why.

You stepped out into the sunlight, heading straight for him, holding that ridiculous Hailey Bieber smoothie like it was a gold medal. Jake’s face lit up even more. He threw his head back and laughed, his whole body moving with it—unrestrained, joyful, real.

Then he reached for you, pulling you into his arms with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times. One hand at your waist, the other settling on the small of your back, fitting you against him like you belonged there.

Phoenix’s jaw dropped slightly. Bob just stared.

Jake lifted his sunglasses, pushing them up onto his head, and looked down at you like you hung the stars. The softest expression they had ever seen on his face—like the man didn’t know how to look away. You said something that made him laugh again, and you handed him the smoothie like it was some inside joke.

They must have been staring too long. Jake’s head turned slightly—just enough to catch them in the reflection.

His eyes found theirs through the glass. For a split second, something flickered across his face.

Surprise. Panic. Maybe even guilt. Just enough to register—before he shoved it back down and straightened up, as if nothing had happened.

He opened your door and helped you in, careful not to jostle the armful of overpriced smoothies and whatever else you’d picked up. Then he turned back toward the window, his eyes meeting theirs once more.

A subtle nod. Barely there. But it carried weight—an unspoken request.

Not for secrecy exactly, but something quieter. A plea to let it be. To pretend they hadn’t just seen past Hangman… and caught a glimpse of Jake.

Phoenix and Bob exchanged a long look, sipping their drinks in stunned silence as they tried to process what they’d just witnessed. It was easy to box Jake in as the poster boy for cockiness—the walking embodiment of swagger and ego—but deep down, they’d always suspected there was more.

More to him than the sharp one-liners and smug grins. More than the call sign.

And now, they’d seen it.

Guess this was it.

The next day, Jake showed up with his usual swagger, every step as self-assured as ever. But his eyes—sharp, watchful—carried a flicker of guardedness. It was subtle, the kind of thing only Phoenix and Bob would pick up on.

“Hey, Strawberry Glaze,” Phoenix said casually.

She could’ve let it slide—pretended like nothing had happened—but she couldn’t resist poking at him just a little. Jake shot her a look sharp enough to make most people flinch.

She just laughed.

The words had been soft, low enough that no one else could hear. And the smile she gave him—amused, knowing, a little smug—said it all:

Your secret’s safe with me.

2. Bradley.

Bradley hated shopping. He wasn’t good at it—never had been. He took forever to decide what he liked, forgot to write down what he actually needed, and always left the store with random things and none of the essentials.

This time, though, he had a mission: crockery. At the moment, he owned exactly two plates and three mismatched forks. And if he was serious about settling down here, it was probably time to get his shit together.

Normally, he’d drag Nat along—not because she was a woman and supposedly knew about this stuff, but because she was mean enough to keep him on task. She had no patience for his two-hour deep dives in the mug aisle, where he’d examine every single one before deciding he didn’t like any of them.

But Nat had bailed on him, leaving him to fend for himself. Now he was aimlessly wandering the store, eyeing every dinnerware set like it might reveal the meaning of life, tossing random items into the trolley with no real plan—just vibes and mild confusion.

Ever the gossip, Bradley’s ears perked up at the sound of a laugh he knew far too well.

Hangman.

“Darlin’, if you put one more candle in the cart, I’m gonna start thinking you’re trying to burn the house down.”

“But Jake, smell this one—it’s amazing. And it says limited edition, so they won’t have it next time,” you replied, dropping not one, but two candles into the cart.

Bradley watched, stunned, as Jake didn’t even argue. He just shook his head with a helpless smile and kept pushing the cart like a man who knew resistance was pointless.

“I also saw this gorgeous botanical garden plate set online—we have to get it.”

“Whatever you want, doll,” Jake said, voice low and warm as he pressed a kiss to your temple and gave your hip a casual, affectionate tap.

Bradley was pretty sure his jaw hit the floor. He wasn’t stupid—and he definitely wasn’t blind. He saw the massive rock on your finger and the way Jake looked at you like you hung the stars.

Hangman, married?

The motherfucker was married.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Bradley had always assumed Jake Seresin was the type who’d never settle down—too cocky, too stubborn, too Hangman. Honestly, he’d half-expected the guy to grow old alone, flirting with waitresses and arguing with air traffic control until the bitter end. Harsh? Maybe. But Jake had never given them any reason to believe otherwise.

Yet here he was—married, domesticated, and currently letting his wife toss candles and dinner plates into the cart like she owned the place. And judging by the look on his face, she did.

The man Bradley was low-key stalking from behind a shelf of overpriced wine glasses wasn’t the Hangman he knew from the skies. This wasn’t the ruthless, lone-wolf aviator who treated teamwork like a contagious disease and would rather eat glass than back down in a briefing.

No—this Jake looked… soft. Happy. In love.

And it was messing with everything Bradley thought he knew.

He ducked behind the endcap as you turned down the next aisle, nearly knocking over a pyramid of mason jars in the process. This wasn’t eavesdropping, he told himself—it was reconnaissance. For team cohesion. For morale. For… reasons.

Jake Seresin, hopeless romantic and candle mule, was not something Bradley had mentally prepared for.

He peeked around the corner again just in time to see Jake reach for a throw blanket you were eyeing. Without hesitation, he tossed it into the cart. “Matches the couch, right?” he said.

“Exactly,” you beamed, and Bradley swore the corners of Jake’s mouth lifted in something dangerously close to a fond sigh.

Who was this man?

Bradley had spent years knowing Jake as a walking testosterone complex with aviators and a call sign, someone who’d charm the hell out of a bartender and then ghost her before the first date. The idea that this man—this patient, domesticated, grocery-hauling version of Jake—existed at all was blowing his mind.

And worse? He looked good at it. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to play husband in a West Elm ad.

