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geminiwritten · 2 days ago

Text

domestic fantasy ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: your ex is coming back to collect some things he left behind and you accidentally tell him that you have a new boyfriend, so hangman accepts the role of your new (fake) boyfriend

notes: did i spent the last three days writing for 8-10 hours a day? yes... am i going slightly insane? also yes... but guys!!! fake dating!!! i don't know how i vomited this fic up so quick, jake is just so easy for me to write (i think it's because i love him but not in a soul-crushing way like the way i love rooster?) anyway, PLEASE enjoy and please, please let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, reader is shorter than hangman (just want to mention it), allusions to sex, and it's pretty horny so 18+ ONLY please! let me know if i’ve missed anything!

word count: 10937

“This weekend?” Your voice is unsteady, but you hope the crackling from the poor phone reception is enough to mask it. “I’m not sure if I can do this weekend.”

Spencer sighs, clearly frustrated by your repeated attempts to keep him away from San Diego. “Look, I know you don’t want to do this—and honestly, neither do I—but it has to be done. I’ll only be in town for a couple of days. I’ll grab some boxes, hire a van, and get them shipped straight to my condo. Don’t you want your spare room back?”

You gnaw nervously on your bottom lip as you glance out at the open-plan office space, hoping none of your coworkers are listening too closely to your phone conversation.

You broke up with Spencer six months ago, after dating for nearly four years, and he left in such a rush that almost an entire room of his stuff stayed behind. It isn't anything important—mostly old sports gear and college memorabilia—and it’s not like he’s needed any of it. The breakup hit him hard, and he spent the following four months backpacking around Europe to clear his head. He’s only been back at his condo in Upstate New York for two months, and during that time, he’s been relentlessly bugging you to let him come pick up his things.

It’s not like you want to hold on to anything that reminds you of him, but you desperately do not want to see him again. You offered a few times to pack up his things and ship them to him, but he flat-out refused. He even called it a violation of privacy now that you’re no longer together. So, about a month ago, you told him you’d find a free weekend for him to come by and collect the rest of his stuff—and you’ve done everything you can to avoid it since.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning away from the office to face the window overlooking North Island Naval Air Station. “But you can’t stay at the apartment.”

“What?” Spencer snaps. “Why? It’ll be so much easier. I’ll be in an out in three days, tops.”

“Three days?” you echo. “Spence, that’s my whole weekend gone.”

“There’s a lot of stuff,” he argues. “I could bring Harry with me, if-”

“You are not bringing your brother, Spencer.” You stomp your foot, despite the conversation being over the phone. “Look, if that’s how long it’ll take, then fine. But you are not staying at the apartment. You can’t. My boyfriend just moved in last week.” The last few words slip out before you can stop them.

Fuck.

There’s a beat of silence before Spencer speaks again, his voice wavering. “Boyfriend?”

You tip your head back and take a deep breath. “Yes, boyfriend.”

Another awkward stretch of silence.

“Okay... I’ll stay at the motel around the corner,” he says.

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Good.”

“See you Friday, then.”

“See you Friday.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and tap the red button, watching Spencer’s caller ID photo flicker out before the screen goes black. With a sigh, your arms drop to your sides, and you lean forward until your forehead rests against the windowpane with a soft, dull thud.

What the fuck did you just do?

Gravel crunches beneath your tires as you swerve into the parking lot of The Hard Deck bar. You pull up beside a familiar Ford Bronco, yanking the parking brake just a little too hard before practically stumbling out of the car. Your feet carry you across the lot and through the front door before coming to a stop as you survey the room, searching for the familiar face you came here to find. Across the bar, tucked into the booth closest to the pool table, are your friends. They’re sipping beers and chatting happily, blissfully unaware that an electrical storm of stress and anxiety is headed right for them.

You weave through the tables and other patrons with determination, your breath coming and going in quick, anxious bursts. Your feet only stop when you reach your friends�� table, and their conversation quickly dies as they each turn to look at you.

Jake’s brows pinch. “Hey, are you okay?”

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down nervously, unsure how to reply.

Javy, who was sitting next to Jake, stands up and nods toward the bar. “I’m going to grab another drink. Want anything?”

You nod. “Whatever you’re having.”

He gives you a cheeky wink before striding off toward the bar. You watch him for a few seconds before turning back to the booth and sliding in beside Jake, leaning into him and letting your head fall on his shoulder.

Natasha sits across from you, her head tilted and a curious glint in her narrowed eyes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not yet, I haven’t,” you say, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “My ex is coming back this weekend.”

She rears back and sits up straight, her brows raised. “Coming back to stay?”

You lift your head from Jake’s shoulder and shake it softly. “Nah. He just wants to pick up everything he left behind.”

Jake shifts beside you, his arm sliding around your lower back almost possessively—but you know he only means to comfort you. “Including you?” he asks, his tone playful but laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You snort and turn to face him, a little startled by how close those piercing green eyes are. “Of course not. Or at least, I hope not. I mean, I think I made it pretty damn clear he wasn’t getting me back, even if he was planning to try.” You trail off, turning away, unsure how to bring up the real reason you came here tonight—the question that’s been gnawing at you since your phone conversation with Spencer.

