#Jake seresin x reader

[geminiwritten]

at first sight ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

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

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

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

word count: 3304

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Hangman.” He winks.

You frown. “I prefer Pictionary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mouth pops open, but no words come out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

He can’t stop thinking about you.

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

“Bagman, you sound tired.”

“I’m busy. What's up?”

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

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

���I’m not in the mood, Phoenix.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Three Hours Earlier -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I think we should stop.”

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

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

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

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

“I guess I should probably apologise to him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

END.

[hardballoonlove]

❤️❤️❤️

Just Us Three

Summary: Yours and Jake’s son gets in trouble at school, and then Jake gets in trouble at home when he tries to hide it from you. (part 2 of this fic).

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: fluff, swearing, dilf jake, smut, angst if you squint, mentions of bullying, unprotected sex, dirty talk, protective jake.

Jake was still in his khaki uniform as he expertly manoeuvred his way through the halls of the school his son attends, similar to the way he skillfully moves in the sky. As his boots hit the granite tiles, he gave a nod to the school janitor, and the man half nodded, half waved back as he mopped the floor outside the bathrooms. 

He didn’t blame the guy for the lack-luster greeting one bit. Jake couldn’t imagine the horrors the poor lad had seen just today, let alone this week. And it was only Wednesday. 

Jake looked down at his watch and saw that it was quarter after three, and he was supposed to be at work for another few hours, but here he was. He was lucky he had such an understanding, albeit fed up, boss. 

When he rounded the corner and entered the school’s office, he was met with the kind smile that belonged to Miss Sands, the usually nice lady who sits behind the front desk. But that smile faded pretty quickly once she realized who had just walked in. “He’s in there,” she told him, pointing at the door that was just behind the desk, and that was all she said. 

“Thank you,” Jake said like it was part of his routine at this point. He walked past the desk and stood in the doorway, and he was greeted by an almost comically unimpressed look from the school’s principal, Mr. Harris. Jake held back a laugh, because this really wasn’t a funny moment, and raised his hand in a wave. “Hey…Mr. Harris.”

The principal raised his brow and looked over at the chair that was in front of his desk. “Mr. Seresin,” he stated, his tone flat and just…completely unfriendly. “Care to explain to me as to why your son is once again sitting in front of me?” 

Jake looked over as well, his green eyes meeting his son’s matching ones. “Hey, bud,” he mumbled, his brows furrowing a bit at the embarrassed look JJ had on his face. Jake cleared his throat and crossed his arms, looking back at the principal. “I don’t know, Mr. Harris. You’re the one who called me while I was at work.”

Mr. Harris pressed his lips into a thin line. “This is the second time I’ve had to call you this week,”

Jake clenched his jaw as he leaned against the door frame. “I’m aware,” he muttered. “This is also the second time I’ve had to leave work early this week.”

“Well, you are on the top of JJ’s contact list,” Harris said, crossing his arms as well. “Would you prefer I call your wife instead next time?” 

Jake tensed up at that, and he shook his head. “No,” 

The last thing he wanted was for you to get called out of work, and he knew you’d make it a much bigger deal than he does. Honestly, Jake didn’t want you to know about the multitude of calls he’s gotten from JJ’s school this month, because he knew it was mainly his fault. 

JJ had been having problems with a couple other kids in his grade, and Jake, being the protective father he discovered he is, told his five year old to stand up for himself and to not be afraid to speak his mind. 

Well…it turns out that JJ’s mind can be pretty…colorful, for lack of better words, and it’s gotten him in trouble more than once. This was probably the fifth or sixth time this month, and although Jake knew he needed to set some better boundaries here, he was also kind of annoyed. What about the other kids’ parents? Why can’t they teach their kids to not pick on his? JJ was taking Jake’s advice every time he had a problem with the other boys, and it seemed to be more often than not, yet clearly nothing was being done about the other kids. 

“Just keep calling me,” Jake muttered, rubbing at his forehead before stepping further into the office so he could stand next to JJ’s chair. “Or better yet, save me a trip and call the other kids’ parents. I know JJ’s got a…big mouth sometimes, but I also know it’s not just him. It’s the other boys in his class as well.”

Mr. Harris sighed and placed his hands on the surface of his desk. “Mr. Seresin, I’m aware of the comments the other boys have been making, but your son used language we don’t tolerate here,” he said, looking up at Jake expectantly. “Something needs to be done.”

Jake scoffed and moved to stand behind his son now, bracing his hands on the back of his chair as he leaned over. “Really?” he drawled, “What did he say?” 

Harris sighed and looked at JJ, and Jake quickly covered the five year olds ears - as if he wasn’t about to have what he said repeated back to his father. “He said ‘leave me alone you stupid…pussy’ to another kid on the playground,” he informed Jake, an embarrassed grimace on his face. “That kind of language is unacceptable here at school, Mr. Seresin.”

Jake stayed completely still, his hands still covering JJ’s ears as he processed what was just said. His kid said that? Where did he even learn that word? Jake doesn’t even use that word unless he’s…oh. 

Unless he’s pounding you into the bed he’s shared with you for the last eight years.

Well, fuck. 

Jake nodded after that and dropped his hands to JJ’s shoulders, giving his son a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Understandable. I will have a talk with him tonight,” he said, gesturing for JJ to stand up. He took his school bag from him and guided him towards the door of the office, but paused before he left. “But you need to do something about the kids that are picking on him, otherwise we’re gonna keep having problems.” 

Harris had the audacity to look offended at that, but Jake didn’t care as he took JJ’s hand and led him out to the parking lot. After he helped him into the backseat, Jake braced one hand above the door frame as he tried to think of what to say to his usually sweet son. “Listen, bud,” he started, glancing around the parking lot as a sigh left his lips. “What you said today, you can’t say that…word, okay? You’re too little to use those kinds of words, alright?”

JJ shifted in his seat, similar to the way Jake writhes around whenever you and he get into arguments - the ones he had no chance at winning. “But you say it. Uncle Bradley says it too sometimes when he drives me to soccer practice,” he mumbled, his big green eyes so innocent looking as he gazed up at Jake. “And I hear you say it to mommy sometimes at night time.”

Jake’s face heated up as he rubbed at his eyes, and he knew he would yell at Bradley the next time he saw him at work. “Is this when you’re supposed to be in bed?” JJ didn’t answer, and Jake shook his head as he ruffled his son’s blond hair. “I say it because I’m an adult, bud. And you need to stop trying to spy on your mom and I, alright?” 

JJ nodded, his sweet mind still innocent and unsure. Jake nodded too, then looked down at the paper in his hand that explained why JJ had been called to the office today, and he winced when he imagined you reading it. 

“Speaking of mom,” he mumbled, looking back up from the paper. “She doesn’t find out about this. Okay?”

JJ smiled up at Jake and nodded excitedly, seemingly more than happy to have a secret that only he and his dad know, and that was good enough for Jake. 

Well, it would’ve been, but JJ seemed to have forgotten all about the deal as later that evening, at the dinner table no less, he said something that had Jake’s heart skipping a beat. “Mommy! Daddy was so cool when he picked me up from the office today,” he beamed, and you furrowed your brows as you set your fork down. 

“What are you talking about, babe?” you asked, and Jake reached for his glass of water as you glanced over at him. 

“At the principal’s office,” JJ explained, and Jake quickly shook his head. 

“J, let’s not talk about this now, okay? Mommy just made dinner and we’re-”

“But you were so cool!” JJ cut him off before turning back to you. “Daddy used his angry voice on Mr. Harris today, mommy.”

You raised a brow, your eyes flickering between Jake and Jake Junior as you leaned back in your chair. “Why were you in the principal’s office today?”

JJ deflated a bit at that as he reached for his fork. “I…said a bad word,”

Your eyes widened and you looked over at Jake quickly. “Honey-”

“Jake,” you cut him off just like JJ did as you sat up straight again. “Why didn’t you tell me that he got sent to the principal’s office today? And why didn’t they call me?”

“Because I’m first on his contact list,” Jake mumbled, “And he and I had decided that it wasn’t important enough for you to know.” he added, narrowing his eyes at JJ, who just gave him a cute smile. 

“Jake Seresin, you have our child hiding things from me?” you gasped, then quickly composed yourself. “What was the word?”

Jake shifted in his seat as he set the glass down and picked up his fork again, a damn near carbon copy of the way JJ became uneasy when he was in the hot seat in the truck earlier today. He really was his father’s son. “It’s not appropriate dinner talk. I’ll tell you after,”

-

“He said what?” you nearly yelled as Jake crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “Our son said that? How does he even know that word? We don’t say that unless we’re…”

Jake grinned at you as he slowly nodded, then he was dodging the dish towel you were using to clean the counter when you threw it at him. 

“He definitely picked it up from you,” you muttered as you walked past him to start clearing the table. Jake followed you of course, and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “You and your dirty mouth. You’ve had it since before we even got together.”

Jake was instantly brought back to all the times he flirted shamelessly with you in an attempt to get you to go out with him, only for it to all be thrown back at him because you were not one of those girls who caved easily to guys like him. That’s what made him clean up his act and ask you out in more nicer ways, which then eventually led to him taking you out on the most perfect date both of you had ever been on, and now he’s married to you. 

“Well, Bradley’s been saying it too. You know how bad his road rage is, he has no filter, even when he takes J to his soccer games. And I can’t help the filthy things that come out of my mouth whenever I get you alone,” he defended himself, pressing his cheek against yours as he held you snugly against his body. “You’re just too damn sexy, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him from cuddling you from behind, which Jake was happy about. Ever since you and he got together, he’s become obsessed with touching you in any way he could and holding you whenever he can. He just loved how perfectly you fit against his body, and he knew you loved it too, even if you complained about it sometimes. “Bradley is his uncle, he’s not with him all the time, so he has an excuse. You, my love, do not,” 

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, then trailed his nose along the shell of your ear. “You can’t be mad at me for this, honey. It’s not my fault the kid’s got big ears,” 

You laughed, picking up the plates before turning your head to look up at him. “I think it is your fault, dumbo,” you mumbled, and Jake gaped at you. 

“Be nice to me,” he whined, following after you like a lost puppy as you returned to the kitchen and began loading the dishwasher. “I’m so nice to you.”

Another laugh left your mouth. “You’re teaching our son to keep secrets from me,”

“Okay, that’s not fair,” he groaned, walking back out to the table so he could gather the glasses, JJ’s Spider-Man cup, and the cutlery. “I only told him that you didn’t need to know about it, not that I’d never tell you about it. I would’ve, just…a couple years from now.”

“Jake,” you scoffed, moving aside when he loaded the items into the dishwasher. “I’m his mother, I’m supposed to know these things too.” 

He turned to look at you, propping his hands on his hips once he closed the dishwasher. “And you would’ve known about this,”

You crossed your arms and raised one of your brows. “In a couple years from now?”

Jake grinned, “See, I knew you’d understand,” 

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, dodging his hand when he reached out and tried to pull you into his arms. “I’m going to go get him in the bath. Then you and I are going to talk more once he’s in bed.”

You sounded serious, and you looked serious, but Jake’s smile only grew, because he knew he’d be able to change the topic real quick once you and he retired to your room for the night. Easily. 

-

“Oh yeah,” he murmured as he kissed all along your shoulders, his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans and sliding the zipper down. “You and I are really talking a lot.”

You groaned, trailing your fingers through his hair gently before giving it a firm tug, making him moan against your skin. “You are so annoying,” you muttered, but your words weren’t hostile at all. 

Jake grinned against your skin as he pulled the denim off your legs. His heart was beating fast in his chest, because even after eight years with you, you still made him feel so fucking giddy and he was so in love with you. And he always will be. 

Nothing had changed, with the exception and addition of JJ. You were still the sarcastic yet sweet girl he fell head over heels for, and you were all his. “You love me,” Jake mumbled against your neck as he slid his hand inside your panties, his fingers instantly finding your clit. “You married me…you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, the horror,” you said back, then moaned next to his ear when he slid his index and middle fingers inside you, and the sound went directly to his cock. “Fuck. Jake.”

He hummed as he lifted his head, his green eyes staring into yours as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against your own. “Mm, I love you,” he mumbled, sliding his fingers in and out of you. “I love you so much.”

You whimpered, tangling your hands in his hair as you guided his lips to yours in a deep kiss. “I love you too,” you mumbled against his mouth as he pulled his fingers out of you. He sat back on his knees and brought his hand up to his lips to taste you as he watched you kick off your panties, his eyes raking up and down your body as he moaned around his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunted, unzipping his uniform pants and shoving them down his legs, along with his boxers. He was out of his shirt before you were, and he took it upon himself to rid you of both your tank top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him and only further proving his words. 

You grinned up at him, shifting on the bed as you beckoned him closer with a curl of your finger. “You’re sexy,” you say back, wrapping your legs around his waist when he crawls back on top of you. “Even when I’m still mad at you for trying to get our son to hide something from me.”

Jake groaned, burying his face in your neck as he guided the tip of his cock through your folds. “Don’t hold that against me, honey, I was just trying to protect you, that’s all. I don’t want you to stress out over nothing,” he mumbled, then groaned again when he slid inside of you. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Such a tight-”

You reached up and placed your hand over his mouth, your eyes boring into his as he stilled. “Until you can figure out how to soundproof our room, you need to keep your dirty words to yourself, baby,” you said, and Jake grunted against your palm. 

You wanted him to be quiet while he is fucking you? Did you not know how good you felt and how damn near impossible it was for him to not tell you that? Yours and his sex life was full of dirty talk, and it always had been, how was he supposed to just…stop?

He was going to have to figure it out, because the alternative was sex in the truck or no sex at all, and the latter was something he was not about to agree to. 

“I’ll be quiet,” he muttered when you pulled your hand away, and his own gripped your hips as he started to slowly pull out of you. “But that means you need to be quiet too, which will probably be a lot harder for you to do.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Harder for me? Please, Jake, I can be quiet too-” but a loud gasp left your mouth as soon as he buried himself back inside of you, and Jake just smirked down at the dirty look you gave him. “Fair enough.”

“Uh huh,” he mumbled then leaned down to kiss you as he started to thrust in and out of your additive body. He swallowed your sweet moans he loved hearing, each one sounding more and more desperate as Jake fucked you slow and deep, just like how he knew you liked it. 

When he felt you tighten around him, he pulled away from your lips and buried his face against the side of your neck, his left hand coming up to cover your mouth as he rutted into you. “I love you,” he groaned against your neck when he felt you cum around him, and a few seconds later, he was there too. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders when he stilled his body and eased himself gently on top of you, cradling you in his arms as he pressed soft kisses against your neck. “I love you too,” you said back, running your fingers through his messy hair. “I love both my boys so much. And I want to know when he’s being picked on or having trouble in class, okay? We’re a team, you know that, right? You, me and J.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, lifting his head and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “I know we are. We’re the perfect team. I promise, I’ll tell you about it the next time he gets in trouble at school, okay?”

You raise your brow as you pull back to look up at him. “You make it sound like he gets into trouble all the time,” 

Jake grinned down at you, “Come on, babe. He is my kid after all. Trouble is in his blood,” he said back and then cut off your laugh when he leaned in and kissed you again.

[butterflybuckethat]

Tiny Red Dress ✯ Part II

Part I

Notes: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader - This is my first attempt at smut 😭 (1.4k words)

Warnings: Smut, no actual sex but pretty close, mdni!

This is for y'all: @lomlbuckybarnes @sisterslytherinog @fandomhopped @ohhdarlingxo @shawnsblue @saltyturtlejudgeflap @callsign-magnolia @calirindo

🦋 Masterlist 🦋

Jake showed up two hours early from your requested time and you were nowhere near ready. The guy was never early, priding himself with being exactly on time—with military precision, of course—but not today when you ignored his knocking for twenty minutes because you were sure it was your horrible neighbor Judy who never seemed to buy her own sugar. 

“You’re early,” you said, still in your oversized Navy t-shirt and sleep shorts. 

“I brought coffee!” He handed you a to-go cup from the hand not carrying a toolbox, much too chipper for 8 A.M. on a Saturday. 

“How’d you get in the building?”

“Tyra buzzed me up.” Jake said, distracted by your apartment. It was the first time he’d been there and hadn’t expected it to be so green. For some reason, he would have assumed you had a black thumb, maybe because you all spent so much time on base. Who’s been watering your plants?

“Another one of your conquests, I’m sure.” You rounded the corner into your kitchen, putting the island between you and Hangman. 

“Am I just some slut to you?” He smiled. 

“Absolutely.” You said and planned to stop there but curiosity got the best of you, “Speaking of which, how was your night?”

—

Jake didn’t want to tell you that he didn’t go home with Daniela. He showed up early because he was sure that seeing you back to normal, bleary-eyed and bed-headed even, would snap him out of whatever that red dress did to him. But it didn’t. Not even a little. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

But he did. Frequently. You didn’t want to push but you noticed his smile falter and wondered if something happened. You lingered a little after you walked out of the Hard Deck. You saw Daniela walk up to him. You saw them talking. You left after that, sparing yourself from the scene of them leaving together, but you couldn’t imagine anything happened but that. Did it not live up to his expectations?

Jake saved you from inquiring further by digging through your pantry, “Don’t you have anything besides sugar cereals?”

“What, my Trix aren’t good enough for you?” You reached to grab the box back from him but he yanked it away.

Jake bit his tongue. “Haven’t you heard of a well balanced breakfast?” He towered over you, holding the cereal box well above your head.