Bradley finally backed away from the aisle, muttering to himself, “I need to go look at forks before I lose my grip on reality.”

Still, as he wandered toward the kitchen section, a weird feeling settled in his chest—part disbelief, part amusement… and maybe a little bit of envy. Not the kind that stings, exactly, but the kind that pokes at something you didn’t realize was hollow.

Because despite all his jokes, all his gripes about shopping and settling down, maybe there was a tiny part of him that wouldn’t mind someone tossing limited-edition candles in his cart, either.

But first, he really needed more than three forks.

3. Payback and Fanboy.

It was just past 7 a.m. when Fanboy and Payback jogged down the beach trail, sneakers thudding lightly against the packed sand. The sun had barely risen, casting a warm, golden glow over the shoreline, and the waves rolled in slow and steady, their rhythm soft and soothing beneath the buzz of gulls overhead.

It was the kind of morning that made you forget how exhausting the week had been.

“If Mav makes us watch one more hour of grainy debrief footage, I’m walking into the ocean,” Fanboy grumbled between breaths, arms swinging loose at his sides.

“You say that, but last time he caught you checking your phone, he added another hour to the session,” Payback replied, grinning.

“I’m just saying—death by drowning would be less painful than another slideshow.”

They rounded a gentle bend in the trail, where the dunes opened up to a more secluded stretch of beach. The tide had pulled back, leaving wide, smooth patches of sand dotted with seashells and a few early footprints.

Payback slowed, frowning. “Wait. Who’s already out here?”

A large cream-colored blanket had been spread beneath a sun-bleached lifeguard stand. A wicker picnic basket sat off to one side, its lid open and lined with fabric. There were iced coffees, a brown paper bag, a small vase of wildflowers—wildflowers, at the beach—and two people.

One of them crouched near the cooler, pulling out what looked like a container of fruit. The other approached barefoot, holding two drinks, sleeves of a linen shirt rolled up to his elbows, light catching in his sandy hair.

Fanboy’s eyes narrowed. “Hold on a second…”

The barefoot man looked up—and grinned.

Jake Seresin.

Hangman.

Golden-boy aviator, squadroom shit-talker, human ego parade.

Except… something was different.

He stepped forward, took one of the iced coffees from your hand with a quiet thank-you, then leaned in and kissed your temple with the kind of easy, familiar affection that made both Fanboy and Payback freeze mid-stride.

Jake said something with a lazy smile and you laughed, the kind of laugh that came from your belly—bright, genuine, totally unfiltered. Then you plopped down on the blanket, legs curled underneath you, pulling a croissant from the paper bag as if you’d done this a hundred times.

And maybe you had.

Because Jake didn’t hesitate. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it behind you, just in case the blanket wasn’t enough cushion. Then he sank down beside you, stretching his legs long across the sand and casually slipping one arm around your waist.

Payback immediately ducked behind a nearby dune like he’d just witnessed a war crime. “Tell me I’m not seeing this.”

Fanboy crouched next to him, equally stunned. “What the hell is happening right now?”

Jake leaned back slightly, watching you unwrap something else—probably another baked good—and tilted his head, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. You fed him a bite without even looking, and he accepted it like it was second nature. Then he reached up and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m in shock,” Fanboy whispered. “He just tucked her hair behind her ear. That’s a boyfriend move.”

“That’s not a boyfriend move,” Payback muttered. “That’s a married guy move.”

Fanboy squinted. “Wait—zoom in. Look at her hand.”

A glint of metal caught the sunlight as you reached for your coffee. Simple but elegant. An emerald-cut diamond, gold band. The kind of ring that said permanence. The kind of ring that didn’t come off easily.

“Oh my God,” Payback breathed. “He’s married.”

Jake leaned back again, one hand lazily tracing circles along your knee while you showed him something on your phone. Whatever it was made him chuckle low in his chest, and he leaned in to kiss your cheek before setting the coffee down in the sand.

Fanboy was frozen, processing. “So Hangman—Hangman—sneaks off on weekends for romantic beach picnics… with his wife.”

“And we never knew.”

“I thought he lived off protein bars and sheer arrogance.”

“Same.”

You pulled something else from the basket—what looked like a floral plate set, one of those whimsical ones you’d find in a lifestyle magazine. Jake took it from you with care, set it between you, then reached for the wildflowers, adjusting the little vase so it wouldn’t tip over.

Fanboy stared. “He brought flowers.”

Payback shook his head. “He packed a goddamn centerpiece.”

They both crouched lower behind the dune, as if Jake might sense them. The only thing louder than the waves at that moment was the sound of their worldviews shattering.

Fanboy finally whispered, “Okay, but like… how dare he be this soft and not tell us?”

“We’re his squadmates. This is betrayal.”

“We were supposed to know before the blanket picnics started. There’s an order to these things.”

“I mean—what’s next? He gets a dog and starts doing couples yoga?”

Fanboy paused. “He would be good at couples yoga.”

Jake leaned back, hands behind his head, face turned up to the morning sun as you laid your head on his chest, sipping your drink and humming along to some song playing quietly from a speaker. You looked perfectly at ease, like this was your favorite part of the week.

Like he was.

“Okay,” Payback muttered. “We can’t tell anyone.”

“Agreed.”

“But also,” Fanboy added, eyes still wide, “we are absolutely never letting him live this down.”

“Obviously.”

They finally stood, dusting off their legs, still stunned but grinning. One last glance over their shoulders showed Jake pressing a kiss to the top of your head, like you were the only person on earth that mattered.

Hangman hadn’t just settled down.

He’d crash-landed into love, and apparently? He was thriving.