“Okay,” Nat says, “so, what’s the big deal?”

You suck in a deep breath, filling your lungs as you gather every shred of dignity you still have left. “I told him he couldn’t stay at the apartment because… my boyfriend just moved in.”

Natasha’s brows shoot up toward her hairline and her mouth pops open. Amusement dances behind her eyes, but she has the decency to hold it back as you drop your head into your hands and let out a groan. “I fucked up.”

Beside Natasha, Mickey leans forward. “But you don’t have a boyfriend?”

You look up at him and scowl. “No shit.”

“Oh.” He nods slowly, fighting the grin that tugs at his lips.

“So, what are you going to do?” Reuben pipes up from the other end of the table, looking just as amused as the rest of your friends.

“Well...” You lean back, pressing your shoulder blades into the vinyl of the booth as you twist your neck to glance at the man beside you. “I was going to ask Jake if he could help me... pretend.”

Jake’s smirk fades, and a flush creeps into his cheeks. His green eyes widen, the usual cocky confidence replaced by startled confusion. “What? Why me?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant about asking the man you regularly fantasise about to be your fake boyfriend. “It just makes the most sense. I’ve known you the longest.” Your eyes flick toward the other boys at the table. “No offense, but Jake and I just have better chemistry—and Spencer knew it. He was always a little threatened by our friendship.”

You shift your gaze back to Jake, who’s still looking stunned, his lips parted slightly.

“Plus, I only broke up with Spencer six months ago. I couldn’t have met someone new and asked them to move in that fast. It has to be someone I already knew.” You widen your eyes and bat your lashes dramatically. “Please, Jake. I’ll do anything.”

He blinks at you, cheeks still tinged pink. “Define anything,” he says, that cocky smirk slowly starting to return.

“Whatever you want,” you reply, planting both hands on his thigh closest to you—oblivious to the fact that it makes his dick twitch in his jeans. “You know I’m good for it.”

Jake coughs into his hand, shifting slightly, trying to hold onto his bravado while making sure your touch doesn’t creep any higher. “Alright,” he says, voice a little rougher than before. “I’ll do it.”

You raise a brow. “That easy?”

He lifts a finger. “On one condition.”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious. “Which is?”

He leans in, that cocky smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “I want a home-cooked dinner. Every night I’m there. Candles. Music. Maybe a little wine. You know... boyfriend perks.”

Natasha snorts across the table. “You mean domestic fantasy perks.”

Jake just shrugs, eyes still locked on yours. “Hey, if I’m going to play house, I want the full experience.”

You swallow hard, but your mouth moves before your brain catches up. “Deal.”

He grins wider, and this time you’re pretty sure it’s not just cockiness—it’s anticipation.

You pace in circles around your kitchen island, one arm tucked under your breasts, holding your opposite elbow as you anxiously gnaw on your thumbnail. Jake is supposed to be here any minute, and the cork in the bottle of nerves rattling around in your stomach just won’t stay put.

You’ve known Jake for years. You met in college and, despite the distance with his deployments, have been metaphorically inseparable ever since. But physically? That was a little harder, obviously.

You’ve always had a soft spot for Jake—a bit of a crush, but you were never foolish enough to think anything could come of it. You’ve been perfectly content being his friend, never pushing for more. But every single one of your boyfriends? They hated him. You can’t blame them, really—Jake has that effect on people. That cocky, irresistible charm that makes it impossible for anyone else to ignore him.

Still, you can’t shake the guilt creeping in. Fooling Spencer into thinking you and Jake are together? After all those times you promised him there was nothing more than friendship between you and Jake? It feels wrong. Even if Spencer never really took your word for it.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you hurry to answer it. Jake is standing on the other side, looking even more irresistible than usual. There’s no uniform today, no flight suit or polished boots. Instead, he's wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, and somehow that makes him look even better. His hair is messy, not gelled like it usually is, and the scruff on his jaw—a day’s worth of stubble—only adds to the allure. He looks... delicious in a way that’s totally different from the polished, put-together fighter pilot you’re used to.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he says with a smirk, “sorry I’m late.”

Your brain and mouth have completely short-circuited, leaving you with no choice but to smile, nod, and step aside to let him in. He’s got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a box of random belongings in his arms—little odds and ends that someone might have lying around their apartment.

Jake drops the box onto the kitchen counter and turns back to you. “What time is Spencer the Snob getting here?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “In about an hour. Do you think you can manage to be civilized?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice sharp as he props his hands on his hips. “Can he be civilised?”

“Spencer is always civilized.”

You walk over to the box and start pulling out items, mentally sorting them. But Jake isn’t done.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Spencer is not always civilized. He’s just really good at hiding what a complete dick he is.”

