#Hangman x you

[all-my-love-for-harry]

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.”

[bingbongsupremacy]

Everything Happens For A Reason

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader, Ex!Bob Floyd x Ex!Fem!Reader

Warning: Drinking Alcohol, heart break, pet names (darlin', sweetheart)

Summary: Your break up with Bob hit you hard. He was your first love, now he's gone. It takes work to get over him. Years later you run into him and his friends at The Hard Deck. The question is, has Jake always been this charming?

*Not Proofread*

No description of reader's weight/body type or race.

You always imagined heartbreak would look the same on both sides. That if your chest ached, his would too. That if you couldn't sleep at night, he'd be tossing and turning, thinking of you.

But instead, you see him in photos. Bright, sun-soaked snapshots on friends' stories or the Navy's social media page. There he is, standing in front of his jet with that shy, soft smile that used to be pointed at you. There he is at the Hard Deck, laughing with Hangman and Phoenix, one hand hooked lazily around a beer. There he is on the beach, hair ruffled by the wind, his eyes crinkled at the corners in the way you used to kiss when he was half-asleep.

It's hard going from knowing someone entirely to complete strangers. Suddenly, you go from talking daily and spending every minute together to devastating silence. A silence that allows old memories to creep in and play back in your mind, shoving what you used to have in your face.

No more funny videos he'd send when they reminded him of you. No texts asking about if you wanted to stay in or go out for dinner. No sweet little encouraging messages to help you get through a tough day at work.

Just silence.

You shouldn't look. You know that. But late at night, you find yourself scrolling anyway. Curious. The glow of your phone is the only light in the room, harsh and unforgiving, illuminating the tear tracks on your cheeks.

Your thumb hovers over the screen, pausing on a video of him tossing a football, that dorky, determined concentration on his face. He looks alive. Happy. Like the version of him you fell in love with in high school, but... lighter, somehow. As if you were the heavy thing he'd been carrying.

The worst part isn't that he's moved on. It's that he seems so good without you. Thriving. As if losing you was exactly what he needed to finally breathe.

You try to convince yourself that he's just good at hiding it. That maybe behind that easy grin, he misses the way you used to tug on his uniform collar to kiss him, or how you used to lay your head on his chest to hear his heartbeat.

But you don't really believe it.

You wonder sometimes if he ever regrets the break up, and wishes you were still together. If he misses you just as much as you miss him.

Deep down, you know he doesn't. That's what kills you.

You wish you hated him. You wish he'd cheated or been an asshole, that when everything ended you were left with a sense of relief. You think that'd be a lot easier then dealing with the heartbreak. But the truth is, you don't. You can't. He's never given you a reason to. He was always kind and supportive, really the ideal boyfriend and your best friend. He was respectful and considerate, always thinking of you. Even when he started to realize his feelings for you were fading, he continued to treat you with respect by not stringing you along or cheating. It's not his fault he fell out of love. He couldn't control what his heart wanted or didn't want.

You just wish he still wanted you.

You both decided to mutually break up, a difficult decision after hours of talking about what was going on, but that didn't make you feel any better. How could you? You and Bob had known each other for years. The two of you shared so many firsts. He was your first kiss, your first love, your first heartbreak. You drank for the first time together, bought your first car and apartment together, and so many other big adult milestones. Your relationship with the man had spanned majority of your adult life. It was hard to let go.

When things ended, you watched all the plans you two made and hopes you had for your future shrivel away. No more buying a home together and planting a little garden. No having children a naming them after his grandparents or adopting a shelter dog. You weren't going to travel the world during retirement. You wouldn't be growing old together, taking care of one another until your last breath. Everything you dreamed for was ripped away along with your heart the day Bob took the last box of his things out of your once shared apartment.

Soon, all that was left of your time together were old texts, a camera full of years of photos, and your broken heart.

When your friends ask how you're doing, you say you're fine. You laugh at the right moments. You pretend you aren't checking his feed, pretending the ache in your ribs is just some leftover cold.

You continue to go out with them, forcing yourself to dress up nice and smile for their Instagram posts. You dance with them in the overly crowded clubs, and pretended you were having fun when bar hopping. You try to act as normal as possible, hoping your eyes don't betray you by exposing your sadness.

Some nights, you swear you can still smell his cologne on your pillow. You roll over, hoping stupidly that maybe he'll be there, arms open and warm and that this was all a terrible dream. But all that greets you is empty space and the echo of a door that closed a long time ago.

You thought heartbreak was supposed to be shared. But now you know.

Sometimes, love only cracks one heart open.

And sometimes, the person you'd die for walks away, and they learn to fly even higher without you.

You didn't just lose the love of your life when you broke up. You lost your best friend too.

-----

It's been a while since you've gone to The Hard Deck. For a while, it felt of limits. Like Bob's turf, a place you'd undoubtedly run into him and his friends. He was the person to show you the bar so you felt like it was only fair he got to keep it.

It's not like he explicitly asked you not to go to the bar, he'd never do that. It just felt like an unwritten obvious rule. Besides, you knew the building would bring up lots of bittersweet memories. So you decided to steer clear.

Your friends didn't know about your history at the bar. If they had, they probably wouldn't have suggested it for a change of scenery on a fun night out. All they knew was that the bar was home to a lot of cute sailors.

You hesitate for a moment, a brief flicker of old nerves wondering if Bob might be there, but it vanishes as quickly as it comes. It's been almost two years, and you've done the hard work of learning to moving on.

You don't stalk his posts. You don't read old texts until your eyes sting, you don't read them at all. You don't think of him when you hear love songs or see something funny.

You've gone on dates, learned how to enjoy your own company, and figured out what it means to build a life that's yours as a single adult woman. You bought your first apartment alone and even adopted your own dog. You still haven't fallen in love again, Bob set the bar high, and you're okay with that. What's important is you're not afraid of being alone anymore.

Tonight is about fun, not ghosts.

You get ready without hesitation, slipping into a dress that makes you feel beautiful. You let your friends fuss with your hair and swipe extra gloss on your lips. When you all squeeze into the Uber, you're already laughing, shoulders pressed together as someone eagerly asks the driver to put on a certain playlist.

The moment you step inside the Hard Deck, a rush of warm, salty air wraps around you. The bar is alive in that way only it can be; music spilling from the jukebox, laughter echoing between the walls, the occasional crack of billiard balls breaking in the corner.

It smells like ocean breeze and spilled beer, sunscreen and wood polish. Sunburned pilots crowd around pool tables, some still wearing their flight suits tied around their waists. Groups of sailors shout over each other, trying to be heard above the music. Penny's daughter, Amelia, zips past carrying a tray of empty glasses, expertly weaving through the crowd.

Strings of warm lights are strung along the ceiling beams, casting a soft golden glow over everything. You spot groups huddled over bar tables, the glow from their phones lighting up their excited faces as they scroll through photos or record each other dancing.

The entire bar feels like it's vibrating with life.

Your friends peel off quickly, already eyeing a group of sailors gathered near the dartboard. You watch them squeal and tug each other forward, all sparkling eyes and flirty giggles. You don't mind at all. You're happy for them, truly. You feel no tug of jealousy, no hollow ache like you once did.

You drift toward the bar, sliding into an empty stool. Penny spots you almost instantly, her head tilting in delighted surprise.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," she says, her voice warm and teasing as she leans over to give you a quick hug. "Long time no see, pretty girl."

"Hey, Pen," you grin, settling in. "It has been a bit, hasn't it?"

The bar counter beneath your elbows is cool and slightly sticky from spilled drinks. Penny's hands move expertly, flipping a rag over her shoulder as she fills a line of pint glasses with local IPAs. She tosses you a bottle of water and slides your usual drink across with a wink. You're impressed she remembered after all these years.

You talk easily, catching up about her daughter's latest surf competition, her endless teasing about the pilots, and her quiet dreams of finally taking that sailboat trip she always mentions.

You fill her in on your life, sharing the good news of your latest promotion and photos of your dog.

You sip your drink slowly, feeling the alcohol bloom warm and sweet across your tongue. You glance around occasionally, eyes drifting across the familiar room. The scuffed dartboard, the framed black-and-white photos of past Navy generations, the trophy shelf gathering dust in the corner. It's exactly the way you remember it.

You don't feel haunted here anymore. You feel present.

Then, you hear it, a low, drawn-out whistle behind you, slicing straight through the music and the noise.

"Well, as I live and breathe… didn't think I'd see you around these parts again."

Your fingers pause on your glass. Slowly, you turn at the familiar voice.

Hangman stands there, leaning against the bar like he was born there, his tan skin glowing under the warm lights, eyes glittering with playful mischief. His grin is wide and lazy, dimples flashing as he cocks his head to the side.

Your heart gives one startled little kick, a reflex, more than anything, and then it settles. You find your lips curving before you can stop them.

"Hangman," you say, your voice smooth and easy, more surprised than shaken. "Still a regular, I see?" I tease.

One you you really missed about Bob is his friends. They were a fun group, loud but entertaining. They were quick to accept you into their friend group, treating you like one of them. You missed them a lot when everything ended, but you knew they were Bob's friends first, not yours. You didn't want to make things awkward for everyone by trying to hang out or make them feel like they needed to pick sides.

Hangman leans in, elbows propped on the bar beside you. "Guilty as charged," he drawls, that smooth, Southern lilt rolling off him effortlessly. "Can't stay away too long. Someone's gotta keep the rookies from embarrassing themselves."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I should've known you'd still be treating this place like your personal stage."

"Hey, it's not a bad stage," he says, eyes glinting as they flick briefly over you. "Good music, cold beer, and interesting company."

The grin he gives you softens for a fleeting second, just a crack in that cocky armor, before it returns to full wattage.

The conversation flows easier than you expected. You catch up like old friends, because in a way, that's exactly what you were. You tell him about your dog, your new apartment, all the fun things you've done over the past few years. He teases you about finally growing up and picking a place with "real adult curtains," jokes about your neighborhood, and grins at a picture of your dog that you show him.

At some point, it slips out naturally, tucked into a story about packing boxes. "After the breakup, I figured it was time for a fresh start, you know? New space, new chapter. Time to find me."

Hangman's expression shifts, his easy grin softening into something sincere. "Yeah, I heard about that," he says, his voice dropping, quieter and more careful than before. "I'm sorry. That's tough. Getting out of something long-term… that's a whole different beast."

You shrug, taking another sip of your drink. "It's fine. Part of life, right? Everything happens for a reason." You say casually, because it's true. It's something you believe firmly. Just because you and Bob weren't meant to be, doesn't mean your time with him didn't matter or teach you anything. You learned a lot from him.

His eyes stay on you a beat longer than you expect. Then he nods slowly. "Yeah. You're right. Things have a way of working out exactly how they're meant to."

You offer him a small, genuine smile, and for the first time, you really notice how green his eyes are and how they crinkle at the corners when he returns your smile.

Before either of you can say more, the door bursts open behind him. Laughter and the sound of heavy boots flood in.

Hangman straightens immediately, turning toward the noise. You glance over his shoulder, and your heart gives a quick, unexpected jump, but not the painful kind you used to feel.

Bob walks in first, laughing at something Rooster shouts behind him. He looks good. Relaxed and genuinely happy, his arm draped around a pretty woman with warm brown hair and an easy, open smile.

Bob spots you almost instantly, freezing mid-laugh. "Y/N?"

You smile warmly, no sharp ache hidden behind it. "Hi, Bob."

The woman at his side looks over, curious and kind.

"Hi," you say, stepping forward to extend your hand. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

She takes it quickly, her grip confident. "I'm Claire! Oh, I've heard so much about you." This must be his girlfriend.

"All good, I hope," you tease, earning a small laugh from her.

Bob recovers, his hand sliding comfortingly to Claire's waist. "It's really good to see you," he says, and you can tell he means it. "How've you been?"

"I've been good, just living life." you say honestly. "You?"

"Good. Really good," he replies, his easy smile genuine. "It's our first year anniversary tonight." He looks down at Claire with that gentle, earnest adoration you remember so well, and she beams back at him.

"That's awesome. Congratulations you guys." You say, happy that Bob was able to find someone who made him happy.

"Thank you." Claire says sweetly. She seems like a quiet girl, very kind. Someone who perfectly compliment's Bob.

"Look at this!" Rooster crows as he strides forward. His hair's a little messy, slightly longer then the last time you'd seen him, and his trademark sunglasses are perched crookedly on his head. He swoops you into a warm, quick hug. "Damn, been too long, Y/N."

"Hey, Rooster," you laugh, swatting playfully at his chest. "Still rocking that mustache, huh?"

"She loves it," he says, jerking a thumb toward Phoenix, who just rolls her eyes.

Phoenix steps in next, smirking as she pulls you into a side hug. "About time you showed up again," she teases. "Thought you'd gone off the grid."

"Hi, Phoenix," you laugh. "Good to see you."

Payback and Fanboy crowd in right after, both grinning.

"Y/N!" Payback calls, fist bumping you. "You still owe me that rematch on the dartboard!"

"Oh, you mean the one where I kicked your ass last time?" you quip, and he groans dramatically.

Fanboy steps forward, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment. "Man, here I thought you finally joined a monastery or something."

You snort, elbowing him lightly. "That was plan B."

Fanboy throws his head back, laughing so loud it turns a few heads nearby. "Glad you didn't. We'd have missed your brutal honesty."

Phoenix tilts her head curiously, eyes sweeping the room. "You here alone tonight?"

You gesture toward your friends still at the dartboard, squealing and cheering. "I came with them. Just didn't feel like making small talk with strangers tonight."

Claire's expression softens immediately, her warmth matching Bob's. "Well, you don't have to be alone if you don't want to," she offers brightly. "You're more than welcome to hang with us."

Rooster nods eagerly, shifting his weight. "Yeah, we got a pitcher with your name on it."

Phoenix lifts her brows, smirking. "Besides, it's more fun when we have someone around who can keep Rooster in check."

"Yeah," Hangman adds, sliding his gaze over to you again, his voice low and smooth. "We're definitely not strangers."

You look at them all; at Rooster's goofy grin, Phoenix's sharp eyes, Payback's friendly smirk, Fanboy's bright energy, Claire's welcoming warmth, Bob's steady kindness, and Hangman's focused, unreadable gaze.

Your heart lifts unexpectedly. You realize just how much you've missed this, the loud jokes, the easy teasing, the effortless way they fold you in like you never left.

"Sure," you say finally, your smile breaking wide. "Thanks guys. I'd like that."

They lead you to a big booth towards the back of the bar, Phoenix practically dragging you into their orbit. Rooster shoves a fresh glass into your hand while Fanboy starts teasing Payback about losing at pool last week.

As you settle in, you catch Hangman's eyes across the circle. There's something new there- a soft flicker of curiosity and something else, something warmer, deeper. You feel your cheeks warm slightly, that gentle spark coiling low in your stomach. It's a feeling you haven't felt in a long time, one that catches you off guard in the best way.

You're surprised to realize you're seeing him differently now; the confident way he stands, the rough edge to his laugh, the steady green of his eyes.

And if the way his gaze keeps dropping to your lips means anything… maybe he's seeing you differently too.

But for now, you just let yourself enjoy the chaotic warmth around you.

The moment you slide into the booth, you're immediately folded into the easy chaos. Rooster slides in beside you, already halfway into a story that makes Fanboy snort beer up his nose.

"-and then Payback nearly flipped the entire kayak because he thought he saw a jellyfish!" Rooster crows, clapping the table.

"It was a plastic bag!" Payback protests, throwing his hands up. "I'm telling you, it looked exactly like one!"

Fanboy wipes his mouth, still laughing. "Bro, you screamed like a toddler in a haunted house."

Phoenix snickers, leaning her elbow on the table. "I wish I'd been there to film it. We could've made millions off that footage."

You giggle, shaking your head. "Next time, I'll come along just to document the chaos. I'll bring a GoPro."

"Oh God, please do," Fanboy gasps, still recovering. "She'd actually catch Hangman running from a seagull, too."

Hangman, who had been reaching for a fry, freezes mid-air and glares at Fanboy. "That bird was massive, man. Practically a flying bear."

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. "A flying bear? Really, Hangman?"

He narrows his eyes at you, but you catch the twitch at the corner of his lips. "Careful, darlin'. Don't make me challenge you to darts and ruin your confidence in front of your friends."

"Oh? You think you can take me?" you shoot back, arching an eyebrow.

His grin spreads slow and lazy. "I know I can."

Rooster throws his head back, howling. "Ohhh, she's in trouble now!"

Phoenix rolls her eyes. "Hangman, you act like you're some sort of pool shark. We all remember last month when you scratched on the eight ball and almost cried."

"I did not almost cry," he huffs, flicking a peanut at her.

Claire giggles beside Bob, leaning into him. Bob watches the banter with a soft, amused smile, his hand resting lightly on Claire's shoulder. He seems happy-and it makes you feel lighter, too.

"So what's new with you, Y/N?" Payback asks, leaning forward. "Besides planning epic documentary footage of our humiliations."

You laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Oh, you know. Work's good. Adopted a dog, picked up some new hobbies, finally learned to make a decent omelet without setting off the fire alarm."

Fanboy claps, over-the-top. "Look at you! Functioning adult activities unlocked!"

Hangman lifts his beer to you, his gaze unwavering and a hint of pride shining through. "I'll drink to that."

You clink his glass lightly, feeling a small, unexpected warmth spread across your chest.

Rooster wiggles his brows. "So, any new prospects? Or is your dog still your main man?"

You roll your eyes, snorting. "Wow, way to put me on blast. My dog is a very supportive roommate, thank you very much."

Phoenix laughs, raising her glass. "Cheers to supportive roommates. They don't steal your fries or your hoodies."

"Speak for yourself," Fanboy says dramatically. "My roommate steals everything and then acts innocent. Looking at you, Payback."

Payback just shrugs, taking a big sip of his drink. "I don't remember that."

You cover your mouth to keep from snorting again, and when you look up, Hangman's eyes are already on you. He he realizes he's been caught looking, he shoots you a grin.

"You know," he says, leaning a little closer, voice low enough that it's just for you, "you look good tonight. Happy."

Your breath catches for a second, but you smile, meeting his gaze fully. "Thank you. I feel… good. It's nice to be back here with all you guys. I missed this."

He smiles back, slow and sincere, and for a moment, the rowdy noise of the group fades into a gentle hum around you.

Rooster smacks the table suddenly, jolting you both out of it. "All right! Enough sappy stuff, who's playing darts first? Y/N versus Hangman?"

Payback whoops. "Oh, she's gonna crush you, Bagman!"

Hangman's head tilts, his grin returning, sharp and challenging. "Careful what you wish for, Payback."

Phoenix leans back, watching with narrowed eyes and an amused smirk. "Fuck, I missed this. This is going to be good."

Claire giggles, leaning forward. "I want front row seats for this showdown."

Bob chuckles softly, looking around at all of you with that quiet warmth he always carried. "Just don't break anything. Penny will kill us."

You laugh again, feeling something bright and bubbly stir inside you.

As you rise to your feet, ready to follow Hangman to the dartboard, you catch his eye again, and this time, there's no denying the flicker of something electric there.

A part of you wonders if this is a good idea. If what you were beginning to feel for Hangman was crossing a line. He is Bob's friend. You're Bob's ex.

Would things be awkward? They haven't been so far. You've been looking looking over at Bob, checking to see if he looks uncomfortable with anything. You don't want to make things weird.

So far, he hasn't given any indication he's uncomfortable with you around. Even the dating comment from Rooster, completely unexpected, didn't seem to faze him. If anything, he seems happy you're happy. And he doesn't seemed bothered about you hanging out with his friend group.

But that doesn't mean he'll be comfortable with you crushing on his friend. That could change things.

You try to shove your worries down and focus on the game ahead of you.

The moment you step up to the dartboard with Hangman, the rest of the world seems to fall into a soft blur, background noise of laughter, clinking glasses, and music all melting away.

Hangman tosses you a dart with a cocky flick of his wrist. "Ladies first," he drawls, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, twirling the dart between your fingers. "Don't tell me you're trying to play the gentleman now. I thought you were here to win."

"Oh, I'm always here to win, darlin'," he shoots back, leaning in just close enough that you catch a faint whiff of his cologne, warm and sharp, like cedar and summer heat. "But I like to give you a head start. Makes the victory sweeter when I steal it back."

Your lips part into a grin, that confident, teasing edge slipping easily into place. You line up your shot and let it fly, the dart lands just shy of the bullseye.

You glance at him over your shoulder. "You're playing with the master, remember?" you taunt, tossing him a wink.

Hangman whistles low, his eyes locked on the board. "Shit," he mutters, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the word.

He steps up, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers dramatically, like he's about to perform open-heart surgery instead of throw a dart. You cross your arms, watching with mock impatience.

"Any day now," you call.

"Patience, sweetheart," he murmurs without looking back. "Art takes time."

His dart lands close to yours; close, but not closer.

A spark of excitement lights you up from the inside, bubbling so high that you can't quite keep the giddy laugh from escaping your lips. You clap your hands together, nearly bouncing on your toes.

"Would you look at that?" you say, tilting your head, your voice sugary sweet. "Guess I'm better than I remember."

Hangman stares at the board, then at you, and shakes his head slowly. "I think I just discovered my new biggest fear," he deadpans. "Losing to you in front of an audience."

You scoff, stepping forward again, heart thundering. This time, your dart lands even closer, nearly dead center. You whip around, throwing your arms up in mock victory.

"I'm sorry, did you say something about stealing victory?" you tease, your voice light, eyes dancing.

He presses his hand to his chest, staggering back dramatically. "Cruel. Heartless." He recovers quickly, stepping close, until there's barely a breath of space between you. "Gotta admit though… watching you win is kinda fun."

Your breath catches, heat blooming beneath your skin.

Before you can answer, you feel a flicker of unease, the fleeting thought of Bob watching from the booth. You glance over your shoulder instinctively. He's talking quietly with Claire, a smile on his face. Not looking your way. Not tense or uncomfortable.

Still, a twist of guilt pricks at you. Would this, whatever this was starting to become, hurt him somehow? Would he feel betrayed if he knew what was stirring in you now when you looked at Hangman?

But then Hangman's voice pulls you back. "Hey."

You turn, and he's watching you closely, green eyes gentle, brow furrowed just slightly. "You okay?" he asks, low and careful.

You force a breath, then let it go, smiling. "Yeah. Just… thinking too much."

His lips curl into a softer, private smile, one that doesn't quite reach his usual cocky swagger. "Well, stop thinking. You won. Celebrate."

And he raises his hand for a high five, which you slap triumphantly, only for him to catch your fingers and tug you forward a little, his palm pressing warm against yours.

Your laughter stutters into a soft exhale. The bar noise seems to fall away again, like you're both in a bubble of your own.

"You really are something else," he murmurs, shaking his head slowly, eyes still locked on yours.

You bite your lip, your heart thumping so loudly you think he must hear it. "Told you I'd beat you," you manage, your voice low.

He grins, his thumb brushing over your knuckles before he finally lets your hand go. "Guess I underestimated you."

You step back, pulse still hammering, and find your eyes drifting back to Bob one last time. He's still laughing softly with Claire, completely at ease. Relief slides through you, slow and cool.

You realize then, maybe he really is okay. Maybe this doesn't have to be complicated. Maybe you're allowed to move forward, too.

Hangman bumps your shoulder lightly, snapping you back. "Don't think this means I'm letting you win next time," he warns, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes, but the smile pulling at your lips feels unstoppable. "I'll believe it when I see it."

He laughs, tipping his chin down to look at you in that easy, playful way, but there's something deeper beneath it now, something that feels like the start of a door opening.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel it too.

-----

Somewhere along the way the friends you came with left with the guys they were flirting with, leaving you alone with the group.

The rest of the evening passes faster then you'd like. You beat both Rooster and Payback at darts, earning promises of rematches in the future. You continue to catch up with everyone and get filled in on their lives. You really enjoy hanging out with everyone, being apart of their banter.

Throughout the evening you catch yourself feeling the urge to spend more time with Hangman. Part of you wonders if he's always been this funny and charming and you're only noticing it because you're single or if he's changed from the man you knew before.

You're patiently waiting near the bar for the groups last round of drinks. It's getting late and you're all just about ready to go. This is a goodbye shot.

It makes you a little sad at the thought of leaving soon. You don't know when you'll see them all again.

Bob appears beside you at the bar, pulling you out of your thoughts, just as Penny sets down the final tray of shots. He shifts his weight, hands sliding into his pockets before he speaks.

"Need a hand carrying those back?" he offers.

You glance at the crowded tray and nod, smiling. "Sure. Thanks, Bob."

He picks up half of the glasses carefully, and the two of you stand side by side as Penny finishes arranging the last few.

"You having fun tonight?" he asks after a moment.

You glance over at the group; Rooster and Fanboy wrestling over a pool cue, Phoenix tossing peanuts at Payback's head, Hangman laughing loudly in the middle of it all.

"Yeah," you say honestly, your smile warm. "More than I thought I would."

Bob nods, his gaze softening further. "Good. The group… they missed you. We all did."

Your chest tightens in the best way, and you glance down at the tray, cheeks warming. "Thanks. I missed them too. Missed all of you."

He watches you for a moment, then gives a small, thoughtful smile. "I'm really happy to hear life's been treating you well," he says softly. "That's all I ever wanted for you, you know."

You meet his eyes, surprised by the easy affection there. "I know," you say, your voice low and sincere. "And I'm happy for you, too. Claire seems… really great for you."

His whole face lights up at the mention of her, a gentle pride shining there. "She is," he says, almost shyly. "She's… she's the love of my life."

A comfortable silence stretches between you, filled with the distant thrum of the jukebox and the hum of laughter from the group.

Then Bob shifts slightly, glancing down at the tray in his hands. "I, uh… I noticed you and Hangman tonight," he says carefully, his voice low.

Your stomach flips, heat climbing up your neck. You open your mouth to protest or explain, but Bob lifts a hand before you can speak.

"Hey," he soothes quickly, a soft chuckle slipping out. "Don't worry. It's okay. Actually… Claire and I were talking about it earlier."

Your brows draw together, your heart pounding. "You… were?"

He nods, looking thoughtful. "Yeah. I think, deep down, I always thought there might've been something there. At least on his end, in the beginning."

You blink, your breath catching. "Wait… really?"

