Guyyyyys help
Im back on my Maggie/OA bullshit
Picking up where I left off on season 5!
I have 4? Seasons to catch up on this OTP and I’m pretty sure they still haven’t gotten together 🥺
Dick Wolf stays playing in our faces with these duos
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
AnasAbdin

Discoholic 🪩
occasionally subtle

@theartofmadeline
Misplaced Lens Cap

oozey mess

if i look back, i am lost
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
KIROKAZE
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ojovivo
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Janaina Medeiros

Love Begins
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

izzy's playlists!

JBB: An Artblog!

Kaledo Art
seen from Brazil

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Belgium

seen from France
seen from Uruguay

seen from Romania

seen from United States
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seen from United States
@astoryreader
Guyyyyys help
Im back on my Maggie/OA bullshit
Picking up where I left off on season 5!
I have 4? Seasons to catch up on this OTP and I’m pretty sure they still haven’t gotten together 🥺
Dick Wolf stays playing in our faces with these duos
So I’m catching up on 911 Lone Star and I feel so sad for what the writers put Judd through this final season.
They couldn’t have him be happy and well adjusted while his wife was on her mission, they had to make him a miserable alcoholic who’s not with his kid.
AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON CPTN TOMMY VEGA’s cancer diagnosis
Sucks
| SALT IN THE WOUND
word count: 12k (idk what happened, just go with it!)
contents: enemies to lovers, steve harrington x fem!reader, group beach trip, alcohol consumption, reader avoiding steve/feelings (so real) angst, angry love confession, smut, 18+ MDNI!
The car smelled like a mix of sunscreen, stale French fries, and the faintest hint of Robin’s strawberry shampoo. The summer air drifted in through the cracked windows, warm enough that it stuck to your skin, but not enough to justify the whining coming from the passenger seat.
“You drive like an old man,” you muttered, arms crossed as you glared at Steve’s profile.
His jaw flexed. “And you chew gum like a cow. Guess we all have our flaws.”
“Excuse me?” You turned fully toward him, mouth falling open.
“I said,” he repeated, voice smooth and infuriatingly calm, “that every single smack of your gum is making me want to drive this car straight into the ocean.”
Robin snorted from the back seat. “Play nice, children. We’ve got, what, three more hours of this? I don’t think Nancy’s cousin’s beach house comes with free therapy.”
“I am being nice,” you shot back, twisting around in your seat to face her. “I didn’t say anything about his tragic taste in music.”
“Hey!” Steve glanced at you, scandalized. “This mix is golden era, thank you very much.”
“Golden era of what? Bad decisions?” You jabbed a finger toward the cassette deck where REO Speedwagon was blaring like a soundtrack to your personal hell.
Robin leaned forward, “As much as I love a good lovers’ quarrel—”
“We’re not—” you both started at the same time, voices overlapping.
Eddie cut in, grinning. “—I vote we keep it going. Way more entertaining than the highway.”
Jonathan, driving the second car with Nancy, had made the smarter decision, splitting up the group so not everyone was trapped in the same vehicle. Of course, luck had cursed you into Steve Harrington’s passenger seat.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
By the time the convoy finally rolled into the driveway of the beach house, the sun was sinking low, streaking the sky in pinks and oranges. The house was perched just a short walk from the water, a sprawling two-story with a wide porch and weathered shutters. It should’ve been the kind of view that took your breath away—except Steve had beaten you to it.
“Finally,” he groaned, throwing the car into park like he was landing a plane. “I thought I was gonna have to listen to you complain until retirement.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” you snapped, unbuckling with more force than necessary. “I was pointing out your shortcomings.”
“Same thing.” He smirked, and you had to resist the violent urge to slam the door in his face.
Instead, you plastered on a sweet smile and turned toward the trunk, where everyone’s bags were stacked. Robin was already grabbing hers, Eddie juggling his guitar case, and you made a point of helping with Nancy and Jonathan’s things.
Steve’s bag? The one sitting right there, obnoxiously labeled with a dumb Harrington monogram patch? You breezed right past it.
“Uh, are you blind?” Steve’s voice came sharp from behind you. “Bag. Right there. Big one. With my initials on it.”
“Oh, weird. Didn’t see it,” you said, feigning innocence as you handed Nancy her duffel.
Steve narrowed his eyes. “You saw it.”
“Did I?” You tilted your head. “Must’ve been a hallucination.”
“Unbelievable.” He shoved past you, yanking his own bag out of the trunk with a muttered curse. The muscles in his arm flexed as he hoisted it onto his shoulder, and you hated yourself for noticing—even more than you hated him.
Inside, the beach house smelled like salt and sunscreen, the wooden floors worn smooth from years of sand-scuffed feet. Nancy gave the quick tour—living room with giant windows, a kitchen stocked with mismatched mugs, a handful of bedrooms upstairs and down.
“I call the room with the balcony!” Robin declared immediately.
“Already taken,” Nancy said smoothly. “Jonathan and I have it.”
Eddie groaned. “Guess that leaves the rest of us to fight to the death.”
“No fighting necessary,” Steve chimed in. “I’m not rooming with her.” He jabbed a finger in your direction.
“Perfect,” you shot back. “Because I’d rather sleep outside with the seagulls.”
“Glad we agree.”
Robin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is gonna be a long weekend.”
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
That night, after pizza boxes were scattered across the table and everyone was sprawled in various states of exhaustion, you found yourself staring out the big front windows. The ocean was just visible past the dunes, waves glowing faintly in the moonlight. It should’ve been peaceful.
But of course, Steve had to ruin it.
He brushed past you to grab another slice, muttering just loud enough for you to hear: “You know, if you’re gonna spend the whole trip glaring, maybe invest in sunglasses.”
You snapped your head toward him. “If you’re gonna spend the whole trip breathing, maybe learn how to do it quieter.”
His smirk came fast, sharp. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart.”
God, you hated him.
Or at least… you kept telling yourself you did.
The morning sun crept through the thin curtains, tugging you awake with the salty tang of ocean air drifting through the cracked window. You stretched, every muscle slow and stiff from the road trip, and for a brief moment you forgot you were sharing a house with Steve Harrington.
Until you walked into the kitchen.
There he was, hair already perfect, tan skin glowing under the pale light as he leaned against the counter drinking orange juice straight from the carton.
“Do you mind?” you asked, crossing your arms.
He glanced at you over the rim, unfazed. “Do you own the carton?”
“That’s disgusting.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirk curling. “You’re welcome to join me.”
“God, you’re so annoying.” You yanked a mug from the cabinet, focusing on pouring coffee just so you wouldn’t throw it at his head.
Robin wandered in then, hair a mess, yawning. “You two already fighting? It’s not even nine.”
“Not fighting,” Steve said smoothly, plunking the empty carton back in the fridge. “Just making conversation.”