You turn and lean your hip against the countertop, raising one eyebrow. “You only don’t like him because he didn’t like you first. And let’s be honest, that’s because you bought me lingerie for the first birthday that I was with him. He didn’t get the joke and thought it was way too suggestive.”

Jake snorts, his jade eyes lighting up with mischief. “Yeah, that was a good one. I’ll never forget the look on his face.”

You resist the urge to laugh and roll your eyes again, turning back to the box. “I’ll admit, Spence is a little snobby. But that’s just how he was raised. It’s not his fault he’s got money.”

Jake’s expression darkens, and he narrows his eyes at the affectionate nickname. “Spence?”

“Sorry,” you say, your cheeks flushing pink. “Force of habit.”

The two of you move quietly around the apartment, slipping into an easy rhythm as you make space for Jake’s things. You tuck two framed photos of his family onto the bookshelf, nestled between your novels, and slide one of his official Navy portraits beside them—one you definitely wouldn’t mind keeping.

He hangs a jacket and a couple of worn caps on the hooks by the door and drops two pairs of his boots beside your own lineup of shoes. You clear off a bedside table for him to clutter with his things, and listen to the soft clink of bottles as he unpacks his toiletries in the bathroom.

Finally, you add a towel for him to the rack beside the shower. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine it: the two of you in there together. His hot, slick skin pressed to yours, the steam curling around your tangled limbs. His hands sliding soap across your body, rinsing you slow and thorough. He’d wash your hair too, fingers working into your scalp until your eyes fluttered closed—and then you’d return the favour, watching his mouth part in bliss beneath your touch.

“Hello?” Jake waves a hand in front of your face. “Anyone home?”

You blink rapidly and turn to face him, only to find him standing way too close with that maddening smirk tugging at his lips. Your eyes flick up to his, and the look he gives you is downright dangerous—curious, cocky, and just a little bit amused.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’re lookin’ a little hot under the collar.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Instead, you let out a weird half-laugh, half-scoff and sidestep him like he’s radioactive. “I’m fine. It’s just warm in here. Is it warm in here?”

Jake leans back against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed and eyes glittering. “Could be. Or maybe you were just thinkin’ about something real steamy.”

You choke on air. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, all faux innocence. “Just sayin’... you’ve got that look. Like your brain wandered somewhere it probably shouldn’t have.”

You grab a towel—any towel—and smack him in the chest. “Shut up.”

Jake laughs, catching the towel with one hand like he knew it was coming. “Whatever it was, must’ve been good.”

When he finally steps aside, you scurry past like lingering too long might scorch your skin. Only once you’ve turned down the hall and reached the kitchen—putting a safe stretch of space between you and him—do you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Okay,” you say, planting both palms against the cool, marble countertop. “Spencer is going to be here in half an hour, so we have exactly thirty minutes to practice being a couple.”

Jake smirks like this is nothing—like he’s been in this exact situation a hundred times before. “You tell me what you’re comfortable with, darlin’.” He steps up to the other side of the kitchen island and leans forward, mirroring your posture.

You tilt your head slightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you narrow your eyes at him. “We need to look convincing. No weirdness, no pulling faces. Just... act natural.”

Jake cocks an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Natural, huh? So, no kissing? Not even a little peck?”

You try to focus, but the way he’s leaning across the island—just far enough to make the space between you feel electrified—throws you off. “Uh, no. Nothing like that. We’ll start slow. Hold hands, sit close... you know, the easy stuff.”

Jake’s grin widens, his gaze flickering down to your lips before locking onto your eyes. “Hold hands, sit close. Got it. But what if I make you want to kiss me? I’m really good at that.”

You feel the heat spreading through your chest, but you refuse to let him see it. “You think you can make me want to kiss you?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to match his cockiness.

He leans even further toward you and drops his voice low, the teasing edge still there but with a smouldering intensity you’re having a hard time ignoring. “Oh, sweetheart. I know I can. All I need is the right moment.”

You can’t help but laugh nervously, your pulse quickening as he stays there, so close you can feel the heat of his presence even if the island bench is still separating you. “Well, we’ve got thirty minutes to see if you can keep your hands to yourself, Seresin,” you tease, but there’s an edge to it now—a hint of challenge.

Jake leans in a little more, his gaze fixed on you, like he’s seconds away from crossing the line. “Trust me, darlin’. I can keep my hands to myself... but only if you can keep your hands off me.”

Your chest rises and falls faster than usual, your head spinning slightly from all the extra oxygen surging through your blood. You part your lips, ready to fire back something just as cocky—something to keep the volley going—but the sharp chime of your phone slices through the tension, and both your gazes snap to where it buzzes on the countertop.

You settle back onto your heels, and reach for your phone, huffing out a small, frustrated sigh before sliding the answer button and pressing it to your ear. “Hey, Spencer.”

“Hey, how are you?”

Your eyes slide toward Jake, who is looking almost as frustrated as you feel. “Fine. How far out are you?”