Bob huffs a small laugh, glancing past you toward the group. Hangman's rolling his eyes at something Rooster said, an amused grin playing on his lips.

"There was this one time," Bob continues, his voice soft and almost nostalgic. "Back when we all used to hang out a lot… I started to feel myself pulling away. And when that happened, I think it let me really see how he looked at you sometimes. The way I used to look at you. The way you looked at me."

He shakes his head, a small, knowing smile flickering across his lips. "Hangman never crossed a line. He never said or did anything disrespectful, never made me, or you, uncomfortable. But… I could tell he liked you. Even if he didn't admit it to himself or anyone else."

You glance toward the group again, your eyes catching on Hangman. His eyes meet yours and he sends you a warm smile, his eyes crinkling.

Bob shifts his weight, drawing your attention back. "We had our time. It was good and I think it taught us a lot… but it was right that it ended. I think we both knew that, even if it took us a while to say it out loud."

He pauses, and for a second his eyes search yours, as if making sure you're really hearing him.

"I think… everything that happened was meant to lead us here," he says quietly. "I want you to know… you should follow your heart, no matter what it tells you to do. Don't hold back for my sake. You deserve to be happy. The both of you do."

Your throat tightens, emotion pooling in your chest, warm and bittersweet.

"And hey," Bob adds with a soft, crooked smile, "I'll always consider you a friend. Even if we don't talk all the time. You're always welcome to hang out with us here. The others would love that. I would too."

You swallow hard, a tear threatening behind your lashes, not out of sadness, but relief and gratitude.

"Bob…" you start, your voice breaking just slightly. "Thank you. Really. You don't know how much I needed to hear that."

He smiles wider, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. "Anytime."

You nod, wiping at your eyes quickly before Penny can see and start teasing.

"I'm really happy for you," you say again, more firmly this time. "And… thank you for still being you. For being kind."

"Wouldn't know how to be any other way," he teases lightly, nudging your arm.

You both share a small, quiet laugh together, a moment of genuine closure, sweet and complete.

Then Penny calls out your name again, ready with the final tray. Bob gives you one last warm look before picking up his half.

"Come on," he says, tilting his head toward the group. "Let's not keep them waiting."

You grin, following him back across the bar, lighter than you've felt in years.

Bob broke your heart, yes. But if he hadn't it wouldn't have lead you to where you are now. Now that the pain has passed you see everything happens for a reason.

You make it to the table, drinks in hand, earning loud cheers from the group. You set the drinks down before taking a seat next to Hangman who carefully hands you a shot before grabbing his own.

The entire time a wide excited smile rests on your face as you finally allow yourself to really accept your feelings.

"What's got you grinnin' like that, sweetheart?" Hangman asks with a small laugh.

You gently grab his hand which is resting against the table between you. With a soft stroke of your thumb over the back of his palm, you reply. It's simple but forward. You don't feel like you have to hold back anymore. "You."

His smile grows wider and he flips his hand, interlocking your fingers. "I was hoping so."

All you can do is take things one step at a time and see where this leads you.

Bob wasn't meant to be the love of your life.

But maybe Jake is.

We'll see.

[cowboybeepboop]

Desire

“Anything you want, baby,” he murmurs, his voice strained with desire. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Friends to lovers, romantic smut

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Your feelings for Jake resurface after you tried to push them away, leading to an extremely intimate night with your best friend.

a/n: I really hope there's still an audience for Top Gun Maverick smut because I really loved writing for Hangman and Rooster. Also, I’m currently working on the requests in my inbox but as always feel free to send any my way! I hope you enjoy <3

You're best friends with Jake, in fact you're the only one who he doesn't seem to have an attitude with. Working at The Hard Deck allows you to see him even more frequently, which you truly enjoy.

You know not to get too attached to him, you know how he is with women, you know that given the chance he would simply fuck you and leave your life forever. So of course you’ve entirely given up on the chance of ever being anything more than just his friend, his best friend.

The doors swing open with Mav and his team bounding in, he greets Penny, glancing over at you as you lean over a table obviously lost in thought.

“What are all of you doing here? I’m not even open yet,” she starts to scold but Maverick brushes her comment off.

“I thought you could make an exception for us,” he shoots her a sly grin and she rolls her eyes. Hangman gives you a gentle pat on the back as he passes you, saying a soft hello.

Phoenix chuckles as she stands in front of you, “Hey Y/N,” you groan in response.

“Hey, bagman.” Phoenix addresses the blond who's standing at the pool table, “What's up with Y/N?” Hangman turns toward Phoenix and raises an eyebrow in response to her question. He didn't seem particularly interested in the conversation, but his attention was piqued nonetheless.

"Hm? Oh, Y/N? What about her?" he said, leaning against the pool table with a nonchalant tone.

“I mean, just look at her. She looks like she's got something on her mind.” she says, nodding in your direction. Their gazes fall on you, watching as you wipe the same place over and over. He approaches you with a frown on his face, clearly noticing your distracted state.

He stands in front of you, his arms folded across his chest, and observes you silently. "You look like you're in another world, sweetheart," he finally says in a low voice, tilting his head to get a better look at your face.

You glance up at him, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah, something like that.” you mutter.

“Well, don't just say that and not give me the details.” he raises an eyebrow, watching the way you look away. Something was definitely on your mind, he could tell by the look on your face alone. He knew you all too well, and your usual mood was certainly not this solemn.

He leaned down a bit, making sure he was in your field of vision again, his arms still crossing his chest. “Come on, you can tell me. What's going on?” he prodded, a hint of concern in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” your expression softens as you toss the rag into the red bucket under the counter.

“Oh, really now?” he says with a doubtful tone. He knew you were lying straight to his face, you were usually a pretty terrible liar. He leans against the counter a little bit, keeping his eyes on you. “I know there’s something going on in that pretty little head of yours. So spill it.” He spoke in a firm tone, trying to get you to open up to him.

“It's just,” you purse your lips as you choose your words carefully, making sure he doesnt find out you're talking about him. “Just some guy, has me distracted.”

“A guy?” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. There was something off about the way you spoke, like you were intentionally being vague. But his curiosity quickly shifted into jealousy as you mentioned you were distracted by another guy.

His arms tensed across his chest as he leaned a little closer towards you. “Who is this guy? Is he bothering you?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He didn’t like the idea of someone else capturing your attention, let alone making you distracted.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it.” you tease him, your mood becoming a bit more lighthearted.

He rolled his eyes at your teasing, a small hint of a smile appearing on his face. But he was still determined to figure out who this other guy was, who was taking your attention away from him.

He pushed off the counter, moving to stand in front of you so that you were now face to face. “Come on, spill it. Who is this guy?” he said, a hint of insistence in his voice.

“I don’t want to make you jealous.” There was a hint of a smirk on his face as you mentioned making him jealous. He knew you were teasing him, but his competitive nature couldn’t resist the challenge.

“Oh, you think I’d get jealous?” he said, a hint of mock arrogance in his tone. “I don’t get jealous, sweetheart.” you think for a second, realizing that maybe getting advice from the man who's bothering you so much, might actually be your best option.

“Fine,” you pull yourself up on the counter, sitting on the edge in front of him. “He’s an ass sometimes, all he cares about is getting laid so I know I need to stay away. But.. I just can’t stop thinking about him.” you sigh.

Hangman looks a bit surprised by your admission, he wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt about the situation. He wants to tell you to forget about the guy and focus your attention on him instead, but he knows he doesn’t have any claim over you.

He leans against the counter next to you, his arms resting across his chest once again. “Sounds like a player, why bother with him?” he asks, trying to sound indifferent.

“I don't know, it’s just that he's always on my mind.” you lean back on your palms, “I guess that's why I’m so distracted today.” He can see the hint of frustration and confusion in your expression, it was clearly bothering you that this guy was constantly invading your thoughts.

He’s silent for a moment, his mind racing with different thoughts and feelings. But eventually he speaks, his voice low and firm. “You can do so much better than some player,” he says with a slight scoff, “You don’t need a guy like him in your life.”

Your eyes wander across his face as you sigh, “I know..” your voice trails off. He looks down at you, noticing the way your eyes are wandering across his face. He can see the hint of disappointment in your expression, as you admit that you know you can do better.

He steps a bit closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face. “So why bother with him then? Why waste your time and energy thinking about a guy who doesn’t deserve you?"

“I should get back to work.” you smile softly at him, hiding the frustration at his admission. He didn’t want you to go, he wasn’t ready to let the conversation end just yet. The way you smiled softly at him, a hint of frustration in your eyes, made him want to keep talking to you and find out more.

But he knew you had a job to do, and he didn’t want to come off as needy or overbearing. He nods in response to your statement, forcing a small smile back.

“Y/N,” Penny smiles warmly at you, “How about you call it a day?” she presses her hand to your back.

“Are you sure?” you question her, she simply nods at you. You find your way over to the pool table watching the pilots play.

The pilots are in the middle of a game of pool, laughing and teasing each other as they take turns shooting. Hangman in particular is clearly enjoying himself, relishing in the competitive atmosphere. He knows he's good at pool, and he's not afraid to show it.

He’s the first to notice your approach, and his demeanor changes slightly. He glances at you, a hint of a cocky smile on his face. “Finished working already?” he teases, his eyes watching you intently.

“Yeah, but my ride won't be here for a couple more hours.” you bite down on your bottom lip, gazing at him.

He steps even closer to you, his gaze unwavering. “If you don't want to keep waiting, I can drive you home.” his voice lowered as he stares down at you.

“Actually that sounds like a great idea,” you smile up at him, thankful you won’t have to stay any later.

He can't help but feel satisfied that you agreed so easily to his offer, pleased that he'll have more time alone with you. He grins back at you, his arms still crossed in front of his chest.

"Alright then, let's get going." he says, jerking his head towards the exit. He places a hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the doors. You wave goodbye to Penny and Mav who are deep in a conversation.

“Do you maybe have time to watch a movie with me?” you fiddle with your fingers, “I mean, it's been a while since we've hung out just the two of us.”

He listens to your question, his mind racing with different thoughts, but he quickly shoves them down. He would do anything to spend more time with you. He pretends to act a bit indifferent, but his voice betrays him as he replies.

"Sure, we can watch a movie." he shrugs, trying not to seem too eager. "Got one in mind?" you reach for the handle of his passenger side door.

“Hm, we could watch anything. I just want to be with you,” you admit carelessly while getting into the car.

He can’t help but feel a flutter in his chest at your admission, his heart races a little bit faster as he watches you get into the car. He quickly gets into the driver’s seat, trying to act like your words don’t affect him.

“Anything, huh?” he teases, glancing over at you quickly as he starts the car. “Even a cheesy romance movie?” he smirks, knowing how much you love them.

You gasp in response, “Obviously, you *know* they're my favorite.” his mind goes back to the discussion you had earlier as you smile at him.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your response, “Of course I do, I can’t forget your obsession with them.” he teases, his eyes staying focused on the road as he drives. But his mind starts to wander again, thinking about your earlier confession.

As his mood shifts slightly, he glances over at you with a hint of a frown on his face. “So, uh, this guy you were talking about,” he says, breaking the silence in the car. “How… how serious are you about him?”

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrow softly. His grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly at your reaction, his eyes staring straight ahead as he continues to drive.

He can’t help the pang of jealousy that runs through him, he glances over at you, his face trying to maintain a nonchalant expression. “I just mean, you said you didn’t want to get in trouble with a guy.” he says, his tone guarded.

“I don’t know.” you sigh looking out the window.

His heart does a backflip at your words, he tries to maintain a neutral expression, but he can’t help the small smirk that appears on his face. “So, you’re single, huh?” he teases, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Mhm, why do you ask?” you question him. He continues to drive, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he answers your question.

“Just wondering,” he replies casually, trying to feign indifference. But he can’t help the nervous energy that’s building inside of him. He glances over at you, his gaze raking over your face thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been single for a while too,” he adds, an underlying hint in his voice.

“You’re always single,” you retort, “you prefer hook-ups over relationships, right?” you tease him.

He lets out an annoyed huff, not expecting you to tease him like that. His face flushes slightly as he remembers all the past hookups he’s bragged about to you, in an attempt to make you jealous. “Hey,” he says with false annoyance in his voice, “I can be in a relationship if I wanted to.”

“And would you want to?” you question as he pulls into the parking lot of your building.

He parks the car, his heart racing slightly at your question. He turns to look at you, hesitating for a moment. The thought of being in a relationship, with you, was something he’d fantasized about for a while. But he’s also a coward, terrified of being vulnerable and getting hurt.

He takes a deep breath, trying to maintain a casual composure. “Maybe, if it was the right person.” he finally responds, his eyes searching your face for a reaction. You nod in response, slightly disappointed with his answer.

“Who’s your right person?” your voice is quiet. He’s taken aback by your question, the subtle disappointment in your voice stabbing at his heart. He glances down, his mind racing with different thoughts and emotions.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes shifting back up to meet yours. His heart pounds even faster as he musters up the courage to answer you. “Well.. I think you already know.” your eyes widen at his implication, feeling his hand moving to cup your cheek.

He can see the surprise in your eyes as he cups your cheek gently, his thumb stroking your skin softly. His heart is racing as he looks down at you, his eyes searching your expression for a reaction.

He takes a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak. “Do you… do you feel the same way?” he asks, his voice soft and nervous.

“Jake.. I.” your heart races as your words get stuck in your throat. His chest clenches as you struggle to speak, his stomach in knots as he waits for your response. His hand is still gently caressing your cheek, his eyes never leaving your face.

He swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure. “Please, just tell me. I need to know.” he says, his voice quiet but firm. Finding yourself speechless, you respond by pressing your lips to his.

He’s taken by surprise by your action, his eyes widening for a split second before he responds to your kiss. A wave of relief and happiness washes over him as he feels your lips against his, his heart racing with excitement and disbelief as he realizes the asshole you were talking about earlier just so happens to be him.

He moans softly against your mouth, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers burying into your hair as he kisses you back, passionately and hungrily. You lean closer to him, your hands cupping his cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue twirling with yours. He can’t believe this is actually happening, that you feel the same way he does.

He pulls you closer, his hands gripping your hips and guiding you onto his lap. He moans against your lips, his hands roaming down your sides, his touch both gentle and desperate at the same time.

“Jake,” you whisper against his lips, feeling his bulge pressed against your heat. He shudders hearing his name leaving your lips, his eyes darkening with desire for you. He can’t help but moan softly as he feels your body pressed against his, his hips instinctively bucking up slightly in response.

He pulls you even closer, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips trailing down your neck. “Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I want you so damn bad.” you moan quietly, leaning into his touch.

“We need to go inside,” your voice and gaze are filled with desire. His heart races at your moan, his body aching with need for you. He nods in agreement, his eyes filled with the same desire.

“You’re right, we should go.” he mutters, his hands roaming over your hips, unable to keep himself from touching you.

He lifts you off his lap, opening the car door and practically dragging you out with him. He shuts the door behind you before pulling you towards the building’s entrance, his eyes filled with impatience and lust.

He presses you against the wall of the elevator, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of exposed skin. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” he mutters against your skin, his voice thick with desire. He kisses and nips at your neck, unable to get enough of you, your soft moans fill the cramped space.

He can’t help but smirk to himself as he hears your moans, his heart racing as he realizes he’s the one making you feel this way. He feels a surge of pride and satisfaction knowing he’s the one who has your heart racing and your body yearning.

“Jake, fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” The ding of the elevator pulls you both out of your trance as the doors open, revealing the empty hallway. He grabs your hand, practically dragging you towards your apartment.

You fumble with the doorknob as you unlock it, feeling his desperate hands around your waist.

He can't keep his hands off you, his fingers tracing the exposed skin of your waist as you fiddle with the keys. Impatience floods him, his desire growing with every second.

He presses himself against you from behind, his lips finding your neck once again. "Hurry up," he mutters against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "I need you, right now."

You pull the door open, smirking at his impatience. He traps you between his arms, your back pressed against the closed door, his body pressed firmly against yours. He gazes down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and low. He leans down and captures your lips in a fierce and passionate kiss, his body desperate to get closer to you.

You press against him, your palms against his lower abs, as you lead him to your bedroom blindly. He follows your lead through the apartment, his lips never leaving yours. His body is on fire, the feeling of your hands on his abs driving him wild.

He pushes you against the doorframe of your bedroom, his body pinning you to it as he continues to kiss you deeply and hungrily. He can't get enough of your mouth, his tongue tasting every inch of it. He slips his knee between your thighs, pressing into your sensitive pussy. You moan into his mouth, your eyebrows scrunching in pleasure.

His knee presses against your sensitive core, his tongue exploring your mouth greedily. He can hear your moans, your breath hitching as he presses into you. He feels a surge of satisfaction as he knows he’s the one who makes you feel this way.

He nips at your bottom lip, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “You like that, sweetheart?” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse. “You want more?”

“Please,” you grasp onto his sides, moaning desperately, “I need more please.”

He can hear the desperation in your voice, your fingers gripping his sides. His heart aches at your plea, his body responding instantly to your need.

He moans against your mouth in response, his hands roaming down to your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you into your bedroom.

He gently but firmly presses you against the plush comforter of your bed, his eyes devouring every inch of your body. The room is bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting shadows across your flushed cheeks and the passionate hunger in his gaze. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, and it sends shivers down your spine.

With a low growl, he starts to peel away the layers of fabric that separate his skin from yours. His rough hands glide over your smooth flesh, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Each piece of clothing that falls away reveals more of your beauty to him, and he can't help but moan in appreciation. His eyes are locked onto yours, watching the way your pupils dilate with every touch, every kiss.

He nips at your earlobe before tracing the line of your jaw with his teeth, making you squirm under him. His hands are everywhere, exploring the curves of your body, learning every dip and peak that makes you gasp. His kisses become more fervent, his teeth grazing your neck as he sucks soft hickeys into your skin. You can feel the pressure build, the promise of bruises that will be a secret between the two of you.

Your breath comes in pants as he kisses down your chest, his tongue swirling around your hardened nipples. You arch your back, pushing your breasts closer to his eager mouth, your hands tangling into his hair. He groans, the vibration of his pleasure echoing through your body, making your core clench with need. His teeth graze the sensitive skin, and you can't help but bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape.

His mouth continues to travel downward, leaving a trail of hot kisses down your stomach. His eyes never leave yours, the hunger in them growing with every inch closer he gets to your wet pussy. You can feel your heart pounding against your ribs, the anticipation of his touch making your skin tingle with excitement.

With surprising gentleness, he spreads your legs apart, his gaze lingering on the wetness that's already gathered there. He groans, his own arousal evident in the tightness of his pants. He leans in, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, and you can't help but moan out his name as he kisses the inside of your thigh.

The first suck is gentle, but firm, and you feel your pussy clench in response. He starts to suck dark hickeys along the sensitive skin, each one a little harder and closer to your center. Your hands tighten in his hair as he works his way closer to your core, the pleasure building with every mark he leaves.

“More, Jake, please!” you beg him, your voice desperate and needy. He chuckles against your skin, his tongue flicking against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your back arches as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking hard. You moan loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of your small apartment.

He inserts one finger inside you, feeling the slickness of your arousal. You gasp as he starts to pump in and out, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, teasing and taunting it. His eyes watch yours as he reads every reaction, making sure to hit all the right spots.

You're close, so close, but he knows you can take more. He adds another finger, stretching you just right, the friction making your toes curl. Your eyes roll back into your head as he starts to pump faster, his mouth never leaving your clit. He feels you tighten around his fingers, the warmth of your orgasm approaching.

He keeps his rhythm steady, not letting up even when your moans turn into whimpers of pleasure. You're so close, your body begging for release. His eyes never leave you, the intensity of the moment causing your chest to heave with every ragged breath. And then it hits you, the orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

You scream his name, your body convulsing with pleasure. He keeps his mouth on you, drinking in your release, savoring the taste of your arousal. As the waves subside, he kisses up your body, his hands still holding you in place.

"You taste so good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with satisfaction. He can feel your legs shaking as his own need for you grows with every second. He strips off his own clothes, his eyes never leaving yours, and then he's on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress.

He positions himself at your entrance, his cock aching to be inside you. He looks into your eyes, searching for permission, and you nod eagerly. He takes a deep breath, then gently pushes in, feeling your warmth envelop him. You gasp as he stretches you, his eyes never leaving yours, watching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

As he’s fully sheathed in your wetness, he holds still for a moment, savoring the feeling of being connected to you so intimately. He starts to move, his hips rolling in a slow, torturous rhythm. Each time he thrusts into you, your eyes widen and a moan escapes your lips. He loves the way you react to him, the way your body moves with his.

He keeps his movements gentle, not wanting to overwhelm you, despite his own desperate need to claim you completely. His hands are everywhere, stroking your skin, feeling your curves, as he kisses along your jawline. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

Your thighs squeeze around him, your heels digging into his back as he continues to thrust into you, deeper and deeper. His movements become more urgent as he feels your body tightening around him, the walls of your pussy clenching down on his cock. You moan his name, urging him to go faster, harder, and he responds eagerly, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm.

You can feel yourself on the edge of another orgasm, your breaths coming in short gasps. Hangman’s eyes are locked on yours, watching the pleasure build in your gaze, feeling the power he has over your body. He can’t believe how beautiful you look, your face contorted in ecstasy, your eyes glazed over with lust.

Your body begins to spasm around him, your pussy clenching down hard. He groans, his hips stuttering as he feels you start to cum. The sensation is overwhelming, your muscles tightening around his cock like a vice, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

With a sudden jolt, he pulls out of you, unable to hold back any longer, his cock spurting cum onto your stomach with a loud groan. His eyes never leave your body, watching as your orgasm takes over, your pussy pulsing and gripping at nothing.

He's left breathless, his chest heaving as he looks down at you, his expression one of awe and satisfaction. He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, before his eyes drift down to the mess he's made of you.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut, your body trembling with the pleasure he’s given you. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at the sight of your beautiful, sated body.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire and exhaustion. His eyes rake over your form, taking in every curve and plane, every mark he’s left behind.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he mutters, his fingers tracing the lines of his bites and hickeys on your skin.

“Now let's get you cleaned up, hm?” He lifts you up, wrapping his strong arms around you, and carries you to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, letting the water run until it warms up, before placing you gently under the spray.

He steps in after you, his body pressing against yours as he begins to lather your body with soap, his hands moving over your skin gently but possessively. You exhale contentedly as you press into his chest, relaxing in his embrace.

He holds you close, his arms encircling you, as the water cascades over your bodies. His hands run over your body, washing away the sweat and evidence of your passionate encounter. Jake nuzzles his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, a sense of peace washing over him. He murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

“You’re not just fucking around with me are you?” your voice is uneasy as your stomach twists with anxiety. He freezes, taken aback by your vulnerable question. He can hear the anxiety in your voice, and it pierces his heart.

He pulls away slightly, turning your body to face his, cupping your face gently in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are intense but filled with understanding.

“No. No, sweetheart, I’m not just ‘fucking around with you’.” His voice is firm but tender. “What we did tonight, it meant something to me. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. You mean way too much to me.” your eyes soften as his gaze into yours with sincerity.

“Good, because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” you bite down on your lip. He feels a rush of tenderness and protectiveness wash over him as he hears your sincere words. He pulls you closer, your wet bodies pressed against each other, his arms encircling you in a firm embrace.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he mutters against your hair, his voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and possessiveness. “You’re all I want too, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I need you.”

[0mg-bird]

Hangman’s Mystery - J Seresin x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Shy! Fem! Reader

Summary: Jake takes you to meet the crew after claims of him hiding you from them. You’re extremely shy and aren’t a fan of lots of people, making Jake be more protective of you. For once, Rooster knows more about Jake’s life than the others do.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety - protective Jake- Fluff!- language.

“All I’m saying is it’s a little suspicious.” Payback says, opening his locker up. Jake just rolls his eyes, preparing himself to go through this debate one more time.

“I hate to say this, but I agree with him.” Fanboy pipes in, pulling his flight suit off.

Somehow, the conversations lately always turn back to you. Ever since the flight crew found out Jake’s been seeing someone and it wasn’t a casual hook up, they’ve bugged him about it ever since. It had come up one night at the Hard Deck, when Coyote suggested to a perky blonde, who had been hitting on him, to focus her attention on the southern boy who was playing pool. She eyed Jake up, pleased with what was in her gaze and moved in on him.

Some of the boys gathered around to watch the cocky pilot work his magic. Coyote figured he was doing the pilot a favor since he hadn’t been seen with a girl on his arm in a while. Imagine their surprise when Jake took a step away from the grasp on his bicep.

“What’s he doing?” Payback questions, looking appalled.

“Is he sick?” Phoenix asked as she finished her beer.

Jake had smiled politely and rejected all advances the girl made, sending her away and going straight to his pool game again.

By the time Rooster came around with a fresh drink, the group scrambled to fill him in on the alien sight they just witnessed.

“He sent her away.” Phoenix said with a slack jaw.

“Like a poor puppy.” Coyote joked.

Rooster took a swig of his beer, then shrugged like they were idiots. “Yeah, he already has a girl.”

“What?!” They all exclaimed.

Ever since that night a week ago, Jake was being grilled on it.

As he takes out a fresh shirt to slip on, Jake shakes his head. “Coyote is getting married, and y’all are icing me for having commitment?”

Payback nods. “Well that’s because we knew of his fiancée, you have been hiding this girl like a dirty little secret.”

“I think him and Bradshaw are pulling our leg.” Coyote pipes in. “I think he made her up just to fuck with us.”

Jake laughs out loud. “You are just being ridiculous now.”

Bob, who has been quiet the entire time, ‘lurking’ as the crew likes to say, finally uses his smug voice. “Look, Seresin, I get it. I had a fake girlfriend too one time in high school, it’s embarrassing to admit, buddy.” His words make the guys laugh, and Jake shuts his locker with a loud clank. “She’s not fake! She just doesn’t really like hanging out with dick heads like you guys. She’s real shy.” He glares.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Fanboy states. “Yeah, we want to meet her. You bring her to the Hard Deck on Friday night if she’s real, or else we will never stop bugging you about it.” He says, giving Jake a harsh choice.

His hand runs down his face. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“He’ll talk to her about it, he says.” Coyote scoffs. “Okay Seresin, go talk to your fake girlfriend about it.”