4. Javy (ten years ago)

The bar was thick with smoke and the smell of spilled beer, its low-ceilinged walls pulsating with neon light and the steady beat of a bass-heavy pop song. The air was warm and sticky, full of laughter, shouting, and the occasional off-key karaoke warble daring to take the stage. Jake leaned casually against the back wall, arms crossed, eyes never leaving the corner where you and your friends were holding court.

You were the heart of the group—laughing without restraint, glass in hand, your voice rising clear and confident above the din. Your friends egged each other on to the microphone, but you owned the room like it was yours, moving effortlessly through the crowd, radiating that kind of joy that was impossible not to notice. Jake’s gaze softened as he watched you—like you were a secret he had stumbled upon, the kind of thing you didn’t want to shout about but couldn’t stop looking at.

Javy, never one to let an opportunity for teasing pass, nudged Jake sharply. “You been staring at her all night, man. You planning to say something or just get a reputation as the creepy aviator?”

Jake barely glanced at him. “I’m just… watching.”

Javy smirked, shifting on his feet. “Right. Watching. She’s having fun—seems like she owns this place. You gonna sing or what? Or just keep mooning over her?”

Jake’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “I don’t sing.”

“Everyone sings at karaoke night. Even you.”

Before Jake could respond, you stood with your friend, grabbing the microphone like it was a lifeline. The opening notes of a popular pop song spilled through the speakers, and suddenly, the bar seemed to hush just enough to let your voice soar.

You sang with an easy confidence, playful yet sincere, the kind of performance that made people stop talking and just listen. Jake felt his breath hitch—the way you smiled at the crowd, the way you closed your eyes briefly on the high notes—it was like watching sunlight break through storm clouds.

Javy elbowed him hard. “Dude, you look like you’re about to pop the question right here, right now.”

Jake shot him a sharp look. “I just met my wife.”

The words slipped out quieter than intended, but Javy caught them all the same and grinned wider, clearly not buying it.

After your song ended, the room erupted into applause. You laughed, cheeks flushed, and caught Jake’s eyes from across the room. It was a brief glance, but electric—like a door quietly opening.

Jake made his way over, weaving through the small crowd until he was standing right beside you. “Hey,” he said, voice low and just above the music.

You smiled, a little breathless. “Hey.”

Jake nodded toward the microphone stand. “That was… impressive.”

You shrugged, flicking your hair back. “Well, I had a good duet partner.” You glanced at your friend and winked. “But it’s nice to have an audience.”

Jake laughed softly, eyes never leaving yours. “So, what’s your name?” You offered it to him, along with your hand to shake. “Jake,” he replied, taking it. His grip was firm but gentle, like he was trying to make sure you felt it. “And I’m supposed to be focused on training missions, but I can’t stop watching you.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that so? What’s more distracting—the music or me?”

He smiled, just a little crooked. “Definitely you.”

You laughed, and the sound was like a spark in the dim bar light. For a moment, it was just the two of you—no crowd, no noise, just the hum of a song fading out and the start of something new.

Javy sidled up, grinning. “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. But remember, Jake, if you break her heart, I’m coming for you.”

Jake’s grin turned serious. “I don’t plan on breaking anything.”

You looked up at him, feeling a flutter you hadn’t expected. “Good.”

[kiritella]

It makes me wonder if he cut it himself and just went with it 😂

i literally don’t understand why fuck ass bob bucky is so bad 😭😭 every other time he had longer hair it ate but it is STARVING in thunderbolts (until blowout bucky)

Girl idk either they had him looking like a peanut

[kiritella]

Okay, chapter 2 of The Storm Back Home is IN PROGRESS, I promise!!!

I’m actually a good way through it now so I hope to get it posted soon!

[kiritella]

WHY is BOB FLOYD on the JAKE SERESIN Tagssssss??? He’s everywhere 😭 we love Bob, we do, but please tag your fics properly peopleeeeee

I don’t wanna get excited about a new Jake fic only to be crushed that it’s just another Bob fic improperly tagged 🥺

[kiritella]

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader; Bless the Broken Road

Fandom- Top Gun: Maverick

Pairing- Jake x fem!reader

Summary- After moving to Fightertown, USA, you decide to go to The Hard Deck for a drink. It was the most highly recommended bar in town, so why not? And you run into a bit of a familiar face. Is there still a spark there? Or are you just going to end up with your heartbroken?

Notes- This is my first Top Gun fic and I haven’t written an x reader fic in literally like. 3 years 😭 so please bear with me with this one y’all. And yes I wrote this while having ‘Bless the Broken Road’ by Rascal Flatts on repeat (don't judge). Also! @/geminiwritten helped me come up with some ideas for this fic and helped to flesh a couple parts out, so go give her love cause it was actually her fics that gave me the want to delve back into this and they’re all amazing! (Thank you Bee you’re literally amazing! 🎉)

Warnings- lots of fluff with a sprinkle of angst (it’s barely there), Jake is very sweet to the reader, italics, some misunderstandings, not proofread we die like Goose

Word Count- 6805

You never thought you’d find yourself in Fightertown, USA. Yet here you were. When your mom moved out here for a job opportunity, she asked you to move with her. You agreed, thinking it would be easier just to be closer to your mom. Of course, you had your own space, just a small little apartment. And your job paid well enough, so you were comfortable.

But living in this town only reminded you of a past you thought you’d buried over a decade ago back in your little town in Texas. The past that you’d forced yourself to bury when a certain blond haired man left and just…didn’t come back. And no, he’s not dead. You knew that much at the very least.

Jake Seresin had been your boyfriend in high school. Junior year of high school, he asked you out to homecoming, all embarrassed. But genuine. And you’d fallen for those green eyes, so you said yes. And god was that year and a half the most magical of your life, for a high school relationship anyway.