Spencer chuckles, and something inside of you instinctively recoils, even though the sound itself isn’t particularly offensive. “I’m great, thanks for asking. The flight was fine, a little bumpy, but we made it. I’m just waiting at baggage claim, so I’ll be about twenty minutes.”

“No worries,” you say, “see you soon.”

You hang up before he even finishes saying goodbye, drop your phone face-down on the bench, and glance back at Jake. “Alright, let’s go over the details. We started dating three months after Spencer left. You asked me out, and I was a little surprised.”

Jake frowns, already halfway to an objection, but you cut him off with a raised hand. “Just go with it, okay? It keeps my integrity intact. You have no idea how many times I had to convince him I wasn’t into you.”

His frown fades fast, replaced by that maddeningly smug smirk. “Go on, then.”

You roll your eyes, but continue. “I was surprised, but everything just... clicked. Being best friends made the relationship feel natural. That’s why things have moved fast. You were already here most nights, your rent went up, so you moved in two weeks ago.”

Jake nods like he’s logging it all away. “Okay, but more importantly—how’s the sex?”

You stare, deadpan. “Seriously?”

He shrugs, hands raised like a saint. “What? It’s a legitimate question. Spencer might ask.”

“I highly fucking doubt it.”

Jake chuckles. “Yeah, fair. Still worth a shot.”

With a long, theatrical exhale, you walk around the kitchen island and stop in front of him. “Alright, let’s talk touching.”

His eyes light up, devilish. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

You ignore him. “I’m ticklish, so don’t touch my ribs or ghost over my arms—I will flinch.”

“I know.”

You pause. “Okay…” You shake your head, ignoring the question trying to form. “I’m not huge on PDA, but I like lingering touches. Just small things, to remind each other we’re there.”

“I know,” he says again, that smirk glued in place.

The question in your head itches a little louder, but you push it aside. “And if we go out—which I really hope we don’t—make sure you’re always sitting next to me. I hate it when couples sit across from each other. I don’t want to gaze into your eyes, I want to feel your warmth.”

Jake’s smirk splits into a wide, boyish grin. “I know.”

The floodgates crack. “How the fuck do you know everything?”

He leans in just slightly, voice soft but sure. “Because I know you. I’ve watched you with every guy you’ve dated. Just because I wasn’t the guy doesn’t mean I haven’t been paying attention.”

You blink, reeling from the quiet truth in his tone. It hits you like a gust of wind—real, unshakable. You actually have to take a step back to steady yourself. There’s no teasing in his voice, no smug edge. Just Jake, earnest and open in a way that’s rare.

And it almost wrecks you.

Jake might be cocky and insufferable ninety percent of the time—but when he loves, he does it fiercely. Deeply. Fully. And you’ve always known you were lucky to be one of the people he loves.

But for the first time, you let your mind wander somewhere dangerous. What would it be like to be loved by Jake Seresin—not just as a friend, but as his person? His everything?

“So,” Jake says, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter, “where should I touch you first?”

You close your eyes for a beat, reminding yourself that this is still Jake—insufferable, irritating Jake. “You don’t have to be weird and over the top about it. When he gets here, you can just sit on the couch, then I’ll join you and sit close. You can put a hand on my thigh.”

Jake’s brows furrow, his face contorting with mild disgust. “I know you’re trying not to make him uncomfortable, but that’s not going to work. Think about it—your ex is coming over, and your current boyfriend is just sitting casually on the couch? Not buying it.”

You roll your eyes again, hoping to avoid yet another pointless argument. “Jake, this doesn’t need to be-”

“You told him you’re dating me,” he interrupts, poking his chest with a finger. “And if this was real, I’d be making damn sure I had a hand on you at all times.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how your body reacts to his proximity and his words. Heat floods your chest and settles behind your hipbones, desire tightening in places you don’t want to think about right now. “You don’t need to stake your claim, Jake. Spencer isn’t here to win me back.”

Jake steps closer, cutting the distance between you until there’s barely two feet separating you. “You don’t know that.” His voice lowers slightly, making the air between you feel thick and electric. “And yes, I do. If you want him to believe we’re dating, then you need to let me do exactly what I would do if this was real.”

You’re not sure whether he’s just being cocky or trying to show off, but damn it, he’s making a good point. “Okay, fine. But don’t make him uncomfortable.”

Jake’s smirk widens, taking on that familiar, smug edge. “No promises, darlin’.”

You spend the next ten minutes pretending to clean—wiping already spotless counters, rearranging throw pillows, and dusting things that definitely don’t need dusting. All while Jake lounges on the couch like this is the easiest job he’s ever had.

“It’s three days, sweetheart,” he says. “By Sunday, Spencer will be back in his overpriced New York apartment sipping single malt and Googling himself.”

You snort but say nothing. Three days. Just two dinners and one brunch. You’ll keep the visits restricted to daylight hours, keep Jake close, keep your story straight—and by Sunday afternoon, Spencer will be out of your apartment and out of your life.

That’s the plan, anyway.