“She’s not fake!”

~~~~~~~

“Baby?” He calls, walking through your front door. Moving to set his small duffle bag on the counter, he toes off his boots, trying to place where you were in the sea side house. It was oddly quiet, maybe you had your head phones in, oblivious to the world outside.

Down the hall he goes, pushing open your cracked bedroom door. Your scrubs were tossed in the corner, almost making it into the laundry hamper. You lay sprawled in bed, hair out of your braid, asleep in one of Jake’s t shirts he left at your house and some boxer shorts.

Slowly, he creeps to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as he strokes your hair. You slowly start to stir, opening your bright eyes to him. A smile creeps up your pink lips, you take a deep breath in and twist to sit up.

“Hi.” You grin, happy he’s here.

“You alright? It’s only five, you look tired.” His voice was calm, sweet to you as he stroked the under side of your chin with his finger.

You rubbed your eyes. “Long day.” You breathe. “Mr. Johnson passed this morning.”

Jake’s eyes grow heavy with sorrow for you. He knew that this was normal for you because you were an at home nurse and a lot of the time the elderly patients pass. “I’m sorry, honey.” He says, leaning to kiss your forehead.

You lean into his touch. “It’s alright, I should be used to it by now but…I don’t know, Mr. Johnson was a sweet man, I actually adored his company.” You softly laugh. “But, that’s life, I’ll be fine.”

Pushing the covers further off of you, you lean forward and sweetly kiss the man that’s been in your life for five months. Despite the somewhat short time period, you couldn’t imagine life being any different than what it is. Your mother and sister called you crazy for being with an aviator, reminding you that he won’t stay in town forever, that he is quite literally owned by the government and will be wherever he is assigned to. The thought was scary, getting so attached to someone just for him leave when his ship comes in. It made your anxiety tick higher when you thought about it for too long. But, you don’t think you’ve ever been this in love. You’ll be the first to admit that you’ve never been a social butterfly, you were stuck in a shell, hardly bothering to get close to new people. Your handful of friends knew this about you, so it was a surprise when they met Jake and all of his infectious attitude. Somehow, Jake had a way of prying that shell open, his strong hands took you off the shelf and he learned that there’s a light hearted, good time, girl under all the shy innocence. He loved you for both versions, and it made you love him even more.

You declared that if you could, you’d follow him anywhere.

As he takes a shower, probably using your shampoo, you move to figure out what it is that you wanted to make for dinner.

You turn on some music, cracking a beer open and taking a drink. Soon, the kitchen is full of a delicious scent that Jake smells all the way from the bedroom. He follows the waft, sweatpants low on his hips and a casual tank top over his upper half. Finding you stirring some vegetables, he kisses the side of your head, then snatches the half drank bottle from your hand. This is usually the routine, you can never finish the drink you intend to, so he’s there to finish it for you.

“I want to…ask you something.” He says, leaning back against the counter.

You hum in question, and he loves the little look you toss him from over your shoulder.

“You wanna go out on Friday night?” He asks, making you smile. “Sure, where do you want to go?” You ask, unsure why he seems off.

“Well, I think since I’ve met your friends, you should meet mine. Let’s go to the Hard Deck with them, honey.”

You immediately stop your movements, anxiety sweeping over you. “Jake…I don’t know��a bar…”

“I met you in a bar.” He reminds with a smug look.

“That was different.” You turn to face him. “I was dragged there for my sister’s twenty first birthday and you know I hated it the whole time.”

He smiles at your pointed look. “Yes, I know but this will be different. Look, we’ll go, say hi, prove you actually exist, then come home and have sex on the couch.”

Your eyes widen. “Jake!” You gasp at his bluntness.

“Fine, we’ll do it in the shower.”

“Just stop talking.” You shake your head, hiding your smile. “The crew really doesn’t think I exist?”

He comes to grips with your waist. “They think I’ve made you up, like some sad Freshman geek…like i’m Bob or something.”

“Who’s Bob?” You ask with confusion.

His head dips to your neck. “Come to the bar and you’ll figure it out.” He mumbles, inhaling your scent before nipping at your skin. It makes you laugh, desperate to push him away but his strong arms have you locked in.

Something about him could make you forget anything. Sadness, anxiety, tiredness…the veggies that are burning in the skillet.

As his mouth moves up your throat, he’s engulfing you like a starved man. You try to speak before he’s inhaling you deeply, pulling you impossibly closer with his mouth on yours, searing you with a kiss that makes your knees weak.

“Jake- baby- mm.” You battle. “Okay, I’ll go with you. Jake- vegetables are charring.”

He finally lets go of you, grinning at your laugh and the way you stumble slightly as he lets you go.

~~

Clammy hands run down your jeans, once, twice, three times before Jake pulls you towards the entrance.

“They’re not gonna like me.” You stress.

“They’ll love you.” He states, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“They’ll be bored of me in two seconds.” You continue.

“No they won’t, just breathe, honey.”

You’re submerged into a room full of talk and music, some rowdy college kids are being thrown out and you’re sure you stepped in a puddle of spilled margarita. Your eyes are wide, and you shift closer into the larger body beside you. Jake leans down to whisper in your ear that it’s calmer in the back.

By the pool table, a group is gathered there and you immediately assume this is the infamous crew.

Phoenix is the first to notice, she smacks Payback and Fanboy, motioning for them to look alive.

“Well well, here he is, the man himself.” Coyote says smugly, setting his pool stick down.

A shorter pilot approaches you. “How much did he pay you to be here?” He asks, confusing you.

“What?”

“Just joking, I’m Reuben, but everyone calls me Payback, and you’re gorgeous.” He takes your hand in greeting, making your face heat with surprise and embarrassment.

Payback is pushed aside, and replaced by another. “I’m Fanboy, his back seater which means he’d be shit outa luck if he didn’t have me saving his ass.”

You shake his hand too, unsure of what to say.

“So, what’s your name? Wait, what was the last one, Jake? Abbi? Alison? Sorry, he has a thing for A names. Your name start with an A?” His tone is teasing, but he’s so straightforward, it makes things awkward.

Jake’s grip tightens on you. “Cut it out, Garcia.” He slowly said with a warning look.

Fanboy puts his hands up in defense. “Just trying to get to know this mystery girl you hid from us, Hangman.” He claims, then goes back to your gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You say softly, brushing him off.

You’re introduced to more guys, all who make some sort of snide comment about your relationship with Jake, well, except for Bob who was utterly polite. To your surprise, you’re introduced to Natasha greets you with a hug.

“Well, you’re real and not crazy so that’s a plus.” She jokes, making you chuckle. “You want something to drink?” She asks.

“You’re sweet, thank you. I’ll just take a beer, I’m not picky.” You say in a grateful tone, she nods, saying she’ll be right back.

Moving in from outside, Rooster makes his appearance.

“I missed the meet and greet? Damn.” He says, making you turn with a grin.

“Bradley, hi!” You greet, stepping away from Jake’s embrace momentarily. Rooster hugs you politely. “Hey girly, how are you?”

The crew grows a sour look.

“You two already know each other?” Coyote asks.

Rooster nods. “I was there when her and Hangman met.” He says so casually.

“Bradley and Ashley come over for lunch sometimes.” You add, making the group look at each other.

“Does no one tell us anything anymore or…” Bob trails off.

The night continues with chatter and worthless bets on pool shots. At no point does your hand leave Jake, whether it’s intertwined with his or on his arm, his back, your finger hooked on his belt loop, anything. It might make you look needy, but it’s something that eases your nerves.

When you do pull away from him with intention of finding the bathroom, he immediately turns when your warmth is gone.

“Where you goin’?” He questions.

“The ladies room, a place you can’t follow me in to.” You tease, starting to walk away.

He’s eyes scan the room, then watch you closely. He doesn’t miss the amount of guys that turn to watch you, scanning you up and down, definitely making comments about how good you fit in your jeans.

His paranoia gets the better of him, he marches across the bar to the hallway where the restrooms are. Back leaned against the wall, he waits, standing guard, in his mind, but the pilots call him a puppy.

“Mystery girl went and made him a golden retriever.” Payback laughs.

Fanboy nods. “We’ve lost him for good. What’s he gonna do when he leaves next month for Po-dunk, Texas- or wherever he’s from?”

They all watch as you and Jake slowly start to walk back to the group. Rooster, who finishes his beer, simply shrugs and leans to line his pool stick up. “He says he’s gonna take her with him and marry her.”

“What?!”

[thewulf]

When the Laughter Stops || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could do one with Jake Seresin where him and the reader are co workers (but they liked each other a lot and are idiots) and she flirts with him a lot, like constantly and he mostly just laughs it off but flirt back sometimes, but she suddenly stops one day and is very quiet and he's worried... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just love Jake. I really hope they make another TG movie with our boy in it <3 Thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

T/W : Violation (Not Jake), Talk of Weapons, Talk of break in

Mornings at North Island always started the same way.

Your headset was already on, comms running smooth as you relayed flight data to Mav and the rest of the squadron. You had everything under control because that’s what you did. You were the best at what you did. And you knew it. You didn’t spend years at the Academy and across the country to be mediocre at your job. You were good and you knew it.

Jake Seresin knew it too.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” came the familiar, honey-dipped drawl over your shoulder before he even stepped into the control room. You grinned into your headset. He was right on schedule as always.

You didn’t turn around immediately instead letting the anticipation hang for a second longer before glancing over your shoulder. He was leaning against your desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that insufferably handsome smirk that was as much a part of him as his damn callsign.

“Hangman,” you greeted, flashing him an easy smile. “Looking as sharp as ever. It must really be exhausting carrying around that much charm all the time.”

His smirk deepened as he took you in. “It is, actually darlin’. But I manage.”

You made a show of giving him a once-over. That green flight suit zipped halfway, dog tags resting against the fabric of his undershirt and that confidence oozing from every pore. Annoyingly attractive, you noted. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. But damn, the man was hot as hell.

“Good thing I’m here to keep you humble,” you teased while tapping your earpiece as the radio crackled.

Jake leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the faint scent of his aftershave. The scent curled through the air: rich sandalwood, and cedar laced with smoky vetiver and that deep warmth of amber and musk. Dark, refined, and impossible to forget. Just like man who wore it. And who was currently staring a hole in the side of your head.

 “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t wanna do that. What would you flirt with if I wasn’t around?” He gave you a devious smirk as his eyes traced your face.

You arched a brow, lips curling. “Oh, I’d manage.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like you were something impossible. “Damn shame sweetheart.” This was the rhythm. The effortless push and pull. The game neither of you called by name but both played with unmatched skill.

“Seresin, you done harassing my officer?” Maverick’s voice cut in from across the room with nothing but amusement lacing in his tone.

Jake straightened slightly but didn’t look away from you. “Just making sure my sweetheart starts her day right, Mav.”

You shot Mav an eyeroll before turning back to Jake. “Aw, how sweet of you Jake.” You cooed at him.

Jake hummed, tilting his head. “Sweet’s not usually what they call me, darlin’.”

The way he said it, low and teasing, sent a thrill up your spine. But you didn’t let it show. Instead, you reached for the mission brief on your desk, casually brushing your fingers against his arm as you passed it to him.

“Guess I’m just special then,” you said with an easy grin.

His eyes flickered with something. Something unreadable. Something dangerous. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

“Guess you are,” he murmured. His voice softer this time.

And just like that, he was gone, heading out to brief with the others, leaving behind the faintest trace of his presence. You exhaled, shaking your head to yourself. Yeah. This was the rhythm. At least, it had been. Until everything changed.

Until last night.

Until you woke up to the sound of your front door creaking open.

Until you reached for the bedside drawer, heart pounding, breath shallow, fingers closing around the cold metal of the weapon you kept there. The weapon you dreaded ever having to use.

Until you saw him. A dark figure standing at the foot of your bed, a knife glinting faintly in the sliver of moonlight filtering through your curtains.

Your body had moved on instinct, years of training kicking in before fear could fully take hold. The moment you pointed your weapon at him, he hesitated just long enough for you to move. You sprang from the bed, voice sharp and unyielding, ordering him to back off. And then just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Like a wraith in the night.

The cops arrived minutes later but it didn’t matter. He was already long gone, leaving behind nothing but an overturned chair, a shattered sense of security, and the lingering imprint of fear in your bones.

You barely slept after that, sitting with your back to the wall, weapon still gripped tightly in your hands until the sun started to rise.

And now you were here, at work, trying to pretend like nothing had changed. But Jake knew you too well. So, when he walked into the control room, expecting your usual teasing grin, expecting the flirtation that had become second nature between you. He immediately noticed the difference. You were at your desk, headset on, posture stiff, eyes trained on the monitors like they held the secrets of the universe. No smirk, no playful roll of your eyes when he approached. No wink. No greeting.

And that was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.

Jake frowned, slowing his stride. He leaned against your desk, arms crossing over his chest in the same lazy way he always did, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Nothing.

He tilted his head. “Morning, sweetheart,” he drawled, watching for a reaction.

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, just for a second, but then you resumed typing like you hadn’t heard him. His frown deepened. Okay. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe Mav had you swamped with flight schedules or logistics nightmares. Maybe.

But then he really looked at you.

Your usual fire, the effortless confidence that made your job look easy was gone. In its place was something tight, something controlled. He followed the subtle tension in your shoulders. The way your jaw stayed clenched even as you kept working. Something wasoff.

“You sick or somethin’?” Jake asked, lowering his voice, trying to meet your gaze.

You finally looked at him but the second your eyes met his you blinked quickly and dropped them again. “I’m fine,” you said too flatly. Too rehearsed. With no emotion in the usual boisterous voice of yours.

Jake’s stomach twisted. Bullshit. You weren’t fine. He knew fine, and this wasn’t it. But what he didn’t know was why. For the first time since meeting you, Jake felt the shift. The invisible wall you’d put up overnight, cutting him out without warning. And he hatedit. Where there should’ve been fire, there was only silence.

Jake tried to ignore it at first. Maybe you were just having an off day. Maybe you were tired. Maybe whatever had drained the light from your eyes would pass on its own.

But as the day dragged on, he knew that wasn’t the case. You barely spoke, sticking to clipped, professional responses when you had to interact with him or anyone else. You kept your head down, shoulders drawn in. It was so unlike you. It made his skin itch.

Then, when someone brushed past you in the hallway. Just a casual, harmless pass. You flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but Jake saw it. And that was all it took. His blood ran cold. He knew that reaction. Had seen it before. And it sent every instinct he had into overdrive.

The rest of the day, he didn’t leave you alone. Not in a way that would spook you, but he made sure he was always nearby, always watching. You barely acknowledged him and that was the final crack in his patience. By the time your shift ended, he was donewaiting.

You had just stepped outside the hangar when he caught up to you. He moved fast enough that you had no choice but to stop. "Sweetheart," he said. And this time his voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t lazy or smug. It was quiet. Steady. Serious.

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “Jake, I—”

“Something’s wrong,” he cut in. His green eyes searching your face. “And I need you to tell me what it is.”

Your breath faltered. You didn’t answer right away but the way your gaze darted away. The way your lips pressed together like you were afraid to speak made his stomach twist. He softened, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Hey. It’s me, alright? Just me. You can tell me.”

You swallowed hard. And then finally your walls started to crack. “I—” You exhaled shakily, like forcing the words out might break you. “Someone broke into my house last night.”

Jake went still.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you continued. “I woke up and he was just there. He had a knife… I think he would have tried to grab me. But I fought back, I scared him off but…” You sucked in a breath. Shaking your head unbelieving that this had even happened to you. “He ran before the cops got there. They haven’t found him. They won’t find him most likely.”

Jake’s fists clenched. His entire body went rigid. His jaw locking so hard it ached. Jesus Christ. The thought of you alone, terrified, fighting off some bastard in the middle of the night made his vision go red. He wanted to break something. No, he wanted to findthe bastard who did this. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, you mattered.

Carefully he reached for you. His fingers grazing your wrist before he slid his hand fully over yours. His grip was firm, grounding. Warm.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he murmured. His voice tight, lethal with restrained fury but when he looked at you again all he let you see was the concern. The unwavering steadiness. “You’re safe now, okay? I promise you, you’re safe.” And for the first time all day, your body eased just a little. Just enough.

You weren’t sure who moved first. One second, you were standing there, raw and exposed with your confession hanging in the air between you. The next, Jake’s arms were around you, solid and steady, pulling you against his chest. And you let him. The moment his warmth surrounded you, the breath you had been holding all day broke free in a shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his flight suit, gripping tight, grounding yourself in him. Breathing in the woody scent that always seemed to coat him.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just held you. And God, you hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. His voice a low, steady rumble against your ear. “You’re safe. No one’s scaring you again, I swear it.” You knew his words weren’t empty promises, weren’t meaningless reassurances. They were a vow.

Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. “You’re not staying at your place alone tonight.” He said with such conviction.

You blinked up at him. “Jake—”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” The smirk was there, but softer, missing its usual cocky edge. He tilted his head. “You really think I’m gonna walk away after what you just told me? Not a chance darlin’.” Your resolve wavered. You should tell him you’ll be fine. That you don’t need him hovering. But the idea of being alone in that house, of walking through those doors and feeling that fear claw at you again…

You swallowed hard and nodded. “I have a guest room,” you murmured. “You can take the guest room.”

Jake’s smirk deepened. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’ll sleep on the porch if you want.” You smiled softly. Jake had a way of doing that for you. Charming bastard he was.

Jake didn’t waste a second when he got to your home. The second you stepped inside he was already moving. He checked the locks, testing the windows, making sure every single point of entry was secure. You stood off to the side watching as he knelt by your front door, brows furrowed in concentration as he worked to reinforce the deadbolt.

“You know,” you said while crossing your arms, “I could’ve called a locksmith for that.”

He glanced up, flashing you that signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to prove to you that I’m useful outside the cockpit.” You rolled your eyes but for the first time all day there was the tiniest tug of amusement behind it. And Jake saw it. Reveled in it.

After he was satisfied that your place was Fort Knox-level secure, he finally let you settle. The tension still lingered, though thin, stretched tight under your skin. He noticed it in the way your shoulders stayed rigid. In the way your fingers curled slightly like you were bracing yourself for something.

So, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He made you laugh.

You weren’t sure when the tension finally started to ease but at some point you found yourself curled up on the couch half-listening as Jake recounted some absurd training exercise where Phoenix had absolutely wrecked him in a dogfight.

“—I swear to God, I had her, I had her, and then at the last second, she pulls this insane move out of nowhere. Next thing I know, she’s behind me, cackling like a damn supervillain and I’m dead in the water.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I bet she lovedthat.”

“Oh, she hasn’t shut up about it since,” Jake admitted, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll never live it down. Worst part is, Mav saw the whole thing. Didn’t even bother hiding the smug look.”

You let out a small laugh and Jake stilled. It was quiet, barely there, but it was real. His smirk softened, something shifting behind his eyes. For the first time ever, he really looked at you. Not just as the woman who sparred with him, who kept up with his banter, who never let him get the last word. But as you. The woman who had been terrified last night. The woman who had been shakentoday. The woman he never wanted to see rattled like that again.

You felt the shift too because your smile faded slightly. Your gaze flickering over his face like you were searching for something. Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Thanks, Jake.”

His throat bobbed. The muscles in his jaw flexing like he was holding something back. He should’ve said something. Should’ve teased. Should’ve smirked and drawn out the moment. Should’ve eased you back into the comfort of your usual game. But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t the game anymore.

His hand lifted before he could stop himself. His fingers brushing along the side of your face. His thumb grazing your cheek so lightly, so gently, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

Your breath caught but you didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say a word. And then your eyes flicked down to his mouth just for a second, but long enough. Long enough for him to see it. To feelit.

His pulse kicked hard against his ribs, a slow, building pressure coiling in his chest, in his gut. Jesus. You wanted this. You wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.

Something cracked wide open between you in that moment. Something unspoken but undeniable. Something that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long it was a wonder it hadn’t boiled over sooner.

Jake’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, his nose barely brushing yours. Giving you the chance to back away if you wanted. He could feel the way you inhaled sharply. The way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie like you were holding yourself back.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw. His voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “Don’t thank me, darlin’.”

And without thinking, without second-guessing, without giving either of you a chance to step back. He kissed you. It was slow, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way your lips felt against his. It was lingering, like he wasn’t sure if this was the first or the last time he’d get to do this. It wasn’t playful. Wasn’t teasing. It was real.

When he pulled back, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, wasn’t tense. It was heavy with something unspoken. With something waiting to be acknowledged. But instead of speaking Jake just gave you one last lingering look before pressing a softer barely-there kiss to your forehead. A silent promise. A quiet reassurance.

“Get some sleep sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The scent of fresh coffee pulled you from sleep. For a moment, you lay there, disoriented, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through your curtains. Your brain slowly caught up. You hadn’t made coffee. And there was only one other person in your house who would.

Jake.

You pushed back the covers and padded toward the kitchen. The wood floor cool against your bare feet. And there he was.

Jake Seresin stood at your stove pouring coffee into two mugs like he’d done it a hundred times before. His flight suit jacket was still draped over a chair, but he’d changed into the sweatpants you’d tossed at him last night. The fabric hanging low on his hips in a way that was far too distracting this early in the morning. His hair was still messy, slightly sleep-ruffled, and for some reason that made your stomach do something ridiculous.

He looked comfortable here. In your space. Like he belonged. And you liked it. Liked the way it looked. Liked the way he looked. God help you.

At the sound of your footsteps he turned, flashing you a grin. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” He held out a mug. “Figured you might need this.”

You crossed your arms but took it anyway, inhaling deeply before your first sip. Perfect. Of course, he makes perfect coffee, too. “Didn’t take you for a domestic type, Seresin,” you muttered, lifting an eyebrow. Trying your best to look annoyed but you were anything but that.

Jake smirked while leaning a hip against the counter. “You saying you expected me to sneak out before sunrise?”

You hummed, taking another sip. “Wouldn’t have been the first time a Navy pilot bailed on me.”

His smirk faltered just slightly. Just enough to make your lips twitch. “Not my style, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head. Then after a beat he nudged your elbow. “You slept okay?”

The teasing had softened and the warmth in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, fingers curling around your mug, but the truth easily came this time.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I did. I slept more than okay.” Because knowing he was just a room over made it easy to relax. Jake studied you for a second. His green eyes sharp, thoughtful, like he was making sure you meant it.

Satisfied, he clinked his mug against yours, smirk returning full force. “Good. ‘Cause I make a damn good bodyguard. But I make an even better breakfast. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Eggs or pancakes?”

You blinked. “You’re making breakfast too?”

Jake gave you a slow, lazy grin. “Oh, darlin’, you think I’m lettin’ you start your day without a full meal andmy charming company? Hate to break it to you, but you’re really bad at getting rid of me.”

You scoffed while shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Charming,” he corrected, winking.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to fight, “Pancakes. I like my breakfasts sweet.”

He gave you that devilish grin, “Noted darlin’.”

And just like that. That something between you and Jake Seresin shifted. For good.

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[marvelwitchergilmore]

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.

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part One) (18+) | SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 5.7K / navigation / inbox

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

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

Phoenix had been the one to give you the final push, and right now you’re glad she did. You’d hemmed and hawed over the booking details for weeks, but when the cruise was only three weeks away, she’d insisted you finalize the paperwork and clinch one of the last available rooms.

“Come on,” She’d given you a knowing look, thin brows raised and lips curled into a smirk, “You need this.”

You do need this. Walking onto the cruise ship feels liberating, like you’re free from the shackles of the U.S Military and living a normal life. You’d been pleasantly surprised to have been granted leave by your commanding officer for the entire week, because Spring Break was a term typically foreign to the Navy. But your squadron's leave fell so perfectly in between late March and early April, so you’ll take the time off and enjoy it.

You’re really going to enjoy it. The cruise you needed oh-so-badly isn’t just an average, run-of-the-mill ship, it’s a program specifically targeted towards those wanting easy hookups. 

A sex cruise.

You’d almost been scared away by the no refunds, no rearrangements notice on the cruise’s website, letting you know that you wouldn’t be offered the courtesy of a swap if your random roommate didn’t work out. After all, the point is to get over your reservations, and have a good time. But, you think, it’s only a week, and none of the people you’re seeing around the ship so far look like anyone you’d refuse to have sex with. Do you feel ashamed for signing up for a sex cruise? Slightly. But you can feel slightly ashamed after getting your back blown out by whoever you’re lucky enough to room with. Right now you just need sex, something hot and heavy and rushed, the fervent slapping of skin-on-skin to release the stress pent up inside of you for months now.

Work is tough. You’re no longer the starry-eyed aviator that you’d been at the beginning of your career. You’re older now, you’re starting to exit the honeymoon phase of your job, and to top it off, you haven’t been able to score in months. 

You used to have no problem picking up a date here and there around the Hard Deck, but all of a sudden, it’s like Penny had shut off the tap of men pouring out into your lap. You can’t fathom why the entirety of San Diego suddenly decided hookup culture wasn’t for them, but you haven't been able to get laid in months, so you need this cruise. You’re partially terrified that word might get around to your squadron about your vacation, and that the slight shame you're feeling might multiply into something you'll never be able to face. Heaven forbid they change your callsign to Cruiser, or Hookup, or some other derogatory indicator that you're about to have the week of your life.