And then he sprung on you that he was going to be joining the Navy. Of course, you weren’t going to demand he stays. He had expressed his interest in the past, but it was in passing when military recruiters had come to their high school during college fairs. But you both had a conversation about it. You both agreed that it would be easier if you weren’t officially together anymore when he left. Letting him focus on boot camp and so you wouldn’t be tied down, simple as that. Though, of course, it was far from simple.

So the day came that he left for boot camp. You cried, he hugged you and kissed you goodbye, saying he’d call as much as he could. And he did at first. But when he graduated from boot camp and got his first orders, the calls became almost nonexistent. You got updates through his parents when they knew things. But when they moved away a year after Jake’s first deployment, that whole ritual ended.

And that was years ago. You’d had a couple relationships in that span of time, but nothing that stuck. Nothing that felt like him.

You decided that tonight, you really needed to just relax. You’d been in San Diego for two months and hadn’t given yourself much of a break. Moving into your apartment, helping your mom move into her place, work. Finally, things didn’t feel so chaotic. And as much as you loved your mom, you were an adult. You needed to have some time to yourself.

So what better than to find a bar in town to go to on Google? When you typed in the searchbar, a place that had outstanding reviews called The Hard Deck popped up. Good service, nice atmosphere, and it was right on the beach. You took a quick 15 minute shower and got dressed in something super simple, not bothering with makeup before slipping out your door.

Luckily, the bar was only a 10 minute drive from your apartment building. When you got there, it was only 5:30 pm, but it already seemed like there were a good amount of people here.

You got out of your car and walked inside, looking around. It was certainly naval themed, and considering the amount of khaki uniforms and men and women wearing flight suits you could see? It was definitely popular with the people from the naval base here.

You squeeze your way towards the bar and lean against it, still taking in everything around you when an older woman came over to you from behind the bar. “Hi, hun. Can I get you started with something?” She asked.

“Surprise me.” You decided to say and she smiled, giving you a little wink. She disappeared and placed a beer in front of you. “Beer?”

“Best damn beer in town. Why so surprised?” “Most people take me for a wine drinker.” She looked you up and down as she smiled.

“And are you?”

“No, not really.”

She smiled wider. “I figured. What’s your name, hun? I’ve never seen you in here before.”

You gave her your name and shook her hand. “I just moved into town a couple months ago and figured it was time I got out of my apartment.”

“Well, welcome. I’m Penny. If anyone gives you any trouble or you need anything, you just give me a holler.”

You smiled and raised your beer to her. “I will. Thank you, Penny.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” She quickly moved to serve someone else at a different part of the bar. You already had a report with your bartender. You counted that as a personal win.

You slowly and quietly nursed your beer, taking in the aesthetic of the bar. It was nice and you could understand why it was so highly rated and recommended. It was cozy. There were plenty of booths and standing tables, not to mention a fair amount of space at the bar. And almost everyone who happened to bump into you threw out a quick and respectful “sorry ma’am” before moving on. So at least the people were enjoyable too. On one side of the bar, there were a couple pool tables and a dart board. Both of which currently had khaki clad men around them. Oh- and one woman.

Said woman seemed to have just won the game of pool. She cheered before turning to the one man that wasn’t in uniform, a man in an open Hawaiian shirt and a pretty impressive moustache, and threw both of her middle fingers up in his face. He looked wildly unimpressed while looking down at her while a man wearing aviator glasses just started laughing at the woman’s antics. You couldn’t help but stifle your own giggles too. They were amusing to say the least.

You kept glancing around before your eyes landed on a jukebox against one of the walls. You were surprised to even see one. The last time you’d seen one was when Jake had taken you to this little diner back in high school. It was a cute place and he’d insisted on dancing with you. You were embarrassed beyond belief, but you couldn’t help the way you smiled with the way he spun you around and held you close. Not to mention the women behind the counter thought you two were absolute sweethearts.

You blinked and shook your head. Why were you thinking about him? You were supposed to be trying to relax, not make your heart hurt over the one who got away. You were too busy just looking at the bartop to realize someone had sidled up next to you. He was going to call for Penny when someone nudged him fairly hard and it caused him to stumble in your direction.

And spill his drink directly into your lap.

You gasped as both drink and ice hit your legs, immediately soaking into the jeans you wore. “Oh shit!”

“Ah- damn. I’m sorry about that darlin’!” You noticed a bit of a southern drawl came out with that pet name. “Let me make it up to you and buy you a drink, on me.” And now you caught the sudden hint of flirtation.

“No, no, it’s alright. Just get me a couple napkins and we’ll call it ev-” you had glanced up for a second before having to do a double take at the man’s nameplate.

Seresin.

There was no fucking way.

Your head shot up to look at the man who’d just accidentally spilled what was left of his drink on you. And you met green eyes that, even after all this time, hadn’t changed.

“Jake..?”

Jake Seresin hadn’t changed much in the years since you’d seen him last. Though he wasn’t quite as lanky as he used to be was your first thought. But what were you expecting? He’s in the Navy. His blond hair was almost perfectly styled, probably regulation, not messy like you were used to. His facial features had become more defined now with age. Sharper nose, not so full of cheeks, a more chiseled jawline. And he had a playful smirk gracing said features. By God himself, Jake had somehow gotten a thousand times hotter and just waltzed back into your life as you were thinking about him.

That smirk on his face had fallen, however. He gazed at you with wide eyes before a more genuine expression took over his face and he said your name. God the way he said your name- okay! Pull yourself together, girl.

“Holy shit, is that really you?” And you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Hey Jakey. How you been?”

He made a face at you, raising an eyebrow. ‘You know I absolutely hate when anyone calls me that.”

“No. You hate when most people call you that. I was your exception.”

He gave a charming smile that made your heart flutter and ache at the same time. “Damn, it is so good to see you. Hold on.” He leaned his forearms on the bartop. “Pen, dear? Could we get some napkins over here? I accidentally spilled my drink on this fine young lady here.” He called.