But as you glance over at Jake—sprawled out, so completely at ease in your space, looking infuriatingly good even in his most relaxed state—you start to question the rest of it.

Because it’s not Spencer you’re worried about fooling anymore. It’s yourself. And when Jake turns his head and catches you staring, smirking like he knows exactly what you're thinking?

Yeah. This might be harder than you thought.

The intercom buzzes, loud and sudden, startling you from your task of rearranging the flowers on the dining table. Your heart launches into your throat, pounding like you’ve just jumped from a plane without a parachute.

Jake chuckles and rises from the couch, strolling over to the intercom with infuriating confidence. He presses the button and leans in. “Come on up.”

You force your feet to move, carrying you toward him and not stopping until you’re right beside him. You press yourself against him and the moment your body meets his, heat blooms under your skin. It’s not new—you've touched him before—but it feels different. More charged. More deliberate. Jake’s arm slides around your waist without hesitation, and his fingers curl into your hip, firm and possessive. There’s a subtle squeeze and the pad of his thumb grazes a sliver of skin just beneath the hem of your shirt.

You feel it everywhere.

He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “It’s showtime, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters. This is just pretend.

Your heart pounds against your sternum, each beat like the tick of a countdown clock. The elevator dings. Footsteps echo down the hallway. Closer, closer. You draw in a deep breath and hold it, ignoring the sharp ache it sends through your chest.

“Relax,” Jake murmurs, pulling you tighter against his side as he reaches for the doorknob.

The second the footsteps stop, he yanks the door open—no chance for a knock.

“Spence!” Jake beams, like they’re old frat brothers reunited. “Come in, buddy. How are you?”

You nearly snort. The absurdity of his enthusiasm bubbles up in your throat, but you bite your lip hard enough to keep it down.

Spencer looks good—but all it does is remind you how little you miss him. His perfectly coiffed blonde hair hasn’t changed one bit, but he’s tanner than you remember—courtesy of the European sun, no doubt. He’s not as tall as Jake, but he’s got that same overinflated ego. The difference? Jake’s cockiness comes from… well, let’s just say it’s probably anatomical. Spencer’s is inherited—passed down with a trust fund and a country club membership.

He’s dressed exactly as you expected: a sky-blue Ralph Lauren polo, crisp white pants with a crease so sharp it could slice bread, and tan boat shoes—an ironic choice, considering he’s terrified of boats.

But it’s his face that really seals the moment. Jaw unhinged, eyes wide, staring at Jake like he just opened the door to a ghost. Or maybe something worse: the ghost of his ex-girlfriend’s new sex life.

“Jake?” Spencer finally says. “Your new boyfriend is Jake Seresin?”

Jake’s grin is unbothered—like this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life. “The one and only.”

You feel his hand press a little firmer into your waist, anchoring you there like you might suddenly run—and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted.

Spencer steps further into the apartment, his eyes glued to Jake’s smug face. “I thought you said there was nothing going on between you two.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your voice even. “There wasn’t. Not back then.”

Spencer glances at you. “You told me I was being paranoid. That he was just your friend.”

Jake chuckles. “I remember you telling me about that.”

You shoot him a look that’s supposed to say “not helping,” but he just smiles innocently and shrugs.

Spencer looks seconds away from spontaneously combusting. “I trusted you,” he says, starting to sound like the whiny, private-school rich kid you always tried to ignore. “You promised me nothing would ever happen with him.”

“Yeah, that was then, and this is now. Things change, Spence—and this has nothing to do with you,” you say, tone sharpening. If he’s going to act like a child, then you're going to treat him like one.

Jake’s hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, his thumb sweeping in a slow, easy circle like he’s soothing a spark before it ignites. “People change, bud. Timing is everything.”

Spencer folds his arms, visibly rattled. “So, what—he swooped in the second I left?”

Jake tilts his head, eyes full of mock offense. “Swooped? Come on. Give me a little credit. She came to me.”

You snap your head toward him, about to object, but his grin is wicked and the mischief in his eyes dares you to play along.

“Well...” You drag the word out, buying a few precious seconds to stitch your story together. “Technically, yes. I was upset after the breakup, so of course I turned to my best friend for comfort.”

Spencer’s blue-grey eyes narrow. “You broke up with me.”

“That she did, pal.” Jake tries for a sympathetic look, but you know better—he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“Just because I ended things doesn’t mean it didn’t rattle me,” you shoot back, trying to shift the focus away from Jake. “We were together for four years, Spencer. That’s a long time. I just had the guts to do what you didn’t. So, forgive me if I’m not in the mood to explain myself to you. I don’t owe you anything—and my new relationship? It’s none of your business.”

You see his expression twist into an offended scowl, and anger flickers in your chest. The nerve of him, acting like you still owe him something just because you pulled the plug first.

“For the record,” you continue, voice cool and firm, “yeah, I leaned on Jake. And somewhere along the line, I found something a lot deeper.”

Then, without missing a beat, you glance at Jake—who’s already wearing that cocky smirk—and let one of your own curve across your lips as you look back at Spencer.