Hangman already teases you for not being able to take anyone home anymore, you can’t imagine what he’d do if he found out you got on a sex boat. You’ve always been able to bicker and banter with Hangman, dishing out as much as you take, but if he gets wind of what you’re doing this week, you might lose your never-ending stream of competitive banter once and for all.

You shove Hangman out of your thoughts; this is to get away from all of that. He’s a pest, the way he lays out teasing remarks with that saccharine grin on his face, like he’s the cheshire cat and he’s told you a particularly hard-to-decipher riddle. He’s a cheap rival at best, always poking and prodding about being number one, and how you’ll have to hike up your big girl panties if you want to be on his level, despite your record being neck-and-neck with his own. He’s never given you something you can’t return in full-force, but it takes effort to fire back the way that you do, and you’re eager to let your guard down this week and relieve your pent-up frustration.

You pass through the archway they’ve opened to the dock, big double doors angled inside over short, stubbly carpeting. It looks like what you’d find in an 80’s bowling alley, all clashing colors and wacky patterns. The railings to the stairs just in front of you are gold, and they spiral downwards elegantly over the 3 floors below you. They extend upwards 11 more, which is a scary thing to think about; being 15 decks high in the middle of the ocean. The carrier ships you’re used to aren’t small by any means, but their decks are mainly tucked away beneath the surface and shut in so that, if you ignore the rolling waves that toss you side to side, you can pretend you’re on land. Several mostly open upper decks are new to you, but if you’re lucky, you’ll stay centralized to your cabin, tucked away neatly on deck eight, getting your world rocked.

You’ve packed light, a single suitcase rolling behind you as your purse tucks over the handle. It’s an easy way to travel, and you thank basic training for the way that your muscles easily support your luggage as you drag it up a flight of the spiral stairs.

There’s noise everywhere, lights everywhere, people everywhere; it’s complete chaos. But it’s thrumming with excitement, with the promise of sex, and lust, and getting laid, and you fight to stop a grin from growing on your cheeks as you approach the registration desk.

There’s a man in front of you that’s arguing with the receptionist, something about incorrectly filed paperwork, which you don’t exactly blame the guy for. There had been about 35 forms to fill out, STD Test Results here and Consent Questionnaires there. You understand why they’re necessary on a sex cruise, and you’re glad they’re keeping their passengers safe, but they were a pain to fill out. 

The receptionist sees you file in line behind the man, looking all too grateful for the distraction.

“If you could just step to the side here,” He gestures, waving the man to the left of his place at the counter, “I’ll call someone down to help you with that, sir.”

The man looks displeased to be put on hold, but you take the opportunity when it comes to you, handing over your printed email confirmation that’s got your room number inked in bold black lettering.

“Ah, 838,” The man smiles, “Your roommate’s already gotten his key. Maybe you’ll meet him down there. But if not, you’re welcome to explore the ship. Here’s a map, we have plenty to do if you’re not quite ready to get started.”

The man hands you both a stiff key card, printed with your name and general information, and a map of the ship. It really is huge, and you marvel at how much there is to do besides sex. Maybe if your roommate doesn’t work out, you can hang out in the piano lounge.

The instrument makes you think of Rooster and his attention-grabbing routine at the Hard Deck, whenever he’s in the mood to go home with someone that night. Ladies love a piano player, and if this cruise doesn’t work out, maybe you’ll pick up the instrument yourself. If it were any other voyage, you’d probably be wishing your fellow aviator was on board to serenade the ship, but you’ll count your blessings that he’s not here to see your desperation.

You decide on the elevator rather than the stairs for the sake of your luggage, not wanting the suitcase to get battered hitting each step on the way up. There’s a crowd formed at the doors to the lifts already, humming with conversation and dripping with sex appeal. Two of the three men there are already shirtless and in swim trunks, and you hope you look half as stunning in the bathing suits you’d chosen to bring with you. One of them catches your eye as you sidle into the elevator and the quick wink he sends you lightens your mood. Even if your roommate doesn’t work out, maybe you can branch out and get Elevator Guy's number.

The ride up is cut off by someone on the sixth floor who manages to squeeze into your elevator. Then someone steps out on the seventh, and finally, you make your departure on the eighth. You mourn the loss of Elevator Guy, but you’re excited to meet your roommate, whoever he is. 

There’s not a long walk from the elevator to your room, but it’s a bit of a maze figuring out which hallway to take. You’re the third door down the corridor furthest left, and you slide your key card into the door with excitement brewing in your stomach.

Will he be handsome? Will he be drop-dead gorgeous? Will he have a six pack? Will he have a dad-bod? Will he have a beard? Will he be a brunette? Will he… be invisible?

He’s most likely not invisible, which means he’s just not in the room. The door swings open to a lovely space, portholes showcasing the dock and a single, queen-sized bed against that wall. There’s a suitcase stacked against one side of the bed, but no passenger to accompany it, and the bathroom light is off, too.

There’s a hat resting on one of the pillows, a blue-and-white patterned thing you recognize as rooting for the Dallas Cowboys. It’s the team Jake won’t shut the fuck up about when the game is on, so you’re well accustomed to seeing the color combo. Jake always accentuates his southern drawl when he talks about the Cowboys, just to remind everyone that he’s a certified Texan, as if anyone might have forgotten in the time it’s been since the last game. You hope that whoever your roommate is isn’t just a fan, but a southerner as well, because Jake’s twang would be ridiculously attractive if it wasn’t coming out of his arrogant mouth. But the hat has no owner in sight, so you can’t analyze their accent, and for that you heave a sigh.

He’s not here.

You’re a little let down - does he not want to meet you? - but you suppose that gives you time to go find the buffet, as well as explore the ship. You’d elected to skip lunch on the way to the port and eat on the ship instead, hoping for a debrief with your roommate before you hit it off tonight. But eating alone isn’t the worst thing in the world, and you can muscle through one meal. You take a moment to admire the room, a bright, clean space that you’re going to love messing up. The sheets are crisp and white, but there’s an imprint of your roommate on one side, like he’d stretched out for a while before heading back out. The dip in the bed looks large, and blossoms of excitement bloom in your stomach: he’s beefy.

You deposit your suitcase in the closet, filling out the hangers with your outfits and setting your lingerie on the shelf. You want easy access; you’re probably not going to look very sexy rooting around in your suitcase on all fours for a bra.

You refrain from changing, already in a weather-appropriate sundress that’s a pretty mix of pink and baby blue. You do a quick check in the mirror: no flyaway hairs, dress laying right on your hips, gloss properly lining your lips. You make sure you don’t need to reapply deodorant, perfume, or any other nice-smelling substance, and then you’re off in search of the buffet, eager to see the soft serve machine they’d advertised on their website.

The ship really is crowded, and you appreciate the unique atmosphere that comes from everyone knowing they’re only there for sex. You’re there to fuck and be fucked, and it means you can ogle the man that emerges soaking wet from the pool, slicking his dripping hair out of his face as he prepares to dive again. A woman eating with who you assume is her roommate gives the hem of your sundress a once-over, catching on your thighs beneath the fabric, and glancing back up to your face to level you with a momentary smirk. Confidence flows through your veins as you make your way out towards the wood-lined deck of the ship, looking out over the bright ocean illuminated by sunlight. 

A gust of wind blows the hem of your sundress to the left, but not enough to raise it, so you don’t bother catching it. The sea is beautiful, and you’re thrilled to have a relaxing time on one; you don’t normally get those on giant carrier ships.

There’s no runway here, no reserve of jet fuel, there’s just sun, fun, and lust.

“You wouldn’t happen to be in, uh, room 624, would you?” A voice pipes up from your right, and you turn to see a slightly younger man, clearly sun-drying from a dip in the pool. His hair hangs past his ears but he runs a hand through it backwards, and it means you get a better view of his face, adorned with an impressive scruffy beard, the same brown shade as his hair. However, there’s a ring of slightly lighter hair around his mouth that you hope is from what you think it’s from. His face is more squarish than long, skin a tone darker than the impressive tan Rooster sports after a day at the beach.

“Ah, no.” You laugh lightly, and the overexaggerated slump of his shoulders hints that he was expecting your answer. You take pride in the fact that he’d wanted to ask anyways, and you flash your key card at him, “838.”

“You mind if I remember that?” He leans against the railing of the deck, and once more you appreciate the open, bold atmosphere of the crowd you’re in, “If my roommate doesn’t mind not being exclusive.”

“I don’t mind at all,” You smile, feeling a slight flush come to your cheeks. This is going to do you a world of good. If your roommate has even half of this guy’s good qualities, his charming smile, his toned arms, his slight southern drawl, you’ll be more than happy to share your week with him.

“Daniel,” He sticks a hand out, fingers thick and rough-looking. You wonder what he does for work; something laborious by the look of his hands. 

“Y/N,” You smile back, turning to shake his hand. He takes you by surprise by raising your knuckles to his lips, and you remind yourself once again that this cruise is geared towards romance. Or, at least lust, but you’re flattered he’s throwing in the extra component. 

You try tamping down your obvious grin as you turn back to the ocean, “You haven’t met your roommate?”

“Nope,” He grabs a shirt from a nearby lounge chair, patterned with a faded band logo that you can’t place, what must be a waterproof watch gleaming in the sunlight that hits his wrist. “I was hoping to get lunch with’er. Hey, have you eaten yet?”

“Actually, I haven’t.” You straighten from where you’re leaning against the railings, “I was waiting for my roommate too.”

“Well,” Daniel holds out an arm, toned and muscular, and you hook yours through it, “Fuck ‘em.”

You laugh at his bold choice of words, still having to remind yourself that you’re in a strictly adult environment. You don’t need to worry about your sailor’s mouth, there’s no kids to overhear, nor parents to get upset.

Daniel’s arm is strong where he leads you to the dining area, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t fixating on the feeling of your bicep locked to his side by his own. The buffet is a little classier than you’d expected; instead of all-you-can-eat french fry stations there’s trays of pastas, stews, and meat for the taking, thin silver utensils laid out neatly over each container.

You keep it light with only foods you know won’t upset your stomach with the rocking of the boat. That’s the last thing you need, and you manage to find an open table while Daniel waits in line for pizza. You’ve barely had a chance to spread your napkin over your lap, your sundress putting forth a valiant effort to cover your upper thighs, when Daniel sits across from you and smiles through his beard.

“So, where are you from?” He questions, biting off the end of his pizza slice so that you have a chance to reply. 

“I live here,” You attempt to pick up one half of your sandwich, lettuce and tomato making it slick and difficult, “I’m actually, uh- stationed here. With the navy.”

His eyes bulge for a second, and he swallows while nodding, “Wow. Okay, that’s cool. I’m guessing that’s why your arms are practically bigger than mine?”

You try not to spit out your sandwich laughing along with him, grateful for the flimsy paper napkin you’d snagged to hide a smear of tomato juice along your lip. 

“You should see one of the other guys from my squadron,” You think of Jake- Jake who’d famously torn through a t-shirt (albeit, a flimsy one) by just flexing the muscles in his biceps, “I swear his arms are bigger than my neck.”

I’m sure you guys need ‘em,” Daniel muses, sipping at his drink. He’s listening to you with rapt interest, something men don’t usually do when they find out that your job is something traditionally masculine. He’s not boasting about his own job, he’s not rattling off gym stats: “So you’re a sailor?”

“Aviator,” You correct him, used to the misconception, “I fly.”

“I don’t think I knew the Navy had planes,” Daniel admits, crunching a potato chip between his slightly crooked teeth, “I thought that was just the Air Force.”

“Everyone thinks it’s just the Air Force,” You grin, stacking two pickles on the end of your fork that had somehow escaped your sandwich.

“Sorry,” Daniel looks bashful now, his smile sheepish, “I bet you’re tired of correcting people.”

“No! Don’t worry about it,” You’re absolutely tired of correcting people, but you’re not about to tell that to a man who’s mustache has lighter ends than the scruff of his beard against his jaw, “What about you, what do you do?”

“I just work at a post office, I sort mail.” He divulges, and you’re instantly more fond of him; a civil service worker who wears tight little shorts? You’re not quite sure if Daniel has a downside.

“Are you local?”

“I’m in Oceanside. Not too far,” He muses, “I only drove an hour here.”

So, he’s good in bed, he’s good in uniform, and you could easily make weekend visits. You’re starting to lament the fact that you’ll be sleeping with someone else for the week.

“Are you sure you’re not in room 838?” You tease, “Maybe they misprinted your card, or something.”

“Believe me, if I could get it reprinted, I would,” He confesses, setting his fork down to brace his elbows on the table. He leans forwards, his chin propped against his clasped hands, “I know they’re all strict about not changing roommates, but listen, if yours doesn’t work out, I’ll propose an arrangement to mine. And- uh, even if yours does work out,” He stifles a smirk, stuffing a chip into his mouth instead, “-ask him if he wouldn’t mind swapping for a bit.”

You both admire and appreciate his desperation. You’re used to aloof sailors, or men in bars who wish you had less muscle and more tit. Something about the way he’s leading the conversation, not forcing himself on you but begging for a chance, makes your stomach flutter.

“We’ll work something out,” You promise, nudging your foot against his beneath the table, “Coming straight out and asking is working on me, if I’m being honest.”

Daniel laughs, so you elaborate: “So many of the guys I meet try pretending like they don’t care. Or- or maybe they don’t, I guess, but it’s still frustrating. It’s nice that you care.”

“Of course I care,” Daniel blinks incredulously at you, cheeks stuffed as he struggles to swallow before speaking, “You could choke me out with your thighs, babe. I’m not stupid enough to lose that opportunity.”

Your cheeks burn. Evidently you’re still acclimating to the brazen atmosphere of the ship, and you struggle to hide your sheepish smirk as he kicks his foot against yours beneath the table, the same as you’d done to him.

Daniel’s only gaining more popularity in your mind when he takes your plate to the trash, scraping away the remnants of the lettuce and condiments from your sandwich and stacking his own on top of it where they’re about to be washed. He sends you a dazzling smile as he gestures for the doorway, and you’re honestly surprised that he doesn’t say ‘after you’ when he lets you go first.

“Eighth floor?” Daniel verifies when you step through the doors of the elevator, and it’s much less packed than when you’d been there before. You nod, and he presses only 8, not 6 for his own room. You’re almost nervous that he might try to come into your room with you, because you’re not sure whether your roommate is there, and you don’t know how kindly he’ll take to you bringing another man in without meeting him first. But you swallow your nerves as the doors slide shut, leaving you in the elevator with him alone.

You can feel him staring at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. He smiles back, and you lock eyes for a tense moment, then all of a sudden you’re both lunging forwards, frenzied as something in the air tells you to jump each other. Your hands sling around his neck as his lips press to your own, the scruff of his beard grating against your skin. It stings slightly, but it’s delicious as his lips fit between your own, and your back presses to the cold metal wall of the elevator. You suppose you should be a little ashamed, letting your tongue ghost over his bottom lip, making out with a man you've just met in an elevator, but it appears everyone is either boarding or eating, and no one bothers you on your journey up.

To add yet another thing to Daneil’s list of perfect traits: he’s an excellent kisser. He lets you lead, and when he feels your tongue prod at his lips he groans, gladly licking over your top lip. You open your mouth, seized by the moment, and he ventures inside without hesitation, his tongue hot and wet as it laps over your own.

You’d moan if you could, spout some breathy expletive or test out his name on your drool-coated tongue. But you can’t, he’s a presence, an enigma, and you let him occupy your mouth so much that words won’t.

You’d been on the fourth deck when the doors had shut, and it’s not a long trip to the eighth. When the elevator jolts to a stop you reluctantly push Daniel away, not wanting to expose yourself to the hall of deck eight.

“Uh,” You breathe, wiping at a smear of drool on the side of your mouth, “Fuck, that was-”

“Yeah.” He agrees, similarly breathless as he runs a hand through his hair that you’d tousled slightly, “I’d love to do that again sometime.”

“Me too.” You laugh bashfully, “Uh, maybe not in an elevator, though.”

“Like- like in a bed.” He concludes as the doors slide open, revealing a safely empty hallway. “Or- or just a room, or something, like a- a couch, if you don’t want- not a bed.”

“A bed,” You assure him, endeared by his caution, “I’d love to do it again sometime in a bed, Daniel.”

“Alright,” He grins, reaching out to catch the doors before they can close on you as you depart, “838’s right there. I’d walk you, but,” He points at a door only two down from the one directly in front of you, and you wave him off with a grateful grin.

“No worries.” You laugh, “Thanks, Daniel. Uh- I hope I see you again.”

“Me too,” He smiles, and it might be the most charming sight you’ve ever seen, “Goodbye, Y/N.”

The doors slide shut on him, and you feel like the next appropriate step for you is to go into your room, close the door, and slide down the backside of it. You can’t fathom reacting any differently to the mind-blowing, butterfly-inducing kiss you’d just engaged in, especially with the excitement of doing it in an elevator. The desperation you’d felt and received back was exhilarating, and you’d be happy to get off the boat now and savor the feeling. 

Coincidentally, the ship’s horn sounds, and an announcement comes over the loudspeakers, “Passengers, brace yourselves for some slight rocking,” You hold onto the wall, just in case, “Because we are on our way! We’ve just set sail, and for a day and a half, you’ll be at sea. Then we’ll dock on beautiful white sand beaches by Wednesday morning. I hope you enjoy yourselves, and I wish I was one of you, because I do not get a roommate. Unless- Rick, you feel like- no, no, okay! Okay,” The captain laughs, “My co-captain isn’t interested. Well, folks, enjoy yourselves, and please don’t make messes in the pools.”

You’re feeling generous, a bounce in your step from being kissed stupid in the elevator, so you let out a light chuckle at the captain’s humor. Any other time, you might have found it corny, but you’ve just been made out with, and everything seems better than it would have before. You hear muffled cheers from the rest of the ship, and dig into the pocket of your sundress for your key card. You retrieve the smooth plastic, slot it into the door labeled 838, and take a deep breath.

If he’s anything like Daniel, you’ll have a great time. And if he isn’t, you’ll see Daniel again.

With that, you push down the silver handle, hearing the door click with the motion, and you step inside.

The first thing you see is a pair of socked feet sticking off the end of the bed. The bed is perpendicular to the doorway, and the upper half of it is hidden by the bathroom. You clock the pair of toned, tan, mouth-watering legs that rest on the mattress, a sight you already want to sink your teeth into. You’re shocked that you’re bold enough to think that you wish he didn’t have briefs on, especially considering the sizable bulge in their fabric. You take a step closer, and a similarly toned torso comes into view, impossibly muscled and something that belongs in an art museum. There’s a pair of thick, bulky biceps raised above the man’s head, and when he turns his head to look at you-

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

You freeze in your spot. One foot planted in front of the other, your weight distributed between them equally. Your eyes go wide, your stomach twists awkwardly, and you damn near drop your keycard.

“Hangman.”

Your fellow aviator's face is equally as shocked, but it curves into a familiar cocky grin all too soon, “What do we have here? Y/L/N?”

“No fucking way. Jake?”

“Y/N,” He matches your pattern with a hearty chuckle, “Oh, this is too good.”

“You’re in the wrong room.” You decide, “This is 838.”

“That’s what it said on my key card, darlin’.” Jake snatches the card from the sleeve stuck to the back of his phone, flashing it at you where you can see the clear print of the numbers, “Guess we’re fated or somethin’.”

“Shut up.” You snap, knees easily bending as you fall back against the loveseat opposite the bathroom, “Shut the fuck up, Hangman. There’s no way I’m staying here.”

“No room changes,” He grins, and you want to smother the expression off of his face with a pillow, “And no getting off, either. We just set sail.”

You bury your face in your hands. There’s no way you’re surviving this vacation. Not with Hangman- Hangman who acts like a toddler and pulls your hair whenever it’s not in the regulatory bun. Hangman who snatches food out of your hand if you hold it up for too long without eating it because you’re speaking. Hangman who delights in insulting you over the comms in the air, offering you flying lessons ‘’cause that move was pretty rusty, darlin’.’

There is absolutely no way in hell - which feels like your current location - that you’re taking a sex cruise with Jake Seresin, end of story.

“So, sex cruise, eh?” He muses from his spot on the bed, and you shoot him a glare so vicious you’re surprised he doesn’t drop dead.

“Yeah? You’re on it too, Hangman.”

“Easy,” He holds up a placating hand, “Wasn’t an insult. Just didn’t think you were the type.”

“To fuck?”

“To be desperate.” He shrugs, “Y’know, Y/L/N, if you wanted to have sex with me this bad, you could have just asked.”

“Stop it right now.” You insist, “This was not my doing, and so help me god I’m considering ripping that stupid porthole out of the wall and jumping ship. Clearly I’ve done something to upset the universe, so do not fucking expect me to enjoy this, Hangman.”

“You’re very pissy,” He notes, only making his observation more clear as your scowl deepens, “Relax, Y/L/N. I’ll give you a good time.”

“All you’re capable of giving me is a migraine.” You spit, a headache already brewing behind your eyes, “God, and why are you naked? Have some fucking class.”

“Class?” He repeats incredulously, a chuckle shaking his stupid, exposed chest, “This is a sex cruise! I’m near naked ‘cause I thought we’d fuck!’

“I’m not having sex with you.” You vow, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I’ll cycle through this entire ship twice before I even think about letting you at me, Hangman. Do you understand?”

“I understand’ He salutes, and the tease pisses you off, “Y’know, Y/L/N, I think you should let loose. Live a little, don’t be so uptight the whole time.”

“I’m uptight because you’re sprawled out over my bed without clothes on.” You groan, and then your brain comes late to another earth-shattering conclusion, “Oh, fuck, that’s the only bed!”

Hangman laughs, the sound thick and full of that cockiness you despise, “Damn right it is, darlin’. You gonna snuggle up next to me tonight?”

“No!” You gush, readjusting yourself on the loveseat so that you’re curled up on its cushions, “There, see? This is my bed. I’m sleeping here.”

“Oh, relax,” He scoffs, patting the space beside him. He’s turned towards you now, propped up on his elbow and boring into you with his stare “There’s plenty of room here. I’m just messing around.”

“I’m not.” You insist, “I’m not sleeping with you, Jake. Either way.”

“Well, you called me Jake,” He notes, shrugging his broad shoulders and settling back onto his pillows, “I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’re getting nothing.” You hiss, turning onto your back on the loveseat, “Fuck, what did I do to deserve this?”

“A week on a sex boat with me? Must’a bought a homeless man some groceries, saved a starvin’ puppy, caught a runaway baby stroller, that kinda thing.”

“It must have been the time when I scratched that Tesla and didn’t leave a note,” You groan, “Karma’s a bitch.”

Jake’s never been one to take insults or teasing gracefully. He retaliates with his own, his eyes still burning holes against the side of your face, “So, Y/N. Seen the shops yet?”

“No.” You grumble, “Didn’t know they had any.”

“Oh, yeah. Real nice stuff,” Jake drawls, “Y’know, lingerie, vibrators, sex chocolates, all that stuff.”

Your cheeks blaze and you honestly think you’d rather be back on base than here, “Shut up, Hangman.”

“I’m not lying!” And to his credit, you believe him. But lying isn’t the issue, it’s teasing, and you’re not sure you can handle seven days of it non-stop.

“I wonder if Daniel’s seen the shops,” You grumble, maybe just a little smug that you’d already hit it off with someone, assuming Jake hadn’t had the time to make out with anyone in an elevator yet.

Your brag works, and the muscles in his jaw tighten ever-so-slightly, such a small movement that you wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t been studying him.

When he speaks, there’s a familiar tension in his eyes, one you're used to seeing when someone ignites his overinflated sense of competition, “Daniel? That the guy you tongued in the elevator?”

You let out an incredulous cry, as if he’s wrong, “What? What- how did you know that! We didn’t tongue,” You scoff, reminiscing on the heavenly feeling of Daniel’s tongue smoothing over your own.

“Mhm. Sure. That’s why your lips are all swollen and shiny. ‘Cause you two stood six feet apart.”

You feel judged opposite Jake’s narrowed eyes, and you retort, “Okay, fine. We kissed. Is that a bad thing? This is a sex cruise, I’m supposed to get lucky.”

“All I’m sayin’ is you were snappin’ at me to have some class, but I’m not the one who frenched someone in a public facility. Did you even wait for it to be cleared out, or did you just go at it in the crowd?”

“It was empty.” You huff, practically slamming your head back down onto the couch cushions, “Shut up, Hangman.”

“I bet he pushed all the buttons to make it take longer,” Jake snickers, “Or- or did he back you up against ‘em? Smash your back into the panel and light the whole thing up like a Christmas tree?”

“Shut up!” You gush, taking one of the cushions from the couch and jamming it over your head, blocking his irritating voice from your ears.

You’re fucked.

Actually, you’re not fucked, and that’s the problem. You’d rather be just about anywhere else right now, but if you had your pick, you’d be in a different room, with a different roommate. One who wants to spread your legs and feast on what’s between them, one that wants to jam your throat with his cock until you’re begging for air. But you’re here instead, bunched up on a stiff loveseat, an itchy pillow over your face, and enemy number one lounging on the bed you have to share with him tonight.

You’d rather be fucked.

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

[lulunothulu]

“He did what?”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Content: 18+ (alluding to sex) ANGRY JAKE, Protective Jake, FLUUUUUUFFFFF, rightful swearing

Summary: When your boyfriend cheats on you, Jake can’t help but want to rip his head off. Because how could that fucker cheat on the most perfect girl he’s ever met?

You’d be getting off work late because of a last-minute training flight, Maverick wanted to test the squad’s night flying. Not ideal, especially because you'd been staying late a lot lately. Because of that, everyone was calling their partners to let them know they’d be home late, including you.

“Are you gonna call Dan?” Hangman, your best friend, asks.

You only nod, holding a hand up for him to be quiet as you hear Daniel’s greeting. Jake's eyes roll when you respond, “Hi, babe.”

“Hi, baby,” your boyfriend, Daniel, replies. “What’s up? Are you heading home?”

“No,” you groan. “I’ll be getting home late tonight. Probably early tomorrow morning.”

“Another late night training?” he sighs.

“Yes, but I’ll make it up to you this weekend!” You chew on your lip, waiting for his reply.

“Well, okay. I’ll probably go out with the guys tonight then.”

“Sounds good, love you.” 

He hangs up with a sigh, causing you to frown. When you turn to face where your friend was standing, you catch Hangman’s eyes on you. “Don’t ask.”

He only smirks at you.

When training finishes, it’s already almost 9 PM. By the time you get back to the locker rooms, your head is pounding from the smell of fumes you’d inhaled all day. With a groan, you jump out of the jet and begin to line up in formation, waiting for the last words Mav likes to give after a long day.

“Nothing from me today, guys,” he says. “Go home, and drive safe.”

Hangman claps your back with a cheeky grin. “What’re we doing tonight?”

“I’m going to bed,” you tell him.

“What?” he asks, dumbfounded. “It’s only,” he checks his watch, “nine.”

“Unlike you, Bagman,” Phoenix starts behind you both. “Some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“Is that because you’re both ugly?” Rooster and Coyote ask in unison.

“Jinx!” Bob yells out. “You both owe me a soda.”

You roll your eyes at their (just started) bickering, before turning to Hangman. His green eyes are watching you intently, waiting for you to say something.

You’d have to be dumb not to admit that you kind of liked it a bit. Jake Seresin has that effect on everyone. From the time you’d met him, he had always been a flirt. But with you, it seemed like his mission was to make sure you felt every look, every word, he’d say to you. Like he wants you to be the only one to feel the teal him.

Hence why and how you two got so close. You’re the only person he can be real with–who he can drop his cocky fassade with.

“Sorry, Jakey boy,” you grin. “I need my sleep. But tomorrow we should all get brunch.”

At that, Jake nods and wraps an arm around Bob, almost dragging the poor back-seater to the locker rooms.

You and Phoenix walk into the locker rooms in silence, the only thing on both of your minds being: Shower, change, and go the fuck home. 

This evening, you took your time to shower in the locker rooms. Washing and scrubbing every ounce of skin you have left to get the stink out. By the time you finish, it’s almost an hour later, 10 PM.