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes. “Sucrose and Red 40. What else is there?”

“I don’t know. Protein, fiber…” Jake trailed off, enjoying himself more in this moment, with you looking up at him like a cat plotting its attack, than he had in a while. 

You jumped, hand outstretched to grab the box, catching Jake off guard. On reflex he tried to catch you, palm slipping beneath your shirt to find the expanse of your back where he should have felt the band of your bra.

He sucked in a sharp breath and the cereal box fell to the floor, scattering little puffed flowers across the kitchen tile. “I-I’ll clean this up,” he stammered. “You go get dressed.”

.

You retreated to your bedroom, at a complete loss for what the hell just happened. Hangman had seen you in casual clothes before, covered in sweat and grime from long training days, bloody and exhausted but he had never reacted like this. Jake had always been calm, collected, and completely in charge. But this was…whole new territory. Did Daniela hurt him? 

“You want to go to the beach later?” You yelled. The main reason you decided to buy this condo was because of its proximity to it. Sure, you were totally house poor now but you spent most of your time at work anyway. 

You couldn’t decipher his response but it sounded something like an affirmative. You had never known him to pass up a beach day; and despite how much he usually annoyed you, you were enjoying his company this morning. So you slipped on a black bikini beneath your cut-offs actually looking forward to the day ahead.

Jake remembered being cool once, maybe. There was a slight chance he’d always been a bumbling idiot and this was his own personal Twilight Zone episode on the perils of an overinflated ego. He texted Bob a quick I’m cool right? And looked under your sink for a dustpan. He was just glad he had dodged the beach bullet.

He had seen you in a bathing suit before, during team building exercises with Maverick, but he wasn’t sure that was something he wanted to deal with right this moment. 

His phone buzzed with Bob’s reply: are you sick??? 

That was probably it, he thought, he needed to do whatever chore you needed done and isolate himself before the brain dead spread. 

“The dust pan is in the front hall closet,” you said emerging from your bedroom. You needed to dig through the pile of freshly laundered clothing on your couch to find a shirt and didn’t think much of Jake seeing you in just your bikini top.

“I thought we weren’t going to the beach.” Jake looked wide-eyed. He felt like he was back in middle school, when his attraction to girls was new and not fully within his control. 

“Oh, sorry. I just assumed—“ You stopped dead once you caught a glimpse of his face. “Oh my god!” You couldn’t help your grin. Suddenly it clicked, why he was acting strange, Jake didn’t find you so plain anymore. “You’re so into me.”

Jake groaned.

“Admit it.” You prodded.

“Admit what?” He rubbed his face, so pained by this entire interaction. 

“That you’re obsessed with me.”

.

You made it your goal to make him absolutely miserable for the rest of the morning and boy were you succeeding. You never did find that shirt, but you did blow out your hair because, more than anything, you wanted him to admit that he found you super crazy scorching hot.

“You know, I have been needing a good drill.” You had your back up against the wall he was working on. The gallery wall was nearly complete, all Jake needed to do now was install the screws and actually hang the artwork. “Really I just haven’t had anyone to teach me.” You bit your lip, “Would you teach me to drill, Jake?”

His hand slipped, the drill bit missing the screw entirely and making a hole in your wall. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, partly in disbelief. You could believe the effect you were having. 

“You think this is funny?” He said, setting the drill on the floor to box you in. 

“Kind of.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes and pushed back your hair to expose your neck. It was as if the character from last night had taken over and it almost scared you how much you liked it. 

This was the most turned on Jake had ever been in his life and you hadn’t even touched him. His initial contact was hesitant, tracing up your arms and along the strings of your bikini. 

He kissed your neck and nuzzled his way down to suck on your pulse point. Your breathy moan went straight to his cock.

God, he couldn’t fucking believe it. Jake got bolder, pulling you flush against him by the belt loops. He kissed your clavicle, breath heavy, and flicked your hard nipple through the triangle of your bikini. 

It was nearly painful how hard his dick strained in his jeans thanks to your breathy whine. 

You turned to face the wall, ass grinding into him. It felt incredible. You felt incredible. 

You pulled your hair aside so Jake could watch as you popped the bow of your bikini knotted around your neck. “Fuck,” he swore as the top fell. “You’re so fucking hot.”

He reached around you to touch your breasts but you grabbed his wrists and moved them down to your hips, letting him control the speed. 

You ground faster and he couldn’t help but buck into you. “Baby, wait,” he whispered, “I’m gonna—”

You laughed, tying back your bathing suit before you turned to face him and his wet jeans. “Did you—”

“Yeah,” he said completely breathless. “I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe Plain Jane made you cum your pants?”

Jake actually blushed and satisfaction bloomed in your chest. 

“Find me on the beach after you deal…” You gestured vaguely at his crotch. “And don’t forget to finish the wall!” You said, already out the door. 

[romerona]

https://www.tumblr.com/romerona/779775449552371712/ethera-operation?source=share

Omgg do you have the charlie angels reader draft?!?! If so, could you post it someday? I LOVE charlies angels ✨️✨️.

Heyyy, so, yessss I do have a small one shot I think? I never thought would see the light of day, so I polished it a bit because I am more than happy to share itttt, actually thank you for asking lol <3<3<3

Only Angels fly this high!

Bradley Bradshaw x Charlie's Angel reader!

You were never just Maverick’s daughter.

You were the girl who swept your district's science fair four years straight, the one who could solve a Rubik's cube in under sixty seconds without even looking flustered. You knew every Avenger’s and DC's origin story by heart, had an unshakable love for Aragorn and your textbooks, and could quote Star Wars like scripture.

With your braces gleaming, frizzy ponytails bouncing, and socks that never once matched, you were a walking storm of heart, brilliance, and sunshine. A true geek with a gymnast's poise, a mind too quick to sit still, and a laugh that could fill a room before you even entered it. You were fire and fizz and full of wonder— Pete Maverick Mitchell's daughter, sure, but unmistakably, undeniably you.

When your dad disappeared on those long, classified missions—off saving the world in ways you weren’t allowed to know, you just packed your bag like clockwork and headed to one of two places. Sometimes, it was to your godfather, Uncle Ice, who’d ruffle your hair and tell you, with that steady calm of his, that even though you hardly looked like your dad, you had the same fire in your eyes. The same stubborn spark. The same refusal to back down. He said it like a compliment, like a promise. You loved him deeply, truly. He was a quiet sort of anchor, a man who never needed many words to make you feel seen.

But most of the time, you went to the Bradshaws’.

Carol always welcomed you like one of her own, with a warm smile, a hug that smelled like fresh laundry and vanilla, and a plate of something home-cooked waiting on the table. Over time, their house became your second home, the place where you memorized the sound of their old floorboards and where you felt safest when the sky felt just a little too big.

And then there was Bradley.

Older. Cooler. Already growing into the kind of person you could only dream of becoming. He had this effortless way about him—music in his ears, sun in his smile, the kind of person that made rooms quieter and your heart louder. You followed him around with books hugged to your chest, spilling facts about superheroes and black holes, always hoping he'd listen—and he did.

He never rolled his eyes. Never made you feel silly for talking too much or knowing too many things. He let you tag along, called you “kid” with a grin that somehow didn’t sting, and made you feel like being exactly who you were, loud laugh, wild ideas, frizzy hair and all, was something worth being proud of.

You adored him.

Not in a way that needed anything in return, but in that pure, clumsy way that only happens when someone older and kinder and just out of reach shows you what it feels like to be seen.

When Bradley left for college, you told yourself not to miss him. You tried to tuck the ache away somewhere quiet, somewhere small, behind schoolwork, hobbies, competitions and all the things you used to ramble about to him when he’d pretend not to listen but always did. It wasn’t just that he left; it was that things changed.

You only saw him once after that. At Carol’s funeral. The air that day was thick with loss, the kind you could feel in your throat. You spotted him across the room—older, more tired, a stranger in the shape of someone you used to adore. You exchanged a look. Maybe a nod. Nothing more. Heavy. Wordless.

Calls stopped. Messages faded. And after the falling-out between him and your dad, whatever thread had quietly tied the two of you together just… vanished.

But even as time tugged Bradley further away, you never drifted from your dad. If anything, you clung to him tighter. You sent him everything—snapshots of you mid-flip in your gymnastics uniform, shaky videos of your band performing at school, newspaper articles of your victories, long, rambling letters from chess tournaments detailing every single move like it was a mission report. When you got your college acceptance letter, you didn’t just call him, you sent a copy with a doodle you’d drawn of the two of you in matching aviator sunglasses, grinning like dorks.

Because he wasn’t just your dad. He was your rock. Your anchor. Your hero in a flight suit. And no matter how many people came and went, how many versions of yourself you outgrew, he was always the one constant, the voice on the other end of the line who never once stopped believing in you.

And then… you became something more.

Charlie's Angel.

Not long after you started college out in California, with wide eyes and ambition for your future, you were approached by a curious agency. The Townsend Agency. It wasn’t like anything you expected. There were no job postings or open interviews. Just a whisper, a test, and then a door you didn’t even know was there opened right in front of you.

What followed was a whirlwind training that pushed your body to its limits, missions that tested your mind and your morals, and partnerships that carved something fierce and beautiful into your soul. You weren’t alone in it, either. There were two other girls—no, women—who became your teammates, your family, your sisters in everything but blood. Together, the three of you tackled the impossible. Missions took you all over the world—scaling rooftops, decoding encrypted files on the fly, surviving car chases, shootouts, betrayal. It was thrilling. Dangerous. Meaningful. Just the kind of beautiful chaos you lived for. Like a good Mitchell. You always did love flying close to the sun.

That being said… you still haven’t told your dad.

Not because you didn’t want to. You did… do. You’ve come close a dozen times, standing at the edge of the truth with your phone in hand or your heart in your throat, thinking this is it. But it never felt quite right.

Because how do you tell Maverick, the legendary naval aviator, your fighter pilot of a father, that his little girl became a spy?

Not a doctor or a lawyer or a quiet observer behind a desk. No, you became an Angel, a full-blown, off-the-books, world-saving, chaos-wrangling secret agent. You jump out of planes sometimes without a parachute, trusting only your timing and a teammate’s hand to catch you. You've fought trained mercenaries twice your size in the back alleys of foreign cities. You’ve disarmed bombs with ten seconds left on the clock. Posed as arms dealers, infiltrated corrupt corporations, survived car crashes, scaled a glass building in Dubai with nothing but suction grips and nerves, hotwired a moving car in Paris while dodging sniper fire.

And somehow still walked away—bloody, bruised, but grinning with your sisters.

How do you sit your dad down and say, “Hey, remember how you used to panic when I scraped my knee on the monkey bars? Well, now I carry lockpicks in my heels and can kill a man with a paperclip.”

Your friends tell you to just do it. “He’ll understand,” they say. “He’s military. He gets it, he's done dangerous things all his life."

But you know better.

He was a father first. He always had been, even when he wasn’t physically there, even when he was halfway around the world, flying high above everything. His heart was always anchored to you. You were his little girl, his sunshine, his soft spot in a hard-edged world, who checked your helmet twice before you could ride a bike, who made you text the second you got somewhere, worried when you scraped your knee, when you stayed up too late studying.

He was Maverick. Top Gun. Hero to most. But to you, he was just Dad.

So no, it’s not easy. Not when you know the truth will make his pulse spike and his mind race to every worst-case scenario. Not when you can still picture his face the day you fell off the beam at your gymnastics meet and he looked like the world had ended.

But still… there’s a part of you that hopes—when the moment comes, when you do tell him—he won’t just see the danger. He’ll see the strength, the purpose, the pride.

That somewhere deep down, the Maverick in him will recognize the Angel in you... Today is not that day, though.

Not when you’ve finally managed to visit after months apart—not because you didn’t want to come sooner, but because life had a funny way of keeping you both busy. His schedule was packed with flights and trainings and whatever top-secret projects still pulled at the edges of his life. Yours… well, yours was classified. Let’s just say saving the world tends to mess with your calendar.

But now, with a rare stretch of time off, you showed up at his hangar-home like no time had passed at all. He met you at the door with that familiar squint and slow-building smile, arms pulling you into one of those hugs that made you feel twelve again, like the universe could shrink down to just the two of you and still be enough.

You showed off your latest toy—a vintage, sleek, growling Mercedes-Benz Heritage, sleek and silver, like something out of a Bond film. He gave it an approving nod, muttered something about it being too pretty to trust you behind the wheel, and you both laughed like no time had passed.

At some point, after he proudly showed you the new project he was working on—an old plane with more history than metal—you insisted on cooking. Said you wanted to treat him. He looked skeptical but stepped aside, letting you take over the tiny kitchen.

The thing is… you might know how to hack into secure government servers blindfolded. You can decode encrypted files while hanging out of a moving vehicle and disarm a bomb with nothing but a bobby pin, chewing gum, and sheer nerve.

But apparently, you still don’t know how long garlic bread is supposed to stay in the oven.

Smoke curled out of the toaster oven like a signal flare, thick and dramatic, as if announcing your failure to the whole Mojave. You stood there, spatula in hand, staring at what used to be garlic bread—but now looked more like a charred fossil.

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath, coughing as you fanned the smoke with a dishtowel, trying to open a window that didn’t want to budge.

So, you stumbled out of the silver trailer—smoke still trailing behind you like you were escaping a failed op—waving the towel above your head, hoping to clear the air.

"Everything is fine, just give me a vacuum and a YouTube tutorial," you coughed, still fanning the smoky air like your life depended on it. The kitchen now smelled less like garlic and more like defeat.

Then you heard it—your name, called out in a voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Warm but deeper. Steady. Older. You froze mid-wave of the dish towel, eyes narrowing as you turned around.

And there he was.

Bradley Bradshaw.

Holy. Shit.

"Bradley!" you gasped, the breath catching somewhere between shock and joy.

Before you could think, you dropped the towel, launched forward, and threw your arms around him. It wasn’t graceful—your elbow clipped his sunglasses, you nearly tripped over your own feet, and there was definitely still flour smeared across your shirt—but none of it mattered. The hug was tight, warm, all the things unsaid wrapped into a single, breathless squeeze.

“Oh, it’s been forever,” you said breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look at him.

You were grinning wildly, eyes dancing, completely caught up in the joy of the moment. What you didn’t notice—not at first—was how stunned he looked.

He blinked, almost like he wasn’t sure how to catch up.

“Look at you!” you said, poking his chest with mock offense. “You grew a mustache!!!”

Bradley let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of it all.

“And you… grew up,” he said quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud—like the realization had just hit him and slipped past his guard.

“Barely,” your dad chimed in from across the hangar, where he was wiping his hands clean with an old rag, smudged with grease from the plane’s engine. His voice cut through the moment like a well-timed punchline.

You turned just in time to see him eyeing the thin trail of smoke still drifting from the open trailer door.

“Please tell me you did not burn down my kitchen,” he said, eyebrows raised, half-exasperated, half-amused.

You held up your hands in surrender, cheeks flushed. “Not entirely! It’s still standing. Just… maybe don’t open the toaster for a while.”

“Great…” Your dad shot you a long-suffering look, then sighed like a man who’d seen combat but still wasn’t prepared for you in the kitchen. Then he turned to Bradley, wiping the last of the grease from his palms. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Yeah… uh, just happened to be nearby,” Bradley said, almost too casually. Then he lifted the takeout bag in his hand. “And—looks like I showed up just in time.”

He gave you a small smile, the kind that was soft around the edges and held a hint of something else—something unreadable and warm.

,You grinned at the bag like it was the Holy Grail. “Ohh, like a psychic… or maybe Lady Fate herself. What you brought and please tell me you brought enough for an unexpected mouth?”

“I did,” Bradley smirked, giving the bag a little shake for dramatic flair. “Thai. From a little spot near the base—place looks like a shack but cooks like heaven. One of those joints where they always forget the utensils, but never mess up the order.”

You gasped like he’d just told you he found buried treasure. “My kind of place. Who needs forks when destiny delivers Pad Thai?”

Bradley chuckled, handing you the bag with a knowing grin. “Hope you still like spicy, because I told them to go easy—and they still said ‘mild’ was more of a suggestion than a promise.”

You peeked inside the bag, the smell already making your mouth water. “Perfect. I like my food with a little danger. Keeps me humble.”

Your dad chimed in from behind you, grabbing plates “You say that now, but let’s see you talk tough after the first bite.”

You shot him a look. “Says the man who thinks pepper is a bold seasoning choice.”

The three of you settled in around the small table—plates spread out, drinks poured, laughter drifting lazily through the warm air. Conversation flowed easily, the kind that bounced between memories, light teasing, and just enough catch-up to fill in the gaps years apart had left.

You asked Bradley about his life, his job—nudging him gently with curiosity, dancing around certain topics with the kind of practiced grace that would’ve made Bosley proud. You didn’t lie—you just knew how to steer. How to let a story breathe without giving away the details underneath.

While delicately munching on a spring roll, you hummed quietly, savoring the flavor, then murmured without thinking, “I’ve been craving them like crazy since I came back from Thailand.”

Bradley, mid-bite, paused and looked up with a mild tilt of his head. “You’ve been to Thailand?”

You froze—not visibly, just a flicker of hesitation behind your eyes. The kind of pause most wouldn’t notice. But Bradley had always paid attention.

Still, your smile was easy as you nodded, grabbing your drink for cover. “Yeah. Work keeps me traveling.”