Your glare could’ve burned holes in the linoleum.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
By midmorning, the group had migrated down to the beach. Towels sprawled across the sand, umbrellas pitched into place, coolers filled with sodas and beers sweating in the heat. The ocean sparkled like glass, small waves lapping gently at the shore.
Nancy and Jonathan were out in the water almost immediately, laughing as they splashed each other. Robin was stretched across her towel with a book, sunglasses slipping down her nose, while Eddie attempted to teach himself how to skimboard and nearly faceplanted on his second try.
You settled into your chair with a sigh, soaking up the warmth. For a blissful ten seconds, you actually relaxed.
Until Steve dropped into the chair beside you.
“Seriously?” you asked, shielding your eyes to glare at him.
“Seriously what?”
“There are literally a dozen other spots.”
He shrugged, tilting his sunglasses down to flash you that smug grin. “Best view’s right here.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you keep talking to me.”
Before you could snap back, Eddie shouted from the shoreline. “Oi, Harrington! Get your Baywatch ass over here, I need backup.”
Steve shot you a wink, then jogged off to join him, muscles shifting under his sun-warmed skin as he moved. You hated that your eyes lingered. Hated it more that your stomach flipped when he tackled Eddie into the surf, both of them laughing like idiots.
When he returned, dripping wet and shaking his hair out like a dog, you turned your gaze back to your book, pretending you hadn’t been watching.
“You staring at me?” His voice came smug, low, right by your ear.
You didn’t even look up. “In your dreams.”
“Mm.” He stretched out on his towel beside you, chest gleaming with salt water. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll save you a spot.”
You gripped your book tighter, cheeks burning despite the heat.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
By the time the sun dipped lower, everyone was pink-cheeked and sandy, trudging back toward the house for showers and dinner. The air buzzed with laughter, stories spilling out of Eddie as he described his wipeouts in dramatic detail.
You carried a bag of towels, deliberately walking ahead of Steve. But of course, he caught up easily, brushing past you on the narrow path.
“You’ve got sand on your face,” he said casually.
You frowned, swiping at your cheek. “Where?”
“Everywhere.” He grinned, smug as ever.
“You’re a child.”
“And you’re fun to mess with.” He leaned down, voice dipping just enough to make your stomach twist. “Admit it—you’d miss me if I didn’t.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but Robin’s voice carried from up ahead, saving you. “Hurry up, slowpokes! I’m starving.”
Steve chuckled, and you forced your legs to move faster, ignoring the way his words stuck in your chest.
Dinner was chaotic in the best way. Nancy was focused on making sure the pasta didn’t burn, Jonathan dutifully chopping garlic under her watchful eye. Eddie sat on the counter, swinging his legs and plucking a lazy tune on his guitar, while Robin raided the fridge for the beer she swore she’d packed.
“You didn’t,” Nancy said flatly, catching Robin rooting through a drawer instead of helping.
“I did! I literally packed it myself—” Robin’s voice pitched higher when Steve appeared at her side, holding up a six-pack with an infuriating grin.
“You mean this?” he asked.
Robin snatched it from him. “You absolute troll.”
“Saved dinner,” Steve said smugly.
You rolled your eyes. “You found the beer. Congratulations.”
“Don’t be jealous just because you didn’t.” He winked before turning back to help Jonathan stir sauce like he’d been cooking all his life.
By the time plates hit the table, the house was alive with chatter. Eddie held court with a story about the time his band had been double-booked with a clown act. Robin nearly choked on her pasta from laughing, and even Jonathan cracked a grin.
Nancy nudged him, smiling. “You should write these down.”
“What, like memoirs?” Eddie grinned. “The Life and Times of Eddie the Great.”
“Self-published disaster,” you muttered, sipping your beer.
Eddie pointed a noodle-laden fork at you. “Better than ‘How to Be a Buzzkill: By You-Know-Who.’”
The table erupted in laughter. Even Steve chuckled, his eyes flicking toward you, daring.
“Glad I could provide entertainment,” you muttered, stabbing your pasta.
Steve leaned back in his chair, swirling his beer bottle lazily between his fingers. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re always entertaining.”
The way he said it made heat crawl up your neck, and you dropped your gaze to your plate before anyone noticed.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
After dinner, the group migrated down to the beach with blankets, the night warm and humming with cicadas. Eddie and Robin built a fire with more enthusiasm than skill, Jonathan patiently helping until flames licked skyward and the smell of woodsmoke mingled with the salt air.
You sat wrapped in a blanket, sand cool beneath your toes, the ocean a black stretch beyond the firelight.
“Marshmallows?” Nancy offered, passing a bag around.
Eddie immediately burned his to a crisp, holding it up like a trophy. “Charred perfection.”
“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it,” Steve scoffed, carefully rotating his marshmallow until it was golden brown.
“Oh, sorry, Harrington,” Eddie drawled. “Didn’t realize I was dining at a five-star Michelin beach.”
Robin snorted soda out her nose, sending everyone into fits of laughter.
For a while, it was easy—stories, firelight, the soothing crash of waves. Until you realized Steve was across from you, fire painting gold into his hair, gaze fixed on you again.
He didn’t smirk this time. Didn’t tease. Just watched. And it made your chest feel too tight.
You tore your eyes away, focusing on Nancy and Jonathan curled together, whispering. Anything but him.
When the fire burned low and the group finally dragged themselves back to the house, you slipped away to your room, heart pounding.
You told yourself it was just exhaustion. Just the alcohol, the laughter, the firelight.
But when you crawled into bed, sheets cool against your skin, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against your ears. You’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, blanket twisted around your legs, too hot, too restless, too aware of the faint thrum still buzzing in your chest from the beach fire.
With a groan, you shoved the blanket off and slipped out of bed. A glass of water, you told yourself. That’s it.
The hallway creaked under your bare feet as you padded toward the kitchen. But when you rounded the corner, the dim glow of the lamp in the living room stopped you.
Steve was there.
He sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His hair was mussed, his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, and the soft lamplight made him look… less like the smug jerk who’d driven you crazy all day, and more like a boy who couldn’t sleep either.
You froze. “What are you doing up?”
His head lifted, eyes finding yours. Something unreadable flickered there. “Could ask you the same thing.”
“I couldn’t sleep, too quiet.” You hugged your arms around yourself, shifting your weight. “Came to get water.”
Steve huffed a soft laugh. “You? Complaining about quiet? That’s a first.”
You scowled, but the bite was weak. “Funny.”
He gestured toward the kitchen. “Get your water.”
You did, filling a glass at the sink, trying not to notice the way his gaze followed you. When you came back, you hovered awkwardly near the couch.
“Don’t just stand there,” he said quietly, patting the cushion beside him.
Against your better judgment, you sat. The couch dipped under both your weight, your knees almost brushing.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the ocean, faint through the open window.
Finally, you cleared your throat. “What’s your excuse?”