“Actually,” you say, eyes narrowing with satisfaction, “I think it was Jake who found something a little deeper… if you know what I mean.”

Jake snorts, slapping his hand over his mouth, but he can’t suppress the gleeful chuckle bubbling from his lips. Spencer, on the other hand, looks utterly humbled—his cheeks are bright red and his jaw is hanging open like he’s just been slapped across the face.

You step away from Jake, waiting for his hand to drop so you can grab it. The second your fingers slide into his, a rush of warmth zips up your arm, and you try to ignore how good it feels, but damn, it’s hard.

“Get your boxes,” you say to Spencer, keeping your tone cool. “Jake will help you pack some stuff this afternoon, but it’s date night, so you’ve got exactly two hours. You can come back in the morning.”

Spencer's lip twitches, like he's about to argue, but then he stops himself. He nods curtly and unties the fancy cashmere sweater draped around his shoulders, hanging it carefully on a hook by the door. He hesitates when he notices Jake’s clothes tossed haphazardly alongside yours. After a moment, he huffs, shakes his head, and stomps out of the apartment.

You fight to suppress a grin as you turn to Jake, but he’s already beaming at you. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You pretend to flick your hair off your shoulder with theatrical flair. “Oh, I know.”

He chuckles. “I can’t believe you just told your ex I’ve got a huge dick.”

You shrug, one shoulder rising nonchalantly. “You’ve got the ego to match, so I figured I could make an educated guess. Besides, it’s not like Spencer will ever know for sure.”

His brows shoot up. “Oh, so you were just guessing?”

Heat floods your cheeks, and suddenly his eyes are too intense to meet. “Well, obviously.”

He leans in, his hand tightening around yours, voice low and teasing—laced with a challenge that feels dangerously not like a joke. “Want to find out for real?”

Your breath hitches. Words abandon you. All you can do is stare at his face—too handsome and too tempting.

“Because I’d go a hell of a lot deeper than that weasel. So deep, you’d be screaming-”

The intercom buzzer cuts him off, and you’re hit with a wave of relief and frustration all at once. Your pulse is racing, your chest tight, and the thrum of your heartbeat fills your ears.

Jake chuckles, clearly amused by the timing, and leans back, releasing your hand to press the button on the intercom. He glances over at you, winks, and casually strides toward the lounge, sprawling out like he owns the place. Like he’s some modern-day Adonis—there to wind you up and then claim your couch like it’s his throne.

You force your limbs to move, opening the door for Spencer and helping him carry in the flattened cardboard boxes tucked under his arms. You lead him to the spare room—where all his abandoned belongings have been gathering dust for the past six months—and leave him to it.

You don’t have to ask Jake to help. The second you return to the living room, he stands, crosses the space without hesitation, and steps right up to you. His palm finds the back of your head as he pulls you in, pressing a warm, gentle kiss to the top of your hair.

You know he’s just doing what you asked—pretending to be your boyfriend. But the tenderness of the gesture feels heartbreakingly sincere. It sinks into your skin, fills your chest like warm water, and when he pulls away, he takes the comfort with him.

Your eyes trail after him as he walks toward the spare room, and you shamelessly ogle his ass on the way out. Then you collapse onto the lounge where he’d just been sitting, curling up in the lingering scent of his cologne. You tug a blanket from the wicker basket beside the couch and wrap it around yourself, clicking on a show you barely register—because all you can think about is the way Jake Seresin touches you.

This might not have been such a brilliant idea after all.

Spencer uses up his two hours like he paid for them, waiting until exactly 5:59 PM to dust off his palms on those stupid white pants—as if he hadn’t made Jake do all the heavy lifting—and announce that he “better get going.”

You give him a tight smile as you hold the door open, already half-relieved just watching him walk out. It's not that pretending to love Jake is hard—you do love him. It’s the reminder that all the lingering touches, the soft smiles, the stolen glances—they’re just an act. That’s what’s draining you.

The second the door clicks shut, you let out a long, theatrical sigh, like you’ve been holding your breath for the full two hours. “Oh, thank God. I don’t know how I’m going to survive a whole day tomorrow.”

Jake chuckles, but there’s something tight about it—like he’s forcing it out through gritted teeth. “Am I that hard to love?” he asks, and though his tone is teasing, something flickers behind his eyes that doesn’t feel like a joke.

Your brows knit. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...”

He steps closer, invading your space like he’s done all day—and you hate how much you don’t mind it anymore. In fact, you kind of want him to stay right there.

“What is it?” he murmurs, voice low and rough enough to make your skin prickle.

You swallow hard, suddenly aware of how close he is, how good he smells, and how charged the air between you feels. “It’s just Spencer, you know? Having him around is... exhausting.”

Jake’s lip quirks, but his eyes are sharp, studying you. “Oh? So you’re not struggling with this fake relationship thing at all? Not even a little confused? Frustrated? Having trouble remembering it’s not real?”