Bradley leaned back slightly, chopsticks in hand, eyeing you with playful suspicion. “Yeah? What do you do, exactly? Something fancy, I imagine, if that car outside is any indication. Since when do you have that kind of taste, huh?”

You raised a brow, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I’ve always had taste.”

He snorted. “Right. Last time I saw you drooling over a car, it was that busted-up ‘Back to the Future’ knockoff you swore was the coolest thing ever. What was it? That rusty little hatchback with spray-painted flames and a bumper sticker that said ‘Flux This’?”

You laughed, nearly choking on your spring roll. “Hey, that car had personality. It was vintage.”

“It was a safety hazard.”

“It was charming!”

Bradley grinned, shaking his head. “You’ve upgraded. I’ll give you that. So, seriously—what do you do now?”

You smiled sweetly, taking another bite of your spring roll with practiced nonchalance.

“I’m a private art conservator,” you said, repeating the same polished line you’d fed your dad years ago—the one you’d carefully crafted to sound just vague and boring enough to kill curiosity.

Bradley blinked. “A what?”

“Art conservator,” you repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I restore paintings and sculptures—help private collectors preserve rare pieces. Lots of travel, lots of delicate work, very serious,”

Bradley glanced at your dad, who didn’t even flinch, too busy digging into his pad see ew like this was Tuesday.

Then he looked back at you, eyes narrowing slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Seriously?”

You met his gaze, unblinking. “Dead serious.”

He leaned back in his chair, skeptical. “You? Art conservator? The same girl who once glued googly eyes onto her dad’s Elvis poster because—and I quote—‘It improved the emotional depth’?”

You shrugged, all cool confidence. “Every great artist starts somewhere.”

Bradley laughed, shaking his head. “Unreal.”

“Hey,” you said, pointing your chopsticks at him. “Don’t knock the hustle. Art is very fragile. Almost as fragile as, say… classified intel of the worlds economy on a microchip hidden in the frame of a nineteenth-century oil painting inside the vaults of the luvre.”

Both Bradley and your dad raised their eyebrows in perfect unison, like a synchronized team of disbelief.

You blinked, then raised your hands. “Kidding, pass the rice please."

Bradley chuckled and reached for the plate, shaking his head as he handed it over.

“See, that’s what I find unreal,” he said, his voice laced with something halfway between nostalgia and awe. “You were always… I don’t know. Too clever and smart for your own good.”

Your dad grunted in agreement, still chewing.

You tilted your head, scooping rice onto your plate with a lazy grin. “Is that your way of saying I was annoying?”

He smirked. “Terribly. But also kind of a genius. I always figured you’d end up running some multibillion-dollar tech company or… I don’t know, sending astronauts to Mars.”

You snorted. “Wow, aim high, why don’t you?”

He leaned his elbows on the table, studying you. “I did. You had that kind of brain, y’know? The kind that never turned off. It always felt like you were thinking ten steps ahead of everyone else.”

You paused for just a second, fingers tightening on the chopsticks before you smiled again, softer this time. “Still am, just not in the way most people would guess.”

Bradley narrowed his eyes slightly, playful but curious. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”

You returned to your food, casually scooping rice onto your plate, but you could still feel Bradley’s eyes on you—curious, watching like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know he’d started.

“So,” you said, changing the subject with a too-bright smile, “what about you, Lieutenant Mustache? Still flying? Still breaking hearts?”

Your dad let out a soft snort, clearly enjoying the turn of the conversation.

Bradley leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, giving you a look. “I’ll have you know the mustache has become a very powerful asset.”

You raised a brow. “Does it come with a security clearance?”

“Practically,” he said with mock pride. “Still flying, still in uniform… just with slightly more facial hair and responsibility.”

“Terrifying,” you muttered, hiding a grin behind your drink—because in all honesty, that mustache looked damn good on him. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. At least not yet.

There was a beat of silence after that, easy and warm. The kind that settles between people who’ve shared enough history to skip over the awkward parts. Three lives woven through time, scattered and now briefly realigned. It felt like no time had passed at all—and somehow like everything had changed.

Your dad stood with a quiet groan, stretching his back as he grabbed the empty soda cans and crumpled napkins.

“I’ll grab more,” he said casually. “Napkins, too, since someone eats like she’s still thirteen.”

You shot him a look. “Rude.”

“But true,” he replied over his shoulder, disappearing inside the trailer.

And just like that, you and Bradley were alone.

The hangar fell into a soft, ambient quiet—just the hum of the overhead fan, the distant creak of the cooling engine, and the sound of Bradley’s thumb absentmindedly tapping the rim of his drink.

He looked over at you, eyes thoughtful. “So… ‘private art conservator,’ huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Still hung up on that?”

“Just trying to picture it,” he said, tone teasing but curious. “You, in gloves, hunched over a painting with a little brush.”

You leaned in slightly, resting your elbow on the table. “What, you don’t think I’ve got the patience for restoration?”

“I think you’ve got the precision,” he said, eyes not leaving yours. “I’m just not used to you being quiet for long.”

You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that said you’re not the only one who’s changed. “People grow up, Bradshaw.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, gaze flicking down and then back to you again. “Apparently, they do.”

The tension between you wasn’t thick, but it was there, like static. Familiar and new, cautious and curious. It buzzed just beneath the surface, waiting- your phone began to ring.

The sudden sound made you flinch just slightly, dragging you out of the moment. You set your plate down with a reluctant clink and fished the phone from your pocket.

Bosley.

Your eyes flicked to Bradley for half a second—he was watching you, still relaxed but alert, picking up on the shift in your energy. You forced a smile, one hand already tucking the phone to your ear as you stood.

“Gimme a sec,” you said casually, stepping away from the table, from him, from that dangerous almost-moment.

You put the phone to your ear, trying to keep your voice casual. “Hello… Yeah, okay. I’ll be right in.”

You hung up, slipped the phone back into your pocket, and took a moment to school your features before turning back around. A practiced smile curved across your lips—effortless, easy. You walked back to the table like you hadn’t just been called back into a secret life.

Bradley was still seated, watching you with mild curiosity, like he knew something wasn’t adding up but didn’t know quite what.

“Everything good?” he asked, tone neutral but eyes searching.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Work. Something I need to take care of.”

Before he could say more, your dad emerged from the trailer with two cans of soda under one arm and a bundle of napkins in the other.

“Alright, I brought backup—oh.” He paused, catching the shift in your expression, one you always wear when you need to leave impromptu. “You leaving already?”

You gave him an apologetic look. “Duty calls.”

He sighed, handing over a soda anyway. “Figures. You show up after a year, almost burn my kitchen down, steal my spring rolls, then vanish.”

You grinned and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Classic me.”

Your dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t be a stranger and text me ass soon as you get there.”

"Of course and don’t worry I'll come back as soon as I can."

You turned to Bradley, catching his gaze again—still curious, still trying to piece together the puzzle of who you were now.

“Guess I owe you a proper catch-up,” you said softly.

He stood, nodding slowly. “Yeah. You do.”

And just like that, you slid into your sleek silver Mercedes, the engine purring to life beneath your fingertips like it knew exactly where you were going—and why. One last glance in the rearview mirror caught the faintest reflection of your dad watching from the hangar, soda in hand, and Bradley still standing by the table, napkin clutched loosely in his fingers, brow furrowed like he wasn’t quite ready for you to disappear again.

You gave a small wave—half playful, half I’ll be back—then pulled out of the dusty lot, tires crunching against gravel as the sun dipped lower behind you.

Back to the mission.

Back to the life they didn’t know about.

Back to saving the day, as usual.

Y/N: Heyyy hope you enjoyed ittttt. There's something about Top Gun x Charlie's Angels that just scratched my brain just right, y'know? One of my favs movies ever.

[hardballoonlove]

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Terrified to Lose You

Summary: It was supposed to be nothing—just one reckless night to get each other out of their systems before he shipped out. But when cocky, insufferable Jake Seresin lets his guard down, and she lets herself lean in, the lines between want and something deeper start to blur. With the weight of tomorrow pressing in and unspoken feelings lingering between them, neither is ready to admit just how much this night really means. Because once the sun rises, he’s gone and there are no guarantees he’s coming back.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Sexual Content/Smut. Strong Language, Military Themes (Looming Deployments, Uncertainty of Returning from Deployments, etc.)

Word Count: 9,514

Author’s Note: This is a combination of a request I received for enemies to lovers with Jake Seresin. As well as the @elixirfromthestars writing challenge using the song Death Wish Love by Benson Boone from the Twisters soundtrack…but using it for the Top Gun: Maverick Fandom instead. Hope you guys like it! xx

The Hard Deck is buzzing with the usual chatter, but there’s an edge to it tonight. The music is a little too loud, and the pool tables are too noisy, but no one is really having fun. Not tonight.

The squad has gathered, everyone gathered around the bar, half-heartedly pretending to be relaxed. The pitchers of beer on every table are the only thing that seems to lighten the mood, but it’s forced. 

Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow evening Coyote, Hangman, Rooster, Payback, Fanboy, Phoenix, and Bob head out for a mission they’ve been preparing for for weeks. There’s a lingering sense that no one knows exactly what’s waiting for them on that aircraft carrier.

Coyote and Rooster are at the pool table, the clack of cues against balls filling the space. Payback, Fanboy, Phoenix, and Bob are crowded around one of the tables laughing at some half-hearted joke. But even they can’t ignore the quiet weight of what’s coming. The deployment is looming, the jet engines roaring in their minds even as they try to unwind, and everyone knows that tonight could be the last time they are all together.

But you? You’re on the outside looking in. You had been on the shortlist. Had been the key phrase. Your name was in the mix for this mission, and for a moment it felt like you would finally get your shot. Then the final call came, and you weren’t picked. The rejection stings more than it should, but you push it down. You try to drown it in a gulp of your drink.

You shouldn’t be bitter. They chose who they thought was right for the mission, but that doesn’t stop the resentment from bubbling up in your chest.

Then of course there’s Jake. He's sitting at the bar, that cocky smirk never leaving his face. Even as the weight of tomorrow presses on him too. His eyes flicker toward you once in a while, the usual game between you two never stopping. There’s always a silent challenge in the air when the two of you are in the same room.

Even now, with everything so tense, you can feel his gaze like a weight on your back.

“Stop staring, Hangman,” you mutter to yourself, but you know he’s already aware.

You shift on your stool, and a sudden urge to leave this place sweeps over you. This wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You should be out there with them preparing for the mission. Not stuck watching them go off and do it while you sit on the sidelines.

And yet, every time you turn your head, you catch his eye again. That infuriating, self-assured smirk.

He tipped his beer toward you. "Gonna miss me when I’m gone, sweetheart?"

You scoffed, reaching for your own drink. "I don’t even like you when you’re here, Hangman."

A chorus of groans erupted from the group.

"For the love of God," Phoenix muttered, rubbing her temples like she was developing a headache. "Just fuck already and put us out of our misery."

Bob sipped his drink and shook his head. "I’d rather not have to witness that, actually."

You rolled your eyes. "As if."

Hangman, the smug bastard, winked at you like he knew something you didn’t.

You gasped, feigning outrage, which only made his grin widen. "You are unbelievable."

"And you," he countered, voice dipping just enough to make your pulse skip, "love it."

Your lips parted, ready to fire back, but the weight of everyone’s eyes on you made you hesitate. It wasn’t the first time the team had accused you two of having some kind of unresolved tension, but the last thing you wanted to do was give them more fuel for the fire.

So, instead of acknowledging the warmth creeping up your neck, you simply took another sip of your drink and turned away. Hangman let out a quiet chuckle, low and knowing, and you knew this wasn’t over.

A few hours passed, The Hard Deck was nearly empty now, and the warm hum of conversation long faded. Penny wiped down the bar, occasionally glancing your way, but she knew better than to interfere. Everyone else had trickled out, heading back to base or wherever else they were spending their last night before deployment. 

But you were still here. And so was Hangman.

He leaned against the wall near the back pool tables, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you like he had all the time in the world. That infuriating smirk of his hadn’t wavered, even as exhaustion tugged at the edges of the night.

"You worried about me, darlin’?" he drawled, voice low, lazy like he already knew the answer.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as something inside you twisted tight. "I don’t have the energy to waste worrying about you."

That should have been the end of it. But of course, it never was.

Hangman pushed off the wall and took a slow step toward you. His eyes glinted, sharp and knowing. 

"That’s a lie."

Your jaw clenched. His confidence was insufferable, unbearable even. Because it wasn’t just arrogance. It was accuracy. It was him knowing you better than he should, seeing things you weren’t ready to admit.

The pressure building in your chest needed somewhere to go, so you shoved at him. Hard. Your palms met the solid plane of his chest, and even though he barely budged, it made you feel like you had some kind of control over the situation.

You turned on your heel, needing distance, needing air. Footsteps followed, steady and unhurried. 

"You know what your problem is?"

You didn’t stop walking, didn’t answer. But when you heard him getting closer, and felt the heat of his presence just behind you, you couldn’t stop yourself from turning back around, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Oh, please, enlighten me," you snapped.

He was right there. Close enough that the scent of his cologne curled around you. Close enough that his breath, slow and even, ghosted against your skin. The space between you had evaporated, leaving nothing but heat and the heavy weight of everything unspoken.

"You talk a big game," he murmured, voice low and edged with something that made your stomach tighten. "But you don’t know what to do when someone calls your bluff."

The words hit like a challenge. And for the first time all night, you didn’t have a comeback.

Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling faster than you wanted to admit. He always did this. Pushed you right to the edge, just to see if you’d jump. And God help you, but you always did.

"Fuck you, Seresin."

He grinned, but this time, there was something sharper behind it, something more dangerous. "Yeah? Say that again."

Your teeth clenched as you shoved him, both hands flat against his chest. He barely moved, but the warmth of his body beneath your palms sent a jolt through you, one you refused to acknowledge.

"I swear to God if you don’t back off—"

"Or what?" His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it, something dark and crackling in the air between you.

You were breathing hard now, but so was he.

"You drive me fucking crazy," you gritted out.

Jake huffed a short laugh, tilting his head. "Likewise, sweetheart."

Silence. Charged. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, and without thinking, you wet them. It was the smallest movement, but he caught it. Of course, he did.

And then he moved.

His hands were on your face, fingers pressing into your jaw as his lips crashed into yours, hard and desperate, like he’d been holding back for way too long. There was nothing soft about it, nothing careful. It was fire and fury, an explosion of everything you’d been choking down for months.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands found his hair, twisting and pulling, nails scratching just to get a reaction. And God, did you get one.

Jake groaned into your mouth, deep and raw, before spinning you, pushing you back against the wooden wall of the bar. The impact sent a shockwave through your body, but you barely noticed. Not when his knee slipped between your thighs, pressing just enough to make you gasp.

"I hate you," you breathed, head tipping back as his mouth dragged along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

He grinned against your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. "You love this, though."

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Because the way you pulled him closer, nails digging into his shoulders, said everything.

His teeth scraped against your throat, and your grip on his shirt tightened like you were trying to ground yourself, trying to remember why this was a terrible idea. But then his hands slid down your sides, rough and unrelenting, and suddenly, thinking wasn’t an option anymore.

Jake pulled back just enough to catch your gaze, green eyes dark and wicked under the dim light of the bar’s exterior. His lips were swollen, his breath coming just as fast as yours. 

"We should get out of here," he murmured, voice rough with something you refused to name.

You scoffed, even as your body betrayed you, already aching to follow him wherever he was about to lead. "Oh, and I suppose you just happen to have a place in mind?"

His smirk was immediate, cocky as ever. "Darlin’, I always have a plan."

The arrogance sent a fresh spark of irritation through you, tamping down the heat pooling low in your stomach. You pushed against his chest, though it wasn’t nearly as forceful as it should have been. 

"Jesus, Hangman, do you ever turn it off?"

"Not when I’m winning," he shot back, and that stupidly cocky grin widening.

Your eyes narrowed. "This isn’t a game."

Jake tilted his head, taking his sweet time looking you up and down, his hands still resting on your hips like he had every right to touch you. 

"Then why," he murmured, voice low and smooth as honey, "does it feel like you’re losing?"

Your pulse slammed against your ribs. He was insufferable. Absolutely unbearable.

And you were going home with him.

God help you.

The drive to Jake’s place was tense, thick with something neither of you was willing to name. You sat in the passenger seat of his truck, arms crossed tight over your chest, gaze fixed on the road ahead as if you weren’t acutely aware of him beside you. As if every nerve in your body wasn’t tuned to him. The way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel, the way he shifted gears with that effortless, cocky ease, the way his tongue flicked over his bottom lip like he was savoring the anticipation.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was loaded.

You exhaled sharply, shifting in your seat. "Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna keep glancing at me like a damn creep?"

Jake huffed a laugh, glancing at you sideways. "Oh, sweetheart, I was gonna let you sit there and stew, but since you’re practically begging me to talk…"

Your head whipped toward him, eyes narrowing. "I am not—"

"Admit it," he cut in smoothly, lips curving into a smirk. "You like this. You like me."

You let out a bark of laughter, turning back toward the windshield. "You’re delusional."

Jake clicked his tongue, shifting gears again. "That so?"

"Yes," you snapped, but it lacked bite. 

Maybe because his hand had just settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, his thumb brushing idly against your jeans.

It was infuriating how casual he was about it, like he did this all the time like he knew you wouldn’t push him away. And the worst part? He was right.