“For being awake?” He leaned back, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “Couldn’t shut my brain off.”
“Too much ego rattling around in there?”
That earned you a real smile, crooked and soft. “You’d know, huh?”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips tugged upward before you could stop them.
It was dangerous, this. Sitting here in the half-light, bantering without the sharp edges. His knee brushed yours, and you didn’t pull away.
“You really hate me that much?” he asked suddenly, voice low.
The question startled you. You looked at him, really looked, and for once there wasn’t mockery in his eyes. Just curiosity. Maybe something else.
“I…” Your throat went dry. “You make it easy to.”
His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it. “Guess I deserve that.”
Silence stretched again, heavier now. And then, as if pulled by some invisible string, you found yourself leaning closer.
So did he.
The kiss was slow at first, tentative. Testing. His lips were warm, softer than you expected, and the moment you sighed against him, he deepened it—hand cupping your jaw, tilting your face up as his tongue brushed yours.
You gasped, fingers curling into his shirt, and that was all the encouragement he needed. The kiss turned hungry, years of bickering collapsing into heat and want.
“Steve—” you breathed when his mouth trailed to your throat.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your skin, teeth grazing your pulse.
But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
Instead, you tangled your hand in his hair and pulled him back to your lips.
By the time you stumbled into your room, the door clicking shut behind you, you were both breathless, laughing quietly against each other’s mouths as if you couldn’t believe what you were doing.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
Steve pressed you against the door, kissing you like he’d been starving for it. His hands slid under your shirt, palms hot against your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered, mouth moving down your neck.
“You’re the one—” Your protest dissolved into a moan when his hand cupped your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple through thin fabric.
He groaned, head falling back. “Jesus, you sound… fuck.”
Clothes came off in a messy blur—his shirt over his head, your sleep shorts tossed to the floor. His body was warm, solid, muscles shifting under your hands as you traced down his chest.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, as he guided you back to the bed. You fell onto the sheets together, tangled and desperate. His hips ground against yours, the hard press of him making your breath catch.
“Want you,” he whispered into your mouth. “So bad. Been trying not to—”
You silenced him with another kiss, pulling him closer, not caring about what he had to say, just wanting him.
His mouth trailed down your body, tasting, worshiping, until you were trembling under his touch. His fingers slid against you, slow and skilled, and when he finally pushed inside, you clutched at his shoulders, moaning his name like a confession.
“Look at me,” he demanded softly, hovering above you. “I want to see you.”
You did—and the heat in his eyes undid you completely.
The rhythm built, frantic and tender all at once, until every thought blurred into him—his lips, his voice, his body moving with yours. The insults and banter and years of friction melted into something raw, something real.
When you came apart beneath him, he followed, burying his face in your neck with a groan that sounded like your name.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
You lay tangled together in the dark, hearts pounding. His hand smoothed over your side, gentle now, and for a second you let yourself sink into the warmth.
Then reality crashed back.
This was Steve Harrington. The boy you’d sworn to hate. The boy you’d told yourself you couldn’t stand.
You pulled away, rolling onto your side. “You should go.”
He went still. “…Right.”
You heard him shift behind you and when the door clicked shut behind him, the room felt too quiet, too empty.
You closed your eyes, willing yourself to believe it didn’t mean anything. That it was just desperation. Or maybe the beer.
Anything but the truth—that it had meant everything.
The next morning, sunlight poured through the windows like nothing had changed. Birds sang. The ocean waves kept their steady rhythm. The house smelled like coffee and toast.
And you felt like you were crawling out of your own skin.
You’d barely slept after Steve left your room, tossing and turning with his touch still ghosting over your skin, his voice still echoing in your head. When you finally dragged yourself downstairs, you plastered on a smile like armor.
Robin was at the table with cereal, flipping through a magazine. Eddie was sprawled across the couch strumming his guitar, hair wild from sleep. Nancy and Jonathan were already dressed, making plans to head into town for supplies.
Steve was at the counter.
He turned when you walked in, eyes locking with yours instantly. The memory of last night flared between you, hot and undeniable.
You broke it first, looking past him like he wasn’t even there. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Robin echoed, oblivious. “Want coffee?”
“Please.” You busied yourself pouring a cup, keeping your back to Steve, keeping your voice even.
But you could feel him watching. Could feel the tension buzzing like static every time you moved.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
The whole day dragged on like that.
At the beach, you stuck close to Robin and Nancy, pretending you were absorbed in their chatter while Steve and Eddie tossed a football back and forth in the surf. You laughed too loud at Robin’s jokes, stared too hard at the horizon, did everything you could to avoid looking at him.
But sometimes, you slipped.
Your eyes caught on the curve of his shoulders as he dove into a wave, on the way water slicked down his chest when he came up. And every time, he caught you watching.
You’d whip your head away, cheeks burning, pretending it hadn’t happened. Pretending last night hadn’t happened.
Because if you acknowledged it, if you let yourself believe it meant anything… you’d unravel.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
By late afternoon, you were helping Nancy prep dinner in the kitchen when Steve walked in.
“Need any help?” His voice was casual, too casual.
Nancy smiled. “Sure, can you grab the—”
“I’ve got it,” you cut in quickly, brushing past him to grab the pan yourself. “No worries.”
Steve’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t push it. Just leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you.
You refused to look at him. Refused to let him corner you here, in front of everyone.
Nancy glanced between you, brow furrowed like she could sense something off, but she didn’t comment.
When Steve finally left the room, your shoulders slumped in relief.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
That night, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie. You chose the chair farthest from the couch, sinking into it with a blanket pulled tight around you.
Steve sat on the couch, one arm slung across the back, eyes flicking to you every few minutes.
You ignored him. You laughed at Eddie’s commentary, teased Robin about her snack hoard, anything to avoid meeting his gaze.
But you felt it anyway. That burn. That pull.
When the movie ended and everyone started yawning their way off to bed, you bolted upstairs first, shutting your door behind you with shaky hands.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
You thought you’d gotten away with it.
Until the next morning, when you came down for breakfast and Steve cornered you in the hallway.
“Seriously?” His voice was sharp, quiet enough not to draw attention from the others. “You’re just gonna pretend the other night didn’t happen?”
You froze, heart slamming. “Keep your voice down.”
“Answer the question.”
You forced your chin up, even as panic twisted in your gut. “It was nothing, Harrington. Just… we’d had a lot to drink, that’s all.”
His eyes darkened. “Don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not.” You shoved past him, ignoring the way his hand twitched like he almost reached for you. “Drop it.”
He let you go, but the muscle in his jaw ticked furiously.
And for the rest of the day, the air between you was electric—charged, ready to spark.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
That night, lying in bed with the sound of the ocean drifting through the open window, you realized you were waiting. Waiting for the door to creak open, for him to appear again.
But it never happened.
And somehow, that made it worse.
The last night of the trip smelled like smoke and salt.