Penny almost immediately was standing in front of you both, handing you napkins that you quietly thanked her for. At least this wasn’t one of your nicer outfits, just an old pair of jeans.

“You sure you didn’t do it on purpose, Hangman?” Penny asked, raising an eyebrow and setting her hands on her hips. Jake raised his hands up before you quickly jumped to his defense.

“Oh- no, Penny. It really was an accident.” With your reassurance, she nodded and moved away again before you looked back up at the man next to you. “Hangman?”

He chuckled a little and nodded. “I’m a pilot, it’s my callsign.”

You smiled a little wider. “You’re a pilot? Jake, that's amazing. I remember you talking about wanting to do that in high school.”

“Yep. I’m a fighter pilot in a squadron stationed right here in Fightertown.” He smiled and you couldn’t help but smile back. He was still so perfect to you. Just as easy to talk to as if no time had passed between the two of you. But that was also a huge elephant in the room that it seemed neither of you were ready to address. “That’s actually most of my squadron over there playing pool.”

Your gaze was redirected to the pool tables where you’d watched the woman flip off the tall man in the Hawaiian shirt. “That’s amazing Jake. I’m really happy for you.”

“Did you wanna meet them? Only if you're not busy of course. I wouldn’t want to just steal you away if you have plans.”

“No plans. I’d love to.” You smiled at the way he seemed to light up a little and gestured for you to follow him. He still seemed to be the Jake you knew back then. But you weren’t going to get your hopes up.

– – – – –

Catching up with Jake over this next week was practically magical. You got his new number and you texted when neither of you were working. You even told him that your mother was demanding to have him over for dinner soon so she could see him again, which he immediately said he’d love to..

And not to mention, he’d introduced you to his friend group, which quickly became your friend group too. You got names and callsigns, which confused you a bit. At least Bob would be easy to remember. Everyone had been extremely nice when meeting you. You and Natasha, being the only women in that group, immediately clicked and were fast friends.

Saturday, when they all had time off, you all were back at The Hard Deck. You all were squished into a booth together, chatting away while Jake was off grabbing another round of drinks for everyone.

“So. You still haven’t told us how you know Hangman.” Reuben said as you sat on the end of the bench, pressed to Natasha’s side.

“Well, he and I grew up in the same little town in Texas, so we’ve at least known of one another since we were little. But he and I actually dated for a while in high school.” You were smiling a little at the memory. No matter how much you tried to keep that buried, you couldn’t help but think about it. It was a fond time. And Jake coming back into your life had dug a lot of those feelings back up.

When you realized no one had made a comment, you looked up and looked around at everyone. Most everyone was looking at you like you were crazy, except Javy, who just had a knowing look in his eyes.

“What?”

“Well it’s just that Hangman can be a bit of di-” Mickey was saying when Reuben elbowed him, causing him to start whining and complaining.

“You talk like you might still be in love with him.” Bradley said from his spot across from you. You couldn’t help the way the heat seemed to rise to your face. Because he wasn’t wrong.

Jake was just…something else. You knew it was more than just nostalgia over your first love. It had always been more than that. No matter how hard you tried to move on when he basically disappeared from your life, you just couldn’t. Everything reminded you of him, especially back in Texas. And now he was here. The universe had given you the gift of having him back, you just didn’t want to push things. Sure, he still acted like that boy who was absolutely taken with you back in high school. But literal years had passed since then. It was like you were getting to know him all over again and you didn’t want to rush into something, if there was anything that was going to happen that was.

“Oh Jesus, you are.” Natasha groaning caught your attention again, confusing you even further by the pure distaste in her tone as she sipped from her beer. “You better watch yourself, girl.”

“Okay- there was a much gentler way to put that, Phee.” Bob said, looking at his pilot in slight disbelief. Natasha met his look with one of her own with her eyebrow raised.

“I am a girls girl and I am just trying to warn her.”

Bob sighed and turned to look at you with a kind smile. “I think what Phoenix is trying to say,” he shot his partner another look which she waved off a bit, before he looked back at you with another smile, “is that you should remember people can change. Especially in that kind of time.”

“I…realize that. Is there something about Jake I should know?” You asked, beyond confused.

“Well, he’s known for being a bit of a player.” Reuben put simply.

“Flirts with anything that has legs.” Bradley said, causing Mickey to nearly choke on his beer with laughter.

Now you were really confused. Sure, in high school, Jake was a bit of a flirt. He’s always been good looking and you knew that. He certainly knew it too. But he was far from a player. He’d been so dedicated to you while he was with you. He never even spared any other girl a glance. The only one he paid any attention to was you. It made you feel extremely secure in your relationship with him while you were together, to the point you never questioned him when he had told you he loved you. Because he didn’t just say it.

Had he really changed that much..? Now you were really starting to think things over. Was the way he’d been acting recently really him anymore? And it must have showed on your face because Javy nudged your foot under the table, getting you to look at him.

“Don’t overthink this. I’ve known Jake for a while now. Trust your gut.” He said with a smile. You smiled back when Reuben cleared his throat.

“Bar. He just sidled up next to a woman.” Everyone's attention immediately went to the bar since they were all nosy. Even Bob was watching from over his cup of peanuts. And sure enough, Jake was leaning against the bartop with a gorgeous woman standing next to him. They seemed to be talking, at least she was.

She was being so obviously showy to attempt to get his attention. You’d encountered enough of those kinds of people in your lifetime to see it from a mile away. And you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that struck you, tightening your grip on your beer bottle. But you had to remind yourself.

You and Jake were just friends reconnecting. You stopped being more when he left for boot camp. You had no room to feel jealous over a girl fawning over him. And touching his arm. And looking at him like she wanted all of him. Okay nope, you still felt jealous. And even felt a little sick to your stomach with dread. Because from what your new friends were saying, it was likely that he’d take this girl up on her forwardness.