You glared down at his hand but didn’t move it. 

"I hate you," you muttered, more to yourself than him.

Jake chuckled, squeezing your thigh just slightly, sending a slow wave of heat curling up your spine. 

"Sure, sweetheart," he drawled. "Keep tellin’ yourself that."

You clenched your jaw, staring straight ahead, determined not to react. You could not let him win this round.

But then he leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur, right against your ear. 

"I bet," he said, his breath fanning warm over your skin, "that by the time we get to my place, you’re gonna be begging me to ruin you."

Your stomach clenched. Your breath caught.

You turned sharply toward him, ready to rip into him, to tell him exactly where he could shove his ego. But one look at his smug, knowing expression, and suddenly, the only thing you wanted more than to slap him was to kiss him.

Jake barely had the truck in park before you were unbuckling your seatbelt, ready to throw the door open and escape the suffocating tension between you. But before you could make your move, his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

"Uh-uh," he murmured, voice like silk and sin. "Not so fast, sweetheart."

You turned, mouth already open to argue, but whatever insult you had locked and loaded died in your throat when you saw his face.

Jake looked at you like he was savoring every second of your frustration, drinking in the flush creeping up your neck, the way your lips parted just slightly as you struggled for a retort. His grip on your wrist was firm but not tight, thumb ghosting over your pulse, which, much to your horror, was racing.

You swallowed hard, yanking your arm free. "Are we going inside, or are you just gonna sit here looking smug all night?"

Jake grinned, slow and cocky, before pushing open his door. 

"Oh, we’re goin’ inside," he said, stepping out like he had all the time in the world.

You inhaled sharply, willing yourself to get a grip, then followed suit, slamming the truck door a little harder than necessary. You stomped up the walkway behind him, practically vibrating with the need to do something. You didn’t even care what. Punch him, kiss him, you just needed something.

Jake reached the door first, unlocking it with ease, but instead of stepping aside to let you in, he turned, leaning against the doorframe.

"Last chance to back out, darlin’," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your body screamed at you to get closer. "Like you would let me live that down."

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I’d never let you live it down," he agreed, then tilted his head, eyes dark and burning with something that made your stomach twist. "But we both know you don’t want to back out."

And just like that, you snapped.

Grabbing the front of his shirt, you yanked him down, crashing your mouth against his.

Jake groaned, deep and satisfied, as if he’d known this was coming. He let you take control for a split second before flipping the script, crowding you into the door, hands gripping your hips like he was staking a claim.

The kiss was fire and fury, all teeth and tongue. His hands roamed, rough and sure, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

You pulled back just enough to gasp, "God, I hate you."

Jake grinned against your lips, fingers curling into your waistband. "Yeah?" His voice was pure arrogance. "Show me, then."

The door had barely clicked shut before Jake had you backed against it, his body flush against yours, heat radiating off him in waves. His lips found yours again, just as greedy, just as needy as before, like he’d been starving for this and now that he had a taste, he wasn’t letting go.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, and he groaned against your mouth, low and rough, before yanking the fabric over his head and tossing it aside like it was offending him.

"Jesus, Hangman," you muttered, taking in the broad planes of his chest, the way his muscles flexed as he ran a hand through his already tousled hair.

He smirked, stepping back into your space, hands finding your waist again. "Was wonderin’ when you’d finally admit you liked lookin’ at me, sweetheart."

You scoffed, shoving at his chest. "I don’t."

Jake caught your wrist mid-shove, his grip firm, the heat of his palm branding against your skin. "Liar," he murmured, and then he spun you, pressing you against the door, his chest flush against your back.

Your breath hitched.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear. "You know what I think?"

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jake chuckled, feeling your stubborn silence. "I think you like it when I get under your skin," he continued, voice thick as honey, hand sliding along your arm before settling at your hip. "I think you like fightin’ me ‘cause it makes this—" he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, biting down just enough to make your fingers twitch—"so much better."

You shivered.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he murmured, lips trailing lower.

You hated him. You hated how right he was. How much you wanted this, wanted him.

So instead of answering, you turned, grabbing his face and pulling him into another kiss, swallowing his smug little chuckle as you pushed him backward.

Jake let you lead—at least for a few steps—until the backs of his knees hit the couch, and he took advantage of your forward momentum, twisting you both so you tumbled down with him.

You gasped as you landed in his lap, his hands immediately finding your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to make you ache.

"Well, would you look at that," he drawled, looking up at you with pure, unfiltered arrogance. "Right where you wanna be."

Your glare was instant, but whatever insult you were about to hurl at him got lost in the way his hands slid up, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin at your hips, his gaze dark and knowing.

"Say it," he murmured, voice softer this time. "Say you want this."

You exhaled sharply, fingers threading into his hair, pulling just enough to make him grunt.

"Jake—"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

You clenched your jaw, breath coming short and fast.

"I hate you," you whispered, leaning down, lips brushing against his.

Jake grinned. "That so?"

You nodded, eyes locked on his.

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head up to kiss you again, all teeth and heat. "Hate me all you want." His fingers dug into your hips, his voice dropping to a growl. "Just don’t stop."

His hands, hot and steady against your hips, didn’t push—didn’t take the way you half-expected him to. Instead, he just looked at you, gaze flickering over your face like he was memorizing the way you looked right then—cheeks flushed, lips kiss bruised, breathing heavy.

You swallowed, suddenly too aware of the weight of his hands, the heat of his body beneath you. "What?" you muttered, shifting slightly in his lap.

Jake’s fingers flexed at your waist, his jaw tightening like he was holding something back. Then his eyes lifted to meet yours.

"Want me to take this off, sweetheart?" he murmured, toying with the hem of your shirt, voice softer than before. More careful.

Your breath caught.

You weren’t sure what surprised you more. The fact that he asked or the fact that it sent a different kind of heat through you. Something deeper. Something that settled low in your stomach, curling tight.

"You don’t have to ask," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your pulse was suddenly hammering against your ribs.

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, one hand leaving your waist to push a strand of hair from your face, thumb grazing your cheek for just a second longer than necessary. "Yeah, I do."

And that? That threw you. Because it wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t teasing. It was real. For a split second, it wasn’t about the fight, the tension, or the way you constantly tried to push each other’s buttons.

It was just him.

Your throat felt tight, and you hated it. Hated that something so simple made your stomach flip.

But you still lifted your arms.

Jake didn’t hesitate after that, peeling your shirt off in one smooth motion and tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. But then he stopped again, and Jesus Christ, the way his eyes raked over you, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, the way his breath shuddered just slightly. It made your skin prickle and made heat lick up your spine.

For the first time that night, you didn’t have some sharp remark ready.

And Jake noticed.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as his hands skimmed up your sides, settling just beneath the band of your bra. 

"Well, would you look at that," he murmured, eyes dragging back up to yours. "Speechless."

Your glare was instant, but before you could snap at him, his grip tightened, pulling you closer, lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, "And beautiful."

And just like that, he shattered every thought in your head.

Jake's fingers trailed up your spine, slow and deliberate, making you shiver before they settled on the clasp of your bra. He didn’t rush. There was no quick practiced flick like you might have expected. Instead, he lingered, thumbs tracing idle circles against your skin, his breath warm against the hollow of your throat.

"You good?" He murmured, lips brushing against your collarbone, his voice lower now, less teasing, almost gentle.

You swallowed hard. You weren’t used to this side of him, the part that asked, the part that wasn’t all sharp-edged arrogance and cocky smirks.

"Yeah," you muttered, but your voice was quieter now, and that was enough for him to notice.

Jake hummed like he wasn’t quite convinced, but he popped the clasp anyway, dragging the straps down your arms with an almost painful slowness before finally tossing it aside.

Heat bloomed across your chest, your arms twitching with the instinct to cover yourself, but before you could even think about being shy, Jake’s hands were there, skimming up your ribs, curling around your wrists to stop you.

"Nuh uh," he murmured, his grip firm but warm, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, dragged over every inch of you, taking his damn time like he was committing every detail to memory.

"Jake," you started, but your voice wavered, and you hated how small it sounded.

His gaze flicked back to yours immediately, something sharp flashing behind all that heat. "Don’t," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Don’t get shy on me now."

You huffed, shifting slightly in his lap trying to grasp at something. Control, defiance…anything. But then his hands were back tracing up your sides, his thumbs skimming just beneath your breasts. His eyes were locked on yours.

Your stomach flipped, and God you wanted to look away. You wanted to fight the way your heart was hammering against your ribs. But then his hands slid higher, fingers splaying wide across your ribcage holding you there.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, and it was so genuine and unguarded that it nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Jake Seresin. Cocky, arrogant, never shuts the hell up Jake was looking at you like you like you were the best damn thing he’d ever seen.  Like he’d imagined this a hundred times over but now that you were here, in his lap, chest rising and falling under his hands, he was afraid to blink in case he woke up and it was all gone.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze dragging over every inch of you with a hunger that wasn’t just lust, it was something more, something you didn’t quite know what to do with.

“Fuck,” he muttered almost to himself, his head tipping back against the couch for just a second before he looked at you again. 

His pupils were blown wide, his breath uneven and God you’d never seen him like this. It was like you had him completely undone without even trying.

His hands moved then, fingertips tracing the delicate curve of your waist before sliding up, fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice rough. “How long I’ve wanted you like this.”

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corner of your lips as you took him in. You slid your hands into his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers as you gave a firm tug. His breath hitched, his grip tightening instinctively, but he let you guide him, tilting his head back until his chin rested against your sternum.

His lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling beneath you, the sharp angles of his jaw and throat bathed in the warm glow of the lamp beside the couch. He was completely at your mercy, and fuck, you liked the way that felt.

You leaned down, slow and deliberate, until your breath ghosted over his parted lips, your nose barely brushing his. His hands twitched on your waist, but he didn’t move. He was waiting. Watching. Wanting.

A smug little hum left your lips, and you let your fingers tighten just slightly in his hair as you murmured, “Well, Hangman… you finally got what you wanted.” You dragged your lips down, grazing along the sharp edge of his jaw, feeling the way his pulse jumped beneath your mouth. Then you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again, voice turning to a whisper. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His hands flexed against you, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes locked onto yours as if you’d just lit a match and dropped it into a trail of gasoline.

Then he grinned, lazy and sharp, green eyes dark with intent.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick with promise as his fingers skimmed higher, teasing along your spine. “You have no idea.”

One second you were in control, straddling his lap with hands in his hair. The next his hands slid down gripping the backs of your thighs as he stood, lifting you like you weighed nothing.

A startled gasp left your lips, hands flying to his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, his fingers pressing firmly into the curve of your ass to keep you steady. His smirk was downright insufferable as he took a few steps toward the hallway, completely unfazed by your sudden shift in position.

“Jesus, Hangman—” you started, but he only chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest as he carried you with ease.

“What?” he drawled, like this wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. “You wanted to know what I was going to do.”

Your stomach fluttered at the effortless strength in his hold, but you rolled your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Instead, you crossed your arms loosely around his neck, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You know, you don’t have to carry me.”

Jake slowed just slightly, glancing down at you with something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “You sayin’ you don’t like it?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening against the nape of his neck.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like it. If anything, you liked it too much. But there was something about being held like this—about the way he handled you so effortlessly, so casually—that poked at an old insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind.

Guys like Jake Seresin always went for the kind of girls who looked effortless in their arms, who didn’t overthink the way they were being held, who didn’t worry about whether or not they were too heavy or too much.

Your silence must have said more than you intended, because Jake’s hold on you tightened just slightly, his smirk fading into something softer.

His voice dropped, quieter than before. “Darlin’.”

You swallowed, avoiding his gaze. “I just—” You huffed a short breath, shaking your head like you could physically dismiss the thought. “I’m not some dainty little thing, okay? You don’t have to—”

“Stop.” His tone left no room for argument, and before you could protest, he adjusted his grip, bouncing you slightly in his arms as if to prove a point. “You really think I’d be doin’ this if I couldn’t handle it?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Jake exhaled sharply, shaking his head before dipping down just enough to catch your gaze. His eyes were serious now, all teasing gone. “I like carrying you,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “And not just ‘cause I can, but because I want to.”

Your breath caught, a different kind of warmth blooming in your chest, one that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the way he was looking at you.

He tightened his hold, tilting his head with a smirk that was softer than before, but still undeniably him. “Now, you gonna let me take you to my bed, or you wanna keep pretendin’ you don’t like this?”

Your heart stuttered, fingers gripping the back of his neck as you huffed, finally letting your head drop against his shoulder.

“Fine,” you muttered, and you could feel his smirk against your temple.

“That’s my girl.”

And with that, he carried you the rest of the way, leaving no room for argument.

Jake nudged the door open with his foot, the hinges creaking slightly as he carried you inside. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the space. His bed which was big, unmade, and ridiculously inviting was only a few steps away, but he didn’t rush. If anything, he seemed to savor the moment, taking his time as he moved toward it.

You felt the muscles in his arms flex as he shifted his grip, lowering you onto the mattress with deliberate care. His hands lingered for just a second longer than necessary, fingertips trailing lightly along your sides before he straightened to stand over you.

The air between you was thick, charged with something that was no longer just heated banter and reckless tension. This was something else. Something weightier.

Jake’s green eyes raked over you, dark and unreadable, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “You look good like that, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges.

Your stomach clenched, your breath coming a little quicker as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You just gonna stand there and stare, Seresin?” you teased, but the slight hitch in your voice gave you away.

His lips curled, but there was something softer behind the smirk this time. “You in a hurry?”

You swallowed, pulse hammering. “I—”

Before you could finish, Jake was moving. He crawled onto the bed, hands bracing on either side of your hips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours.

“You got nowhere to be,” he murmured, the words a slow drawl against your lips. “So why don’t you let me take my time?”

A shiver rolled through you, but you forced yourself to keep your expression even. “You always this much of a tease?”

Jake chuckled, the sound low and indulgent. “Only when I got something worth taking my time with.”

Your breath caught, but you refused to let him see how easily he unraveled you. Instead, you reached up, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft grunt from him. “Stop talking and do something about it, Hangman.”

Jake’s weight pressed you into the mattress, his hands roaming slowly and deliberately as his lips ghosted over your collarbone. Every touch sent heat curling through your stomach, every kiss stoking the fire that had been burning between you since the second he’d crowded into your space outside The Hard Deck.

His hands drifted lower, skimming the line of your jeans, fingers toying with the button as he watched your face.

He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “You gonna let me take these off, or you wanna fight me on it?”

You huffed a breath, fingers still buried in his hair. “What do you think?”

Jake grinned like he already knew the answer, but he still waited. Waited for the tiny nod you gave him, the permission you offered without hesitation. Only then did he move.

The sound of your zipper being undone was deafening in the quiet of the room, your breath catching as he dragged the denim down, slow enough to make you squirm.

He chuckled, low and knowing. “You always this impatient?”

You lifted your hips, helping him rid you of the last piece of clothing between you, and shot him a look. “You always this slow?”

Jake’s eyes darkened. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you want me rushing this.”

His hands traced up the length of your legs, teasing, exploring, his touch sending little sparks dancing along your skin. And then his fingers dug into your thighs, parting them just enough for him to settle between them.

That cocky smirk never wavered as he leaned in, his breath hot against your jaw. “Told you,” he murmured. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

Jake’s lips found the inside of your knee first. His lips were soft and teasing as they brushed your skin. His hands ran up your thighs, squeezing, but his mouth followed at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Your breath hitched as he kissed higher, his lips trailing a warm path along your skin. Every inch of you was tense with anticipation, waiting, bracing, needing.

He was right there. Right. There.

And then he exhaled a laugh against your skin, his breath warm and taunting, before shifting away to press his mouth to your other thigh instead.

Your hands fisted in the sheets. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Jake looked up at you through his lashes, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

Your head fell back against the pillows with an exasperated groan. “You’re insufferable.”

He hummed in agreement, his mouth continuing its slow, torturous exploration. His hands slid under your thighs, gripping tight, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“You love it,” he murmured against your skin, voice dripping with amusement.

You wanted to argue, but then his teeth grazed the soft skin of your inner thigh, just enough to make you gasp, and suddenly, words weren’t coming so easily anymore.

Jake's teasing had you teetering on the edge of frustration and something far more desperate. He knew exactly what he was doing. Drawing it out, making you squirm, feeding off every sharp breath and roll of your hips. But just when you were about to snap at him again, his lips finally ghosted over where you needed him most.

A strangled sound caught in your throat as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against you, his tongue flicking out just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling harder than necessary, but if anything, it only spurred him on.

For once, you were grateful Jake Seresin never shut the hell up because he really knew how to use that mouth.

His tongue worked in slow, devastating strokes, a perfect rhythm that had your back arching off the bed in seconds. He groaned against you, the vibrations sinking deep into your bones, and it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach.

“Jake—” His name slipped from your lips before you could stop it, breathless and wrecked.

“That’s it,” he murmured against you, his voice smug and husky. His grip on your thighs tightened. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

Jake was relentless.

Every time you thought he was going to give you what you needed—really give it to you—he’d slow down, change rhythm, pull back just enough to keep you on the edge but never quite over it.

It was maddening.

Your legs trembled beneath his hands, every nerve in your body burning with frustration. He was drawing it out on purpose, keeping you right where he wanted, his mouth and tongue working you into a fever pitch only to ease up the second your muscles tensed, the moment you got too close.