Eddie had gone all out, building a fire twice the size of the first, flames leaping high enough to lick at the stars. Nancy had found marshmallows and chocolate in her cousin’s cupboards, Jonathan had his camera balanced on his knee, and Robin was already giggling too loudly after a few pulls from Eddie’s stash.
Everyone was loose, warm, glowing with the kind of contentment only summer nights could bring.
Everyone except you.
You sat stiff on your blanket, knees hugged to your chest, eyes fixed on the fire. Every laugh felt too loud, every smile too sharp. Steve sat across from you, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, and every time his gaze brushed yours, your stomach twisted.
You’d spent days convincing yourself it was nothing. That the night in your bed was just desperation, or maybe boredom, or maybe the heat of the moment.
But every look he gave you made that lie harder to swallow.
Robin broke into another fit of giggles, Eddie trying to teach her how to blow smoke rings, Nancy pretending not to laugh at Jonathan’s deadpan commentary. It should’ve been easy to join in. To let yourself drift.
But then Steve opened his mouth.
“You know,” he said, his tone just sharp enough to cut, “I think this is the longest you’ve gone without complaining all trip.”
The words hit like a slap.
Your head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”
He smirked, lazy and cruel. “Just saying. Guess miracles do happen.”
Heat flushed your cheeks, anger bubbling up before you could stop it. “God, you’re insufferable.”
“And you’re predictable.”
The group went quiet, tension slicing through the smoke. Robin shifted uncomfortably, Eddie raised his brows, but no one jumped in. They knew better by now.
You shoved to your feet, sand scattering. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Where are you going?” Robin called after you.
“Anywhere he’s not,” you snapped, stalking toward the dark stretch of shoreline.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
The cool night air hit you as you left the glow of the fire behind, the ocean hissing in the distance. You kicked at the sand, fury tangled with something messier, heavier.
You’d made it halfway down the beach when footsteps crunched behind you.
“Of course,” you muttered, not bothering to turn. “Can’t let me get five minutes of peace, can you?”
“Peace?” Steve’s voice was low, sharp. “You think that’s what this is?”
You spun, firelight faint behind him, the ocean silver at his back. “What the hell do you want, Harrington?”
He stopped a few feet away, chest heaving, eyes blazing. “I want you to stop acting like that night didn’t mean anything.”
Your stomach dropped. “Keep your voice down—”
“No.” He stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides. “I’m done pretending. You keep running, keep avoiding me, keep acting like I was drunk or desperate or—”
“You were!” The words tore out, too loud, too desperate. “It was a mistake, Steve.”
“Bullshit.” He closed the space between you in two strides, so close now the heat of him seared against your skin. “I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t desperate. I wanted you. I want you.”
Your throat went dry, heart hammering so hard it hurt. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I?” His voice cracked, raw. “You think I stay up at night replaying it because I didn’t mean it? You think I’d follow you down here just to fight if I didn’t—”
He broke off, raking a hand through his hair. For once, he looked wrecked. Vulnerable.
“I’ve tried to hate you,” he admitted, voice low and rough. “God knows you make it easy. But I can’t. I never could. And the second we kissed—” He shook his head. “I was done for.”
You stood frozen, the ocean crashing behind you, his words crashing harder inside you.
“Steve…”
“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he demanded, eyes searching yours. “Tell me, and I’ll leave you alone. But don’t lie.”
The anger in his voice was gone now, stripped bare. All that was left was fear. And something that looked a hell of a lot like love.
You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Because the truth was there, burning through every nerve, impossible to deny.
“I…” Your voice shook. “I don’t hate you.”
His chest rose, hope flaring in his eyes. “Say it.”
“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, louder this time, truer. “I never did. I just—god, you drive me insane, and it was easier to fight than…”
“Than what?” He stepped even closer, so close the waves lapped at your ankles together.
“Than admit it.” You surged forward, grabbing his shirt, pulling his mouth to yours.
The kiss was fire and salt, angry and desperate and sweet all at once. He groaned against you, arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you like he couldn’t get you close enough.
When you finally broke apart, breathless, his forehead rested against yours.
“You’re mine,” he whispered. Not cocky, not smug—just certain. “You’ve always been mine.”
And for once, you didn’t argue.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
Back at the fire, Robin elbowed Eddie. “Where’d they go?”
Eddie smirked, eyes on the dark stretch of beach. “Nowhere good for our sleep schedules.”
Robin groaned. “Finally.”
The sun woke you before you were ready.
It filtered in through gauzy curtains, golden and warm, tangling across tangled sheets and tangled limbs. Steve was sprawled beside you, one arm heavy over your waist, his face buried in your neck like he was trying to hide from the light.
For a second, you didn’t move. Just listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, felt the lazy brush of his thumb against your hip. It was terrifying how easy it felt. How right.
Eventually, he groaned, shifting. “Morning.” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Morning,” you whispered back.
He cracked an eye open, smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re smiling.”
“I am not.”
“You are.” He nuzzled against your jaw, smug and soft all at once. “Can’t believe it. All those years of you wanting to strangle me and here you are, smiling in my bed.”
“It’s technically my bed,” you shot back.
He kissed the corner of your mouth, quick, sweet. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine now.”
Your heart did a stupid little flip. You tried to cover it with a scoff, a giggle slipping through. “You’re so annoying.”
“And you love it.”
You didn’t answer, but the smile on your face betrayed you.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
Breakfast was chaos.
Nancy tried to wrangle eggs on a pan that clearly hated her, Robin burned toast, and Eddie ate half a bag of marshmallows before anyone could stop him. Jonathan just documented it all with his camera, unbothered.
You and Steve walked in together, and the room went very still.
Then Eddie grinned like a wolf. “Well, well, well. Look who finally pulled the stick out of their—”
“Eddie,” Nancy warned.
Robin’s eyes were bright with triumph. “Knew it. I knew it.”
You froze, heat creeping up your neck. “Knew what?”
“That you two were gonna…” She gestured vaguely, grinning. “Explode. In one way or another.”
Jonathan, without looking up from his camera, muttered, “About time.”
Steve slung an arm around your shoulders, annoyingly pleased with himself. “What can I say? She couldn’t resist my charm.”
You elbowed him in the ribs, but he just laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple like he didn’t care the whole room was watching.
And maybe, you realized, you didn’t care either.
⋆ ୨ৎ ⋆
The drive home was… different.
Still bickering, still jabs thrown back and forth, but lighter. Softer. Every time you rolled your eyes, Steve’s fingers brushed yours on the seat between you, and you didn’t pull away.
Robin caught it in the rearview mirror and whispered to Nancy, “They’re disgustingly cute.”
Nancy smiled, leaning back in her seat. “Told you it would work out.”
The ocean was miles behind you now, but the warmth lingered, woven into your skin like salt and sun.
And for once, you weren’t dreading what came next.
You were looking forward to it.