“Bye, Nat!” you call into the one of the stalls. 

“Bye, Y/N!” she yells back. “I’m definitely not sitting on the floor and letting the water hit me.”

You chuckle. “Call or text me when you get home.”

“You too!”

Looking down at your phone, you almost groan. Fuck, I’m gonna be home late, hopefully he’s still awake.

But you doubt it.

Daniel worked at a bank, meaning he’d have already been home hours ago. He has the ‘most normal job someone who’s dating a pilot could have.’ (At least that’s what he says.)

The drive home feels longer than usual. Everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong. The road you normally take is closed, there’s a ton of traffic for some reason… all you know is that you can’t wait to get home.

Finally, you’re a few minutes away, and quickly, you’re on your street. As you’re starting to park in your driveway, you get a call from Daniel. Smiling, you press the Bluetooth screen of your radio and answer.

“Hello?” you answer.

Instantly, the smile on your face falls into a confused frown. Because instead of answering, you hear Daniel moaning. Maybe he’s watching porn?

Only when you hear a woman moan his name and the slapping of skin on skin, the frown turns into a gasp.

“Oh my God,” you mutter, tears beginning to form.

“Fuck, Raquelle,” you hear Daniel groan. “You feel so good.”

You hang up the phone, quickly get out of the car, and silently run to the front door of your townhouse. As you open the door, the noises from your bedroom get louder than they were on the phone. Immediately, your stomach feels like it’s going to fall out your ass, and nausea rolls up your throat.

But you will it down. You have to.

Because right now, you need to scream at him to get his shit and move the fuck out. And you can’t do that if you’re vomiting on the floor. 

As quietly as you entered, you sneak up the stairs that lead to the second floor. Your footsteps pad on the carpeting, the only saving grace the universe decided to give you tonight. Though your limbs are exhausted and your mind drained, you need to do this.

Because this isn’t the first time this has happened.

The first time was a few months ago. Daniel blamed it on you being home late, that you were always tired, and never wanted to have sex anymore. Which was a bit true, you were tired…because you’d just gotten back from a mission.

Now, he had no excuse. You’d given him all the physical and sexual attention you thought he’d need. You‘d done it so much that you’d broken yourself to the point of exhaustion. Even when you were tired, you did as much as you could. From blowjobs to actual intercourse. 

But that must’ve not been enough.

You weren’t enough.

With silent tears running down your face, you reach the door to your room and push the door open softly.

A small red head is on top of Daniel, her body moving in synch with his hips. His large hands, the same ones that raked your body once, grip her hips. His mouth is open, and his eyes are only on her. 

That is, until you clear your throat.

“Y/N,” he exclaims, pushing Raquelle off of him. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Really?” you ask. “Because it looks like you’re fucking another woman in my bed.”

You raise a hand, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m just here to get some clothes so that you can move your shit out tomorrow.”

As you begin to pack, you can hear Daniel and Raquelle shifting on the bed. She muttered something to him, followed by him shushing her. Then, their lips as they kiss. 

You couldn't believe you would be this stupid to trust a man who had cheated on you once to not cheat on you again. You grab enough clothes for the night, stuffing them into a duffel bag before walking into your bathroom and grabbing your skincare and toothbrush.

Pulling your phone out, you quickly text Jake, asking if he’s still up to go drink. He responds within seconds, asking if you're all right. But you don't bother answering, instead you tell him to meet you at the Hard Deck.

“Leave the key on the counter when you leave tomorrow,” you tell Daniel as you walk out.

“Can we talk about this?” he calls after you, stumbling as he tries to catch you in the hall.

“No, Daniel. I told you last time that the next time you did this you were going to be kicked the fuck out of my house, and we were breaking up immediately.” You’re crying again, tears spilling down your cheeks in fluid streaks. “I don't want any of your excuses. I just want you and your little girlfriend to get the fuck out of my house so that I can move on.”

“Baby,” he starts.

“Don’t even bother.”

The drive to the Hard Deck is filled with your sniffling and rage music playing. How fucking dare he do this to you…AGAIN. Everything in you wants to break, to punch, and slap something. Mainly yourself for believing that he could ever change.

By the time you put your car in park, you're gasping for air. Quickly, you look in your mirror and sigh at how red your eyes look. Jake is definitely going to know that you’ve been crying. But honestly, you didn’t care. For some reason, you wanted Jake to know that Daniel had hurt you. You wanted him to be as angry as you are, and you wanted him to do something about it. 

Walking into the bar, your eyes scan for Jake and find the dagger squad (except for Natasha) at one of the pool tables in the back. As you begin to approach them, you can’t help but look over at your friend, your eyes glued on him. 

Jake’s brows are furrowed, those green eyes of his staring off into space. He looks lost in thought, almost worried. In his hand, he’s absentmindedly peeling the label off his beer bottle.

“Y/N!” Rooster calls out. 

At your name, Jake’s head snaps to where you stand. His eyes narrow when they fall on you, and you just know he’s about to say something. 

“What happened?” He asks, stepping forward and blocking you from moving another step. 

“Nothing,” you respond. 

He raises a perfect eyebrow before softly grabbing your hand and dragging you out the back doors toward the beach. 

“Jake!” You start. 

“Hush,” he scolds, pulling you to the sand before dropping onto his ass, and placing you beside him. “Now, talk.”

You weren’t going to succumb to his orders. Originally, you wanted to make him work for it, but the way that his thumb caresses the back of your hand (still on his lap btw), you can’t help but let out a choking sob. 

“He’s cheating on me,” you tell him. “He’s cheating on me again.”

“He did what?” Jake’s eyes are practically burning with rage. “What the fuck do you mean ‘again’?” 

You turn to face him, fully expecting him to have soft eyes on you. However, the look of anger that flashes on his face almost scares you. Not because you think he’ll hurt you, but because you know he’s going to hurt Daniel.

“A few months ago,” you start. “I found out he cheated on me.”

Then you launch into telling him everything that happened last month. From you finding the texts Daniel was sending to his coworker, to you being overly sexual even when you didn't want to be. And finally ending with what happened tonight.

Jake feels like his skin is going to burn off. He wants to murder this motherfucker, to skin and burry him alive. How fucking dare he cheat on you. You who never hurt anyone. You who never did anything to deserve that.

If you were his girlfriend, he’d never have done that. Hell, he’d never let you out of his sight. You’d be the only person he’d want to touch, the only person he’d want to look at.

“Y/N,” he seethes. “Please tell me you broke up with that piece of trash.”

“I did,” you respond. 

“Good, because what I’m about to say to you is going to hurt.” Jake takes a deep breath before turning your face to look at him by softly grabbing your chin. “He’s an asshole for ever thinking he deserved someone as amazing as you. The fact that he has you, someone so kind, loving, and beautiful, at his fingertips, and still chose to…” 

He can’t bring himself to say that word, he just can’t. He has to stop to breathe, to calm down. 

“Y/N,” he starts again, “you are the most selfless, funny, and hardworking person I’ve ever met. The fact that you did that for him, and he still chose to do this, just shows that he never wanted you. He wanted the idea of you.”

At the tear that escapes your eyes, he brushes it away with his thumb. His eyes search yours before he smiles softly.

“Anyone would kill to have you in their arms,” he continues softly. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their own, as their girlfriend.” 

Then, with a deep breath, he adds, “I would love to call you my girlfriend. I would be so proud and would want to show you off to everyone. I would never hurt you, never cheat, never make you cry…I’d be the perfect boyfriend because I’d only have eyes for you. My heart would only be yours.”

Confusion fills your mind. Did he seriously just say that? Did he just admit that he would want to date you? Not that you hadn't thought of it, because you have. Especially those nights when Daniel would want you to give him a blowjob and you just weren't feeling it. But ESPECIALLY on those nights when Daniel wasn’t home and out cheating on you.

To hear him say the words you’d only dreamed of hearing him say made your heart sputter.

“Do you mean that?” you ask, sniffling.

“I do,” he replies softly, almost at a whisper. “I’m sorry you had to go through this again. Why didn’t you tell me it happened a few months ago?”

“Because I was embarrassed.” You sigh, looking out at the crashing waves. “And I knew you’d probably kill him. I was saving you some charges.”

Jake laughs, his shoulders shaking beside you. 

You both sit in silence, the waves and laughter from the bar behind you the only thing in the air. That and the words Jake has told you. You keep thinking about what would've happened if you had never met Daniel. Would you be dating Jake? Probably not. Jake is a flirt. But then again, he's always been levelheaded with you. He's always been himself around you. 

Suddenly, for the first time tonight, you feel like everything was going ot be okay.

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice cuts into your thoughts.

Turning to face him, you find him already looking at you. His eyes are almost blue under the night sky. His sandy blonde hair looks golden under the moonlight, and his lips are pulled back into a soft, but tentative, smile.

“Yes?” you reply.

“I meant what I said. I would never hurt you if you were my girlfriend.”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t care. In fact, you welcome the burn. Maybe deep down, this is what you've always wanted. Maybe that was why you sought out Daniel, someone normal, someone who was as close to Jake as you could find.

“I believe you,” you tell him with a smile.

You both stay silent again, looking at one another like it’s the first time you’d truly seen the other. 

Had he always had pretty eyes?

“Jake,” you whisper.

“Yes?” 

“I think I’d like you being my boyfriend,” you finish. “Maybe not now, but later. After I’ve healed a bit.”

Jake looks like he’s just been told he’s getting a puppy because his eyes gleam with joy before he nods, a wide smile you know well forming on his lips. (the smile in question ->)

“I’d like that a lot.” He reaches a hand to brush back a lock of hair that’s blown into your face before tucking it behind your ear. Then, with a wicked smile, he asks, “Now, do you want to go get absolutely hammered? We can have Baby On Board drive your car to my place after.”

“Let’s do it.”

--------

This has been in my brain for a little too long and I've jsut now FINALLY let it free lol Enjoy!!!!!!!!

[the-shedevil-writes]

Please Please Please (Jake Seresin x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Growing up with Rooster as your big cousin meant that you were always protected. He made it his mission to keep you out of trouble—whether you wanted him to or not. But after you're transferred to the North Island base, there's little he can do to stop you from being intrigued by the witty playboy pilot that is Jake 'Hangman' Seresin. Everybody's warning you not to... but that just makes the chase more fun.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k WARNINGS: Sensual jokes and innuendos, cussing, fighting. Your call sign’s ’Cowgirl’ ;) NOTES: Jake Seresin is so Short n' Sweet by Sabrina Carpenter. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Growing up with a big cousin like Bradley meant that every summer was spent in San Diego, basking in the hot summer sun and running around, causing trouble. Even though Y/n lived across the country in Alabama, she was incredibly close to her cousin. Technology got better as they got older, and things like texting and FaceTime made the distance after summer ended much more manageable. She looked up to him. He always gave her advice and took care of her. Of course, she worried about him when he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and join the Navy Air Force. But nothing compared to his reaction on Christmas morning when she told him that she also had enlisted. A mix of pride, anger, and dread surged through him, but he eventually came around to the idea. 

After a few years of hustling, she eventually and finally got transferred to North Island. Bradley’s home. She was not just going to be there for the summer, but for the indeterminable future. 

When he found out, he ecstatically started preparing for her arrival. He told the Dagger Squad about his little cousin and how she was being transferred over. One night, he turned to FaceTime and explained all the members of the squadron he worked with. She had heard all of these call signs before, but had never put any names to faces. 

She stared at the Instagram post he was talking about over the phone. A group photo of all of them at this bar, which they apparently frequented. Bradley at the piano, and the rest of the pilots surrounding him. They seemed like a fun bunch. One pilot immediately caught her eye. A tall built blonde in the middle with a smirk that said ‘yeah right.’

“Who’s the blonde?” She asked

“Glasses or no glasses?” Bradley asked, the small square of him in the corner had him in his dark room.

“No glasses. He’s cute.” 

The sound that escaped him was a mix between a groan and a dreadful laugh. “Ohhhhh no. Oh no no no no. You are not getting with Hangman.” He said.

She smirked and raised her brows. They both knew she wasn’t one to back away from a bad idea. But this often led to tears being shed, and Bradley having to hold back his ‘I told you so’ for later on. 

“And why’s that?” She asked

“I think our moms would kill me if I let you get played by Jake Seresin.” 

“So he’s a player?”

He rolled his eyes. “And a major dick. Just… don’t. Why not Bob? Blonde with the glasses.” He offered. 

He wasn’t overprotective in the way that nobody could date her. That’d be unreasonable. He just felt that he could tell the difference between a good and bad decision. Bob was a clear good decision.

She looked the guy over in the picture and shrugged. “Ehhh, he’s cute. But he looks nice.”

Bradley looked straight into the camera like he was Jim from the office.

“The problem is that… he’s nice?” 

That made her laugh out loud, “Yeah! Bradley, you know my type. And it’s never been guys whose call sign is Bob.”

“You’ll love Bob, though. If you aren’t into him, you’ll at least be great friends.” He said. And that painted a picture in her head. San Diego beaches. A lovely work schedule, Monday through Friday. A group of friends already waiting for her there. And her days spent flying jets with her favorite and only cousin.

Touching down in San Diego felt incredible. Her whole body felt electric with the prospects of new beginnings. She had worked in many rural states so far, never in a city like this. She practically tackled Bradley to the ground when she found him waiting at the gate. It had been years since either of them had gotten to see each other in person. 

“Bradley Bradshaw! I didn’t know you existed outside of my phone.” She cackled.

“Hey, it’s Rooster to you now, Cowgirl.” He said, referring to her own call sign.

She fake shivered, “Weird. Weird!”

Her first week was spent moving into her apartment, and Bradley helped her put together furniture after his shifts. On Friday night, he insisted that she come to The Hard Deck. And who was she to deny a few drinks on her first weekend in North Island?

Walking up to the homey dive bar, a sense of adventure zapped up her spine. The lights inside lit up the dark beach, and she could hear the waves faintly behind the classic rock playing inside. They didn’t have anything like this in Alabama, that’s for sure. 

She didn’t get many opportunities to dress up nicely, so she decided to go all out. But now she felt a little overdressed in her white halter top and denim mini skirt. A pair of heels sank into the sand. Her blown-out hair lifted in the sea breeze. Even the people walking in front of her were in simple T-shirts and shorts. She swallowed. Maybe she overestimated ‘bar on the beach’.

She walked in and looked around for her cousin. After a few seconds of anxious scanning, she found him over by the pool table, playing darts. It wasn’t hard to notice him and his whole group, still in uniform. 

“Hey, Rooster!” She called happily, strutting over to meet him.

He turned around and smiled. “Hey, Cowgirl!” He ecstatically walked over to greet her with a side hug.

She didn’t notice the squad’s jaws dropping and the surprised looks they all gave each other. THIS was Rooster’s little cousin? Hangman, the most surprised, went from leaning down on the table, lining up his starting shot of pool, to slowly standing, taking her all in. 

Rooster led her to the table. “Guys, this is the little cousin I was telling you all about. This is Y/n.” He said, introducing her. 

She smiled and waved on instinct. “Hi.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s related to you?” Hangman said with a smooth voice, capturing her attention. The cute guy from the photo. And wow, he was even more better looking in real life. Tall, blonde, and muscular. His green eyes reflected back the amber lights above, as he stood leaning on his pool cue. He looked like a Ken doll, and his voice was like butter. She understood immediately how he garnered the rep that Rooster scared her of. 

“That’s Hangman.” Rooster disappointingly introduced, and he pointed to the rest of the gang, “There’s Phoenix. Bob. Fanboy. And Payback.”

She nodded, keeping track of the names. “Got room for one more?” She asked.

“Yeah. Of course.” Bob said, welcoming, sliding over so she could move into the space. 

She turned and looked around for a cue on the wall, but didn’t see any. When she turned back around, she found Hangman standing there with two in his hands. 

“I got you.” He said, handing her one.

She looked up at him, unable to resist the smile that grew on her face. The smile that Rooster knew very well growing up. The one that meant trouble. 

“Thank you very much.” She said, reaching for it, but he gently pulled it away first with a teasing look on his face. After a daring head tilt, she snatched the cue from his hand, purposefully making their fingers brush. Sure, this Jake Seresin was cute, but she could play that game, too. He clearly had never heard of Y/n Bradshaw. She walked past him, towards the end of the pool table. Nobody questioned that she was now suddenly starting the game.

She leaned over in her low-cut halter and mini skirt without a care in the world. Though it sure made Bob avert his eyes and give Rooster a scared look. She knew exactly who wouldn’t look away… Jake. She could feel his stare boring into her, and even with her focusing on the rack in front of her, she could guess the stupid smirk on his face.

“Your technique’s all wrong.” Jake started, “I can teach you, if you’d like.” Practically textbook flirting.

Rooster stared daggers into him. “I’ll kill you, Hangman.” He did his best to walk over and stick to his game of darts with Payback and Fanboy. But that didn’t stop the nervousness.

She chuckled and pushed the cue forward, sending the ball flying hard against the stack. They all scattered, sending many more stripes in than solids.

“I’m stripes. Bob, you’re on my team.” She said, calling him over with her head. 

Bob’s eyes widened, but he nodded and joined her with a smile. He seemed just happy to be included. It took all her effort not to laugh at Jake’s face dropping. 

Jake let out the tiniest scoff then leaned on his cue. “Losers buy a round for the squad.” 

“You sure seem confident,” She teased as Phoenix lined up her shot.

“I’m the only Naval Aviator here with a confirmed air-to-air kill. I’ve got good aim.” He bragged. 

“If you’re wanting a measuring contest, I can go toe to toe.”

“Oh really?”

Phoenix got her shot in naturally, and Bob went to take her place, finding a good spot to get a stripe in. But who cares what they were doing? It felt like they didn’t exist. It felt like the entire bar didn’t even exist, and it was nothing but this sweet, sweet tension between her and Hangman. That feeling when two people know they’re attracted to each other, so they’re treading the line between what’s too far and what’s not far enough. You could cut it with a knife.

“Well, I’m an early bloomer with a hundred carrier landings and two air medals.” She announced, walking closer to stand in front of him. She looked up and smirked, “One of them with V.” 

He whistled. “Guess, we’ve got ourselves a good game on our hands then, folks.” He said, but only stared directly into her eyes.

“Guess, we do, Hangman. You’re on.”

The game was tight. And it felt like she and Jake were playing their own game amidst Phoenix and Bob. Jake was good. He had dead aim and could get a solid from across the table straight into a pocket.  

But she had strategy on her side. She’d aim for what seemed like the riskiest route, but would get multiple balls in at the same time. Faster when she was on a lucky streak, slower when she wasn’t. Leading to the two of them neck and neck.

One of the last turns of the game had her and Bob with 3 balls left, and Hangman and Phoenix with two. 

“Shaking in your boots yet?” Hangman said lowly as she lined up her shot. It was tough. Trying to include the one ball in an awkward spot was almost impossible.

She shook her head firmly. “Nope.”

“Oh, you will be.” He said, leaning over next to her, trying to distract her.

“That a promise?” She asked quickly before shooting. The ball hit straight into the awkward one, sent it in, and bounced back to hit her last two remaining into pockets. 

Jake watched it with wide eyes. This woman. 

She smirked proudly. “How ‘bout you? Shaking in your boots yet?” All she needed to do was get the 8-Ball in on her next turn, and she and Bob would be winners. Unless…

“Not even close.” Jake started setting up his shot. 

Phoenix observed the board. “Hangman, we’re fucked. You can’t get that six in without hitting the 8-ball.” 

“High risk. High reward.” He said before shooting, without even a thought. And yup. He sank the 8-ball in too early. 

Bob and Y/n cheered with a high-five. “Nice work, Bob.” She complimented before Jake walked back over to them. “I drink Michelob Ultra.” She rubbed it in.

He shook his head. “How about you come with me to get this round?” He said.

She looked over at Rooster, who was playing some songs on the piano as Payback and Fanboy danced and sang along off-key. A mischievous grin formed on her face. “Sure.” She said, walking away with Hangman. Bob and Phoenix looked at each other with worried faces. 

As they walked over to the bar, Jake looked over at her. “Getting to buy you a drink is a pretty fantastic punishment.” 

“Dreadful, isn’t it?” She said.

“Horrible. Didn’t want to do it at all.” He replied just as sarcastically.

This felt… good? Even though Rooster had warned her so heavily about him, she felt that she had met her match. After plenty of lackluster guys and boring conversation, she was talking to someone who could keep up with her. But she didn’t want it to seem like she was falling for him. No- she couldn’t let this man have the higher court. She was not going to be just another girl for him. He was gonna have to square up to get anywhere past this fun flirting with her. 

They sat at the bar. “Penny, could I get five more of our usual and…” He looked over at Y/n, who sat with a proud smile, “And a Michelob Ultra. All on me.” 

The bartender nodded, “You got it.” She said, sliding over the mass of drinks and looking over at her. “A new face around here.” 

“Yeah, Hi! I’m Y/n, Rooster’s cousin.” 

And at that, Penny widened her eyes at Hangman, as if to say, ‘What are you doing?’ She took a surprised pause before going. “Well, welcome to town.” 

With that foreboding interaction, her stomach squeezed. What was any of that supposed to mean? But she mentally shook it off and looked back over at the gorgeous man next to her. 

“I think I know why your name’s Cowgirl.” He stated with a sly smile. 

“I think I know why your name’s Hangman.”

“It does hang.” 

Jesus Christ. That took her off guard, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

“It’s cause I’m from Alabama, dumbass.” “Texas.” 

Their dialogue was like a western shootout. Constant banter, and no time to breathe. 

“You leave people out to dry,” She said.

“Well, the women are usually-”

She raised a brow that told him not to finish that sentence. In a single look, she told him that she was not the type of woman to hear about his conquests. He tilted his head with a wavering smirk. An exhale escaped through his nose.

“I like you.” He said, wagging his finger at her. “You’re fun.”

“And that’s all you are. Fun.” She said pointedly, “I hope you know that tonight’s been fun, but I’m not looking to wake up in your bed.”

His face dropped. “You’re gonna listen to Chicken instead of forming your own opinion?” He asked, clearly a little taken aback.

“Well… I don’t fuck and find out.” She replied, opening her beer can with a hiss and strutting back to the pool table, waving hi to Bob and Phoenix. She looked back at Jake, who looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

The next week was her first week on base, and she couldn’t wait. She was itching to fly again. She hadn’t been able to since her move, and she needed it like water. They were training for a strike mission, something she was very familiar with.

She sat on a bench in the locker room, putting on the underclothes for her flight suit. Just a black tank top and underwear, as Phoenix did the same, a few lockers down from her. Her hesitant gaze could be felt. 

Awkward silence. 

“Phoenix, you seem like you wanna say something,” Y/n said with a chuckle, not even looking at her, as she got up to grab her flight suit. 

“I’m debating on warning you against Hangman or if you’ve already heard enough from Rooster.” The brunette replied point-blank, “You have to know he’s a bad idea.”

She shrugged as she set her suit on the ground so she could step into it. “I know he is. That’s why I’m not sleeping with him.” 

Phoenix raised her brows. “Right now. But you guys were practically one step away from screwing each other on the pool table at Hard Deck last weekend.” She said, and was met with silence as she pulled up the bottom half. “I’m just saying. He gets girls wrapped around his finger all the time. Don’t think you’re gonna change him to be a relationship type of guy.”

Y/n put on the arms of her suit. “Well, if he wants me, he’s gonna have to. I’m not that type of girl anymore.” She zipped herself up, “Trust me. If he wants to be stupid, it sure as hell won’t be in front of me.”

Phoenix shrugged. “Whatever you say, Cowgirl.”

Walking out into the hangar side by side with Phoenix was invigorating. She looked around, taking in the base. It felt a lot bigger than the ones she was used to. And the weather was gorgeous. A cool breeze whizzed past her face, not protected by her hair anymore, now that it was up in the sanctioned bun. 

Then she saw him. Hangman walking out with Fanboy towards the jet. He looked fantastic in a flight suit. The dark green sleeves were folded up over his elbows, and the sight of his tense forearms made her swallow like a Victorian man seeing an ankle.

He looked over and saw her, a grin appearing on his face. 

“Good morning, ladies. Cowgirl.” He said to the two, making Phoenix roll her eyes and walk away towards Fanboy. “You sure make a onesie look good.” He said once she left.

“Right back at you, Bangman.” She teased, making him laugh.

“I don’t mind that nearly as much as you think.” He said, crossing his arms. 

“Well, you should.” And for some reason, that comment got under his skin a little. She could tell by the way he tensed up slightly.

But before she could recover, Rooster came by. She wondered if he was just passing through or if he saw her talking to Jake and decided to intervene. “Hey, Cowgirl! Ready for your first day?”

She nodded excitedly, “Very. I’ve been waiting.” She said happily. 

Rooster patted her back, then looked over at Hangman with a warning glare that could turn a man to stone. But then Phoenix called his name from the distance, and Rooster looked over at his little cousin. “You’re gonna kill it. Be careful. Be safe.” He said before running over. But it didn’t feel like it was the planes he was warning her about.

After a moment, Jake looked back at her, “I actually wanted to-”

BZZZZZZ. The P.A. system turned on. “Pilots, please report to the flight line for pre-launch checks. Stand by for further instructions.” A gravelly voice said.

An excited smile lit up her face. “God, I’m so excited.” She said, practically radiating as she looked over at the line of Hornets. She didn’t even notice Jake admiring how pretty she looked when she was excited about something. She turned back, and his face returned to normal, hiding the small smile he had. “Sorry, what were you saying?” 

He opened his mouth, but then thought about it. “I’ll tell you later. We should go.”

The next few days were hard, but rewarding. Dogfights and practicing in difficult terrain. But she and Jake developed a lovely, banter-filled friendship between them. Every day, she’d walk into the hangar to find Jake had already grabbed her coffee. And they’d tease each other about their flying habits and mistakes.

“I mean, you fixate so hard on the kill shot that you forget about your position. It’s a rookie mistake.” She shrugged, sipping her coffee.

“What can I say? I just like getting what I want.” He said, leaning closer.

Her head turned, challenging. “Clearly…” She said softly, “But then you end up dead in the water.” She stated, breaking the tension and walking away towards her jet. Jake watched her with a gnawing ache in his chest that grew every day. 

Up in the sky, a week later, she and Jake flew, teamed up for an exercise. They hadn’t started yet, waiting for Maverick to catch up. 

Over the direct comms, Jake’s voice piped up in her helmet. “How’s your week been, Cowgirl?”

She smirked, looking over to see Jake in his jet giving her a two-finger wave through his canopy. “It’s been good.” She radioed in.

The loud rush of the air against them was calming, and it was nice just casually flying down the area with one of the most breathtaking views she’s seen as a pilot. The beach was not too far down from them, giving them a clear view of the ocean. 

“Just good?” He asked. She could practically hear the curl of his lips, “How about I make it great?”

“Didn’t know you had a spicy margarita in your pocket there. How’d you fit that?” She teased and saw him shake his head.

“Dinner. Saturday night. I can guarantee a spicy margarita. Or a Michelob Ultra. Whatever you’re feeling, Cowgirl.” He said, remembering her order from a few weeks back.

She thought about it. Maybe it was the adrenaline of being in a jet. Maybe it was her hankering for bad decisions. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d been well behaved. He’d been keeping up this amusing give and take with her for the past two weeks. He was a fast learner. He quickly learned to never insinuate that she was going to sleep with him. And to never bring up other girls. 

“It’s a date.” She radioed in and looked over to find him staring at her with a surprised smile. 

He spun his jet into a barrel roll, making her laugh.

“YOU’RE WHAT?” Rooster almost slammed the brakes on the blue Ford Bronco on their way to The Hard Deck. But they were in the middle of the street, so he just looked over at her, horrified, and back at the road. “Y/N! What the hell did I say about Hangman?” 