But you saw Jake get the drinks from Penny, thank her, and then walk away from the girl, who looked offended by being blown off by him like that. You felt a sense of satisfaction at the upset look on her face. The entire squad was looking between each other in shock.

“Oh my god, did he just-” Bob looked between Natasha and Bradley.

Bradley was just as shocked as he looked at Natasha. “I think I’m dreaming. What just- OW! Phoenix what the hell, why’d you just kick my shin?!” He glared at the woman and she just smirked a little.

“Nope. You're not dreaming.”

“I hate you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at their antics. You found yourself feeling relief when he walked away. Maybe they were wrong. Or maybe they were right and he just wasn’t interested in this specific girl.

“See?”Javy’s voice drew your attention. “Told you not to overthink it.” And before you could question him about the knowing look on his face, Jake rejoined them at their booth.

“Beers all around. Ah- except for you, Baby on Board. I got you your normal Sprite, keep your glasses on.” Jake said. And you caught the deadpan look Bob shot him as he accepted his drink from Jake. You had seen his snide remarks a few times already in the couple of times you’d hung out around the Daggers in the past week. But you could tell he did it just to get a bit of a rise out of people, not to piss them off. At least you hoped it wasn’t.

You lightly hit his arm as he slid into the booth next to you. “Jakey, be nice.” You chided him lightly, the nickname falling from your lips naturally, just like it used to. He looked at you with dread written all over his face when the table started to snicker.

“Jakey?” Reuben asked and the whole table erupted in laughter. You swore you could see Jake’s ears actually go pink from embarrassment.

“Oh shut it, Payback.” Jake snapped, shooting you a little glare. But you could see there was no real malice behind it. There was almost a hint of fondness when he looked at you. Or maybe you just imagined that.

You just smiled and shrugged. “Whoops?”

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll never hear the end of this now.” You couldn’t help but laugh and Jake eventually laughed along with you, even if he still looked embarrassed.

But it seemed that Javy had other plans. He wasn’t going to let this topic of the woman at the bar go so easily. You all were laughing and talking when you heard Javy clear his throat, catching both your and Jake’s attention.

“So. Hangman. What was that whole thing with that woman at the bar?” Jake raised an eyebrow.

“Who? You mean the girl who was starting to get a little handsy?” You felt that pang of jealousy again just at the mention of her but shoved it down. “She’s just not my type.”

“Last I checked, everyone was your type.” Javy teased, only earning a chuckle from Jake. He didn’t deny it and that hurt a little. You glanced away and caught Phoenix’s eye, who was giving you a look that screamed I told you so. You were going to say something to her when Bob poked her in the side, getting her to jump. You thought you heard him tell her to lay off you and she started whisper-shouting at him. You swore, they bickered like an old married couple.

“Well, this girl wasn’t. I wasn’t interested in talking to her.”

“Like how you turned down that girl when you and I were here yesterday?” Javy prodded again and Jake rolled his eyes, just trying to blow it off. This only got Javy to chuckle. “Careful, Hangman. Keep turning down every girl like that and everyone will think you’re off the market and got a reason to turn them down.”

When Javy said that, Jake glanced your way and you met his eyes. And it felt like the air was stolen from your lungs. The way he was looking at you, like there was something there. The way his green eyes seemed to soften while looking at you. You felt your heart rate increase as you looked back at him, unable to breathe or look away.. There was no way this was how this went down, right?!

And then, the moment was over. He looked back at Javy with a casual smirk. “Come on. If I was off the market, you would’ve already known, Coyote. I’m still open to anyone.” And now it felt like your breath was gone, but in a completely different way. That one hurt. He must really not be interested anymore.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. I mean, you just had to look at him and his career. He was an attractive man, a part of a special squadron of elite fighter pilots, and excelling in his career. You should just feel happy that he’s back in your life as your friend.

…

You couldn’t help but want more though.

– – – – –

Jake

Jake couldn’t shake the way you had looked at him when Javy started pressing him. It had been two weeks since that conversation and he couldn’t shake it.

He had to be real with himself, he couldn’t shake any look you’d given him in the past three weeks since reuniting. He tried to play it off as he was just thrilled to have you back in his life. After so long apart, seeing you again? Having you around at almost all of his squads outings? It was like he completely shifted. His mood improved dramatically. Was he still egotistic and a bit of an asshole at work? Of course he was, when was he not? But he was just happier.

He also couldn’t deny how he felt whenever you stood between Reuben and Mickey as they argued over what was better, Star Wars or Star Trek, and laughed at their bickering. Or the way he felt whenever Bob nerded out to you over a book he was reading or a show he was watching and you listened, completely enraptured as he spoke. Or how he felt last night. When everyone had gone to The Hard Deck after work. And Bradley had dragged you from their booth, very begrudgingly he might say, to dance with him. And the way it made you laugh and your eyes light up when he spun you around.

That inherent feeling of jealousy.

But did he really have the room to feel that jealousy? It had been literally over a decade since he’d broken it off with you. And over a decade since he’d stopped calling. God, he was an idiot. Why would he ever think that you’d forgive him for that?

He had just gotten out of a shower when there was a knock on his apartment door. He looked at his phone and looked beyond confused. Who the hell was knocking on his door at almost 11 o’clock at night, on one of his nights off?

He threw on a pair of boxers and grey sweats, foregoing a shirt for now, when the person knocked again. “I’m comin’, keep your shirt on!” He opened the door and stared. “Coyote, what the hell are you doing here?” Javy pushed his way inside and Jake deadpanned. “No please, come inside, make yourself comfortable.”