You blink, stunned silent. You’re not sure how, but you’re starting to believe Jake Seresin might actually be a mind reader.

“I-” The words catch in your throat, strangled by the weight of his stare. His piercing green eyes pin you in place, make you forget how to speak, how to breathe.

Then, just when it feels like you might combust, his smirk cracks into a grin and he takes a step back, letting the tension snap like a rubber band. “Alright then,” he says, clapping his hands together, “what’s for dinner, gorgeous?”

You inhale like you’ve just broken the surface of the water. Your lungs burn. Your head spins. This man is giving you whiplash.

It takes almost a full minute to regain control of your body, and when you finally do, you walk straight into the kitchen without giving Jake an answer. You can’t even look at him right now—but he has no trouble looking at you.

He watches you like he’s starving and you’re the feast. It makes focusing on dinner nearly impossible.

You busy yourself preparing the meal you planned yesterday—Italian sausage spaghetti with a pull-apart garlic loaf. You don’t usually go all out for dinner, but you’re using Jake’s presence as an excuse to cook something hearty and delicious. Maybe after eating, you’ll both be too full to maintain this unbearable sexual tension. He can crash on the couch, and you’ll curl up in bed. Or maybe you’ll take a long, steamy shower and do what you need to do to unknot the tension pulsing behind your hipbones.

Dinner comes together quickly, and after a few casual questions from Jake about the food, he drifts back to the couch, half-watching whatever show has been playing in the background for past few hours. You set the dining table just the way he asked—candles, wine, and soft music humming from the speaker on your bookshelf.

Finally, you place two full bowls of pasta on the table—opposite each other. Because you’re not really dating, so why would you sit beside him? To feel his warmth? Let him rest a hand on your thigh?

The thought alone sends a shiver down your spine.

You try to shake it off and glance at Jake—only to find him already watching you.

You clear your throat. “Lieutenant Jake Seresin, your dinner is served.”

He grins like a kid in a candy store, pushing off the couch and sniffing the air like a Loony Tunes character. “Damn, I think Phoenix might’ve been right. This is a full-on domestic fantasy.”

You roll your eyes and duck your head, hoping he doesn’t see the heat rising in your cheeks. “Just sit down and eat, Hangman. I’m tired and hungry.”

You flick off the kitchen lights, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of the candles. The atmosphere feels far more romantic than you intended. Is this what Jake wanted?

You don’t give yourself time to overthink it—because the food smells amazing, and there’s a very attractive naval aviator sitting across from you, looking like he was plucked straight from a dream.

You spend the first few minutes eating in silence, both too busy shovelling pasta into your mouths and tearing into buttery garlic bread to speak. Somehow, Jake even manages to make slurping spaghetti look hot—and you hate when people make noise while they eat.

“So,” you say, slowing your pace and setting your fork down, “did you want to stay here tonight or head back to your place?”

He keeps his eyes on his plate, as if avoiding yours will mask whatever he’s really thinking. “Up to you, darlin’. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Well, Spencer did seem pretty suspicious about the whole thing… so I think it’s safer if you stay.”

His head snaps up, and that signature smirk spreads across his lips. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you say, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks, “he might sniff around tomorrow. Like, literally. He might be a creep and notice your towel’s untouched, or that your side of the bed hasn’t been slept in, and-”

“You want to share the bed?” he asks, looking far too pleased with the idea.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “We’ve shared a bed before.”

“Yeah,” he says, a low chuckle slipping out, “blind drunk.”

His eyes are too pretty, too intense, and your chest feels tight under their weight. You look away, eyes darting around the table until they land on the wine bottle.

“Well then,” you say, picking it up and refilling his glass, “drink up, Seresin.”

Two bottles of wine later, you’re both loose-limbed and laughing—less awkward about the day’s chaos, and a lot less anxious about sharing a bed tonight.

You giggle at one of Jake’s ridiculous jokes while clearing the table, and when he insists on helping clean up, you swat him away, telling him it’s all part of his domestic fantasy. He rolls his eyes but still hovers, drying dishes and pretending not to notice the way you keep throwing him side-eye glances every time he guesses wrong about where something goes.

“Do you want to shower?” you ask as you finish wiping down the stovetop.

His green eyes go wide, that crooked grin slipping across his face like sin itself. “Is this you offering?”

Your stomach flips, heat crawling up your chest. “I meant—do you want to shower first?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, almost disappointed. “Yeah, sure. If you don’t mind?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I did,” you mutter, turning back toward the lounge.

You listen to his footsteps fade toward the bathroom, then collapse onto the couch, burying your face in a pillow that smells maddeningly like him.

What the fuck are you doing?

Yes, you’ve always had a little crush on Jake, but you’re not delusional. He’s out of your league. You’ve made peace with that. You’ve always been happy just being his friend. So why does all of this feel so good? Why is it getting harder to remember that he doesn’t see you the same way?

He’s thrown himself into this charade like it’s more than just pretending, and it’s messing with your head. Does he want something more? Something casual? A few nights, maybe? Or... does he want you—the whole messy package?