You let out a frustrated groan, fingers tugging at his hair in a warning. “Jake.”

A hum vibrated against you—satisfied, entertained—but he didn’t relent. He kept up his slow torture, his tongue pressing in firm, deliberate strokes, his lips ghosting over you with just enough pressure to make you crazy.

“Fuck, I swear to—”

But just when you were ready to snap, just when the tension in your stomach coiled tight enough to break, he pulled away.

You gasped, blinking down at him in disbelief, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “Are you—”

He grinned, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as he settled between your legs, looking so damn smug it made you want to throttle him. “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

Your glare could’ve burned a hole straight through him. “I hate you.”

His hands smoothed up your thighs, fingers kneading into your skin as he leaned up, his lips hovering just over yours. His breath was warm when he spoke. “No, you don’t.”

And then, just to drive the point home, he slid two fingers between your legs, pressing into you with the same slow, torturous precision.

Your breath hitched, your head falling back against the pillows. He chuckled against your jaw, lips brushing your pulse. “See? You love me.”

Your body betrayed you before you even had time to think of a comeback. Your hips rolled instinctively, seeking out more friction, chasing what he’d been cruelly holding just out of reach.

Jake groaned, low and rough, his fingers still deep inside you as he watched, transfixed. His free hand splayed across your hip, feeling the way you moved against him, the way your body took what it wanted.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice thick with something dangerously close to awe. “So goddamn greedy for it.”

Heat flooded your face, but embarrassment never stood a chance against the need coursing through you. You didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—even as his eyes dragged over every inch of you, taking in the way you worked yourself against his hand, the soft whimpers slipping past your lips.

Jake fucking loved it.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his fingers curling just right, pressing exactly where you needed. His mouth found your throat, teeth scraping against sensitive skin before soothing it with his tongue. “Use me. Get yourself there.”

Your stomach clenched, muscles tightening as that coil in your core wound impossibly tighter. Every stroke of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, and the way he watched you like he’d never seen anything more stunning only drove you higher.

You were close. Too close.

And Jake knew it.

His lips brushed your ear, his voice a rasped promise.

"That’s it, baby. Come for me."

There was no question in his tone just certainty, confidence, command. Like he already knew you would, like you had no choice but to obey.

His fingers never faltered, his pace steady, relentless, pushing you closer and closer until there was no stopping it. Your body tensed, every nerve lighting up as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, ready to snap.

"Jake—" His name tore from your lips, a desperate, breathless cry as the release hit you, hard and all-consuming.

He groaned, low and satisfied like your pleasure was his own personal victory. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, working you through it, dragging out every last wave, every aftershock, until you were trembling beneath him.

His hands never stopped moving, slow and teasing now, like he was savoring the way you came undone for him. His lips ghosted over your hip, smug but reverent. "Damn, baby," he drawled, watching you with something almost like admiration. "That was real pretty."

Jake made quick work of his jeans and boxers, shedding the last of his clothing without a second thought. His confidence was effortless like he had no doubt in his mind that you'd want him just as much as he wanted you.

Crawling back onto the bed, he took you in, his hands smoothing over your skin, possessive and reverent all at once. Then, in one fluid motion, he flipped you over. You barely had time to react before he was guiding you forward. Instinctively, you pushed up onto your forearms, shifting to all fours, but Jake had other plans.

He let out a low chuckle, running his hands down your spine before gripping your hips and pulling you back against him. 

"Not like that, sweetheart." His voice was rough, heavy with want.

Before you could question him, he slid a firm hand between your shoulder blades and pressed down, guiding you back down to the mattress. Your cheek met the sheets, your back arching instinctively under the pressure of his touch.

"There you go," he murmured, his voice all smug satisfaction. "Much better."

Jake’s grip on your hips tightened as he aligned himself with you, his body hovering just above yours. His breath was shallow, and you could feel the heat of him so close, yet not enough to satisfy the aching tension between you both.

With a slight shift of his weight, he brought his hand down on your ass with a sharp, satisfying slap. The sound of it echoed in the quiet room, making your body jump forward at the contact. You let out a small yelp, the sting sending a rush of heat through your veins, mixing with the desire that had been building all night.

You glanced over your shoulder, your chest rising and falling quickly. "What was that for?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice gave away the sudden, surprised pleasure.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear, "Because I can."

You opened your mouth to snap back, to say something, anything to regain some control in this situation, but before you could get a word out, Jake shifted his weight and pushed forward, the feeling of him filling you completely. The words you’d been about to say caught in your throat, replaced by a breathless moan as he stretched you in ways that sent your body reeling.

Your back arched, and your grip on the sheets tightened as you fought to stay composed, but the pleasure of him inside you was too overwhelming. The cocky grin on Jake’s face was evident, even as he moved slowly, savoring the moment just as much as you were.

Jake’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he began to increase his pace. The sounds of his breath, sharp and steady, mixed with the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, filling the air between you. Each thrust had you gasping, your body rocked forward with every press, his rhythm pushing you further toward the edge.

With every stroke, you felt him deeper, filling you completely. The intensity of it had you gasping for air, your heart racing in time with the beat of your pulse. And for a split second, amidst the rush of sensation, a thought flashed through your mind—Why the hell hadn’t you done this before?

The idea lingered for a heartbeat, but Jake’s hand moved to your back, pressing you down into the sheets, and that fleeting thought was gone as quickly as it had come. All that was left was the heat, the pressure building inside you, and the undeniable pull of him—his rhythm, his touch, the way he moved inside you, the way his breath caught when he pulled you closer, driving deeper.

Jake could feel the way your body clenched around him, the tightening of your muscles making him groan, his rhythm faltering for just a second. He had been watching you, noticing the way your moans had shifted from his name into breathless nonsense, and he could tell you were on the verge of losing it.

With a smirk curling at the corner of his lips, he leaned down, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “You’re about to come, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, low, and cocky, but there was a softness to it that sent a shiver down your spine. “Damn, baby. You sound so fucking good. I’m gonna make sure you remember this.”

His hand slid down your body, fingers pressing into your lower stomach, feeling the way your muscles tensed and quivered, and that only made him press harder, driving deeper with each thrust.

Jake could feel the way you were unraveling beneath him, and he couldn’t help but let out a low laugh, knowing he was the one pulling these sounds from you. He was the one making you lose control. There was nothing like this—the power, the rush of it—and hell, he fucking loved it.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice rougher now, “I’m not letting you go until I’ve got every last sound out of you.”

Your breath hitched at his words, a soft whimper escaping your lips without meaning to. It was just enough to fuel Jake further, his grip on your hips tightening, his thrusts becoming harder, more determined. He heard the sound you made, felt the way it vibrated in your chest, and that drove him wild.

“God, you like that, don’t you?” Jake murmured the cocky edge to his voice sharper now. He moved faster, his rhythm relentless, as if he was determined to make you fall apart in front of him.

The sound of his name left your lips again, a whimpering gasp this time, and Jake couldn’t help but smile against your back.

“I knew you’d be this responsive,” he said with a breathless chuckle, “Just let go for me, baby. Let me hear it.”

The way your body responded to him, so soft and needy, only made him push harder. Each sound you made, every tremor that ran through you, sent a wave of satisfaction crashing over him. He couldn’t get enough, his need for you only growing as he felt you getting closer, his hands tightening on your hips as he set the pace.

You were almost there, and he knew it. And that, more than anything, was what had him pushing to give you exactly what you needed.

Jake’s movements were growing more erratic, his control slipping as the pressure inside him built. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, every muscle in his body tense and straining with the need to finish. But he wasn’t going to let go just yet. Not without one more from you.

You were a mess beneath him, breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps, your body trembling as you met each of his thrusts. The way you felt, the sounds you were making��everything about you was driving him wild. 

He tightened his grip on your hips, pulling you back against him as he pushed harder, faster. “One more, baby,” he growled. “Give it to me.”

He didn’t ask; he commanded, his voice rough and demanding, as if there was no room for hesitation. His breath was coming in hot, heavy bursts against your skin as he drove you both closer to the edge. 

He needed to hear you. Needed to see you fall apart again.

“Don’t hold back. Let go for me,” he growled, his voice almost a low, possessive growl as he felt the last thread of his restraint snap.

Your body finally gave way, the tension that had been building between you two snapping as you let go. A sharp cry tore from your throat, your body shuddering under him as your release hit. The pressure and pleasure of it all flooded your senses, and you collapsed onto the bed, breathless and spent. Your legs shook, your mind hazy with the aftermath of what he had just pulled from you.

Jake’s movements faltered for a moment, his rhythm becoming more desperate and sloppy as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips tightened, but his breath was heavier, ragged now, his body trembling against you.

“Where do you want it?” He muttered.

It was then that the weight of it all clicked for you.

Your chest heaved with exertion as you finally managed to get your thoughts together, eyes widening slightly. You gasped, the realization dawning. You hadn’t even thought about the condom. You hadn’t talked about it.

“Jake,” you murmured, still breathless, trying to collect yourself enough to speak clearly. “I’m on birth control.”

The words had barely left your mouth before he groaned low and deep, and in the next moment, he surged forward, driving himself all the way into you, his pace finally faltering as he pushed to the brink. His fingers dug into your skin as he stilled, and then he let go with a final, possessive grunt. He filled you, the intensity of his release flooding you both, leaving you both trembling in the aftermath.

His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling as he slowly came back to himself. He stayed there, resting against you for a moment, his forehead resting against your back as the two of you tried to catch your breath. It felt almost like a release for him too. Not just physically but in the tension between you both that had been building for so long.

“Damn,” he muttered against your skin, his voice hoarse. “That was...”

He trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. You both knew exactly what it was.

Still, the weight of the moment hung in the air between you two. Neither of you moved immediately, just feeling each other’s presence, the exhaustion slowly taking over.

You sighed as you sat up, feeling the cool air against your skin as the heat of Jake’s body left you. Your limbs felt heavy, your body spent, but you forced yourself to move, slipping off the bed and padding toward the bathroom.

Jake didn’t say anything as you went, just watched you go, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the room.

Inside the bathroom, you turned on the sink, splashing cool water on your face. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, lips were swollen, the lingering evidence of Jake’s touch still visible on your skin. You exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the counter for a moment before straightening up.

This was…something. Whatever it was. And now, in the quiet of Jake’s bedroom, the weight of what came next started to settle over you.

By the time you emerged, Jake was pulling on a pair of sweats, his movements slower, more languid now. You grabbed your underwear and the oversized shirt he had tossed your way earlier, slipping them on before crawling back into bed beside him.

It was quiet now. The charged energy from before had settled into something softer, something heavier. You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling, your mind drifting as the reality of tomorrow pressed in.

Beside you, Jake shifted. He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze settling on you. You felt it before you saw it. The weight of his stare, studying you, tracing over your features like he was trying to memorize them.

“What?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable but intent. Finally, after a beat, he murmured, “You’re worried about tomorrow. About me..”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Your breath caught slightly, but you didn’t respond. You just swallowed, keeping your gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Jake exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound in the stillness of the room. “You’re gonna tell me to be safe, aren’t you?”

Your throat tightened.

“Just…” you swallowed again, voice barely above a whisper. “Just come back alive, Jake.”

The teasing smirk he had worn all night. Hell, the one he wore all the damn time faded. Something more real passed over his face, something softer, something unspoken.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You finally turned your head to look at him, and for the first time, neither of you had anything smart to say.

You just held each other’s gaze, both thinking the same thing.

Jake’s fingers lingered against yours, his touch warm but tentative. You weren’t sure how long the two of you just lay there like that staring at each other in the dim light of his bedroom, words unspoken but understood.

Then, slowly, he shifted.

He leaned in, his nose brushing yours, his lips barely ghosting over yours in a way that wasn’t cocky or teasing or demanding. It was softer. Almost hesitant.

You could feel the way he exhaled against your lips like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. Like maybe this, whatever this was, was throwing him off just as much as it was throwing you off.

His lips pressed to yours, just for a second. Just enough to make your breath hitch. And then he pulled back, hovering so close you could still feel him.

The quiet stretched between you, not uncomfortable, but heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. You stared at the ceiling, your mind drifting, already trying to brace for the morning.

You turned your head, glancing at him in the dim light. He looked so at ease, so different from the cocky, sharp-tongued pilot you had spent so much time arguing with. His expression was softer now, the teasing smirk gone, replaced by something quieter.

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your body unraveling as you shifted closer, tucking yourself into his side. His arm draped over you, and you let your head rest against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

His free hand rested on his stomach, and without thinking, yours followed, finding it easily in the dark. Your fingers brushed his, tentative at first like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to reach for him. Like you weren’t sure if this was something you were even supposed to want.

But Jake didn’t hesitate. His fingers curled around yours, lacing them together like it was second nature. Like holding your hand was as easy as breathing.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you had to.

The weight of the morning still lingered in the air, but for now, just for this moment, you let yourself have this.

Let yourself have him for just a little longer.

Jake’s breathing evened out long before yours did. His arm was still draped over you, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you into something that almost felt like peace. Almost. But no matter how hard you tried to ground yourself in the warmth of his skin, in the weight of his hand still tangled with yours, your mind kept drifting.

You stared up at the ceiling, the quiet pressing in.

And I'll ask the stars at night, how I can slow the time…

The words echoed in your head, unspoken but heavy in your chest. The night felt too short, slipping through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold onto it.

Your grip on Jake’s hand tightened just slightly like that alone could keep him here. Keep him safe.

But you knew it wouldn’t.

God, I’m so terrified that I’m gonna lose you.

You turned your head, your gaze tracing the sharp lines of his face softened in sleep. His brows weren’t furrowed for once. His mouth, the same mouth that had spent the night pressing cocky remarks against your skin, was relaxed.

He looked peaceful. Like he didn’t have to wake up in just a few hours and walk into the unknown. Like he wasn’t about to get into a jet and disappear into the sky, leaving you behind to wonder if you’d ever see him again.

And I’ll die if I do.

Your throat tightened, your chest aching under the weight of everything you weren’t saying. Everything you wouldn’t say.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this. Weren’t supposed to want him to stay. Weren’t supposed to feel like the world was tilting beneath you at the thought of him not coming back.

But you did.

And that scared you more than anything else.

So you did the only thing you could. You curled further into him, pressed your face against his shoulder, and let your fingers stay laced with his. Holding onto him for just a little longer.

Just in case.

[princessmisery666]

Tell Me Now

Summary: Sometimes, love is about knowing when to let go.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, break up.

W/C: 1,229.

Characters: Jake Seresin, Female reader.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity. No use of Y/N)

Notes: Set before Top Gun Maverick.

A/N: Took inspiration from Tell Me Now by MiC LOWRY. There's about 7k more words to fix this but the muses hate me and I can't decide on anything so for now this will remain a one shot.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // All mistakes remain my own.

Graphics: made by me on Canva.

Master Lists: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin // Top Gun Maverick // Main

The street lights blur as Jake stares through the rain-splattered windshield. His fingers tap restlessly against the steering wheel, an unconscious rhythm that once matched the beat of your voice, singing along to songs that never mattered except for the joy they brought when you were together. Tonight, the silence is a suffocating weight.

You had called him. Finally. After weeks of distance, hollow promises of ‘everything is okay’, days of unanswered texts, and vague excuses, you had finally said the words he both craved and dreaded.

“We need to talk.”

A lump of emotion rises in his throat, thick and hard to swallow. He checks the time: eleven minutes past nine. You’re late, or maybe Ellen let you leave early, and you’re already gone. Maybe you’ve made your choice, and not showing up to talk is your way of letting him know it’s official.

Jake contemplates if that would be easier for both of you. Because he isn’t entirely sure he can handle hearing you say it out loud.

The lights inside the coffee shop switch off, and Jake holds his breath. The door swings open, and there you are, wrapped in the navy-blue coat he bought you last winter, smiling and chatting with your boss, Ellen. You catch sight of his car and pause, and he wonders if you were hoping he wouldn’t show up.

You turn your back to him while Ellen locks the door and then wave goodbye as she jogs off into the rain and toward her car.

Jake opens the door and steps out, heart pounding as he meets you on the sidewalk. “Hey.” His voice is tight, a knot of hope and dread fighting for control.

Hesitating before walking toward him, your expression is unreadable, but you softly mimic, “Hey,” hugging yourself against the cold or perhaps shielding your heart from this moment.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. The distance is more than physical. It’s a canyon of unspoken words, fears, regrets, and love that may no longer fit.

It isn’t supposed to be like this. You’ve never been the couple who struggled for words. You are the ones who take midnight drives and whisper secrets over ice cream, the couple who can tell what the other is thinking with just a glance. But now, there is only awkward silence and uncertainty.

Finally, he exclaims. “Please, just tell me now. If you don’t feel the same anymore, if...if you’re done, just say it.”

Your slight pause and deep inhale speak volumes before the words pass your lips. “It’s not that simple, Jay.”

It feels like a pair of wheel chocks have been dropped on his chest because you didn’t deny it. “It is to me. Either you love me, or you don’t.”

A sharp exhale accompanies the shake of your head. “It’s not about love. That has never been our problem.”

His brow furrows, confusion mixing with panic. “Then what is it?” You look away, eyes glistening with more than just the rain as you bite your lip. He knows you’re gathering the courage to say things he’s been afraid of for too long.

“You’re leaving.”