The sarcasm was laced in his tone, but Javy did exactly that. He sat down on Jake’s couch as the door was shut. He leaned against the door and stared at his friend and before he could speak, Javy interrupted.

“When are you going to ask her out?” Jake was taken aback by that statement.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jake. I know you. I’ve known you for years now. I have never seen you act this way over a girl. Sure. Some girls you’d see more than once. But ever since she came onto the scene? You haven’t so much as looked at another girl. Everyone notices.”

Jake scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay? What’s your point?” He asked.

“My point?” Javy looked at him. “The Jake Seresin I know wouldn’t be afraid to flirt upfront with a girl. He wouldn’t hesitate to take that leap. But here you are, hesitating. You’re being subtle when she’s looking and practically making heart eyes when she’s not.”

Well, Jake had been found out. He expected Natasha or maybe even Bradley to catch on and piece things together. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Javy did, though.

“Well- it’s complicated, okay? We have a history.”

“That has never stopped you before.”

“Well this is different!” Jake huffed as he came over and sat next to him. “I hurt her because I was an idiot, okay? I told her I would call as much as I could and then I just…stopped. I was an idiot, I recognize that, so shut your mouth, Javy.” The other man’s mouth closed. “And I wouldn’t blame her if she never fully forgave me for it if she knew the full reason.”

Javy sighed and set a hand on his shoulder. “Listen. I get that you’re groveling over your past decisions? But you need to get over it.” Jake looked at him. This sounded like the worst pep talk ever. “Hear me out man.”

“I don’t have much faith.”

Javy rolled his eyes before continuing. “You were, what? 18, 19 at best? You were a stupid kid. I’m not asking you to give me all the details. What happened between you guys isn’t any of my business. But I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one is looking. I may have only known her for a few weeks, but she’s a lot like you in certain aspects, so I feel like I know her pretty well. She looks at you the way you look at her.”

Jake felt his heart speed up a little at that, before sighing. “Javy. My reasoning for what I did is beyond dumb. Who’s to say she won’t be mad and tell me to fuck off for it?”

“Well, then I think she’d be missing out. And isn’t it better to lay everything out on the table and have the possibility of not dating her, than keeping it in and you guys continuing to dance around each other?”

Jake sighed. He knew that was the right thing to do. He was just scared. And that wasn’t like him at all. Which only scared him even more. He didn’t want to lose you now that he had you back.

“I don’t know, man.”

“Listen. All I’m saying is the Jake I know wouldn’t run away from a fight or a challenge. And I can tell you love this girl. I see it in the way your eyes soften when she shows up at the bar. From the way you talk about her and look at her? I’d say she’s worth the risk.”

Javy saying that flipped a switch in him. He was right. You were worth every risk to him. He would risk anything and everything for you. And if he didn’t take this leap now, he never would.

He got up from the couch and went into his room, throwing on a white t-shirt and one of his brown flannels. He threw on a pair of boots and walked back out, grabbing his keys from their hook.

“Go get her, Jakey!” Javy called.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Would you prefer cowboy?” Jake only flipped him off as he exited his apartment and went down to his truck. It was now or never.

– – – – –

You

You were practically hanging off of your couch in your apartment’s living room, in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and an oversized sleep shirt. You had been having trouble sleeping recently, something you’d struggled with on and off since you were young. So you were trying to bore yourself to sleep by watching old reruns.

It was about a quarter past 11 when there was a knock on your door. You sighed and got up, answering the door and finding Jake standing there.

“Hey.” That was all he said and damnit, why did he have to say it so softly and make your heart swell?

“Hey. What’s up, is something wrong?” He looked almost upsettingly good at the moment, standing on your door. Hands shoved in his sweatpants pockets, the flannel he was wearing open to show the almost too tight white tee he was wearing. Was he trying to kill you?

“No. I’m okay. Did you wanna go for a drive?”

You rose an eyebrow. “Jake, it’s 11:30 at night.”

“Actually, it’s 23:22.”

“You smartass, you know what I mean! And quit it with military time.” He chuckled and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes flicked to his arms for a second before looking back up at him.

“Come on. Neither of us has work tomorrow, I can tell you can’t sleep. For old time’s sake.” He flashed that charming smile of his and you just couldn’t say no. It was hard to say no.

“Fine. Just let me get changed into something more suitable.” You let him come into your apartment before disappearing to your room. You traded the oversized shirt for a hoodie and threw on a pair of pajama pants, slipping on a pair of slip-on sneakers. You came back out to find him looking at a couple of your family pictures on the wall and smiling.

“Okay. I think I’m ready to go.” 

He turned to you and smiled, gesturing for you to follow. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

You grabbed your keys quickly and followed him out, locking your door behind him before going down to the parking lot.

“You still have this beat up old piece of crap?”

“Excuse you! It still drives just fine, so why mess with perfection?” Jake had been driving the same beat up Chevy pick up truck since she could remember.

“I’m just surprised this thing still runs.” You saw him shake his head and you could only assume he rolled his eyes at you. He opened the passenger side door for you and held his hand out to you, causing you to smile. “Oh what a gentleman.” 

“Course. I gotta be, darlin’.” The pet name and the feel of his hand holding yours caused your heart to flutter.

He helped you up into the truck and got into the driver seat, pulling out of the parking lot and starting to drive, the radio playing music quietly to fill the silence. You couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then. Seeing him dressed so casually rather than a flight suit or uniform was something to see. And his hair wasn’t perfectly done. It was messy and a bit unruly, but it looked good. He looked good.

“So. Where are you taking me?” You asked and he smiled a little.

“It’s a secret.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head before looking out the window. “Doesn’t this bring back memories?”

You turned back to him and smiled. “It’s a little different from Texas.”

He laughed softly. Truly, genuinely laughed. And your heart fluttered again at the sound. You were so done for. “Yeah, guess you're right. There’s a lot less flat fields. But you remember how I used to sneak you out of your window some nights, right?”