A/n: i drive down to the oregon coast every summer for a few days, and im now realizing that I need an angry love confession on the beach. I crave it actually. also catching up on tsitp isn’t helping.
CALLSIGN CUPID
Summary: When Jake Seresin realizes he’s in love with his best friend—you—he does what any emotionally repressed Navy pilot might do: sets you up with other guys instead. But after three bad dates, a paper airplane, and one squad-intervention later, Jake finally stops playing Cupid—and starts being honest.
Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader
Word count: 13.6k
A/N: This was in fact loosely inspired by “10 things i hate about you” but it was also inspired by this one book i read a very long time ago that kinda had the same vibe, not sure what the name was it was at least 5-6 years ago but i still think about it sometimes 💔 also omg?? i think this is the longest thing i’ve ever written! just a disclaimer this was written almost 2 months ago, it was apart of my test subjects before i released “honor & duty”. ALSO MIGHT LOWK MAKE A HANGMAN MULTIVERSE TOO??
Warnings: Second person POV, slow burn, mutual pining, slight sa scene (just a bit of inappropriate touching), jealousy, bad date scenarios (including one with a taken guy), light swearing, emotional tension, one knee-drop romantic gesture, meddling squad behavior, and one very flustered Hangman trying his best.
There were a few things you’d come to accept as non-negotiable truths during your time at Top Gun:
Coffee tasted best when stolen from Rooster’s thermos.
Phoenix and Fanboy would always argue like siblings during preflight.
And Jake Seresin—Hangman himself—couldn’t mind his own damn business to save his life.
You were midway through a morning briefing, half-listening to Cyclone run through upcoming mission simulations, when Jake leaned over just enough to whisper out of the side of his mouth.
“You know, I heard Supply Guy is single again.”
You didn’t even turn your head. “And I heard you should shut up before Cyclone catches you talking.”
Jake grinned, unbothered. “Just trying to help. I’d hate for your roster to run dry.”
You gave him a side-glare sharp enough to slice steel.
Across the room, Phoenix stifled a laugh.
The air in the briefing room was its usual mix of cold coffee, jet fuel, and pure, unfiltered sarcasm. Jake Seresin lounged in a rolling chair near you, boots kicked up onto the empty seat beside him, arms crossed over his chest like he hadn’t a care in the world. His sunglasses were still on. Inside. Because, of course, they were.
“Y’know, Hangman,” Rooster drawled from the front row, “it’s called a briefing. You’re supposed to look at the screen, not just bask in your own reflection.”
Jake tipped his sunglasses down just enough to make eye contact. “I multitask.”
“You can’t spell ‘team’ without ‘me’,” Fanboy muttered, not even looking up from the protein bar he was dissecting with a spork.
“Not how spelling works,” Payback shot back, smirking.
In front of him, you were half-paying attention, flipping through a file with one ear tuned into the mission rundown and the other eavesdropping on the squad’s banter. Bob sat next to you, pressed shoulder to shoulder like always, posture straight and focused—but when Hangman piped up again, you felt Bob shift subtly beside you, like he was biting back a grin.
“Some of us,” Jake said, lifting his voice just a little, “don’t need to memorize the brief. We are the plan.”
“You are insufferable,” Phoenix replied flatly, finally turning toward him with a look that could’ve knocked a lesser man on his ass.
“Didn’t hear a no,” Jake replied with a wink.
Coyote groaned. “I swear to god, if this is how today’s going to go…”
It was how today was going to go.
You’d all been grounded the past week for maintenance drills and mission prep, so the tension in the squad was ramping up like coiled wire. Too much time on the ground made everyone itchy. Especially pilots.
By the time the briefing was about to end, you were already winding down from the tactical talk, scribbling a note in your logbook. Bob leaned toward you, voice quiet.
“You flying lead today?”
You nodded. “Rooster’s wing, but I’ve got lead. Try not to make me look bad.”
His smile was small but genuine. “You could fly solo and still make us all look bad.”
“Flattery gets you… nothing,” you teased, “Except maybe some snacks in the ready room.”
Bob’s face lit up like you’d just promised him classified intel and a hug.
-
Cyclone dismissed you all fifteen minutes later, and as you filed out into the hallway, Jake was still going.
“I’m just saying, I’ve got a gift. A sixth sense for chemistry.”
“Oh yeah?” Rooster asked, slapping Jake’s shoulder. “That why you’re still single?”
“That’s a choice,” Jake shot back, fixing the collar of his flight suit. “I’m out here doing the Lord’s work. Playing Cupid.”
Fanboy groaned. “God, not this again.”
“You don’t even believe in monogamy,” Phoenix said, crossing her arms as she walked backward in front of you all.
“I believe in giving people a little push,” Jake replied. “Like matchmaking. Strategically. For morale.”
“Since when do you care about morale?” Coyote snorted.
Jake pointed at you. “Since she’s been moping around base like she lost a bet.”
“I haven’t been moping,” you argued, though you knew exactly what he was referencing. One shitty date with a comms officer and suddenly Hangman was acting like he needed to fix your whole life.
“You’ve been quiet,” Bob added from your other side, his tone gentle. “Quieter than usual.”
“I’m allowed to have quiet days.”
Jake leaned in again, smirking. “Or maybe you just need someone to make some noise in your life.”
Phoenix punched his arm. “Back off, Casanova.”
-
The pre-flight was smooth. You were zipping up your G-suit when Jake wandered over to your jet, dragging Coyote along like an accessory.
“Need help strapping in, sweetheart?” he asked, leaning against the wing like a car salesman trying too hard.
You gave him a flat look. “Only if you want a wrench to the temple.”
Coyote snorted.
“I was just saying,” Jake continued, completely undeterred, “you’re the picture of confidence. Someone should be here to appreciate it.”
“Jake,” Bob called from a few feet away, arms crossed as he leaned against your jet’s ladder. “You hit on her one more time and the plane might spontaneously combust just to escape the cringe.”
“Ohhh,” Rooster added as he approached, dragging his helmet in one hand. “Burned by Baby on Board. Rough morning for you, Seresin.”
Jake grinned lazily. “Hey, you all mock now, but when I’m the best man at her wedding? You’ll wish you were as charming.”
You raised a brow. “You volunteering?”
“Best man? Groom? I’m flexible.”
You groaned. Bob muttered under his breath, “Flexible like your ego.”
-
You all made your way toward the flight deck, helmets in hand, the morning sun bouncing off the tarmac. The simulation was in forty-five minutes, and you were itching to get in the air—partially because it was the one place where Jake couldn’t talk your ear off.
The air was different on base lately.
It wasn’t just the hotter-than-usual summer, or the fact that everyone had started sneaking ice pops from the freezer in the officer’s lounge. There was something else. A shift.
Everyone was restless. The mission load had eased slightly, giving you all more downtime. And when Top Gun pilots had too much downtime? Stupid things happened.