The ache in his chest intensifies with the rapid pace of his pulse. Desperate to rectify the situation, he imploringly reminds you. “We talked about this.”

“I know. You’ve wanted this forever.” Your voice wavers with the tremble of your lips. “Flying for the Navy, serving, pushing yourself to the limit—I get it. And I love that about you. But I also know what this means for us. You’re about to dedicate years of your life to training, deployments, and God knows what else. You’ll be gone more than you’ll be here.” The pain in your eyes is enough to make him flinch.

Stepping closer, he urgently implores. “But I’ll come back to you.”

Your smile is bittersweet, full of sadness. “That’s just it, Jake. I don’t know where I’ll be. I want out of this town as much as you do.”

Your reasons differ from his but are still valid. He gives a mirthless smile because he knows. You’ve told him your plans: to travel the world for a few years and work as many different jobs as you can until you find the one thing you love.

“I don’t want to be the person someone comes back to,” you continue sadly, “I want to be someone’s here and now. Not their waiting game.”

He wants to argue, to tell you that you can make it work because it always has worked, but bile rises in his throat instead, and he chokes it back. Deep down, he knows you’re right. The moment he received his acceptance letter, he threw himself into preparations, physical training, paperwork, packing, and goodbyes without ever really considering how much this would cost or how much it would change everything for each of you.

Resignation lies heavy in your sigh. “I just don’t think I’m built for that kind of life. Loving someone I’ll always have to say goodbye to.”

Hands clenching into fists, he swallows thickly around the lump of tangled words. He has always pictured you waiting for him, the reason he fought and trained harder, but that probably wasn’t fair. Perhaps love isn’t supposed to be something that asks for such sacrifice.

Your words sink in like a stone thrown into a still pond, and he slowly nods. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

A million memories crash over him: quiet afternoons, shared dreams, a future that was always just out of reach. There are no words left to say as you stare at each other, only the weight of goodbye pulling you under.

“Jake.”

His name is barely a breath, but it’s enough to tell him what you need. Stepping closer at the same time, he waits for you to make the next move as your eyes search his like you’re memorizing every detail. Then, before either of you can think better of it, your hands lift to his face, pulling him down into a kiss.

It’s slow, aching, nothing like the last time your lips met. There’s no fire, no desperation, just the quiet, painful understanding that this is the end.

Jake melts into it, letting himself feel everything he’s about to lose. The future he had imagined, the proposal that would never happen, the reunions he once dreamed of—he says goodbye to all of them in that kiss.

The salty taste of tears lingers on his lips, and for a fleeting moment, everything feels right again. But reality crashes in, and he pulls away, breathless.

“I love you, Jake.”

His eyes sting, and the words scrape roughly against his vocal cords, made raw by the shunned emotions. “Goodbye, Angel.”

And just like that, it’s over.

Slowly, he backs away, his gaze locked until he can no longer bear it, and he spins to rush to his car. Once inside, he grips the wheel like a lifeline, keeping him grounded. As he pulls away, he glances in the rearview mirror—one last time.

The image of you with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself grows smaller, eventually fading as the distance grows. With his full attention now on the road ahead, Jake realizes, with depressing clarity, that sometimes it isn’t about falling out of love; it’s about knowing when to let go.

Master Lists: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin // Top Gun Maverick // Main

Tags Info

Tags: @alexxavicry / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess /

@justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library/ @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren /

@writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @dempy / @atarmychick007 / @genius2050 /

@kmc1989 / @alipap3 / @kmc1989 / @emorychase

[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.'

[somaliapearls]

a quiet storm

top gun masterlist

part 2

✈️ jake “hangman” seresin x fem!reader

genre: romance, drama, tension, lil fluff, angst (if you squint)

wc: 1.2k

summary: after a long day of training and high-pressure missions, you find yourself trapped with Jake Seresin in a secluded, quiet room. the two of you have a history…

warnings: strong sexual tension, implied sexual situations, slow-burn buildup, fluff, some angst, emotionally charged moments.

Part One: The Calm Before the Storm

The base was quiet. A rare thing for a place like this, where missions, drills, and high-risk maneuvers were the everyday norm. But tonight, the tension had eased—at least for now. Most of the pilots had either gone out to unwind or were holed up in their rooms, nursing the exhaustion from the day’s training.

You, however, were sitting alone in the break room, nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee that tasted more like regret than relief. It was late—well past midnight—and the base had a surreal, almost eerie stillness to it. The low hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that filled the otherwise quiet room.

That’s when the door creaked open.

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The unmistakable swagger in his step, the faint smell of aftershave and the hint of cologne, told you everything. Jake Seresin. Hangman. The man who had been the center of your thoughts more times than you cared to admit.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Jake’s voice was smooth, as always, tinged with that self-assured, cocky edge. You could practically hear the grin in his words.

You sighed, taking another sip of your coffee, though it didn’t help to calm your racing thoughts. “Just… trying to finish my shift in peace, Jake. Not in the mood for your usual banter.”

Jake chuckled low, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just here to keep you company.”

You shot him a look over the rim of your mug, not able to suppress the smirk that tugged at your lips. “Sure. Like you’ve ever just kept someone company.”

His eyes glinted with mischief. “Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t. You’ll never know unless you let me stay.”

For a moment, you considered telling him to leave. After all, you and Jake had history—unfinished, unspoken history. But something about his presence was magnetic, something about the way he looked at you always pulled you in, even when you knew you shouldn’t let him.

“Fine,” you said, setting your cup down and leaning back in the chair. “But don’t start anything. I’m not in the mood for it.”

Jake’s grin widened, and he moved to sit down across from you, leaning forward slightly. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands to myself. For now.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words, though the way he said them made your pulse quicken all the same. It was the same as always—Jake was smooth, confident, and all too aware of the effect he had on you. And for some reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from responding to him, even when you knew it was a bad idea.

“Thanks for the charity,” you replied, sarcastic but with a hint of warmth in your voice.

He tilted his head, studying you with those piercing green eyes. “You know,” he began, voice turning more serious, “you’ve been distant lately. More so than usual.”

The shift in his tone made you pause. You glanced up, meeting his gaze, and for a second, the playful banter fell away. There was something raw in his eyes now—a vulnerability that was rare for him to show, especially with you.

“I’m just tired,” you said quickly, though you weren’t sure if you were lying to him or to yourself. “It’s been a long week.”

Jake didn’t seem convinced, but he let it go. For now.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest again, though the energy between the two of you had shifted. It was still playful but more grounded, like the weight of unspoken words had settled in the air around you.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’ve been thinking about that night in Vegas.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt the temperature in the room rise. Of course, he would bring that up.

The night in Vegas was a blur—alcohol, music, a lot of bad decisions. You and Jake had been reckless, impulsive, driven by something neither of you were willing to name. The kiss, the touch, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never expected—it was unforgettable. But it hadn’t led to anything. Just like everything with Jake, it had ended before it had truly begun.

You swallowed, trying to sound nonchalant. “That was a mistake.”

Jake’s eyes darkened, his voice low as he leaned forward slightly. “Was it, though?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, not trusting your voice to respond. It had been a mistake—or so you had told yourself. You didn’t want to get tangled up in Jake Seresin again. He was too much—too charming, too reckless, too… intense. But the way he looked at you now, like you were the only thing that mattered in this moment, made it hard to believe that.

“Jake,” you started, your voice barely a whisper, “you don’t get to play with people’s emotions like that.”

He didn’t flinch. “I’m not playing with your emotions,” he said softly, his gaze locking with yours. “I never was.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you both thickened, until it felt like the room was closing in. Jake’s gaze dropped to your lips, and you felt your breath catch. You both wanted this—wanted each other—but neither of you was ready to cross that line again.

Jake stood up suddenly, breaking the moment. “I’ll go,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You watched him go, your heart beating erratically in your chest. He didn’t leave the room, though. Instead, he paused just outside the door and turned back to you.

“You know where to find me,” he said, voice tinged with something that made your skin burn. “If you ever change your mind.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Part Two: The Storm

It had been hours since Jake had left, and the tension still hung heavy in the air. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you two. Something had broken—had come to the surface—and neither of you had the courage to deal with it.

You were getting ready to head back to your room when the knock came again. This time, you were more prepared. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Jake.

“Let me in,” his voice called through the door, low and urgent.

You didn’t have it in you to refuse him.

The door clicked open, and there he was—just as you remembered, all sharp edges and quiet intensity. But now, there was something more. Something raw and desperate behind his eyes.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Jake said, his voice barely a whisper. He didn’t wait for a response—he just pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours.

The kiss was hungry, demanding, like neither of you could wait any longer. It wasn’t like the first time. It was different now—more intense, more desperate. You couldn’t pull away, even if you wanted to.

Jake’s hands were everywhere—fingers sliding under your shirt, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. The heat between you was undeniable, but it wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. It was years of longing, of unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ragged, he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“I want this,” he said, his voice rough. “I want you.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled him back to you, your lips finding his again. And this time, neither of you hesitated.

[glenscowboyhat]

men in real life: 🤢😟🫥

men that i’ve never met but steadily obsess over: 😍😝🥰😇❤️‍🔥😮‍💨🫶🏻🩷

[seresinhangmanjake]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[ruerecs]

PSA! you don't have to have smut in your fic to make it good.

for all the butthurt people in my reblogs, i’m literally a writer too. that’s literally why i made this post, never said you shouldn’t. just said you don’t have to? (all the people complaining about this post just know i’m laughing at your replies🙂‍↕️)

[hardballoonlove]

❤️❤️❤️

Jealousy at Mach Speed

Jake Seresin had a reputation.

It wasn’t exactly unearned—the cocky smirk, the smooth Southern drawl, the way he could charm just about anyone within five minutes of meeting them. It was part of who he was.

And usually, you were fine with it. You knew that, despite the way women threw themselves at him, Jake was yours.

But tonight? Tonight, that logic was a little harder to believe.

Because as you stood at The Hard Deck, watching some girl drape herself over him, laughing a little too hard at something he said, you felt a sharp sting of insecurity settle in your chest.

Jake didn’t push her away. He didn’t tell her to back off. He just stood there, smiling, sipping his drink like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And suddenly, all the old doubts—the ones you thought you had buried—came rushing back.

Maybe you weren’t enough for him.

Maybe he’d realize that soon.

Maybe he already had.

You didn’t say anything right away.

You just grabbed your drink and made your way to the other side of the bar, setting up camp next to Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, who immediately raised an eyebrow at your sudden mood shift.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Nothing,” you said, too quickly.

Bradley snorted. “Uh-huh. And I’m about to win Pilot of the Year.”

You didn’t respond. Just took a long sip of your drink, staring at the wall.

Rooster followed your gaze across the bar—right to Jake, who was still talking to that girl. Understanding dawned on his face.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “you know Jake isn’t interested in her.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know anything.”

He groaned. “Okay, no. We’re not doing this.” He stood up. “I’m getting him.”

“No—Bradshaw I swear—”

Too late.

Jake turned the second Rooster called his name, eyes instantly locking onto you. His face shifted, brows furrowing as he excused himself from the conversation and made a beeline for you.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice low as he reached you. “Everything okay?”

You plastered on your best fake smile. “Peachy.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Try again.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I don’t know, Jake. Maybe you should go ask her.”

Jake blinked. “Wait, what?”

You gestured toward the blonde at the bar. “She seemed really interested in whatever you were saying.”

Realization hit him like a brick wall. His eyes widened slightly before his expression softened.

“Oh,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Sweetheart…”

You shook your head, looking away. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

Jake didn’t let that slide. Instead, he gently tilted your chin up, making you look at him. “It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

You sighed. “I just… I don’t know. I saw you with her, and I just started thinking… why me? You could have anyone.”

Jake’s eyes darkened—not with anger, but something deeper.

“Y/N,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t want just anyone. I want you.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve crack. “Yeah, but for how long?”

Jake exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, forever isn’t long enough when it comes to you.”

Your heart stuttered.

Jake cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You think I don’t notice every little thing about you? The way you scrunch your nose when you’re trying not to laugh. The way you pretend to be annoyed when I flirt, but I see that little smile.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “The way I feel like I’m home whenever I’m with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Jake…”

“I don’t care about any other girl. Never have. Never will.” He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “I’m yours, Y/N. Only yours.”

Tears pricked at your eyes—tears you hated because damn it, you were not a crier.

Jake noticed, of course. He kissed the corner of your eye, then your cheek, then finally—finally—your lips.

It was slow, deep, filled with every unspoken word between you.

When he pulled away, he smiled softly. “You believe me now?”

You let out a watery laugh. “I think so.”

Jake chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the storm passed—leaving nothing but love in its wake.

[princezzleia]

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

[asuperconfusedgirl]

how I read the most toe-curling, spine-shattering, nerve-wrecking, nastiest smut ever written in this god forsaken app

[kasiewrites]

Dada?

Dad!Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x mom!reader!wife

Sum: The worst part was always having to answer the kiddos’ questions about when dada would get home, because the honest answer is - no one knows.

(Picture is from Pinterest NOT mine)

Masterlist

Jake couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t the thunder outside his window or how the rain was pouring down. No, tonight he couldn’t sleep because he was shipping out soon. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he would have to leave his wife or his kids.

And it hurt, every time his kids came and asked when he would get back home. They were finally old enough to understand that dada has to leave once in a while but every time he’ll come back. But when they ask he just says he’ll be back before they know it, when the truth is he didn’t know if he would even come home.

Jake looks over to the clock on his bedside table, 02.36, he let out a silent groan as he looks back at his sleeping wife a soft smile on his face as he listens to her soft breaths. He gets pulled out of his thoughts as the bedroom door opens and a soft voice calls out, “Dada?” Jake sat up and called over his little son. Matthew waddled over clutching his teddy bear.

Next to Jake his wife stirred, as little Matthew was helped up onto the bed. “Hm? What’s going on? Is everyone okay?” She asked hazily, “Dada’s leaving,” Matthew sniffled.

Jake’s heart broke as he held Matthew closer, “I’m not leaving yet, and I promise I’ll come right back. And in the mean while you have your momma, right?”

Matthew sniffled, nodded and hugged Jake tighter.

And while Jake hated seeing his little kid crying, it only makes him more motivated to make sure he comes home in one piece.

[elixirfromthestars]

Reading this in front of a bonfire was so top tier, I highly recommend it 🙂‍↕️🔥💕 (except the part where you cry in front of your family and they start to question your mental state, I would skip that part 💀)

More under the cut ᯓᡣ𐭩

Jake smirked down at where you were fidgeting excitedly in your seat. “What?” You asked him, squirming even more under his gaze. He shook his head, smiling softly now. “Nothin’. Just seeing you so excited is cute is all.”

^ Every little thing he says always makes me so giddyyyy 🤭💗💕💗💕

“Aunt Josephine, Uncle Walter, may I present to you Jake Seresin.”

^ Jake Seresin, my future husband who doesn't know is my future husband, but I know he'd like to be, but he doesn't know I'd like to be his wife, but I really do 😌💖💖

So far, Aunt Josephine and Uncle Walter seem like two precious people and I feel like they must be protected at all costs. 🩷 And Scout getting all nervous over her uncle and aunt meeting Jake was too cute. 🥹 Like she probably deep down hoped they approved of him, and I know deep down Jake also probably hoped they approved/liked him 🥺🩷🩷

“There isn’t a lot of snow out in the desert,” you hummed by way of explanation as the tips of Jake’s ears turned a bright pink.

^ Every single time Jake shows his softer/bashful side my heart melts into a puddle!! 🫠❤️

“Of course!” Uncle Walter exclaimed, turning to the younger man. “We can go first thing in the morning and get you all sorted out.” “Oh, I couldn’t-” Jake started, looking at you with wide eyes for help, but your aunt waves him off.

^ Poor Jakey feels so out of place, I would too 😭 I’d be begging to not let me go anywhere by myself 😭

“Good morning, my dove,” Uncle Walter greeted Aunt Jo, smiling fondly at her. She returned the gesture, resting her hand on top of his briefly before resuming her meal.

^ Excuse me did he say my dove??? 😭🩷 Those two are unbelievably adorable 🥹💕

“What if I say the wrong thing? Or what if I insult someone on accident? Benjamin tried to help me prepare for what things would be like here, but I feel like a rattlesnake amongst coyotes. I just know I’m going to screw things up, and then I’ll make you look bad, and-” “Jakey,” you cooed softly up at him, taking his hand in one of yours as you reached up to brush the hair out of his face with the other. His mossy green eyes darted between yours anxiously as you stared up at him with a small smile. “I’m fairly certain you could charm the pants off of a mannequin if you tried. Why are you so nervous that you’ll say the wrong thing?” “I assumed you were a prostitute when we first met,” he said glumly, pout growing bigger as you giggled, thinking back to when you first met the blond in front of you.

^ First of all, having Benjamin help Jake prepare sounds like it would’ve been so funny to witness. 😂🩷 Second of all, Jake most certainly could charm the pants off a mannequin. And lastly, these two are so sweet to one another that I’m basically developing a cavity just by reading their interactions 😌💖💖

You turned around to see Aunt Jo looking at you knowingly, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Jake is a very fine young man,” she stated. You felt your cheeks heat up, turning your attention back to your gloves in an attempt to distract yourself. “He is,” you replied. Aunt Jo hummed, walking closer to you. “He seems very taken with you,” she pressed. “And you with him.”