She crossed her arms, already annoyed. “He’s been so… sweet.” She said, shrugging.

“I’m sure that’s what all the girls in god damn San Diego say before he buys them a drink.” He said. 

She groaned. “Rooster!” 

“Cowgirl!” He replied worriedly. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m trying to be your older cousin who doesn’t want you to make bad decisions.”

“And when have I ever listened to you?” 

“Never. But this time, I’m telling you. This isn’t prom with Chad Garter. This isn’t that biker guy in your stats class. This is a guy I know for certain just wants sex.” 

“And how do you know that?!” She asked, exasperated.

“Because I’ve seen him pick up girls at Hard Deck.”

That made her laugh. She shook her head. “Oh, Bradley, I’m so glad you didn’t see me during my community college phase.” 

His eyes widened. “Jesus Christ, Ew! Don’t let me think about that.” He said, disgusted.

“Look, I’ve done my fair share of one-night stands, too. I can’t judge. And he asked me out on a date. An ACTUAL date. Dinner.” She said

There was a silence in the car as Rooster shook his head disapprovingly. She looked at him with pleading eyes. 

“And if he tries to go further than dinner, I’ll say no. And that’s that. It’ll be awkward at work for a bit until he mans up. But that’s how it always is.” She tried to convince him.

He looked over at her and saw the look on her face. The desperate look of his little cousin, whom he loved like a sister. And unfortunately, he knew her so well that he knew there was no stopping her. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. I’ll actually do it. And you’re paying for the funeral and my bail.”

“And it’ll be well deserved.” She nodded happily.

Rooster and her arrived a bit later than usual. They spotted the usual gang over by the dartboard, sitting around, taking turns. Except someone was missing. She didn’t see Jake, and he was hard to miss considering his height and stature. Rooster walked ahead, already towards the group, but she paused, looking around. 

Then she saw the stray khaki uniform sitting at the bar. The back of his blonde head was obvious. And with the flip of her stomach, she saw a beautiful woman sitting next to him in a gorgeous bodycon dress. She reached up and slid her hand up his shoulder, and he looked down at her with a polite smile.

That was enough. She wasn’t about to cause a scene, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to be played right in front of her eyes. She spun on her heels and walked toward the door.

Rooster, now noticing she wasn’t following, ran back over to her. “What? What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately reading her face.

“No. No, I’m stupid. I was just- He was just-” She stammered, and Rooster turned back to see Jake patting the woman’s hand. 

He turned back. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m actually-”

She grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t. Don’t make a big deal out of it. Otherwise, it’ll just make it worse.”

“No. No, he doesn’t get to do that to you.” Rooster said. “Not you.”

He turned back around and strode towards Jake, who was getting up from the bar now. “ASSHOLE!” Rooster yelled, pushing Jake back against the bar. The woman who was next to him yelped in surprise. 

“HEY!” Penny called out. The whole bar was watching now.

Jake looked around, confused and wide-eyed. “What the hell?” 

“You think you can just run through Y/n like she’s nothing to you, huh? Get her fucking hopes up like an asshole and then go home with another girl?!” 

Jake looked over Rooster’s shoulder and saw her standing there, covering her mouth in shock and embarrassment. He quickly realized what had happened. But Rooster kept going.

“I fucking told you. I told you! That if you did anything to her, I’d beat the shit out of you.” Rooster said, grabbing his shirt, but Jake pushed him back.

“I wasn’t flirting with her!” He finally said loud enough to make the bar go quiet. The upbeat classic rock from the jukebox was faint and clashing, just making the tension worse. “She was with me, and I rejected her. I felt bad. I was trying to be nice.”

Rooster looked over at the scared woman on the stool next to them. She slowly nodded, confirming his story. He stepped back, and they both looked over at Y/n, who just stood red in the face. Angry at both of them. Humiliated more than anything. She couldn’t stop the fact that tears were streaming down her face. And when she looked over and saw Phoenix and Bob’s worried expressions, that was the last straw. She stormed out of the bar. 

“BOTH OF YOU. OUT!” Penny yelled.

Rooster and Hangman walked out with their tails between their legs to find an empty parking spot where Rooster’s car used to be. Scarred tire marks were scorched on the pavement.

“Classic. Classic Y/n.” He said, throwing his arms in the air.

Jake couldn’t help the smile that brought him. “God, that girl is something else.”

“Yeah. That’s why she doesn’t need you, Seresin.” Rooster spat. “We should find her.” 

The blonde looked at him. “You know, you think you’ve got me all figured out, huh? You think I’m just some playboy genius trying to hit a big score.” 

Rooster nodded. “Uh yeah, that’s actually exactly what I think.”

Jake put his hands on the back of his hips and shook his head. He was actually gonna admit this. 

“You know she’s the first girl I’ve asked out on a real, genuine date in years?” Jake pointed out. He saw the surprise on the brunette’s face. Years? “For the first time in a long time, a girl’s got me so nervous I can’t stand it. Everytime I see her, the only thing I can think about is not screwing it up. So I’ll be damned if I let you or that random woman back there get in the way.” 

There was silence as Rooster just looked at him, stunned.

Jake huffed. “Get in the Jeep, Chicken. Let’s go find her.”

Rooster knew exactly where she’d be. Spending every summer there since they were practically born made it easy to know her favorite spots. They parked on the cliffside of a small beachside mountain. If you could even call it a mountain. It was just an elevated view of the whole beach. 

She sat on the ground with her knees to her chest, taking in deep breaths. Her hair blew in the higher wind. She could see Hard Deck as a tiny spot in the distance. That wasn’t there when she was growing up. A lot of the buildings actually weren’t there when she was growing up. It used to be nothing but sand and grass. And the newfound metropolis taking over was a little overwhelming.

The sound of a car pulling up startled her. She turned back and saw a white Jeep parking right behind her. It idled there for a minute before Rooster finally hopped out of the passenger side. Who the hell was driving then? She squinted her eyes, trying to see through the windshield, but from where she was sitting, the sun hit directly against it. A shadowy figure. Kind of looked like Bob?

“Hey, kid,” Rooster said, walking over and sitting next to her.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Thanks for humiliating me.”

Rooster sighed. “Yeah, for once, you were kinda right.”

“For once?” She raised a brow.

He chuckled, “Fine. Fine. I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone to kill Hangman.”

She sighed, “You know, if he was actually flirting with her, I would’ve totally let you.” She said, and noticed Rooster look back over his shoulder for a second before turning back. 

“Yeah… Well, I can confirm now he wasn’t and he’s not six feet deep, at least.” He said, noticing that she still wasn’t happy. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so humiliated. It feels like everybody has been waiting to watch me crash and burn with Jake. And that kind of just proved it.” She threw her hands up, then back around her knees. 

There was a small silence before Rooster put his thoughts together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you. It’s just that you’re my best friend, and I hate to see you get hurt. You know I’d do anything to avoid that.”

“You told him to stay away from me?” She asked about what he said at the bar.

Rooster nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, after the first night. But he’s just like you, unfortunately. Stubborn as a mule.”

After a second, she let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t be mad at you. You’re my best friend, too, and you were just protecting me like you always do.” She said still a little defeated, “I just hope that Jake doesn’t think I’m batshit crazy now.”

“Well… about that,” Rooster started, then looked over his shoulder again before nodding his head.

She followed his gaze and watched Jake get out of the driver’s side of the jeep. 

“Oh!” She yelped, taken off guard. She wiped her face, hoping there weren’t any stray tears. 

Rooster looked at the two of them and saw the bashful look on Hangman’s face. He had never seen that look on him before. The vulnerable look of pure nervousness. She… she might be in good hands here. 

“I’m gonna park the Jeep down the hill.” He said. And when he got up, Hangman tossed him the keys, clearly having planned this. An effortless catch and toss.

She stood up and walked towards Jake as Rooster got in the car and started pulling away. 

“Hey…” Jake said. He gently brought his hands up to her face and moved some stray baby hairs out of her face. The wind was blowing them everywhere. 

“I’m so sorry.” She started, “I swear- all I saw was her putting her hand on your back and you smiling at her, and I-I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it, but then Rooster saw.” She explained nervously.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said firmly, he brought his hand to cup her cheek and brushed his thumb back and forth. Her breath hitched at that. He pulled away to put his hands back in his pockets, and she wished he didn’t. “I hope you know that I’m not just trying to… get you in bed with me.” He said, looking down, embarrassed, then looking back up to see her reaction.

“Everyone said you were.” She admitted.

“I’m aware. Very aware.” There was a small silence between them for a moment. “Do you still believe them?” 

She thought about it for a moment, staring up at him. Then she slowly shook her head. “No. Or at the very least, I don’t want to.”

His mouth upturned to a small smile at that. “Good.” He said, moving forward closer, “Because I’m… I’m serious about you. Ever since that night at Hard Deck, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re just incredible. In every sense of the word.”

Now that brought a small smile to her face, and it was her turn to walk forward closer. “Hmmm… And there’s no other girls?” She interrogated lightly.

He shook his head with a smirk. “No, ma’am. Got my hands full with you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she naturally put her hands on his cheeks. This just felt right.

“Good.” She said before closing in the gap between them and kissing him. 

They held each other so close that it was like they wanted to merge. Weeks of tension and banter, and forbidden nature, all exploding into this one gesture. Her lips soft against his. His hands calloused against her waist. The taste of evergreen between them. 

She pulled away and looked up at him, just admiring his features. He chuckled as he watched her examine his face.

“Still good for dinner tomorrow night?” He asked

“You’re on.”

[roosterforme]

Sneak Peek | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You spent so much time around the boys, they counted you as one of them. You were firmly stuck in the friend zone with Jake, so it was time to move on with a guy who could see past your flight suits. It's not immediately obvious to either of you that cranky Jake is actually jealous Jake.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentioned smut, 18+

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Happy birthday @beyondthesefourwalls!

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"It's my turn to buy a round," you said, standing up from the table and grabbing the empty beer bottles before turning toward Jimmy and Penny at the bar.

"Thanks, Rodeo," Jake murmured, and you turned back briefly and smiled softly at him. His gaze slid down your body the same way it would with any other woman, the only difference was that he had started to notice just how many other guys were regularly checking you out, too. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that fact.

When you squeezed yourself between two stools at the bar to order four more beers, Bradley asked, "Who are you staring at, Hangman? Rodeo?"

Mickey laughed as Jake quickly shook his head and turned his attention back to his friends. "I just wanted to make sure she can manage carrying everything."

"I'm sure she's fine," Bradley replied with a laugh of his own. "I got a little nervous for a second there."

"Why?" Jake asked, his eyes slowly drifting back to you, watching as you slipped your credit card into the back pocket of your jeans. 

"Because first of all," Bradley said as he smashed open a peanut on the table, "Rodeo is practically one of the guys. And second," he added, popping the peanut into his mouth and chewing, "it would be weird if you start looking at her like you do all the other random pieces of ass you take home with you. Even though she is cute."

"She's cute, for sure," Mickey piped in. "But once you've seen a girl throw up in the parking lot after a drunken karaoke night, the appeal kind of wears off."

Jake smiled as you headed back toward the table, because the drunken karaoke night was when he got to drive you home and carry you to your bed while you repeatedly tried to tell him you could walk by yourself. 

"Oh, you know who else is cute?" Bradley asked just as you set four new beers on the table. "That redhead with the huge tits at the dartboard."

"Damn," Mickey groaned, and now you were looking in that direction, too. But Jake kept his eyes on you. 

"Do we have to talk about this in front of Rodeo?" he asked, sipping his fresh beer and starting to wish Bradley and Mickey would wander off. "In front of a lady?"

Bradley snorted so hard, Jake was surprised his beer didn't shoot out of his nose. "A lady?" he asked as he looked at you and cuffed you on the arm. "Nice try, Hangman, but Rodeo doesn't count."

"Well, you don't count either," you told him, and Bradley tapped the neck of his bottle to yours. "And neither do the two of you." Your gaze met Mickey's before settling on Jake. "You know I don't mind when you guys talk about girls. I get it. You're all hot."

But your knee was rubbing against Jake's thigh at the tiny table, and for a brief flash, he thought maybe he wanted to count in your mind as a guy you could be into.

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

It was a strange dynamic, working with mostly a bunch of men all the time. They saw you in a flight suit once, and they never looked at you like you were a female ever again. And that was fine. It made your job easier in a lot of ways. There were fewer distractions, and you knew for a fact that they liked you for your personality. They wouldn't invite you to hang out all the time if they didn't.

But on nights like this, it did sting a little bit to watch the three of them tripping over themselves to go talk to the redhead who was clearly eating up the attention. You were essentially wearing the same outfit she was: jeans and a black shirt. And you thought you looked cute. And what exactly was wrong with your boobs? You looked down at your body and kind of shrugged. You didn't get it. 

Natasha handed you a pool cue, and you sank a shot. You made up the excuse that you wanted to play so the guys wouldn't feel bad about abandoning you to go talk to girls, but Jake had been hesitant at first, so you shoved him along. That was a mistake, because you were reminded of how solid and muscular he was under his soft shirt. 

The first few times you glanced his way, he was already looking back at you. If he were any other guy, you would have just asked him out by now, but you were so firmly in the friend zone with all of them that it was embarrassing. The rejection would be laughable. 

So you put your head down and focused on the game and the chit chat around you. But after a while you got curious, and when you looked up again, Bradley and Mickey were walking back toward the table where your empty beer bottle sat. Jake had won. The redhead was running her fingernails through his hair. It was all over for the night. 

You weren't jealous. You weren't. You just didn't understand why it couldn't be you. As you sank the eight ball, you said, "I'm beat. I'm going to head home."

"Me too. Want a lift?" Mickey asked, and you nodded, not sparing a single glance back at Jake. 

Maybe you were the problem. Maybe you weren't sexy. You spent most of Sunday scrutinizing yourself in your bedroom mirror and going through all of your clothing. There really wasn't much of it since your closet was lined with uniforms and flight suits. And when you looked in the mirror, it wasn't like you could even tell what the problem was. You were just you, but it was starting to feel like you'd been playing around in this male-dominated world for so long, you were just blending in there. 

"Fuck it," you muttered reaching for your phone. There was a text from Bradley detailing the pricing for tickets to a Padres game, which you desperately wanted to go to. It sounded fun. Then you realized the beer drinking and peanut eating would simply be moved to a different venue in which the guys would be looking at all the other women around you. Suddenly it didn't sound so fun.

There were also a handful of texts from Jake. He must have kicked his guest out early if he was asking how you were doing this morning. You sent back a short message before finding the app on your screen that had been dormant since you got stationed in San Diego last summer. Tinder. It was right there. 

Nervously, you entered your login information, terrified that you'd just end up with a bunch of guys you saw on base as your best options. They would undoubtedly take one look at you and have the same reaction your male friends did. But you spent the rest of the day thinking about it. You looked, but you didn't sample. You found some guys who were surprisingly not in the Navy, but you didn't swipe. And maybe part of the reason you didn't was because Jake kept texting you all day long.

Monday was your tipping point. You were all ready to fly in your boots and flight suit when you ended up surrounded by the guys in the hangar. "We getting Padres tickets, Rodeo?" Bradley asked. "Day drinking at Petco Park?"

You nodded at him. "Sounds fun."

Then Mickey cut in as Jake walked over. "Hey, Hangman. How was our little redheaded friend?" he asked with a smirk, but Jake's expression stayed the same as his eyes met yours. 

"Wouldn't know."

"Oof," Bradley said with a goading laugh. "What, you kicked her out without even talking to her afterwards?"

You swallowed and looked down at your boots as you thought about the guys on the dating app. Maybe a little change of scenery wouldn't hurt anything after all.

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

"Can you just knock it the fuck off?" Jake snapped. "I didn't even spend the night with her." He watched you put your helmet on as you walked toward your jet. "And I don't like talking about this shit around Rodeo anymore."

"Alright," Bradley replied with a tiny smirk. "No need to get mad about it."

When Jake took to the air, you were all business, as usual. You and he flew well together, like you always did. But back on the ground at lunchtime, you barely spared a glance in his direction in the cafeteria. Instead, you were completely absorbed in something on your phone as you picked at your food.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked, and you looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there. 

"Nothing," you murmured, taking a drink before returning your attention to your phone. "Just working on something."

"On what?" he asked, voice almost as snippy as it had been earlier. He found he didn't like it when your attention wasn't focused on him, which was absolutely infuriating, because it's not like the two of you were anything. 

"My Tinder profile," you replied smoothly as you licked your lips, and Jake thought he must have misheard. Since when were you looking for a guy?

"Tinder?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I'm just trying to sort out which photo to use, because I like this one where I'm in my flight suit, but guys don't really tend to go for that sort of thing."

You turned your phone to show him, and Jake swallowed hard. It was a photo he had taken a few months ago. He remembered that day. Your sunglasses were hooked on the top of your suit, and your helmet was tucked under your arm, and your smile was infectious. 

"I like that one," he told you softly. 

But you just rolled your eyes and groaned. "But you don't count, now do you?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why are you on Tinder anyway?"

Now you laughed as you set your phone down. "Why do you think?"

He didn't want to think about it, even though he knew why. You were looking to hookup with someone. Or maybe it was even worse. Maybe you were looking for an actual boyfriend. Someone to spend all your time with. You'd be at the Hard Deck after work less frequently. You'd be going to the Padres game with some faceless idiot, and he'd be the one carrying you home after you overdid it at karaoke night. Worse yet, you could have your pick of any guy on that app who caught your eye, but Jake knew for a fact none of them were good enough for you. 

"Rodeo," he grunted, unsure how to voice his concerns. You just tapped your screen a few times and then smiled at him as his heart clenched a little bit.

"I went with the photo from Reuben's wedding instead."

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't even have to ask. He also knew that photo well too. His voice was soft as he said, "Blue dress. Holding a martini. Hand on your hip." He didn't like the idea of a bunch of guys he didn't even know looking at you wearing something so pretty.

"That's the one! And now my bio is live on the app," you said as you tapped your screen one last time. "Wish me luck."

You stood with your tray and Jake told himself he would do no such thing.

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

"That photo must have done the trick," you mumbled the following day in the rec room on base as Natasha helped you sort through your matches.

"I'm sure it did," she replied in awe. "You look hot in it."

You wanted to believe her, but it didn't even matter right now, because the two of you were staring at a photo of a hot guy who had sent you a message. You gasped. "Is this for real?"

"Looks like it," she replied. "If you don't fuck him, I will. Happily."

"What are the two of you over here whispering about?" You looked up into Jake's smiling eyes and gave him a grin of your own.

"Rodeo is getting all the Tinder hotties," Natasha replied, and suddenly Jake's smile vanished. "Let me know if he sends you a dick pic."

"He better fucking not!" Jake growled as he tried to reach for your phone. "Show me what this asshole looks like so I know who to pound to dust if he sends you one." You rolled your eyes and held up your phone so he could see. "His name is Tony? And he's a dentist?"

"What's wrong with that?" you asked quickly.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "If you have to ask, then you don't want to know."

You scoffed and opened your messages. "You're being dramatic. And I don't get on you about who you decide to hook up with."

"So you're just trying to hook up with this asshole?" he asked, his lips curling in disgust.

Honestly, you weren't really sure. But he sounded nice in the messages he sent. "Would it really be so bad if I was?"

Jake scrutinized your face like he was in pain, and you had the craziest thought flash through your mind that perhaps he was jealous. But then the pinched lines on his forehead vanished, and his voice was completely calm as he said, "You do what you want, Rodeo. But don't come crying to me about it later."

"Fine," you told him as he walked away. And that's what spurred you to reply to Tony's message with a more flirtatious one of your own. You were allowed to hook up with him. You were allowed to go out on a date. Maybe you'd even eventually request a dick pic. Jake wasn't in charge of your Tinder profile or dating agenda.

A few short exchanges back and forth was all it took, and suddenly you had plans for Saturday night that didn't involve hanging with the guys at the Hard Deck for once. Tony was going to take you out to dinner, and you were already excited.

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

"Where the hell is Rodeo?" Bradley asked as he returned to the table with three bottles of beer instead of four. "She's usually here by seven."

Jake rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "She's not coming. She's on a date with some smug looking asshole named Tony."

"Good for her," Mickey piped up, earning a glare from Jake. "I hope she gets laid. You wanna grab Javy and play pool?"

With a groan, Jake dragged himself out of his seat and forced his body through the motions. He hit the cue ball with perfect precision, but meanwhile, all he could think about was some other guy's hands all over your body while he shoved his tongue down your throat. "Fuck," he growled, trying to fight the urge to text you. If you wanted him, you knew how to reach him. 

Between shots, he glanced around the bar at all the other women, but he couldn't find a single one as pretty as you. He spent the rest of his night barely conversing with his friends while he hoped that your date was a complete flop. And when he left to head home alone, he caved and texted you to make sure you got back to your place safely. 

That was over twelve hours ago. Jake still hadn't heard back from you. It was damn near noon on Sunday, and he was left assuming that you spent the night with Tinder Tony. When you finally texted him back, the response made him toss his phone aside. 

Sorry, just seeing this now. Yes, I made it home safely. See you tomorrow.

Monday was worse. You were glued to your phone at every opportunity you got, and Jake could tell by the little smile on your face that you must be talking to that asshole. 

"Rodeo, how was your hot date?" Bradley asked, bumping your helmet with his while he winked at Jake. 

"Pretty good," you replied with a little laugh. 

"You get laid?" Mickey asked obnoxiously, and you rolled your eyes before glancing at Jake. He was dying to know the answer to the question, but also terrified to hear it. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," you replied, returning your attention to your phone. "Put it this way... I'm going out with him again for dinner on Wednesday."

"Who goes to dinner on a Wednesday?" Jake scoffed. "That's when we usually go to the bar! And what did you and Tinder Tommy even talk about the whole time? Dentures? Teeth?"

"No," you snapped at him. "He told me how pretty he thinks I am, and that he was nervous to meet me in person. And his name is Tony, not Tommy. So don't be rude when we stop by the bar after dinner on Wednesday."

"Can't wait to meet him," Jake grumbled, highly disappointed that your date had been even somewhat successful. And he still wasn't sure if you'd gone home with Tony. Or worse... if he'd gone home with you. 

Jake had crashed in your bed with you once a few months ago when you hosted game night. Mickey, Nat and Bradley all passed out in your living room, so you'd taken him by the hand to your bed. Every time he thought about it, he could practically feel the warmth of your body next to his and your foot hooked over his ankle. The idea of someone else there engaging in pillowtalk or fucking you just right was way too much for him to handle, because he was starting to feel like he wanted to be that person.

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

Okay, so Tony was a little boring. A lot boring, actually. And on Wednesday night at dinner, he actually did mention dentures, and you could practically hear Jake scoffing from the Hard Deck. But Tony was hot and nice and he paid for dinner. Could you really hope for more than that?

"So, you mentioned stopping at a Navy bar?" he asked as you walked back to his car. "I keep forgetting you're even in the Navy. It just doesn't seem like you."

Maybe you should have used the other photo for your dating profile since you'd had to remind him twice already that there were a lot of women in the military now. "Yeah. It's called the Hard Deck. I usually hang out there on Wednesdays, and I thought maybe my friends could meet you?"

"Sure," he replied, and he even played boring music on the way there. But when he walked you inside, he kissed your cheek, and that felt kind of nice until Jake was looking. You felt embarrassed and a little guilty when he scowled at you from the pool table, so you eased yourself away from Tony and took him by the hand instead. 

"Hey, guys," you said cautiously as you approached the pool table. "This is Tony." 

Jake's jaw was clenched tight as he reached out to shake hands with your date in a death grip, and you cringed as he said, "Nice to meet you, Tommy." 

And it all went downhill from there. You had to correct him three times, even though you were sure he knew Tony's name. And even the other guys didn't really seem to mesh well with Tony. Bradley looked scandalized when he told them he didn't like beer or playing pool, and Mickey tried to make a dentist joke that just didn't land. 

You wanted to crawl into your bed and not come back out for a week. You also kind of wanted to ask Jake what his problem was. Tony was a nice guy. His hand on your back felt nice, and his goodnight kiss at your front door was nice. There was even some tongue, and you didn't stop his roaming fingers. Maybe another date or two and you'd ask him to come in.

"Would you like to get dinner on Saturday night?" he asked as his lips grazed your neck. "At the Boathouse?"

You closed your eyes and leaned back, and the image of Jake took over. His lips were on your earlobe, and he was whispering your name as you led him to your room. His hands were settling on your hips and squeezing gently as you melted into his touch.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, and you were jarred back to reality by his voice.

You swallowed hard and nodded as you opened your door. "Saturday night sounds good," you said as you ducked inside. "See you then."

You couldn't have Jake. You just needed to get it through your head that he didn't want you like that.

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

Jake knew he was behaving poorly even as he was doing it. Tony looked annoyed by him, and you looked embarrassed, but he just kept calling him the wrong name and standing off to the side like a dick. He was actually the asshole. Not Tony. And he needed to apologize to you at work the next day. 

He found you in the hangar, pacing back and forth as you played with the strap on your helmet. When you turned, he started to say, "Hey, Rodeo, I'm really-"

"I need your help," you blurted out when you saw him heading your way. "I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow after work, because I wore my only two dresses already, and everything else in my closet is ridiculous. And Tony is taking me to the Boathouse on Saturday, so I can't just throw something together and call it a day."

Jake ground his back teeth together. The Boathouse was nice. As in, he could think of at least three people he knew who got engaged there. How much money did dentists make anyway? He was full blown jealous now. He knew that. But you'd asked him for help, so of course he was going to do whatever you wanted. Your eager eyes were enough to make him agree on the spot.

"Where are we going shopping?" he asked softly. 

You looked so relieved as you said, "The mall. I don't think it will take too long, and I can treat you to dinner as a thank you."

"No," he replied. "You don't owe me anything, Rodeo."

"Thanks, Jake," you whispered as you threw one arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I know I can trust you to tell me what looks good. Because you're a guy, and you know what guys like. I've been in such a rut, and I don't even know what looks nice on me anymore. But I trust your opinion."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you a little closer. If you trusted him, he wouldn't let you down. He never wanted to let you down. He would take you to the mall and tell you which outfits looked nice on you, even though he knew it would be all of them, and he would be cool about you dating Tony. "Sure, Rodeo. Anything you want."