Betting pools. Pranks. Unnecessary competitions.
And, in this case: matchmaking.
Jake’s obsession had started as a joke—something he said after your third bad date in two months. But now, it was gaining momentum. He’d already made one match between a junior lieutenant and a flight mechanic (they’d gone on two coffee dates and then ghosted each other, but Jake claimed it was a success). And now, unfortunately, you were in his line of fire.
But what you didn’t know—what none of you knew—was that the boys had made a bet.
It started that night. A few hours after debrief, Rooster invited the squad over for drinks and poker.
-
Rooster’s house smelled like beer and leftover pizza, and Jake was already two whiskeys in when the idea started forming.
“Admit it,” he said, shuffling cards with a flourish. “I could get her a date that lasts longer than a week.”
“You think you could find her the right guy?” Fanboy asked, incredulous. “You’re the worst person to set anyone up.”
“I have charm.”
“You have trauma,” Payback muttered.
Jake smirked, unfazed. “I’m serious. She’s just… picky. And I know her type.”
Coyote raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s her type?”
Jake sipped his drink. “Someone with a sense of humor. Smart, but not arrogant. Good with their hands. Probably someone in uniform.”
“So… you,” Rooster said dryly.
Everyone laughed.
Jake rolled his eyes. “No. She’d hate dating me.”
“You sure?” Bob asked quietly, brows lifted.
Jake hesitated. “Yeah. She’d kill me before the first appetizer.”
“Let’s make it interesting,” Fanboy said, leaning forward. “Twenty bucks each. You pick someone—set her up. If it lasts more than five dates, you win. If not? We keep the cash.”
“Make it fifty,” Jake challenged.
The boys stared at him.
“Confident much?” Coyote said.
Jake shrugged. “She’s my friend. I know what she needs.”
The pot grew to $300. Jake grinned.
-
You had no idea what you’d just become the center of.
But the next morning, when Jake asked casually if you’d ever considered dating that guy from supply again, you should’ve known something was up.
The next morning broke clear and sharp over the base, the sun spilling golden through the narrow slats of your blinds. You were still half tangled in the remnants of a restless sleep when your phone buzzed with a text.
Jake: “Hey. So… you ever thought about dating supply?”
You blinked, sitting up, the question feeling more like a prank than a genuine suggestion. Jake Seresin, your self-appointed Cupid, was already in full swing.
You typed back with a dry smile:
You: “You’re starting early.”
-
The squad gathered for the morning briefing in the usual cramped room, the air thick with anticipation and the faint smell of burnt coffee. Cyclone was rattling off last-minute mission details when Jake sidled up next to you again, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips.
The morning sun had barely crept above the hangar roof when the squad gathered for the day’s briefing. The cramped room hummed with quiet anticipation, punctuated by the rustle of flight suits and the faint buzz of comm chatter filtering through the air vents. Cyclone’s voice was all business, drilling through the mission simulation details like a machine.
But no one was really paying full attention—not you, and certainly not Jake Seresin.
Leaning against the wall beside you, Jake’s eyes gleamed with that familiar spark of mischief. “Alright, today’s the day,” he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips. “My matchmaking game is officially live.”
You rolled your eyes but fought a smile. Jake had been on this ridiculous kick since last night at Rooster’s, practically bursting with excitement over the stupid bet with the boys. You weren’t sure whether to be amused or mildly concerned.
“Seriously, dude, give it a rest,” you muttered, but he just shrugged and turned back to the briefing.
-
Once dismissed, the squad filtered out toward their jets, the metallic clang of helmets and gear blending with the distant roar of engines warming up. The familiar adrenaline spike coursed through your veins as you slid into your cockpit, fingers expertly running over the controls. Flying was always your sanctuary—the one place where Jake’s antics faded into white noise.
That was until your comm crackled with Rooster’s voice, thick with mock warning. “Hey, Hangman, keep your eyes on your wingman today. No matchmaking during maneuvers. We’ve got enough chaos as it is.”
Jake’s tone answered back, playful and teasing, “I’m just out here doing the Lord’s work. Somebody’s gotta fix this mess.”
You chuckled softly, settling into formation as the jets lifted off in perfect synchrony. The sky was a crystal blue canvas, the sun gleaming on your visor as you sliced through the air.
Flying helped.
Whatever chaos lingered on the ground got swept away the moment you lifted off. You and Rooster made clean turns, slicing through the California sky like it owed you something. Over comms, you could hear the easy banter between Payback and Fanboy, the static-muted smirks between Phoenix and Bob.
Jake, of course, never stopped talking.
“Hey, Bagman,” Phoenix called out mid-loop. “You miss basic training where they teach you how to shut up?”
“You love it,” he fired back.
“I’d love silence.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.”
It was all clockwork—banter, barrel rolls, and bullshit. But it was in the rhythm, in the instinctive trust that came from knowing every one of them would be there when it counted, that you found your balance.
You didn’t realize you were smiling until Bob’s voice came over the comm.
“You’re humming.”
“Shut up, Bob.”
“You’re humming over the intercom. I think that’s a first.”
Jake’s voice cut in, “She’s humming because I’m inspiring.”
Bob immediately: “I’m ejecting.”
-
Back on the ground after a flawless simulation, the squad dispersed toward the mess hall in a slow, hungry shuffle. The air was thick with post-flight energy—half adrenaline, half exhaustion—and someone behind you (probably Rooster) was humming the Top Gun anthem under his breath like he did after every mission.
You were barely through the door, already scoping out whether the snack bar had restocked the decent granola bars, when Jake popped up beside you like a damn prairie dog.
“Hey,” he said, voice pitched low, too casual to actually be casual.
You side-eyed him. “What now?”
He hesitated. That alone was enough to make you stop walking.
Jake Seresin? Hesitating? That was new.
He rubbed the back of his neck, expression a strange mix of nerves and smug determination. Like a kid about to admit they broke a window and that it was totally worth it.
“You remember the supply officer? The one from last week?”
You frowned. “Yeah. What about him?”
Jake cleared his throat. “Well… I might’ve, uh, invited him out for dinner. As part of my… project.”
You blinked. “Project?”
“Matchmaking,” he said, like duh. “Obviously.”
You laughed. Loud enough that two airmen passing by looked over.
“Jake, you can’t just ‘invite’ people for dates like it’s a mandatory training exercise.”
He shrugged, attempting nonchalance but failing miserably. “It’s not an official date. Just… a social outing. A vibe check.”
“A vibe check?”
“I figured I’d do some of the heavy lifting,” he continued, walking beside you now as you made your way toward the salad bar. “Save you the trouble of awkward small talk. If it’s a bust, you can blame me. If it works, you’re welcome.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You do realize this is borderline insane?”
“Borderline charming,” he corrected.
“Borderline manipulative.”
“Potato, po-tah-to,” he said, waving a hand.