^ Oh, what a very wise woman our aunt is 🤭💗 When you know you know 👀💖💖

“I’m not surprised you’ve taken to life out in the west so easily,” she teased. “You always were a wild thing at heart. I don’t know if you were ever truly happy here.” “Of course I was,” you argued, brow furrowing. “How could you say something like that? I loved my life here. I loved my family, my friends, my charities. I didn’t want to give any of that up.” “Because you never had that twinkle in your eye that I see in it now,” she said softly, placing a hand over where yours rested on the table. “I know you loved all of those things, I do, but seeing how you talk about your new life? I can see now that you were never truly happy here. You always wanted to go and wrestle with the boys and you were never truly interested in things deemed fit for a ‘proper lady,’ and that’s okay!” “You seem to have given this some thought,” you grumbled, and Lucy chuckled. “I have, yes,” she nodded. “Your aunt has shared yours and your brother’s letters, and thought it breaks my heart to say so, it’s clear to me that out west is where you belong.”

^ The way Scout was able to found her place, her home, the place where she belonged in a place where maybe she never thought she would I could sob!! 😭🩷🩷

“Now tell me about this cowboy Benjamin mentioned in his letters,” she whispered. You nearly choked on your tea, coughing as you fought to regain your breath.

^ What I would do to be able to read those letters to see how Benjamin described Jake 👀🩷 I just know he probably grumbled on at some point on how his sister and Jake were just a pair of lovesick fools. 😂🩷

“He’s working on our ranch.” “How romantic,” Lucy sighed, eyes softening at the idea. “I’m sure he’s a vision walking around in leather.”

^ I am Lucy and Lucy is me because I too would daydream about how well Jake looked in his cowboy getup 🤭💓💓

“Henry?” You blinked in shock. Henry had been courting you before you moved to Maverick, and he hadn’t taken it all that well. He was a handsome man with dark hair and baby blue eyes. You had known him your entire life, much like Lucy, as your fathers had been boyhood friends. He had an air of charm about him that was outmatched only by Jake’s. Dimples framed the smile he cast down at you.“It’s so good to see you again, Scout,” he greeted you. You gave him a thin-lipped smile back, casting an anxious glance at Lucy who was staring daggers into Henry’s profile.

^ I know you said he's handsome, but if I end up not liking him I think I’m going to imagine that he is ugly and looks like he bites. 😗 Because if Lucy's smile fell just looking at him and she’s glaring daggers at him then I just know I won't like him. Because I do trust Lucy and if she doesn’t like him then… 👀

“I hate that man,” Lucy growled as he walked out of earshot. “I don’t know why you even entertained the idea of marrying him.”

^ Lucyyyyy me and you are going to become besties because I just met him and he gives me weird vibes. 🤨 He seems super snobby and I don't like that, he gives me the ick off vibes alone. 😒

Jake fidgeted under your gaze, cheeks flushing as he waited for you to say something. “Is it that bad?” He asked quietly, unsurely, so unlike his usual confidant self. You snapped your mouth shut, shaking your head as your own blush began to spread up your neck and onto your cheeks.

^ bashful jake bashful jake bashful jake 😍❤️

Henry stood before you dressed in his evening best as he looked you over, giving a nod of approval that had you suppressing an eye roll. You settled for pressing your lips into a thin line instead.

^ Ew.

“Something he reminds us about all the time,” Lucy chimed in with a vicious smirk towards Henry, who looked mildly put out by her comment.

^ making men uncomfrotable, my favorite pastime, oh lucy how I adore you 🥰

“Neither,” he stated proudly. “Scout and I are practically engaged.” Jake whipped around to look at you as the murmuring grew around the room. You slammed your glass down onto the table before fixing Henry with a venomous look. “No, we are not.”

^ He did not just say that 😦😠 omg if Jake doesnt deal with him then I will. 😠

“I’m surprised you feel that way after everything,” he frowned. “What would your father say?” You stilled at that, and the room fell silent. You felt the prickle of tears behind your eyes and you blinked furiously to try and hold them back. You let out a shaky breath before turning to Jake who was already looking at you with troubled eyes. When he saw the tears on your lash line, he looked up. If looks could kill, Henry would have been six feet under in seconds.

^ Excuse me?? I swear the one thing men will always have is the AUDACITY 😡 If only looks could kill 🙄😪

Jake turned back to look at you with a soft expression, glancing over by where Lucy stood. You saw her nod slightly, and he looked back at you. “Of course, pretty girl,” he murmured. “Anything for you.”

^ He’s always so soft for her no matter what’s going on around them 😭🩷 She’s always what matters most and I could only hope to find a love like that one day 🤧💕

“Goodnight, honey girl.” You stopped halfway up the staircase, your heart clenching tighter in your chest. You thought back on Henry’s words and their meaning. You turned to fix Jake with a forlorn expression, and you saw him gasp at the sight. You stared at each other for a few moments before you offered him a timid, watery smile. “Goodnight, Jake.”

^ What am I going to do with these two, Liz?? 😭 I’m scared Henry’s words have struck a deep chord within her and it’ll make her second guess so many things 😭

You knew your skills were practically wasted on you, you certainly heard it often enough. Your father had never made you feel inadequate though, rather he encouraged your gift for tracking and hunting. He took you out as often as he could, showing you how to set different traps and the best way for stalking prey unnoticed. You had always enjoyed doing it because it was time spent with the man you loved most. The one who made you feel safe and encouraged you to pursue your interests and wants.

^ her dad loved her so much 🥺 I’m happy she was able to grow up with someone loving her for who she is and not having to change herself or mold herself into someone she’s not. 🥺 and it’s heartwarming to realize that Jake is that way too with her. He’s never once suggested or asked her to change, he just loves her for who she is 😭💖💖

Another twig snapped to your left, startling the deer who took off. You whirled around to see Jake looking at you sheepishly, hands raised as you glared at him. “Dammit, Jake!” You cursed. “That was a perfect shot!” “Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The tip of his nose was beet red and his cheeks were close to matching. You imagined he must be miserable out there in the snow.

^ Our poor boy probably is real miserable in the cold 🥺 but the way he’s putting up with it all just to be there with her/for her I just ughhhhhh 🥺💖

“Do you want to hear how I allowed my mother to mold me into a proper young lady despite how much I hated it? Or how I allowed myself to be pushed towards Henry by my father because the thought of disappointing him destroys me? Nothing would have made him happier than to see his daughter and his best friend’s son get married one day. He would have been so disappointed to know that I left and gave up the life he wanted for me. Not to mention my mother! She wanted me to be happy-”

^ That must’ve been a lot for Scout to have all this pressure from her mother regardless of her father encouraging her to be who she is. 🥺 No wonder the west has done her so good it’s probably the first time she really has no expectations. She gets to live a new life, have a clean slate, and just be who she wants to be. Especially since not even Benjamin is putting any expectations on her and is just taking care of his sister as best he can 🥺🩷

“I’ll tell you what makes me happy,” he murmured, moving closer to you so that the puffs of your breaths intermingled. “It makes me happy when I beat Bradley and Javy at darts. It makes me happy when I feel the wind in my hair as I ride Whiskey. It makes me happy knowing that you moved to town all those months ago. It makes me happy when you chew my ass out the way I deserve instead of swoonin’ over me like all the other girls do.” You sobbed out a laugh, and he smiled softly, resting his forehead against yours. He reached up to cradle your jaw in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It makes me happy,” he continued, “when you say I look handsome. It makes me happy when you laugh at something I say. It makes me happy when that nose of yours wrinkles when you scowl at me. It makes me happy when you let me hold you like this. It makes me happy when you let me feel and see all of you.” You blushed at that, and he closed his eyes with a hum, gently swaying the two of you from side to side. “You make me happy, Scout,” he sighed. “You make me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. I want to spend the rest of my life finding out all the things there are to know about you, and even then I’ll still want more of you.” He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a mixture of desperation and stoicism. “That’s what makes me happy,” he whispered, pulling away from you. He moved past you, walking to join back up with the hunting party. You stared after him, feeling now more than ever, torn between duty and happiness.

^ COMPLETE PERFECTION. ABSOLUTELY MAGNIFICENT. I AM BAWLING. I NEED A FEW DAYS TO RECOVER FROM THIS. MY HEART IS FULL. MY EYES ARE FULL OF TEARS. JAKE MY BELOVED YOU HAVE MY WHOLE HEART JUST TAKE IT ALREADY. 😭🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

He dropped down to one knee, and your eyes grew wide, a sinking feeling twisting in your stomach as he pulled out a large, diamond ring. “Henry-” “Scout, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

^ LIKE I SAID MEN WILL ALWAYS HAVE THE AUDACITY. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! 😡😡😡

I’m a mess, I’m getting whiplash, I’m all over the place, but I will say Hangout has made me believe in love again so it’s all worth it 😭🩷🩷 Liz, what a beautiful chapter 🥹💕💕 I’m so happy that Jake was able to put his feelings out there clearly and I just hope it can make Scout realize what makes her happy because she’s deserves to be happy 🥺🩷🩷🩷 I don’t even want to focus on Henry, I’m going to ignore him and focus on Jake’s heart melting monologue 🥰🥰🥰

[The above comments were past me, but current me wants to say that I am so sorry it took me so long to get these together I was going through some health stuff 😭 but Liz I’m so excited to continue their story like I’m hooked!!! ❤️❤️❤️]

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Seven

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Swearing, Reader having a crisis, Guilt, Shame, Jake Seresin. I think that's it?

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I am still so overwhelmed by how much you guys love this series. I never thought I'd make it this far, but here we are! As always, reboots, comments and likes are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond!

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist

The house truly was a magnificent sight, even more so now that you had been away for so long. The massive, three story brick house sat perched behind an expanse of trees that shielded it from the road during the spring and summer months. Now, the trees were barren save for the patches of snow that laid on the branches. Jake smirked down at where you were fidgeting excitedly in your seat.

“What?” You asked him, squirming even more under his gaze.

He shook his head, smiling softly now. “Nothin’. Just seeing you so excited is cute is all.”

You blushed, refusing to meet his gaze. At that moment, the carriage stopped in front of the large steps that led up to the front door. An older couple stood at the base of them, smiling as they saw you. You reached for the handle, jumping out and rushing into the arms of the woman. She smelled of calming lavender, a scent that reminded you of your days as a child where you would run through the halls and sneak into her room to peak into her jewelry box. Her hands were gentle as they held you, cooing as you hugged her tightly.

“Aunt Jo,” you murmured into her shoulder, her hand reaching up to stroke your hair gently.

“It’s so good to see you, my darling,” she said, pulling back to look at you. An affectionate smile graced her lips as she looked you up and down. Your Uncle Walter stepped up to grab you from your aunt and wrap you in a hug of his own. He smelled of clean linen and the smoke from his pipe, a smell that reminded you so much of your father.

“How are you, my girl?” He asked you as he pulled back. You held onto his hands as you stared at the pair.

“I’ve been well, and so has Benji,” you smiled, hearing rustling from the carriage. Aunt Jo looked up, a curious smile instantly alighting on her face as Jake stepped down onto the cobblestone. You turned to see him just as he straightened up, glancing between you and your aunt and uncle. You let go of your uncle’s hands to gesture for Jake to step forward. “Aunt Josephine, Uncle Walter, may I present to you Jake Seresin.”

Uncle Walter stepped forward, reaching out his hand to Jake, which he took. The two men shook, Jake offering a polite smile while your uncle studied him closely.

“It’s an honor, sir,” Jake told him sincerely. The two dropped their hands, and you found yourself glancing nervously between the two. You weren’t sure why you were so anxious, but you felt a wave of calm as your uncle broke out in a smile, clapping Jake on the shoulder as he led him towards the house.

“Please, call me Walter, my boy,” he chuckled. “Come inside, you must be freezing in those clothes.”

You heard Jake let out a quiet sigh in relief as he allowed himself to be steered into the house, you and your aunt following close behind.

“There isn’t a lot of snow out in the desert,” you hummed by way of explanation as the tips of Jake’s ears turned a bright pink.

“No, I suppose there isn’t,” Uncle Walter laughed as the four of you made your way into the parlor.

“Benji’s clothing was just a bit too small for him,” you frowned, sitting down next Aunt Jo on the sofa as Uncle Walter gestured for Jake to sit in one of the armchairs. Jake glanced at you anxiously, and you smiled, nodding just enough for him to pick up on the gesture. He sat down carefully in the armchair as your uncle did the same. Jake’s green eyes darted around the room, taking in the ornate woodwork and expensive decor that your aunt and uncle seemed so fond of.

“That’s an easy fix,” your aunt said, smiling warmly at Jake who still seemed uneasy. You frowned at him, not understanding why he was so nervous. Your aunt and uncle were well off, yes, but they were kind people, practically saints when compared with the rest of high society in Baltimore. You knew Benjamin had prepped him on what to expect, but you supposed that he was feeling much like you had felt when first arriving in Maverick. It’s one thing to be told, it’s another thing entirely to experience firsthand.

“Of course!” Uncle Walter exclaimed, turning to the younger man. “We can go first thing in the morning and get you all sorted out.”

“Oh, I couldn’t-” Jake started, looking at you with wide eyes for help, but your aunt waves him off.

“Nonsense,” she said. “We insist. We’ll have to find something for you to wear in the meantime to help keep you warm. I think your cousin, John, might still have some clothing upstairs in his old room. I’ll have Michael fetch them for you, Jake.”

“I appreciate that,” the blond said quietly, watching as the old butler nodded at your aunt before turning and disappearing out the door.

“Now,” Aunt Jo smiled, looking between you and Jake. “The two of you must be simply exhausted from your journey. I’ll have the maids show you up to your rooms, and we can meet back downstairs in an hour for supper.”

“That sounds wonderful, Aunt Jo,” you grinned at her.

The next morning brought a sense of familiar comfort as you awoke in the lavish guest room. Fine furniture was scattered in different areas of the large room, and several scenic paintings adorned the walls. You had gotten dressed quickly, eager to start your day. Aunt Jo had told you that your best friend, Lucy, had been calling upon the house every day since word had arrived that you would be arriving back in town. Lucy was a cheeky redhead who you adored more than any other socialite in town, and you were excited to see her again after so many months apart.

You sat at the dining room table next to your aunt just as Jake walked into the room with your uncle. He wore a simple pair of wool pants and a brown jacket that looked to be about two sizes too small on him, but it would serve the purpose of shielding him from the cold. He sat down across from you, sitting at your uncle’s right hand.

“Good morning, my dove,” Uncle Walter greeted Aunt Jo, smiling fondly at her. She returned the gesture, resting her hand on top of his briefly before resuming her meal. He continued. “Jake and I will visit the tailor’s straight after breakfast. I’m sure it’ll take us most of the morning to get him situated with some things to wear. Scout, what are your plans for the morning?”

“I’m going to go have tea with Lucy,” you answered him simply. Jake looked at you, nerves once again showing themselves on his face. You gave him a reassuring smile before the conversation moved on to another topic.

Breakfast was finished quickly, and your uncle told Jake he would meet him by the carriage while he went to grab something from his study. You were putting on your coat when Jake grabbed your wrist. You turned to see his eyes searching yours uncertainly, and you gave him a puzzled look in return.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, a frown tugging at your lips.

Jake swallowed thickly. “What if…what if I do something wrong?”

“Jake,” you chuckled, “you’re going to buy a couple of outfits. You stand there as the tailor takes your measurements and then you pick out what ones you like best. What could you possibly do wrong?”

“What if I say the wrong thing? Or what if I insult someone on accident? Benjamin tried to help me prepare for what things would be like here, but I feel like a rattlesnake amongst coyotes. I just know I’m going to screw things up, and then I’ll make you look bad, and-”

“Jakey,” you cooed softly up at him, taking his hand in one of yours as you reached up to brush the hair out of his face with the other. His mossy green eyes darted between yours anxiously as you stared up at him with a small smile. “I’m fairly certain you could charm the pants off of a mannequin if you tried. Why are you so nervous that you’ll say the wrong thing?”

“I assumed you were a prostitute when we first met,” he said glumly, pout growing bigger as you giggled, thinking back to when you first met the blond in front of you.

“You did,” you agreed. “But I would hope you’ve learned your lesson about assuming things about other people and then voicing them.”

“Yeah, I have,” he muttered. “But I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing either when I first moved to Maverick,” you told him, smoothing your thumb on the back of his hand. “I was scared too, then. I didn’t know what to expect or how people would act, but I did my best. That’s all I expect from you.”

Jake smiled at you softly, squeezing your hand lightly.

“Besides,” you smirked, “rattlesnakes still have teeth to fight off the coyotes.”

Jake laughed at that, and you felt a flitter in your stomach at the sound. You heard footsteps coming down the hall, and you quickly pulled away from him just as Uncle Walter turned around the corner. He looked up, stopping in surprise when he saw Jake standing in front of you.

“You’re still here,” he said, causing the tips of Jake’s ears to turn bright pink yet again. You were surprised they hadn’t stayed that way permanently yet.

“I was just wishing Scout a pleasant time out with her friend,” he said quickly, Uncle Walter humming.

“Alright, well, let’s be off!” Uncle Walter grinned, clapping Jake on the back as he passed. Jake gave one last look your way, smiling as you offered him a small wave. You turned to grab your gloves from where you had set them on the side table when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned around to see Aunt Jo looking at you knowingly, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Jake is a very fine young man,” she stated. You felt your cheeks heat up, turning your attention back to your gloves in an attempt to distract yourself.