When the time came, he was miserable. You seemed excited, bouncing on your feet in your jeans and sneakers as you collected dresses and cute little outfits to try on, but he knew none of this was really for him. You'd just be giving him a little sneak peak of what Tony would have his hands all over. 

"How about this one?" you asked, holding up a red mini dress that made Jake's mouth dry up. Then you moved it in front of your body and looked down. "It's probably too much for me."

He wanted to tell you that you couldn't pull it off, but he knew the fucking thing was made for you. "Try it on and see," he said softly, so you added it to your pile. Then he followed you like a puppy dog to the fitting room, holding half of the dresses for you to try on. When you passed the lingerie section, Jake had to watch you grab a few lacy items. "Have you slept with Tinder Tommy yet?" he snapped when you picked up a black bra and added it to your arms. 

You looked up at him with a soft pout. "Well, no. That's why I'm trying to buy some sexy stuff, you know? Just in case I want to take it there."

Jake had seen you in your bathing suit many, many times. You didn't need to be wearing anything made out of lace and silk to look sexy, but the sight of you in half of this shit would probably give Tony a damn heart attack. Then he realized as you led him along that he himself might not make it out of the fitting room alive.

"Just stand out here, okay?" you said softly, guiding him against the wall. He grunted in response and watched you line up everything you wanted to try on inside the fitting room before closing yourself inside. You kicked your shoes off, and then he watched you push your jeans down to your feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. You stepped out of them, and his imagination started to supply the rest. 

You were completely naked now, he was sure of that fact, and you were only a few feet away from him, separated by a flimsy door. His head tipped back against the wall as his breathing grew a little deeper. Your toenails were painted bright green, and you were talking quietly to yourself as you stepped into a black dress and started to guide it up your legs. 

"This isn't too bad," you muttered, and a few seconds later you were unlatching the door and pulling it open with an apprehensive look on your face. Jake's jaw dropped open as you stepped right up to him and asked, "What do you think?"

"Rodeo," he grunted, fisting his hands at his sides to keep them from touching you as you spun slowly in front of him. "Looks good."

You frowned a little more. "I was hoping for better than good," you replied, twirling away from him and back into the fitting room.

Jake's body was thrumming with desire as he watched that black fabric pool at your feet under the door. "It was better than good, Rodeo," he said, nearly choking on the words as you stepped to the side and bent to pick it up. 

"I'll try the red one," you informed him, and he had to press his lips together, knowing what was coming next. This time it took you a little longer, and he watched your feet under the door as you turned in front of the mirror. "It's really short," you finally said as you opened the door again. 

"Jesus Christ," Jake moaned softly. The thing fit you like a damn glove. Every curve and soft dip of your body was right there, begging to be touched. His palms were sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans, and then you spun, ending up just inches away from him again. 

He couldn't speak, and maybe you took that as a bad sign. "It's too much," you said with a little laugh. "I know it's too much, but it was fun to try it on anyway. It made me feel sexy," you said with a little shrug, barely able to meet his eyes. "I think the black one might be better for dinner at the Boathouse? Or do you think this one?"

Jake snapped out of his daze and remembered why he was here, suddenly pissed that this little fashion show wasn't just for his own benefit. "Come on, Rodeo. Tinder Tommy? Really? You think he deserves this?" When you just kind of shrugged at him, he said, "Get the red one if you're just looking to get laid."

"Okay," you replied, your little pout back on your pretty lips. 

He pushed away from the wall until he was nearly touching you. Practically snarling, he said, "Are you just looking to get laid?"

"Maybe," you said softly, looking at his neck. "He's actually into me, so maybe. I don't know, Jake. It's been a long time since a guy chose me, you know?" He opened his mouth to tell you that any guy in the world would choose you when you said, "I have one more dress."

Then he had to stand there and watch the red fabric hit your feet before you guided the tiniest little green dress up your calves. He was jealous. He was so jealous. And the fact that he'd had a whole fucking year to ask you out instead of fucking wasting his time was crashing down on him right now. You were going to wear one of these dresses to the Boathouse tomorrow, and Tony was going to take it off you. He was going to fuck you, and then someday you'd probably get married. Jake would be at your wedding sitting between Mickey and Bradley and making himself sick over this whole thing. 

The door opened. You were stunning. You didn't even leave the fitting room doorway this time in that green dress that was hugging your tits and your waist and showing off so much leg that Jake thought he was going to black out. "I can tell by your face that it's not good," you said with a wince. "It's a little too low cut, so I couldn't imagine wearing it in front of Tony."

His voice came out low and rough as he said, "You're wearing it in front of me just fine."

"But I don't count, remember?" You closed and locked the door, and Jake was immediately leaning against it. Literally each dress was hotter than the one before it, and Jake didn't know how to articulate what he was feeling right now. How on earth did he end up so far in the friend zone that he couldn't claw his way out if he tried? What the fuck made Tinder Tony so special? Why were you looking around on the app anyway? He couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you were never going to take him seriously, even if he knew he could be what you wanted.

The rustling of fabric and the sound of the zipper had him resting his forehead on the door. "Rodeo, Baby, you can't...buy one of these dresses. Not for Tony. Okay? Come on. He's not good enough for you."

"Oh." That was all you said. You just replied with one word, and Jake's blood was boiling. He wanted to dismantle the entire fitting room and take you back home and tell you that you could do a hell of a lot better than some lame ass dentist who didn't like beer or playing pool. But you'd just muttered one word, and he was dying to know if he could ever stand a chance at making you happy. 

"Rodeo?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You unlocked the door and he stepped back a few inches so you could open it, expecting to see you in your jeans once again with the dress of your choosing in your hands. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his heart hammering in his chest. "Absolutely not!"

Jake pushed you back further into the fitting room and managed to wrench his broad shoulders through the doorway before kicking the door closed. You were biting your lip, your eyes wide as his hands came to rest on your lace covered hips. 

"Jake," you whispered as he shook his head at the sight of you in a lacy black bra and tiny underwear. 

"What the hell are you thinking?" he groaned, fingers digging gently into your warm body as he listened to the little sound you made. "You're killing me here." Your hands came up to his wrists before you slid them up along his arms, and Jake took a step closer until his jeans were brushing against your bare belly. He would need to be removed from the mall in a body bag at this rate. 

Then you whispered, "I like you. And maybe there's a chance that you like me, too? And maybe that's part of the reason I asked you to come here with me."

Jake swallowed hard as he leaned in, dizzy from the way you smelled so sweet and felt so perfect in his hands. "Dump him. Dump Tony." You whimpered at his words as he slid one hand down further, teasing the lace covering your ass at the same time his other hand went up to tug at the side of the bra. "Because this? This should be for me."

"Jake." Your voice was a needy whine as you scraped your fingernails along his shoulders and chest, trying to pull him closer. But he shook his head as he pushed you back harder against the wall, lips hovering over yours as you whispered his name.

He knew what he wanted. He'd known for a while, really, but now he was ready to take it. "I want to kiss you. But if I do, I'm not going to be able to go back, okay?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I won't go back to being Rodeo and Hangman, just friends. I will not do that. Not with you. Not when you count more than anyone else."

Your lips crashed against his, and Jake sighed in relief as he held you in his arms the way he'd been dying to for so long. The lingerie and all the little dresses were only for him. Your kisses and your smile and your fingers in his hair were for him, not Tony. He ran his hands down to your ass as you giggled and nipped at his lips. 

"Pick a dress, Baby," he muttered between kisses. "And we'll get the lingerie, too."

"Okay," you replied with a smile before you took his bottom lip between yours, making him moan. 

"Tomorrow night, I will take you out, and you can show me this little getup again if you want to."

You looked up at him with the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. "I want to."

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

You nudged Bradley with your elbow. "Hey, she's cute," you said, nodding toward the brunette across the aisle. "You guys should go talk to her." He and Mickey both leaned forward to look without any subtlety whatsoever, and you laughed. 

"Maybe at the end of the inning," Bradley replied, manspreading so much in his seat at the Padres game that he kept bumping your leg and nudging your shoulder. But he was grinning, and you could already tell that he and Mickey were about to turn it into a competition to see who could get her phone number first. 

But there was one key player missing from their game now, and you smiled as you saw Jake apologetically climbing over everyone else in your row before plopping down into the seat next to you and kissing your cheek with a smile. "The line was long as hell for your favorite beer," he said as he handed it to you. "Did I miss anything?"

You shook your head as Bradley said, "You're just in time to watch the real show, Hangman. Rodeo, I want you to time how long it takes before I get her number." 

But you weren't really listening as Bradley and Mickey started to argue, and neither was Jake as he kissed your cheek again. You didn't feel like you were simply blending in, and you didn't feel like you were just one of the guys anymore. You were grinning and sipping your beer as Jake's lips met your ear and he asked, "Are you wearing that black set right now?"

"I'll let you find out later.

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

@blahehblah

Happy birthday, Alli! I hope you enjoyed the blonde one! Big thanks to @mak-32 @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for all your help!

Read Bradley's version in Whole Lotta Love

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[eternalsams]

Call Me Daddy ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x single mom!reader

warning/content: fluff, kids shenanigans, Jake being so good with a kid, Jake being Jake, tiny innuendos (blink and you miss it), reader's daughter's name is Lila

summary: When your daughter mistaken Jake for her father, you're more than embarrassed. That until she tells you why she called him that.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration.

masterlist

What would be better for his quiet alone night in his little apartment? Canned green beans or canned lenses? Why not take both and choose back at home? Jake sighed and dropped the two cans in his shopping cart. The earbuds in his ears blasting music to shut off the noise around him and his fingertips drumming the rhythm against his thigh. He could hear people walking behind him and sometimes complaining about how much space he was taking in the aisle. But he really couldn't care less. He went back to the main aisle and walked past the cookie section, stopping in his tracks and eying the sweet aisle. He grimaced and looked down at his shopping cart, he's been forcing himself to keep a healthier diet when he noticed he gained a few extra pounds the last few months. He softly groaned as he let his inner thoughts win and walk in the cookie aisle.

He tried to ignore the full chocolate ones and kept walking to the more 'healthy' ones. He picked a box and tried not to stare at the numerous calories at the back. "Come on, baby. We already have those cookies at home." A feminine voice came from the other side of the aisle. Jake turned to the voice and completely forgot about his cookies when he noticed something way sweeter. He could tell you were exhausted by the small bags under your eyes but other than that, you took great care of yourself, probably to hide the real fatigue from the others. You were trying to reason with a little girl, not older than 6 from what he knew of kids, and Jake could tell she was your daughter. She was practically your clone with how much she looked like you. Jake mindlessly dropped the cookie box into his cart and the little girl's attention was on him in a second. But all could Jake see was the pleading look in your eyes as you tried to convince your daughter she didn't need the dinosaur shaped cookies. His eyes staring at you might have discouraged your daughter because she put the box back onto the aisle and grabbed your hand silently.

Jake blinked a few times as you left the cookie section to keep going with your shopping and only then he noticed the little girl's eyes staring at him. He softly waved at her with a smile and her rosy lips stretched with a grin. Jake scoffed and decided it was enough cookies for now and looked a last time to his hand-written shopping list. He didn't see you again for the rest of his errands, that until he felt a light tap on his arm. He turned around and looked down at the little girl he saw earlier. He paused the music in his earbuds and smiled at the girl. "Hey, where's your mom? Did you get lost?" He asked as knelt down, starting to look around them. "Are you my daddy?" She asked him and he felt his neck crack as he abruptly looked back at her. "What? No-" He laughed nervously, not knowing where this was coming from. "Lila? Lila!" Your voice called and jake could see you running to them, crouching down to take your daughter in your arms. "What did I tell you? Keep your hands on the cart and stay around me." You said sternly and Jake stood back on his feet, rubbing his neck. You took the little girl's hand in yours and looked up at Jake with an apologetic and yet suspicious look. "I'm sorry, she usually don't wander about when shopping." You said and Jake nodded with a smile. "No harms done."

"Is that my daddy?" Lila asked, looking between you and the tall stranger. Your eyes widened and you glared at your daughter as Jake scoffed, finding the situation way funnier than he should. "Lila! He's not- I'm sorry, sir." You apologized once more and Jake chuckled. "It's alright, really. She's a cute kid." He desperately tried to make conversation but he knew nothing about you. Except for your daughter. "She is, usually. But she's never done that to any man, that's weird." You said more to yourself than to him. "Well, I'm flattered." Jake smiled and you nervously chuckled. "I'm Jake." he introduced himself, freeing one of his hands to shake yours. You told him your name with a shy smile and looked down at your daughter. "Well, Jake. It was nice meeting you but I've got a dinner to get." You started to walk back and Jake felt the need to stay close to you but didn't do anything. He so wanted to ask for your number or something but he didn't even know if you were single. He knew Lila's dad wasn't in the picture, because why else would she have called him 'daddy'? But maybe you had a husband waiting for you at home, Lila's step-dad. He sighed when you went out of sight and grumbled something under his breath before opening his music app and clicking on the play button.

When you parked your car in your alley, Lila unbuckled her seatbelt but you stayed in your seat. "Mum we're home." She leaned over to your seat, waiting for you to get out and open her door. "I know, baby. I know." You blinked a few times, thinking about your meeting with Jake. That was new. It had been years since a man caught your attention. Jake had been really nice to Lila from what you saw and really nice to you too. You kicked yourself mentally for not asking for his number. You really lost all your flirting techniques.

A few hours later, you called Lila for dinner and she came running to the kitchen, already dressed in her pj's. You kissed her head when you put her plate in front of her and took your seat in front of her. "Baby, why did you think the man from the store was your daddy?" You asked between two bites. Lila didn't even wait to swallow her food and started answering. "Not with your mouth full please, baby." You leaned over the table and wiped her mouth with a napkin. She loudly swallowed her vegetables and clumsily put down her fork. "It's because of Ethan." She said and you frowned. You knew of Ethan, he was one of Lila's friend from school. "What did Ethan said?" You got curious. "He said his parents look at each other like we look at jewels. He said that one time his daddy watched his mom like she was a princess." Lila smiled and you started to realize what she meant. "So when you asked Jake if he was your daddy-" You started before she cut you off with a grin on her face. "He was watching you like you were a princess." She giggled, putting her little hands in front of her mouth.

You huffed and leaned back into your chair, not believing your ears. When Lila finished her dinner, you sent her to brush her teeth and go to bed, not without a complain from her. And when you were sure she was asleep, you grabbed your laptop and opened the few social medias you had. Jake. You tried looking through possible mutual friends, but nothing. From the local companies accounts, still nothing. You stayed up way later than you'd ever admit looking for this man but it was like he never existed. At least on the internet. Than you remembered the kind of supplies he had in his cart. You also noticed how firm his whole body looked and you looked up the local gym. You looked through the different posts, videos, photos, anything. And then you found him. His back was facing the camera and he was wearing a black tank top and a backward cap, but you could recognize those shoulders anywhere now. You hoped for a linked account in the caption but it seemed he didn't have one. Though you had his name and function. Lieutenant Jake Seresin.

A few days passed without having any sign from Jake. You almost went to the groceries when Lila was at school, hoping to meet him again but you decided against it. You had no idea how to get in contact with this man. Hell, you didn't even know if he was single, but you needed to know. You looked at your watch and noticed you still had a few hours before leaving to pick up Lila from school. You changed into some comfortable sweats and a lose shirt before grabbing your keys and leaving for a quick jogging. You tried your best to suppress any thought concerning Jake and focused on your breathing before you could get a side ache. Your eyes even started tricking you as you started seeing Jake's face to every blond, tall men you saw. You shook your head to the first one and ignored the next ones. Then someone called your name.

You turned to the voice and your eyes widened when you recognized Jake. The real Jake. "Oh, hi, Jake right?" You tried to play innocent, not like you tried to stalk him. He smiled at you and caught his breath, him too seemingly on his run day. "Yeah, from the grocery store, you remember me!" You chuckled at that, if he only knew. "Yeah, yeah I remember you. Hard to forget your daughter's dad." What the shit? You smacked yourself internally and giggled nervously when he laughed. "I never thought I'd see a kid walking to me and ask if I'm their daddy." He smiled even more, how was that even possible? "It's nice to see you again." You said, trying not to look at his bulging biceps peeking out from his shirt. "It's nice to see you too. I um... I wanted to ask for your number the other ay but I didn't know if that was appropriate." He said, taking his phone out of his pocket, hoping dearly he wasn't reading this wrong. "That's really not inappropriate." You chuckled and took his phone when he gave it to you, entering your phone number into his contacts. "So... No step-dad for Lila?" He dared ask and you looked up at him with a shy smile. "No, no step-dad. It's been a rough few years for mom so, no time for meeting step-dad." You playfully said as you gave him his phone back.

"I hope mommy won't be too hard on me then." He boldly said with a cocky smile. Your breath got caught in your throat and you felt yourself blushing at his words. "I'm sure she'll be great if you don't misbehave." A boldness you didn't know took over your body and had you say those words, getting you to blush even more. Jake didn't seem to mind one bit as he laughed and looked down at his feet for a moment. "Do you think I could ask you out for dinner?" He then asked, looking back at you. "I'd love to, but I don't really like leaving Lila with a babysitter, I'm a bit of a mother hen." You said. You were a bit sad that could discourage Jake but your daughter would always come first. "No problem! I can come over and cook you two dinner, what do you say?" He smiled at you and you felt your heart flutter with affection. "I'm sure Lila would love that." You told him. "And what about you? Would you like that?" He took a step closer to you, now standing in your personal space. "I would love that." You smiled at him.

taglist: @senawashere @hardballoonlove @blue-aconite @iliketopgun @callsign-hummingbird @roosterforme @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @hangmansgbaby @callsigns-haze

@els-marvelvsp @averagewriter-inthedark @theglenaissance @hangmanforever @goldenseresinretriever @djs8891 @callsign-magnolia

[all-my-love-for-harry]

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.

[bingbongsupremacy]

If you’re still writing for top gun,can you do one about Jake being deployed and missing his girlfriend and realising he’s probably going to have to marry her? I live for the yearning. Plus fluffiness. ❤️

My Girl (Jake's POV)

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader

Warning: Bro is DOWN BAD, Pet Name (Baby)

Summary: The moment Jake saw you he fell in love. He's head over heels. Now he's on his latest mission, one that's the forced him to leave you for longer then he's ever had to before. Your absence has caused him to realize something: He wants to love you for the rest of his life.

*Not Proofread*

No description of reader's weight/body type or race.

A/N: Hope you like this and that I added enough fluff. Ngl writing this made me FAWN. I wish a man looked at me the way that I wrote Jake to look at his girl. #cries in single

The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was gonna ruin me, in the best damn way possible.

It was a regular Friday night. Me and the guys headed down to The Hard Deck, kinda our second home these days. Cheap beer, loud music, buzzing atmosphere, and no shortage of pretty faces.

We were halfway through a round when I spotted her. First thing that hit me was that smile, bright enough to knock the wind right outta my lungs. She was moving behind the bar like she owned the place, slinging shots and chatting up one of the regulars. Everything she did looked easy, smooth, like she could do it all with her eyes closed.

She had this quiet confidence, like she didn't have a damn thing to prove to anybody. And hell if that didn't pull me in faster than a carrier trap on final approach.

I've been with my share of beautiful women, that's no secret. But none of 'em came close to her. There was just… something. I had to know her.

It wasn't just her looks, it was that spark, that fire behind her eyes. The kind of thing that made you want to know every damn thought running through her mind.

I'm not the type to get shy. I know my way around a good line, how to work a smile, how to keep a girl laughing 'til she's leaning into me. I've never had a problem walking right up and laying on the charm.

So when I felt those nerves twistin' up in my gut, like I was back in junior high about to ask a girl to the dance for the first time, it damn near knocked me sideways.

All of a sudden, my go-to lines sounded corny as hell. What if she thought I was all talk? What if she shot me down without a second thought?

Stuff I never gave two shits about before suddenly felt like life or death. Part of me knew I had to talk to her, no question. But the other part… well, it was scared shitless of screwing it up.

Sometimes she'd glance up at the crowd, eyes skimming over everyone. And for a split second, I'd let myself imagine she might be looking for me.

She wasn't, of course. But I liked to pretend.

Took me a couple days to work up the nerve. By the time I finally walked up to that bar, I knew she wasn't gonna be like anyone else.

She didn't melt. Didn't bat her lashes or fall for my usual tricks. She played hard to get, and damn, did I love that.

She was sharp. Funny as hell. The kinda girl my mama would absolutely adore.

The day she said yes to going out with me? Hell, that might've been the best damn day of my life. Felt like I'd just won every trophy, every medal, every bet I'd ever made, all rolled into one.

It's been almost two years now, and I swear, it still hits me like the first night at the Hard Deck. Every time I see her, she knocks the breath right outta my lungs.

The more I got to know her, the harder I fell. And I'm talkin' head-over-heels, no parachute, no safety net kinda fall. Before her, I was all about the fun, keeping things light, no strings, no mess. But after her? Shit, I can't even imagine going back to that. Don't want to.

She's my whole damn world. My best friend. The only person on this earth who's seen every last piece of me; the good, the bad, the cocky, the scared... and loves me all the same. She never cared about the show or the swagger. She saw right through it. She loves the real me, even the parts I don't always like.

And I love her right back, more than I ever thought I could love anything. I love every inch of her body, her kind heart and her brilliant mind.

I'd burn the whole damn world down if she asked me to.

She knows that. Knows I'd do anything to keep that smile on her face, to keep her safe, to see her happy.

Missions? Those are the worst. Leaving her behind, not knowing when I'll be back. It tears me up every damn time. I know she hates it too, but she never lets it show. She's strong like that.

I miss everything about her when I'm gone. The way her presence wraps around me like a warm blanket after a long day. That laugh, sweetest sound I've ever heard, echoing down the hall when she's talking to me from the kitchen. The way she curls up against me at night, fingers finding that spot on my chest like she was made to fit there.

I miss waking up to her in the morning. The way she burrows deeper into the covers when I try to get up. How she mumbles half-asleep, "Five more minutes," and tugs me right back down beside her.

I even miss the little domestic stuff, her humming while she makes coffee, me sneaking up behind her to steal a kiss and getting smacked with a dish towel for it. Her reading in bed while I pretend to watch TV but really just stare at her.

I'd give damn near anything to be back there right now. Wrapped up in our sheets, her head on my chest, my hand tangled in her hair. No mission, no helmet, no bullshit. Just her and me.

Hell, that's home.

She's my home.

My buddies gave me hell at first. Joked about how she "tamed me," said I'd gone soft.

Thing is, they don't get it.

When you've got it all; a good job, a tight-knit crew, and the love of your life waiting for you at home... why the hell would you go lookin' for more?

I don't need anything else.

I've got everything a man could ever want.

What more could I possibly ask for?

-----

The mission went sideways.

It started out like any other run; same briefings, same checks, same cocky jokes on the tarmac to keep the nerves at bay. Everything felt routine.

But up there? Shit changed fast.

One minute I was locked in formation, watching the sun break over the clouds, thinking about what I was gonna eat when I landed. The next, a warning light started screaming at me, my jet pitching hard to the side.

For a split second, I thought that was it. That I was about to go down in a ball of fire somewhere out over the ocean.

And all I could think about wasn't the headlines or the Navy or even the guys on my wing.

It was her.

How I'd never get to see that sleepy smile she gives me in the morning. Never get to hear her laugh echo through the house. Never get to hold her again, or dance around the kitchen like a couple of idiots.

I thought about how I'd never get the chance to tell her, really tell her, how much I love her. How she's the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. How I want a whole lifetime of mornings and late-night talks and every tiny, ordinary moment in between.

In that moment, right there in the cockpit with alarms screaming and my hands shaking, I made myself a promise.

If I made it out alive, I wasn't gonna waste another damn day.

No more waiting for the "right time." No more letting fear or pride get in the way.

I was gonna tell her exactly how important she is to me. That she's it, my whole heart, my whole damn future.

I was gonna ask her to marry me.

----

The second I step off the tarmac, I'm scanning the crowd. My heart's pounding so damn loud I can hardly hear the chatter around me, but I don't care. I'm looking for her, the only thing that matters right now.

And then I see her.

She's pushing past people, eyes locked on mine, relief and worry all mixed up on her face. My breath catches like I just got punched in the gut. God, she's beautiful.

I don't think. I don't even give myself time to breathe.

Before she can get a word out, I drop straight to one knee.

There's a collective gasp from the folks around us; pilots, ground crew, friends, people who've known me long enough to know I don't usually do anything halfway. But all I see is her.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a small ring I twisted together from a few wildflowers I snagged on my way over. It's clumsy, a little lopsided, but it's all I had.

"Baby," I say, my voice rough, almost shaking. "I know this ain't much- hell, it ain't even close to what you deserve. I should've had a real ring, should've done this right, but I can't wait another damn second."

Her eyes go wide, hands flying up to her mouth.

"I thought I was gonna die up there," I keep going, words spilling out fast, urgent. "All I could think about was you. And how I hadn't told you enough. How I hadn't made it official. I don't wanna waste another day, not one. You're it for me. You always have been.”

I hold the flower ring up, my hands trembling. "Marry me. Please. I don't care if I gotta get down on my knees a thousand times. Just say yes."

She drops to her knees in front of me, tears running down her face, and she's laughing, not mean, just surprised.

"Are you kidding me?" she chokes out, her hands cupping my face. "You could've proposed with a damn ring pop and I still would've said yes."

I laugh, relief flooding my chest so hard it almost knocks me over.

"Yeah?" I whisper, forehead pressed to hers.

"Yes. God, yes," she says again, and then she's kissing me messy but perfect.

The crowd around us erupts in cheers and applause. Someone whistles loud enough to make her laugh against my lips. One of the guys yells, "Get her a real ring, Bagman!" and we both break down laughing, clinging to each other like the world might disappear if we let go.