You stopped at the drink cooler, opening the door with more force than necessary. “Let me get this straight. You, without telling me, set me up with someone I barely know, because you think you know better?”
Jake looked smug. “Yeah. And you’re gonna love it.”
Before you could respond—probably with something that would’ve gotten you written up—Phoenix slid between you both like she’d been waiting for the right moment to intervene.
“You owe me five bucks,” she said to Jake, grabbing a Gatorade from the cooler behind you.
Jake’s smile faltered. “You bet on this?”
“Obviously.” She winked at you. “I said you’d go off on him the second he opened his matchmaking mouth.”
You glared at them both. “This entire squad is feral.”
Fanboy appeared from behind the soda machine, his tray already stacked with two grilled cheese sandwiches and a mountain of fries. “Hey, are we still on for movie night?”
“Depends,” you muttered, eyeing Jake. “Is it a movie I pick, or one Hangman picks based on who he’s trying to set me up with?”
“Ouch,” Jake said, clutching his chest. “You wound me.”
“She’s got a point,” Coyote added, showing up just in time to steal a fry off Fanboy’s tray. “You’re making this personal crusade way too obvious.”
Jake’s eyes flicked to you for a second. “It’s not personal. I just think she deserves someone solid.”
“Uh-huh,” Phoenix said, sipping her drink like she wasn’t starting a fire with every word. “And definitely not you.”
He grinned, sharp and defensive. “Exactly.”
You narrowed your eyes.
You weren’t blind. You’d known Jake for years—flown with him, fought with him, gotten blackout drunk with him during Coyote’s infamous Vegas birthday weekend. You knew what he looked like when he was bluffing.
And this?
This was a bluff. One he’d doubled down on way too hard to back out of now.
“Fine,” you said slowly, popping the lid on your water bottle. “I’ll go. One dinner. But if this guy’s weird or tries to tell me about his crypto portfolio, I’m blaming you.”
Jake grinned like he’d won something. “Deal.”
Phoenix shook her head as she walked off. “You’re playing with fire, Hangman.”
Jake called after her. “Lucky for me, I like the burn.”
-
Movie night started like they all did—overcrowded, under-supplied, and dangerously close to devolving into chaos.
Rooster was balancing a tangled knot of wires in one hand and a half-eaten slice of pizza in the other, muttering something about HDMI adapters and “government-issued bullshit tech.” His ancient projector—the one that had survived deployments, sandstorms, and one very unfortunate encounter with tequila in San Diego—was propped up on two old aviation textbooks and a can of Pringles.
Fanboy arrived ten minutes late and unapologetically smug, cradling a six-pack of Dr. Pepper like it was a rare treasure. “Don’t worry,” he declared loudly, “I saved movie night. Again.”
“No one asked you to,” Phoenix called from where she was elbow-deep in a duffel bag looking for her Captain America fleece blanket.
“Democracy asked me to,” Fanboy retorted. “You’re welcome.”
Bob, sweet dependable Bob, came bearing the only thing anyone actually appreciated—cookies. His sister in Lemoore had mailed him two Tupperware containers filled with snickerdoodles, peanut butter blondies, and something suspiciously green that no one questioned. The second the plastic lids came off, the room collectively moaned like it had just been released from purgatory.
Jake, of course, brought nothing but opinions. And himself. Both in equally large supply.
“Who voted for Hot Fuzz?” he asked, hands on his hips like an outraged PTA mom.
“Me,” you said flatly.
“And me,” Bob added, already curled into the arm of the couch with a cookie in hand, quietly smug.
Jake turned toward you like you’d personally betrayed him. “We could’ve watched John Wick, and you went with British satire?”
“I’m sorry,” you said, completely unapologetic. “Are you anti-cornetto trilogy?”
Jake blinked. “I’m anti-being-bored.”
“Then maybe don’t bring the same six stories about your exes to every hangout,” Phoenix muttered.
“Rude,” Jake replied, not denying it.
The lights dimmed. Rooster finally got the projector to cast a halfway decent image against the white wall, and Payback threw a sock at him when the subtitles didn’t match the audio. Someone screamed “SHOTGUN!” for the beanbag chair that had mysteriously migrated from Coyote’s room. Popcorn flew. The floor space vanished in seconds.
You wound up sprawled beside Bob, your back against a floor cushion that may or may not have once belonged to Hangman before it got appropriated during a game night standoff. Your sock-clad toes brushed against Bob’s shin; he didn’t even flinch, just nudged a peanut butter blondie toward you in a wordless offer.
You took it.
Coyote wandered in halfway through the opening credits carrying two slices of pizza stacked on top of each other, looked at the chaos in the room, and just sighed. “This is why we don’t have nice things.”
“You’re just mad I got the last slice of Hawaiian,” Fanboy sang from the corner.
“We talked about pineapple on pizza,” Coyote said darkly.
Meanwhile, the movie hit its stride—quick edits, dramatic zooms, jokes that landed even harder because everyone in the room had already memorized the lines.
“Point Break or Bad Boys II?” Jake called out in his best Nick Frost impression.
“Which one do you think I’ll prefer?” Rooster responded instantly from across the room, already grinning.
Payback lobbed popcorn at them both. “If y’all quote this whole damn movie, I’m leaving.”
“You say that every week,” Phoenix said, rolling her eyes. “And then you fall asleep halfway through with your mouth open.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
Jake flopped onto the arm of the couch behind you, like gravity had simply decided that spot belonged to him. His knee brushed your shoulder, lingering a second longer than necessary, and you didn’t shift away.
“You good?” he asked, voice pitched low so the others wouldn’t hear.
You tilted your head back, craning to look at him upside-down. “Define good.”
His lips twitched. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
You hummed. “Depends.”
“On?”
You gave him a saccharine smile. “Whether this guy turns out to be a serial killer.”
Jake laughed, and it was real—low and sheepish. “He’s not. I promise. He’s a little weird, maybe. But not murder-y.”
“Solid endorsement.”
“You asked me to look out for you,” he said, still smiling, but there was something beneath it—something quieter. “That’s what I’m doing.”
You stared at him, upside-down still, and for just a second the playful banter faded into something else. Something more loaded.
Your gaze held his for a second too long. Then you looked away, your neck aching a little from the angle. You shifted your weight back into the couch cushion.
“Just don’t make this a habit,” you muttered.
Jake didn’t answer right away. You felt him move behind you—his elbow brushing the back of your hair as he leaned forward slightly.
“Would it be so bad if I did?”
The question hung in the air.
It wasn’t flirtatious, not really. There wasn’t that usual drawl to it. He wasn’t playing this time. There was no smirk. No teasing. Just… curiosity. And something softer underneath it that he probably didn’t even realize had slipped through.
You glanced at him again, your expression unreadable. And for the first time, Jake actually looked unsure.