“He is,” you replied. Aunt Jo hummed, walking closer to you.

“He seems very taken with you,” she pressed. “And you with him.”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Aunt Jo,” you scoffed, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. “Jake is just a dear friend.”

“Of course he is, dear,” she smiled. “However, there was only one dear friend I ever looked at that fondly, and we’ve been together for thirty years now.”

“Is there a point to this, Aunt Jo?” You blushed, unable to meet her gaze.

“No point at all, dear,” she hummed, barely suppressing her smirk as she waved you off. “Go and have a nice time, Scout. Give my warmest regards to Lucy.”

“You must tell me all about the west!” Lucy cried excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat. Several of the older patrons gave her nasty looks, and you placed a hand on top of hers to calm her down. You gave the other patrons an apologetic smile before turning your attention back to the redhead in front of you.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed. “What do you want to know?”

“How is your brother?”

“He’s staying busy. Won’t tell me what business he’s been dealing in, so don’t even ask. He bought one thousand acres of land to start a ranch on,” you hummed, sipping your tea. Lucy’s eyes widened.

“One thousand acres?” She exclaimed. “A ranch? What does Benjamin know about running a ranch?”

“I said the same thing,” you admitted, “but he’s surprisingly adept at it. It’s hard work, but it leaves one with a sense of pride to see everything that’s been accomplished at the end of the day.”

“I’m not surprised you’ve taken to life out in the west so easily,” she teased. “You always were a wild thing at heart. I don’t know if you were ever truly happy here.”

“Of course I was,” you argued, brow furrowing. “How could you say something like that? I loved my life here. I loved my family, my friends, my charities. I didn’t want to give any of that up.”

“Because you never had that twinkle in your eye that I see in it now,” she said softly, placing a hand over where yours rested on the table. “I know you loved all of those things, I do, but seeing how you talk about your new life? I can see now that you were never truly happy here. You always wanted to go and wrestle with the boys and you were never truly interested in things deemed fit for a ‘proper lady,’ and that’s okay!”

“You seem to have given this some thought,” you grumbled, and Lucy chuckled.

“I have, yes,” she nodded. “Your aunt has shared yours and your brother’s letters, and thought it breaks my heart to say so, it’s clear to me that out west is where you belong.”

“Oh, Lucy,” you murmured, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. Her smile quickly turned into a wide smirk as she leaned into you.

“Now tell me about this cowboy Benjamin mentioned in his letters,” she whispered. You nearly choked on your tea, coughing as you fought to regain your breath. Lucy patted you on the back gently until you gained back control of your airwaves.

“What about him?” You asked weakly.

“Is he handsome? Is he charming? Is he rugged? Does he have a gun? How wild is he compared to the other cowboys? What-”

“Slow down,” you laughed. “His name is Jake, for starters.”

“Jake the cowboy,” she mused. “What’s he do for a living?”

You took another sip of your tea with a snort. “What, is ‘cowboy’ not good enough?”

She glared at you, and you sighed.

“He’s working on our ranch.”

“How romantic,” Lucy sighed, eyes softening at the idea. “I’m sure he’s a vision walking around in leather.”

“Lucy!” You chided her, looking around to make sure no one saw. She giggled, but before she could say anything else, the smile dropped from her face as she glanced behind you. You felt a presence at your back, and you turned to see a familiar face.

“Henry?” You blinked in shock. Henry had been courting you before you moved to Maverick, and he hadn’t taken it all that well. He was a handsome man with dark hair and baby blue eyes. You had known him your entire life, much like Lucy, as your fathers had been boyhood friends. He had an air of charm about him that was outmatched only by Jake’s. Dimples framed the smile he cast down at you.

“It’s so good to see you again, Scout,” he greeted you. You gave him a thin-lipped smile back, casting an anxious glance at Lucy who was staring daggers into Henry’s profile. “I heard you were back in town.”

“I am, yes,” you replied stiffly. “Only for the holiday and then I’ll be heading back to Maverick.”

“A shame,” he hummed, sitting down next to you as Lucy scowled at him. “I was hoping this would be a more permanent arrangement. One that would benefit the both of us.”

“I have no intention of moving back to Baltimore at this time,” you told him curtly. His smile faltered, but he quickly regained his composure.

“I see, well you still have plenty of time to change your mind,” he chuckled. “I’m assuming I’ll be seeing you at Lucy’s party tonight?”

You shot a look at the redhead who’s scowl turned into a full-blown glare at his words. “I wasn’t aware she was having a party.”

“I was going to tell you about it as soon as we finished talking about more important things,” she hissed. Henry hummed, moving to stand.

“It was good chatting with you, Scout,” he smirked, taking your hand and placing a light kiss to the back. “I look forward to seeing you this evening.”

“I hate that man,” Lucy growled as he walked out of earshot. “I don’t know why you even entertained the idea of marrying him.”

You sighed, looking at her wearily. “You know why.”

“I do,” she admitted in a grumble. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I don’t much like it either,” you replied. “But the past is the past. We should get going. You have a party to finish preparing for and I need to go get ready for it.”

“You’re right,” she murmured before perking up. “Be there by seven o’clock! And bring your cowboy with you!”

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you. You had asked Michael to make sure that Jake was ready to leave by 6:45, Lucy’s home not too far away from your own, but wanting to get there a little early. You had been dressed and ready to go five minutes before. You wore a long-sleeved gown, the dark blue top ending at your waist and flowing into a mossy green skirt. You wore a pair of emerald earrings and a small diamond pendant along with it, and your hair was pulled back into a simple, braided bun. You had forgotten how good it felt to dress up for social gatherings. You had been smoothing down the skirt of your dress when you heard footsteps enter the room behind you. You turned to look, and that’s when you saw him.

Jake wore a black waistcoat with a matching coat atop a pair of beige trousers. He held a hat in his left hand and a pair of dress gloves in the other. You knew you were staring, but you couldn’t stop. Jake fidgeted under your gaze, cheeks flushing as he waited for you to say something.

“Is it that bad?” He asked quietly, unsurely, so unlike his usual confidant self. You snapped your mouth shut, shaking your head as your own blush began to spread up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“No,” you stated. “No, you look very handsome.”

He smirked at that, walking to a stop just in front of you. “You look beautiful tonight, Scout.”

You felt your cheeks grow warmer, and you ducked your head.

“We should get going,” you murmured, glancing up at him. He stared down at you, eyes twinkling.

“Alright,” he said quietly, slowly moving to let you lead the way.

The carriage ride to Lucy’s was silent, and the two of you got there with plenty of time to spare. Jake offered you a hand as you stepped out of the carriage, and you took it, smiling at him gratefully. The head butler greeted you at the door, taking your coats before escorting you to the parlor where several people were already gathered. Lucy spotted you and walked over to you excitedly.

“You made it!” She grinned, taking your hands in hers. Her eyes darted behind you, widening when they saw Jake. “Is this the cowboy?”

He chuckled behind you, taking her hand and in his to shake it. Lucy gasped at the gesture, shooting you an awkward glance. “Jake is just fine, miss.”

“And Lucy will do just fine for you as well,” she smiled. She gestured for the two of you to make your way farther into the room. The two of you followed her, and Jake leaned down to whisper to you.

“What was that reaction about?”

You leaned up slightly to answer him. “It’s polite to let the lady initiate the handshake,” you whispered back at him. He hummed, following dutifully as Lucy came to a stop beside the fireplace.

“Scout, you remember Diana and Andrew?” She said, gesturing to the pair of brunettes by the mantle. The Barclay twins were a pretty pair. Andrew stood half a head taller than Diana, but the resemblance was uncanny. Big, dark brown eyes stared at you and Jake as they took you in.

“Of course,” you smiled at them. Diana smiled back at you while Andrew nodded. “It’s been too long.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Diana drawled, looking around. “No brother of yours?”

“I’m afraid not,” you responded politely. Her eyes turned to the man behind you.

“And you might be?” She smirked, reaching out her hand to Jake. Jake took it, giving her a polite smile.

“Jake Seresin.”

“Seresin,” Andrew hummed. “I’ve never heard that name. Where do you come from?”

“I was born and raised in the New Mexico territories,” Jake said. The chatter died down as the partygoers looked on in intrigue.

“A cowboy?” Someone asked, and the whispers started up across the room.

Jake chuckled, slipping into his charming persona as he let his eyes wander around the room. “Y’all make it sound much more exciting than it actually is,” he drawled.

“Scout?”

You stiffened at the voice, turning to see Henry approaching you from the far side of the room.

“Henry,” you acknowledged him, feeling Jake’s eyes dart between the two of you. You grabbed a glass of wine from the side table, needing something to take the edge off of what you were sure was to come and also needing something to keep your hands occupied. You chanced a glance at Jake who was already frowning at the man before you. Henry stood before you dressed in his evening best as he looked you over, giving a nod of approval that had you suppressing an eye roll. You settled for pressing your lips into a thin line instead.

“I’m glad you could come tonight,” he smiled, and you wondered how you ever considered it to be swoon worthy once.

“Of course,” you hummed. “It’s Lucy’s party after all.”

“Yes,” he said, turning his attention to the blond behind you. “And who’s your friend here?”

“Jake Seresin,” he said coolly, eyeing Henry up and down. Henry did the same before extending a hand out.

“Henry Cargill.”

The two men shook hands for a brief moment before letting go.

“So,” Henry began, “how do you know Scout here?”

“I work on her and her brother’s ranch.”

“A ranch hand?” Henry chuckled, brows darting up on his forehead in surprise. “What a charming profession you have, sir.”

“What is it you do?” Jake asked him with a narrow of his eyes.

“Me?” Henry clucked. “I’m working at my father’s bank. One day I’ll inherit it.”

“Something he reminds us about all the time,” Lucy chimed in with a vicious smirk towards Henry, who looked mildly put out by her comment.

“There’s no shame in what a man has,” he sniffed, looking back at Jake. “Especially when he’s looking for a wife.”

“How exactly do you and Scout know each other?” Jake asked, causing another wave of whispers to break out amongst the spectating crowd. You frowned as Henry guffawed, throwing his head back.

“You call her Scout?” He grinned, causing Jake to frown in confusion.

“Doesn’t everyone?” He asked, glancing down at you uncertainly. You glared at Henry as he continued.

“No, my friend, they do not. Only close friends and family call her that, and you don’t seem to me to be either,” he smirked.

“Which category do you fall under?” Jake asked with a raise of his eyebrow. Henry’s smirk became almost triumphant as he puffed his chest out.

“Neither,” he stated proudly. “Scout and I are practically engaged.”

Jake whipped around to look at you as the murmuring grew around the room. You slammed your glass down onto the table before fixing Henry with a venomous look. “No, we are not.”

“We were courting until you left all those months ago,” Henry reminded you, but you weren’t having it.

“And I’ll remind you that nothing came of it,” you spat. “You never proposed, and I left to move west. What’s done is done.”

“I’m surprised you feel that way after everything,” he frowned. “What would your father say?”

You stilled at that, and the room fell silent. You felt the prickle of tears behind your eyes and you blinked furiously to try and hold them back. You let out a shaky breath before turning to Jake who was already looking at you with troubled eyes. When he saw the tears on your lash line, he looked up. If looks could kill, Henry would have been six feet under in seconds.

“I know we just got here,” you said quietly, holding the tears back by sheer force of will, “but I’m suddenly not feeling well. Would you escort me home?”

Jake turned back to look at you with a soft expression, glancing over by where Lucy stood. You saw her nod slightly, and he looked back at you.

“Of course, pretty girl,” he murmured. “Anything for you.”

The two of you departed from the house, and the carriage ride home was filled with a much different kind of silence.

“Scout,” Jake murmured, reaching out to you, but you shook your head.

“Don’t,” you sobbed, finally letting the tears flow. Jake hesitated. “Please, just don’t. Not right now.”

The two of you said nothing more until you walked into the house. You handed your coat to one of the maids who looked after you worriedly as you made your way towards the stairs.

“Goodnight, honey girl.”

You stopped halfway up the staircase, your heart clenching tighter in your chest. You thought back on Henry’s words and their meaning. You turned to fix Jake with a forlorn expression, and you saw him gasp at the sight. You stared at each other for a few moments before you offered him a timid, watery smile.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

You crouched in the snow, inspecting the indented trunk of a tree. It had been a week since the night of the party, and you had thrown yourself into charity events and social gatherings, effectively leaving Jake to spend time with Uncle Walter and Cousin John. The two had made plans with some of the other men in their social group to go out hunting, and you had been invited along with some of the other wives and sisters.

“What’s it look like, Scout?” John called over to you. You straightened up, turning around to face the hunting party.

“Looks like beavers,” you replied, turning to peer into the trees. “We should set up some traps along the river. I saw some fresh deer droppings not too far back as well. They probably haven’t gone far.”

“It’s a shame that child wasn’t born a man,” you heard one wife murmur to another. You frowned. You knew your skills were practically wasted on you, you certainly heard it often enough. Your father had never made you feel inadequate though, rather he encouraged your gift for tracking and hunting. He took you out as often as he could, showing you how to set different traps and the best way for stalking prey unnoticed. You had always enjoyed doing it because it was time spent with the man you loved most. The one who made you feel safe and encouraged you to pursue your interests and wants.

“Impressive as always, Scout,” Henry called from off to the side. You ignored him, making your way quietly into the woods. You stepped quickly but carefully as you moved deeper into the trees, listening for any sound amongst the stillness. You heard a twig crack behind you, and you turned to see a whitetail deer picking at the patch of frozen grass to your right. You slowly brought your rifle up to the crook of your shoulder, taking aim at the deer. Another twig snapped to your left, startling the deer who took off. You whirled around to see Jake looking at you sheepishly, hands raised as you glared at him.

“Dammit, Jake!” You cursed. “That was a perfect shot!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The tip of his nose was beet red and his cheeks were close to matching. You imagined he must be miserable out there in the snow. You huffed as you looked after where the deer had run off. If you hurried, you could probably catch back up with it.

“Scout.”

You turned back to look at him, seeing him frown at you with a worried expression. You raised an eyebrow at him, signaling for him to continue.

“I wanted to talk to you about the other night,” he began, but you shook your head.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Scout,” he started again, and you let out a frustrated groan, feeling your control begin to snap.

“What do you want to hear Jake?” You snapped. “Do you want to hear how Henry and I have known each other our entire lives? How our fathers were best friends as kids?”

His eyes widened as you began to stalk towards him in your rage.

“Do you want to hear how I allowed my mother to mold me into a proper young lady despite how much I hated it? Or how I allowed myself to be pushed towards Henry by my father because the thought of disappointing him destroys me? Nothing would have made him happier than to see his daughter and his best friend’s son get married one day. He would have been so disappointed to know that I left and gave up the life he wanted for me. Not to mention my mother! She wanted me to be happy-”

He cut you off. “What makes you happy?”

“What?” You blink up at him, just then noticing the tears that were falling down your face.

“What makes you happy, Scout?” He asked you again quietly, studying you. You stared up at him, taking in the different hues of green that made up his eyes, the quiet sincerity they held.

“I don’t…” You trailed off with a frown. Jake took a deep breath.

“I’ll tell you what makes me happy,” he murmured, moving closer to you so that the puffs of your breaths intermingled. “It makes me happy when I beat Bradley and Javy at darts. It makes me happy when I feel the wind in my hair as I ride Whiskey. It makes me happy knowing that you moved to town all those months ago. It makes me happy when you chew my ass out the way I deserve instead of swoonin’ over me like all the other girls do.”

You sobbed out a laugh, and he smiled softly, resting his forehead against yours. He reached up to cradle your jaw in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

“It makes me happy,” he continued, “when you say I look handsome. It makes me happy when you laugh at something I say. It makes me happy when that nose of yours wrinkles when you scowl at me. It makes me happy when you let me hold you like this. It makes me happy when you let me feel and see all of you.”

You blushed at that, and he closed his eyes with a hum, gently swaying the two of you from side to side.

“You make me happy, Scout,” he sighed. “You make me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. I want to spend the rest of my life finding out all the things there are to know about you, and even then I’ll still want more of you.”

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a mixture of desperation and stoicism.

“That’s what makes me happy,” he whispered, pulling away from you. He moved past you, walking to join back up with the hunting party. You stared after him, feeling now more than ever, torn between duty and happiness.

The hunting party returned to your aunt and uncle’s house a few hours later. John shot the deer in the end. You had been lost in your thoughts the remainder of the day, and if anyone noticed your sudden change in mood, they didn’t mention it. You started making your way up the staircase to change into your evening gown when a hand caught your wrist. You turned, frown deepening when you saw Henry.

“Scout,” he smiled up at you from a few steps down, “might I request your company in the library for a moment?”

Your eyes flickered to the other guests who were gathering their things to leave. You nodded at him slowly before turning fully to follow him to the library. You looked over once more as you hit the base of the stairs to see Aunt Josephine watching the two of you with a slight frown. Henry led you to the fireplace at the far end of the spacious room before turning to you and taking your hand in his.

“Scout,” he began, “I know things haven’t always been the best between us, but like you said, what’s done is done. And you’re right, I didn’t propose to you back then, but I’ve had your father’s blessing from the start, and when I found out you were coming back to town, I asked your uncle for his, and he gave it. So, Scout…”

He dropped down to one knee, and your eyes grew wide, a sinking feeling twisting in your stomach as he pulled out a large, diamond ring. “Henry-”

“Scout, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”