I pull back just long enough to slip the makeshift ring onto her finger. It looks ridiculous, tiny and fragile, but on her, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"I'll get you a real one," I promise, breathless. "The biggest damn diamond I can find."

She shakes her head, eyes shining. "I don't care. This is perfect."

I kiss her again, and this time it feels like coming home.

After the cheering dies down and folks drift away to give us space, I lead her back toward the little break room off the hangar. It's quiet, barely lit by a flickering overhead light, but I don't give a damn. I'm still buzzing, still grinning like an idiot.

She sits down on the old beat-up couch, staring at the flower ring on her finger like it’s made of solid gold.

I flop down next to her, still in my flight suit, smelling like sweat, jet fuel, and nerves. I'm probably a damn mess.

"You really meant it? You'd have said yes to a ring pop?" I tease, nudging her shoulder.

She laughs, wiping under her eyes. "Absolutely. Would've taken a ring pop, a paper clip, a damn bread twist tie. I don't care.”

I let out a long, dramatic sigh, flopping my head back against the couch. "Damn. And here I was, stressing about getting you some big ol’ rock the size of Texas."

She snorts. "Babe, knowing you, you would've tried to land an actual meteorite on my finger."

I glance over, grin spreading again. "Well… that's still an option."

She smacks my arm, and I yelp, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer to me. She squeals, but she's laughing so hard she can barely breathe.

"You're insane," she manages between giggles.

I press my forehead to hers, smirking. "Yeah? Well, you just agreed to marry me, so what's that make you?"

"Terminally insane," she shoots back, and I can't help it. I lose it, head thrown back, deep belly laughs echoing off the walls.

When I finally settle down, she's tracing a finger over my jaw, eyes soft now, all that laughter fading into something sweeter.

"Seriously, Jake," she says quietly, thumb brushing my cheek. "I don't care about the ring or how you did it. Just… promise me you'll always come home to me."

I swallow, throat suddenly tight again. I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"Always," I say. "Unfortunately for you, you're stuck with me now, darlin'. Forever."

"Well damn." she rolls her eyes, grinning. "Guess I better start practicing my patience, huh?"

I kiss her again, slow and lingering, and when we finally pull apart, she's still smiling, still looking at me like I'm her whole damn world.

And for the first time in my life, I realize… I really am somebody's whole damn world.

[cowboybeepboop]

Old friends

"Fuck, you're incredible," 

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman” Seresin

Genre: Smut 

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Your friendship turns into a passionate night together.

a/n: I’m not too sure if people are still craving Glen Powell the way I am, but this man plagues my fucking thoughts day and night 😔

Jake arrives at your doorstep, knocking on the door with a smile and a bag in his hand. He's dressed casually, with a comfortable hoodie and jeans. "Hey, I brought some snacks," he says as he greets you warmly.

You pull him into a quick hug, it’s been a few months since you last had some time together. “Jake, I’ve missed you.”

He returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "I've missed you too," he says, his voice warm and genuine. "It's been a while." He steps inside, following you into the living room.

“Too long.” You murmur as you plop down on the couch. “You get to pick the first movie.”

Jake grins and takes a seat next to you on the sofa. He places the bag of snacks on the coffee table and starts rummaging through it. "Alright, let's see..." he ponders for a moment before pulling out a DVD. "How about this one? It's a classic." He shows you the title, eager for your opinion.

“Sounds great.” You smile, relaxing on the plush couch.

Jake puts in the DVD and sits back down beside you, making himself comfortable. As the movie starts, he casually slings his arm around the back of the sofa, just behind your shoulders. His proximity is comforting and familiar, like two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly together.

You press your cheek into his shoulder, cuddling into his side as the movie starts. Jake subconsciously shifts a little closer, enjoying the feeling of your head on his shoulder. 

He steals a glance at you, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. The movie continues to play, but his focus seems to shift, his thoughts wandering slightly as he steals subtle glances at you from time to time.

As you nuzzle against him, Jake feels a flutter in his chest. He bites his lip, trying to appear casual, but there's a hint of a blush creeping up on his cheeks. He glances down at you, feeling a mix of nervousness and affection. He's always had a crush on you, but he had never mustered the courage to tell you.

You groan, unable to get comfortable in this position. With a sigh you move to lay your head in his lap, letting out a soft sigh as you relax.

Jake's heart skips a beat as you lay your head in his lap. He stiffens for a moment, not expecting the unexpected touch. But then, he relaxes, his body melting into the cushion of the couch. 

He tentatively reaches out, his hand hovering above your head for a brief moment before slowly, gently, he gently begins to brush his fingers through your hair.

You let out a quiet moan as his fingers brush through your hair. Jake swallows hard at the sound you make, feeling a jolt of electricity go down his spine. He continues to run his fingers through your hair, his touch tender and soothing. He steals a glance at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of affection and something else, something deeper.

A sex scene comes on the TV, making both of you tense as the sounds of moans and skin against skin fills the room.

Jake's hand freezes above your head, his mind racing as he attempts to maintain a casual demeanor. The room seems to grow hotter, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He glances down at you, trying to gauge your reaction to the scene unfolding on the screen.

You take a shaky breath feeling heat pooling in your stomach, your hand subconsciously squeezing Jake’s knee.

Jake's breath catches in his throat as he feels your hand on his knee. The gentle squeeze causes him to shift slightly in his seat, trying to hide the growing tent in his jeans. He clears his throat, his mind torn between watching the movie and the feel of your touch.

You clear your throat as the scene finally ends, cutting to a less intense one. Jake takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. The heat in his cheeks hasn't subsided, and he's acutely aware of every movement you make. 

The scene on the screen has changed, but his mind is still reeling from the previous one. He slowly resumes threading his fingers through your hair, his touch slightly rougher than before.

You scoot back your head getting a little too close to his erection. Jake’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels you move, his heart rate quickening. Your head is now directly in his lap, dangerously close to the situation happening below his belt. He tries to maintain his cool, but it's a losing battle.

"Uh, watch out for... um," he stammers, his voice huskier than usual.

“Hm?” You question, moving slightly to look up at him. Jake's eyes widen as you tilt your head back, your gaze meeting his. His breathing becomes more labored, and he tries to keep a stoic expression, but the tent in his jeans is becoming increasingly harder to hide.

"You're, um, getting a little close," he manages to say, his voice betraying a hint of restraint.

“Close?” You question, shifting your body a little more to face him, your eyes locking on his erection. “Oh..”

Jake's face flushes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. He's acutely aware of your gaze on his lower region, and he's losing the battle against embarrassment.

"Yeah... um," he stutters, his breath catching in his throat. "Just... maybe, uh, be careful?"

“Yeah.. right..” you sit up awkwardly shifting your gaze as you put space between the two of you. Your cheeks a bright red as you adjust the blanket on your lap. 

Jake tries to suppress a feeling of disappointment as you move away from him. He adjusts his position on the sofa as well, trying to subtly hide his predicament. The tension in the room is palpable, and he steals a glance at you, trying to read your expression.

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to suppress your growing arousal as you steal a glance at Jake’s.

Jake notices your subtle shift in position, and his eyes darken with a mix of desire and uncertainty. He can't help but notice the way your thighs press together, and his own body responds in kind, his jeans growing even tighter. 

You slightly shift closer to him, craving the warmth of his body. “Jake.” You whisper softly.

Jake's heart thumps in his chest as he hears you utter his name. He turns to look at you, his gaze locking with yours. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he can't help but lean closer towards you, his body silently begging for your touch.

"Yeah?" he replies, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

You let out a long breath, chewing on your bottom lip as you slip your hand on his lap, fingers getting dangerously close to his bulge.

Jake lets out a shaky breath as he feels your hand on his lap. His entire body stiffens in response, and he closes his eyes for a moment, trying to maintain control. But when your fingers edge closer to his bulge, his breath hitches in his throat, and he can't help but let out a faint moan.

"Mmm... what are you doing, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and thick with desire.

“Jake.. I,” you turn to face him, fingers brushing over his erection.

Jake's body jerks involuntarily at your touch, a low moan escaping his lips. He sucks in a breath, his hips instinctively shifting slightly forward into your hand. His eyes meet yours, the desire in them undeniable.

"Mmm... baby," he manages to say, his voice wavering. "Please... don't tease me."

“Not teasing..” you unbutton his jeans, slowly sliding the zipper down, your hands shaking slightly in anticipation.

Jake's body trembles, his breathing ragged as he feels your hands working on his jeans. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can hardly believe this is happening. He reaches out, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, gently squeezing it.

"Oh, god," he whispers, his voice hoarse with need.

You free his length, mouth watering at the sight of him. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

Jake blushes at your words, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. He's never been this aroused in his life, and hearing you compliment his size sends a wave of heat through his body.

"Mmm..." He lets out a strangled moan as he feels your eyes on him.

You press a kiss to his tip, your eyes fluttering shut as you continue pressing kisses to him. You stick out your tongue, pressing it to his length, nearly moaning at the taste.

"Fuck," Jake groans, his hips stuttering forward into your touch. He reaches down to tangle his fingers in your hair, his grip tight as he struggles to control his response to your mouth. He's never felt anything this intense before, and his body is on fire with pleasure.

He throws his head back, his eyes shut tight. The feeling of your lips on him, the brush of your tongue, it's almost too much for him to handle. He can feel his precum leaking out, and he tightens his grip on your hair.

“Mm…” you murmur, the sound sending shivers down his body. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, head bobbing as you take him in further.

Encouraged by your enthusiastic response, Jake's hips begin to move in rhythm with your mouth, his breath coming in harsh pants. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding you deeper, and he can't hold back the string of curses that fall from his lips. 

"Fuck, yes... just like that," he whispers, his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. The sound of your muffled moans around his cock only spurs him on, and he can feel himself getting closer to the edge. 

You continue to suck him off, the heat in the room growing more intense with each passing second. His hand is a vice in your hair, his hips rocking up to meet your mouth as your tongue swirls around the head of his cock. 

Jake's moans become louder, his body tensing as he feels the orgasm building deep in his core. He can't believe how amazing this feels, how perfect your mouth is around him.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained and desperate. You nod, taking him in deeper, eager to taste him.

With a final, powerful thrust, Jake releases into your mouth, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him, and he lets out a long, shaky sigh. His grip on your hair relaxes, and he opens his eyes to find you looking up at him with a satisfied smile.

"Fuck," he says, panting. "That was..." He trails off, unable to find the words.

You lean back, licking your lips. "Good?"

He nods, his cheeks still flushed. "More than good." He looks at you with a newfound hunger in his eyes. "But I want more," he says, reaching for you. “Need more..”

Jake's hand slides up your thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of your shirt before finding their way under the fabric. His touch is electric, sending waves of heat through your body. You lean into him, eager for more, as he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that leaves you breathless. 

With a low growl, Jake lifts you up and flips you onto your back on the couch, his body covering yours in a possessive embrace. His kisses become more demanding, his hands roaming over your body as he unbuttons your shirt and unhooks your bra. 

Your breasts spill out into his waiting hands, and he cups them gently before taking one in his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue as you writhe beneath him. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, eliciting gasps from you, and he smiles against your skin, feeling your body respond to his every touch. 

His hand slides down to the waistband of your pants, and with one swift movement, he unbuttons and unzips them, pushing them down your hips along with your panties. You lift your hips to help him, desperate for him to explore further, and he obliges, his hand slipping inside to feel the wetness that's been building since the moment he sat down next to you. 

Your legs part instinctively, inviting him in, and he groans against your neck, his desire spiraling out of control. He kisses a path down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake until he reaches the apex of your thighs. 

His eyes lock with yours, a silent question in them, and when you nod eagerly, he lowers his head and tastes you for the first time, his tongue delving into your folds, making you buck against his face. Your nails dig into his scalp as he licks and sucks, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure. 

The world around you fades away, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the feel of Jake's mouth on your pussy. You're so close, so very close, and you know that this night will change everything between the two of you.

Jake's tongue dances around your clit, his movements deliberate and skilled. Each flick sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your toes curl and your legs shake. You grip the couch cushions, your breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps as the intensity builds. "Oh, Jake," you moan, arching your back, "right there."

He groans against you, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your core. His tongue circles your clit before plunging into your wetness, mimicking the rhythm of his hips as he grinds against the couch. 

The pressure is building, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge. "I'm going to cum," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Jake's eyes flash up to meet yours, a look of pure desire etched on his face. "Cum for me," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. 

He sucks on your clit, and with one final, desperate pull of your hair, you fall over the edge, your body convulsing in a powerful orgasm. Your cries fill the room as he continues to lick and suck, prolonging the sensation until you're nothing but a puddle of pleasure beneath him.

When the waves of pleasure finally recede, Jake kisses his way back up your body, leaving a trail of wetness on your skin. He takes your mouth again, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. "Fuck, you're incredible," he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust.

You smile against his lips, your heart racing. "So are you," you pant, your hands sliding down to his hips, pushing his jeans down the rest of the way. His cock springs free, and you reach for it, stroking it gently.

Jake groans, his hips bucking into your touch. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice a desperate growl.

You nod, your eyes wide with need. "Yes," you whisper, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Jake reaches into the pocket of his discarded jeans, pulling out a condom. He rolls it on with shaking hands, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, with one hand on the back of your knee, he guides your leg up and enters you in one smooth, deep stroke.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you completely, the sensation of being stretched and filled by him almost too much to handle. He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours in a steady, powerful rhythm. 

The friction sends sparks shooting through your body, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you move with him, meeting his every thrust.

The tension builds again, hot and urgent, and you know that this time, you'll be falling together. Jake's grip tightens on your leg, his strokes becoming more erratic as he feels his own climax approaching. "I'm going to cum," he grunts, his eyes locked on yours.

"Me too," you whimper, your body tightening around him.

With a final, desperate push, you both reach the peak, your orgasms crashing into one another like waves against the shore. You hold onto each other tightly, riding out the storm of pleasure until it subsides, leaving you both panting and spent on the couch, surrounded by the scattered remnants of your clothing.

For a moment, you just lay there, bodies entwined, hearts racing in sync. Then, Jake pulls out and collapses beside you, his arm draped over your waist. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admits, his voice still thick with passion.

You snuggle into his side, a smile playing on your lips. "Me too," you whisper, your eyes drifting closed as you let the aftershocks of pleasure wash over you.

The movie plays on in the background, forgotten, as the two of you lay there, basking in the warm glow of your newfound intimacy. This night has changed everything, and you can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

[withahappyrefrain]

i love that bob is getting love but where the hell is the love for our baby Jake. Sure, he's a grade a asshole but he's still admirable and honest

I like to think that Jake would be his wife's number 1 hype man. Like he gets turned on watching people flirt with his hot wife at the bar

Even assholes need love too!

Oh God, I can just imagine! This also fits Jake and Venus.

"Look at her," Jake beams, motioning to the opposite end of the bar, "Isn't she something?"

Bradley looked over to find you at the bar, facing a new recruit. Given the guy's body language, it was obvious the dude was flirting. He had the whole leaning thing going on.

You, on the other hand, looked bored to tears.

"Uh....is he flirting with your wife?" Bradley asked, incredulous of how calm Jake was. If it were Bradley's wife, he'd already be across the room.

"oh yeah, he's trying so hard. Bought her a drink and everything," Jake grinned, "Not that I blame the guy. My wife should be getting all her drinks for free."

"Doesn't she already?" Bradley snorted. Jake never was the possessive type. If anything...it seemed he got something out of watching others attempt to flirt with you.

"Watch this. He's able to lean further in. Probably to ask her if she wants to go somewhere quiet," Jake was practically giddy.

Right on cue, the new recruit leaned forward, closing some of the distance between your body and his. Bradley couldn't lip read the man's exact words, but he could make out want, out, and quiet.

"Now watch this. She's gotta let him down gently."

You leaned back, increasing the distance. Bradley recognized the look on your face; a polite smile, the shake of your head.

Holding up your left hand and pointing to the gold wedding band that was nestled under your huge engagement ring (seriously, how the hell did Jake afford that?).

You pointed in Jake and Bradley's direction. The poor recruit visibly gulped when he made eye contact with Jake.

The look of worry quickly turned into confusion when Jake responded with a happy wave and smile.

"C'mon Bradshaw," Jake elbowed his coworker, "Smile and wave!"

"Now he thinks I'm married to your wife too!"

"Please," Jake scoffed, "Like you could ever pull my wife.'

[queenofwands89]

Quiet Affections

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Pilot!reader

Summary: After her friends tease her about Jake having a crush on her, Y/N reflects on certain memories that make her question whether there might be some truth to their playful jabs.

Warnings: Teasing, pining, Jake being a sweetheart, Y/N being oblivious, insults aimed at Y/N, protective Jake, mention and description of injury, anxiety, doubts, fluff.

Notes: Happy Friday, everyone! We made it! 🎉 I just hit 2,500 likes on here and wanted to thank each and every one of you who liked, reblogged, or commented on my works. It means the world to me. I’m down bad for Jake, and need him badly so I wrote this. Enjoy byeeee

You find yourself deep in the heart of the Hard Deck, the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses forming a comforting backdrop. Rooster, Natasha, Javy, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey are clustered around the pool table, laughter spilling freely as they take turns making shots and throwing jabs. Jake had just excused himself to go to the restroom, but not before brushing a lingering hand against your shoulder and whispering something that made you smile. This action set off a chain reaction of teasing directed at you.

"Y/N, you know Hangman’s got a huge crush on you, right?" Rooster's mustache twitches with a sly smile as he lines up for his shot.

You laugh it off, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh please, Bradley. Jake? No way. He's just... nice."

Rooster and Natasha exchange glances before Natasha cocks an eyebrow at you. "Nice? Hangman is many things, but nice isn't the first word I'd use. Unless he’s talking to you," she remarks, tapping her cue stick against her palm.

Bob, always the quiet observer, chimes in. "He's got a point though, Y/N. I've seen how he looks at you."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I'm just completely unaware of it," you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "You guys are ridiculous."

Mickey grins, his boyish charm lighting up his face. "Maybe, but can you really deny the way he's always got your back?" he asks, leaning casually against the pool table.

Your first instinct is to rebut, but as their words settle in, you start to think about some of the things Jake had done for you. Not just the grand gestures like saving your hide in aerial combat, but the small, everyday things. The way he'd always save you a seat, bring you coffee exactly how you like it, offer subtle words of encouragement when you doubted yourself.

Javy steps forward, his competitive spirit twinkling in his eyes. "You're telling me you haven't noticed how he always goes out of his way to make sure you're okay?"

Reuben, good-natured but always vigilant, nods in agreement. "Hangman's not exactly an altruistic guy, Y/N. But for you? He'd go to lengths he wouldn't for anyone else."

You crack a wry smile, determined to stay firm in your denial. "He's just protective. We're teammates."

Natasha had already joined in, her voice warm yet teasing. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. It’s not just about being teammates. He genuinely cares.”

In the ensuing silence, you can't help but ponder on their words. Jake "Hangman" Seresin is charismatic and assertive, traits forged from his exceptional flying skills and competitive nature. But beneath that cocky exterior, there lies a heart incredibly loving and caring, willing to sacrifice anything for his loved ones. Slowly, you find yourself drifting into a vivid memory, reliving the countless cherished moments and experiences you've shared with Jake.

You recall that evening at the Hard Deck vividly. The bar was buzzing with the usual chatter and laughter, the hum of camaraderie filling the air. You were amidst your friends, enjoying the rare downtime when an unfamiliar voice cut through the noise—this stranger making an offhand but cruel remark about you. The comment was subtle, yet it stung deeply, rooting you in place with a mix of shock and mortification. Your cheeks burned under the weight of the ridicule, words lodged in your throat.

Before you could muster a response, you felt Jake's presence beside you, solid and reassuring. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and the offender. His usual easy going demeanor was replaced by a steely resolve, his eyes dark with anger. "Do us all a favor and think before you speak," he said, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable edge.

The bar fell into an uneasy silence as Jake’s glare pinned the offender in place. "If you've got a problem with Y/N," he continued, his voice low and unwavering, "you’ll be dealing with me."

The tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. The offender, unable to match Jake's intensity, muttered an apology and slunk away, deflated. The moment passed, but the impact lingered. Jake remained there a moment longer, ensuring the threat had fully dissipated before turning back to you.

As he met your gaze, the hardness in his features softened, replaced by a gentle concern. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with a tenderness reserved just for you.

You felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude, the initial embarrassment giving way to a profound sense of relief. Jake had stood up for you without a second thought, his protective instinct leaving no room for compromise. In that moment, you knew you were safe, not just physically but emotionally, knowing Jake had your back. His touch and the concern in his eyes reassured you even more, providing a solace that words alone could not.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Then there was the night when you couldn’t sleep, tormented by insecurities that gnawed at the edges of your mind. It was long past midnight, and you found yourself seated on the deck of the aircraft carrier, trying to get some fresh air to clear your head before the mission. The vast expanse of the ocean and the cool night breeze did little to quiet the whirlwind of self-doubt swirling inside you.

The stars dotted the sky like tiny beacons, and the waves below gently lapped against the ship's hull, but none of it brought you peace. You wrapped your arms around yourself, tense and lost in thought, barely noticing the sound of footsteps approaching.

Jake emerged from the shadows, his silhouette becoming clearer in the soft glow of the ship's lights. He paused when he saw you, his brow furrowing with concern. He looked around, ensuring no one else was around, before walking over to you with determined but careful strides.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking the solitude with an edge of worry.

You hesitated, feeling foolish for bothering him. "I…I just can't stop thinking about everything that's been going wrong. I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Jake."

Jake's eyes softened, and he lowered himself to sit beside you on the cold metal deck. "Tell me more," he said gently, coaxing you to open up. His voice was so steady, so soothing, that you found yourself pouring out all your fears and anxieties—the relentless pressure, the fear of failure, the nagging feeling that you weren't good enough. With each word, you felt a weight lifting from your chest.

Jake listened without interrupting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an unwavering focus on you. His eyes never left your face, and his expression remained kind and attentive. "You know what I see when I look at you?" he said quietly once you had finished. "I see someone who's brave, who fights every day to be better, who cares deeply about others. You're stronger than you think, Y/N. Don't let those doubts control you."

His words felt like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your insecurities. When he reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes melted away your remaining doubts, leaving you wrapped in a cocoon of reassurance. Sitting there on the deck, under the endless sky, you felt profoundly grateful for Jake's unwavering support and the strength he helped you find within yourself.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

You also remember the time when you injured your ankle during a training exercise. You had insisted on limping back to your quarters, trying to maintain your independence. But Jake wouldn't hear of it. He had scooped you up without a second thought, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic gentleness. The entire trek back, he kept you engaged in light-hearted banter, ensuring your mind stayed off the pain.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

And how could you forget the morning he had brought you coffee? Not just any coffee, but a complex, personalized concoction—an oat milk latte with a shot of caramel, a pinch of cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg, and no foam. You hadn’t even mentioned it to him before. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," he had said nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But you knew the effort he had put into remembering such a detailed order, and it made your heart swell with an unfamiliar warmth.

These memories play in your mind like a cherished montage, each moment a testament to the man beneath the bravado. Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasn’t just the cocky pilot everyone else saw. He was a protector, a confidant, a friend who cared deeply for you, even if you had been too blind to see it before.

Returning back to the present moment amidst the lively ambiance of the Hard Deck, surrounded by the warmth of friends and laughter, you notice Jake returning from the restroom. As your eyes meet, his familiar smirk emerges, but this time there’s a tender softness in his gaze that you hadn’t noticed before—or perhaps, hadn't allowed yourself to see.

“Miss me?” he jokes, sliding back into the chaos of pool cues and friendly banter.

You chuckle, shaking off the speculative thoughts. “Like a bad habit, Seresin.”

But later, as the night winds down and the camaraderie ebbs into a quieter hum, you catch yourself glancing his way more often. The teasing remarks of your friends aren’t so easily dismissed anymore. And as Jake catches your gaze across the room, you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might be onto something.

Because sometimes, the most significant realizations are the ones that had been right in front of you all along, masked by the comfort of friendship and the chaos of duty.

You smile to yourself, feeling an inexplicable warmth. Maybe it was time to see what was beyond the camaraderie, to delve into the possibilities of what if. The thought lingers, like an unopened letter, waiting for the right moment.

For now, you return to the laughter and games, but with a new awareness, a curiosity that couldn’t be easily shaken. One thing was for sure—things were going to get interesting.

-

Text divider credits: @bunnysrph