Before either of you could say anything else, Coyote and Phoenix started arguing across the room about whether or not Nicholas Angel—Simon Pegg’s character—was technically the villain of the movie.
“I’m just saying,” Phoenix started, “he ruins everyone’s fun.”
“By solving murders,” Coyote countered.
“You can’t prove Timothy Dalton didn’t have a point!”
You let their voices fill the room. Let the squad’s laughter and the chaos and the comfort of familiarity drown out the tension curling low in your chest.
Because the truth?
You didn’t hate the attention. You didn’t hate the way Jake always checked in, or the way he always saved you a spot without saying anything, or how he laughed harder when you were around. You didn’t hate any of it.
You just didn’t want to think too hard about why it mattered that it came from him.
Not yet.
perfect storm ; jake 'hangman' seresin
fandom: top gun
pairing: jake x reader
summary: you and jake have a messy history and have been comfortably hating each other for the past few years, until all hell breaks loose when you're brought in as the newest member of maverick's special detachment (enemies to lovers)
notes: okay, i'm starting to think that i really should work at work instead of write... like, is it unethical? anyways, idc!!! have some enemies to lovers! i'm not feeling as strong about this, despite the fact that i've chosen writing over sleep and work for the past few days... but i really hope y'all like it and i hope it lives up! please let me know what you think!!!
warnings: swearing, angst, miscommunication, jake is an asshole, allusions to sex (18+ ONLY PLEASE), bad weather / storm descriptions, a written plane crash, and frequent mention of plane crashes! let me know if i’ve missed anything!
word count: 12439
your callsign is angel
“Alright, listen up.” Maverick stands at the front of the room, his trademark leather jacket draped over his shoulders and his hands firmly planted on his hips. “You received your official briefing this morning, but we’re going to go over a few things now.”
The chatter that had filled the room falls to an abrupt silence as the aviators, now fully attentive, settle into their chairs—every eye on their captain.
“Let’s start with the basics. Just like the last operation, this mission is classified. You’ve all been reassigned from your standard duties to continue training as part of this special operations detachment. Not all of you will deploy, but everyone will undergo training and remain in reserve if you’re not selected. We’ve got a bit more time to prepare this go-around, but don’t mistake that for leniency. This mission is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, with brand new challenges ahead.” He pauses, his gaze sharpening as he locks eyes with Mickey and then Bob. “Our weapons systems officers will be key to our success.”
Natasha raises her hand, waiting for Maverick to acknowledge her before speaking. “Will the same pilots from the last mission be prioritised?”
Maverick shakes his head firmly. “No. There’s no favouritism or preference. Selection will be based on performance during training. We’ll see who excels in the specific skills needed for this mission.”
Bob leans forward. “Will Omaha and Halo be returning to the detachment?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Maverick replies. “As you’re all aware, Omaha and Halo were urgently recalled to their original squadrons and will not be returning. But rest assured, arrangements have been made to bring in a top-tier replacement.”
Jake tilts his head, a frown forming as confusion plays across his face. “Replacement, sir? Singular? If this mission hinges on WSOs, shouldn’t we be getting a pair to replace Omaha and Halo?”
What Jake is really asking—without being blatantly obvious—is why they’d bring in another pilot to compete with him for mission lead.
Maverick’s signature smirk, the one that gets him both in and out of trouble, curls at the corners of his lips. “You’re not wrong, Hangman," he says, voice steady. “Which is why I’ve decided that Coyote”—he glances at the man sitting beside Jake—“will no longer be flying solo.”
Javy’s eyes widen, brows lifting in surprise as a grin tugs at his lips. “I get a WSO?”
i would take anythingggg Jake Seresin x reader 😍
Pretty Hurricane | j. s.
Jake Seresin x fem!reader
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: Stalking (not Jake lol), cursing.
Author’s Note: This…this got away from me. Sorry it took so long to write lmao. GIF from @tomcriuse
Talk to Me! | AO3
Every Friday night, like clockwork, Jake Seresin waits for her to show up for her shift at the Hard Deck.
And every Friday night, like clockwork, he finds himself moseying up to the bar to order a round of drinks.
And while he does that, every Friday night, he flirts with her.
And every Friday night, like clockwork, she tells him to fuck off.
This Friday night is no different.
"Hey there, Hurricane," he says, that soft Texas drawl, pulling her attention immediately. She hates that it does, because she hates that she finds him attractive, but she can't help it. Also hates that his stupid nickname for her makes her feel like a part of his life somehow. "A round for the boys, and water for Baby on Board."
"You could stand to be nicer to Lieutenant Floyd, Bagman," she comments, moving to start grabbing the beers from the cooler for him.
“Oh, please —all in good fun,” he reassures, but it doesn’t sound sincere in any way shape or form. He leans on the bar, looking her over slowly. “Why's it matter to you? Gotta thing for Bob?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. There’s no reason to take the bait, because he’s going to keep goading her anyway. Sliding the beers over to him, she holds out her hand expectantly.
“Y’know, usually I get a little more outta ladies before they ask for my wallet,” he teases, fishing it from his pocket and handing her his card to start the tab. As she moves to take it, he pulls it out of her reach with a smirk. That’s the first mistake he makes tonight. “What’re you gonna give me in return?”
“A swift kick in the ass?” She offers with her brow raised, putting her hands on her hips. “Oh, better yet —I won’t have you permanently banned for skipping out on your tab. Fair deal, I think.”
Jake puts his hand over his heart like she’s wounded him, and she just rolls her eyes. His flirtations don’t get very far —they never do, honestly —but now she’s getting annoyed that he’s holding up the bar on a Friday night.
“Just give me your number,” he says, and he makes his second mistake of the night.
#WE ARE SO BACK
Watching this episode now 🥰🥰
Can it be April Fool’s Day every day?
Hell ya!
BRANDON LARRACUENTE ↪ On Call (2025)
I thought he had an LA tattoo
Someone clue me in what is HA??
Why do I just have a wip titled "Evil Billy"? What... what was I doing? 😂😂
OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS
She meets him at a bar and he just flat out kidnaps her
oh okay
Yep it’s this guy for me.
Isaac who
THATS how the season ended??? We need a renewal STAT! who do I talk to?? Give me their address
I WAS NOT expecting that twist on Brilliant Minds but at the same time when [redacted] showed up I was like no way this guy isn’t going to be important. It was CRAZY
Just started watching Fire Country today and I’m hooked.
But I can’t stop crying
Is that normal lol
Deadpool & Wolverine was so good
So many surprise appearances by people! I went in expecting nothing and I was so entertained.
I need them to overthrow their father next season and kick his ass out to the street after they take him for everything he owns.
Hey, it’s okay. I'm here now, everything is fine. MAXTON HALL — 1.03 'Exposed'
I saw this scene on an IG reel and ended up binging the series in 2 days on Amazon Prime
Super recommend, and I hear it got picked up for a S2!
Who wants to talk about Maxton Hall???