“Of course I remember. If I hadn’t trusted you, it would’ve been sketchy when you’d drive into the middle of nowhere.” You both laughed as one of his hands rested on the stick and the other held the wheel.

“Yeah, guess it could seem freaky. But it was so nice to just drive out and lay in the truckbed and watch the stars.”

“Is that what we’re doing now, Mr. Seresin?”

You saw him smiling in the light of passing streetlights. “Why, yes ma’am.” You couldn’t help but smile as well at his tone. He backed into a parking spot near the beach and looked at you. “Go get in the back.”

You climbed out of the truck and opened the tailgate, climbing into the back and sitting down. This section of beach didn’t have many lights, especially this late. So when you looked up, you could see the stars. Suddenly, you heard music. You realized that Jake had turned up the radio. The song that was playing was Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts.

“This song of all songs.” He laughed as he grabbed blankets he kept in the back seat and climbed up next to you, offering you the softer of the blankets.

“I used to play this song all the time whenever we’d go on drives.”

“Yeah, to the point it drove me insane.” You covered up with the blanket as he got settled next to you. “It does bring back a lot of memories though.”

“Good ones, I hope.” You looked at him, and he was watching you as you nodded.

“Yeah. Good ones.” You assured quietly and he smiled before you both looked up at the sky. It was quiet and luckily wasn’t too cold. A benefit of living in San Diego. The only sounds were of the radio and the waves crashing softly against the sand of the beach. The silence between you both seemed to hang heavy. That elephant in the room was getting a bit annoying.

“So I-”

“Jake, I-”

You both looked at each other and started laughing with how you both had tried talking at once. It seemed like such a cliche, but maybe a cliche wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Go ahead.”

“No, please. Lady’s first.” He insisted.

You smiled a little before you sighed. It was now or never. And not only did you want an answer. You felt like you deserved one. You’d been in the dark for long enough.

“Why did you stop calling?”

You kept your eyes on him, watching him sigh and look away from you. He rubbed scratched the back of his neck before looking at you.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I didn’t want to keep leaving you in the dark over it.”

“Well, I’m listening.”

It took him a few more moments of silence, seemingly trying to get his thoughts in order. “Because I didn’t think it was fair.” Before you could question him, he just kept talking. “We were broken up, sure. But we both knew that it wasn’t because we stopped loving each other. It was so it was easier on us and less distracting. But I got my first deployment orders so fast after boot camp and-” he sighed. “I didn’t want to be the person you were stuck on. I didn’t want to make you waste all this time waiting for us to happen again when it’s possible we never would have.

“And I know that sounds like me trying to excuse myself. I really am not trying to do that. I realized later down the line just how stupid that is. It’s not an excuse in the slightest. But it’s the only reason I’ve got.”

You were quiet for a bit as you took in his words. “Don’t you think I deserved to have a say in that? I was willing to wait.”

“I know you were. And of course, you deserved that choice. But I was a stupid kid who loved you so fiercely that I wanted what was best for you, even if that wasn’t me. I still do.”

You felt your heart leap into your throat as you looked at his side profile. The way his eyebrows were drawn together and his jaw was clenched as he leaned back on his hands. It was obvious he was frustrated with his past self’s decisions.

“Which part?”

“What?” He looked at you and he stopped, looking into your eyes.

“Which part? You still want what’s best for me or…you still love me?” You swore you heard his breath catch as you asked that question, also leaning back on your hands now. Your hand barely brushed his and it felt like sparks flew.

“Would it be selfish to say both?” His voice was quiet, as if he was afraid speaking too loud would break this fragile moment between the two of you. You felt his hand slowly rest over yours, making you let out a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“Yeah, it would. But what’s wrong with being a little selfish?” He smiled a little at your playful comment, gazing at you gently as he lightly squeezed your hand.

And before you knew it, he’d leaned in and kissed you. It felt brand new and like it was habit all at once. You closed your eyes and kissed him back. It was simple. There was no rush for either of you in that moment. His other hand came up and cradled the back of your neck to keep you close. You felt like you were drowning in the best way. Drowning in him. His taste, his touch, his scent. You never wanted it to end.

But you both did need to breathe. He pulled away and kept his hand on the back of your neck, pressing his forehead to yours. You both took deep breaths, just basking in each other’s warmth and presence.

“I am still helplessly in love with you. And I’m sorry I stopped calling.”

You shook your head. “I get why you did it. And don’t worry. I’m also still helplessly in love with you too, Jake.” He smiled and kissed you again. It was quick and simple, but god it was perfect. Everything was perfect about him. About this moment. Once he pulled away, you continued to speak. “Even if Nat tried her damndest to ward me away from you.”

Jake rolled his eyes as he looked at you. “Well, Phoenix can shove it. I’m just glad you didn’t listen to her.” You smiled and curled into his side. His arm wrapped around you, holding your waist to keep you pressed close to him.

“Nah don’t worry. I know you. You may have an even bigger ego now than you did back in the day. But you’re still my Jakey.” Your teasing tone made him roll his eyes, but both of you ended up laughing.

Once more, it was quiet again. The only sounds being the early 2000s country coming from his radio, the waves, and your breathing.

“You know.” You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe Flatts was onto something. ‘God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you’.” He was grinning like an idiot when he sang that line from the song in a low and playful tone, leaning down towards you.

You groaned and pushed his face away, causing him to bark out a laugh. “You are insufferable, Jake Seresin.”

“And you love me for it anyway, darlin’.”

You smiled and gently grabbed the collar of his flannel. “Damn right I do.” Before pulling him into another kiss that he happily reciprocated. Maybe he had a point.

And you were thanking whatever force was listening for leading you both back to each other.

END