The shower starts, and you groan into the pillow. You’re confused. You’re also so fucking horny. Red wine was a terrible idea.

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door creaks open. “All yours,” Jake calls, his voice smooth and casual as he walks toward the bedroom where he left his duffel bag.

You drag yourself upright, every step toward the bathroom a battle against the mental slideshow of naked, wet Jake. You shut the door, strip down, and step into the shower, letting the hot water calm your skin and chase away the ache blooming low in your belly.

You don’t have the guts to do what you really need to make that ache go away—not with Jake just a paper-thin wall away. The thought creeps in, bold and reckless, whispering what if you just called him in here? But then you laugh softly under your breath and shake it off. As if. The idea of Jake rejecting you would be a level of humiliation you’re not prepared to face tonight. Or ever.

You shut off the water, swipe a towel from the rack, and give yourself a quick dry before wrapping it snugly around your body. The bathroom is thick with steam, your skin flushed and dewy, your pulse still thudding from thoughts you shouldn't be entertaining.

You open the door to let in some air—only to nearly collide with Jake.

He’s right there. Shirtless. Grey sweatpants slung low, a towel around his neck, and an annoyingly cocky smirk on his lips.

“Damn,” he says, leaning one arm against the doorframe, eyes roaming blatantly. “I was coming to see if you drowned, but now I’m thinking maybe I should’ve brought more wine.”

You try to step back, but he follows, slipping inside like he belongs here. You grip your towel tighter.

“Jake,” you warn, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he says casually, his eyes far too warm for comfort. “This your idea of torture? Walk out here looking like a damn dream and expect me to just keep pretending?”

You’re not sure what’s pretending and what isn’t anymore, and you have no idea what his words mean. Is he just messing with you? He has to be.

“I didn’t ask you to come in.”

“And yet,” he says, grinning, “here I am.”

The heat in the room is stifling—and it's not just the steam. Jake moves in closer, crowding your space, eyes flicking from your lips to your towel and back. His fingers reach up, slow and deliberate, and tug lightly at the edge of the fabric resting on your collarbone.

“Think this is regulation towel length?” he teases.

“Do you want me to report you to HR?” you ask, trying not to smile. Your voice wobbles on the last word when his fingers brush across the swell of your breast.

“Only if HR gives out spankings,” he says with a wink.

You laugh, then immediately regret it, because the movement loosens the towel just slightly—and his gaze drops. The air between you crackles.

“Jake,” you murmur, breath hitching.

He leans in, his lips brushing your temple like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. “Say the word,” he whispers, voice lower than a dare.

You turn your face toward him, your lips just inches from his—and then:

BZZZZZZZZZZZT.

The intercom buzzes loudly from the living room, startling you both. You jump, and Jake curses under his breath.

“Saved by the buzzer,” you mutter, half annoyed, half relieved.

He takes a step back, eyes still dark with want, running a hand through his hair. “Or maybe cursed by it.”

You give him a pointed look. “Shut the door on your way out, Hangman.”

He backs out slowly, smirking the whole way. “You know I’m not going to forget this, right?”

You roll your eyes and wait for him to close the door before locking it for good measure. After drying off, you go through your usual skincare and haircare routines, trying not to think about whatever the hell just happened between the two of you. But one glance down the hall as you exit the bathroom makes your heart plummet.

Spencer is standing by the front door. And Jake—still very much shirtless—is looking smug as hell.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jake drawls, turning to Spencer with a wink. “We just finished up in the shower, if you know what I mean.”

You freeze like a deer in headlights, towel clutched to your chest. You feel like a naked model caught mid-pose in front of a life drawing class—except your ex is the one holding the sketchpad, and Jake is… well, Jake.

“Spencer,” you bite out, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I-I forgot my sweater.” He holds up the creamy cashmere one he’d left by the door, eyes darting anywhere but your body.

You raise a brow. “And that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again—clearly trying not to ogle you while very aware of the broad, half-naked man beside him who is allegedly your boyfriend. Jake’s green eyes darken the longer Spencer’s gaze lingers.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters. “I guess I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, thinking’s never really been your thing, huh, pal?” Jake cuts in, clapping a firm hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Now if you don’t mind fucking off, I’d like to get back to round two with my very satisfied girlfriend. And just so we’re clear—if you show up before 9AM tomorrow, all you’re gonna hear is her screaming my name in ecstasy.”

Your body lights up like a struck match. You don’t even look at Spencer as Jake all but escorts him out the door. Your focus is entirely on the shirtless man—the ridiculously hot, dangerously cocky, fake boyfriend who just made you feel completely and utterly claimed.

You’re not sure if it’s the wine or the caveman behaviour, but suddenly, the idea of crossing that line doesn’t seem so dangerous anymore. In fact, it sounds like the best idea you’ve had in years.

Jake shuts the door and flicks the deadbolt before turning those dark green eyes on you. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, darlin’, and you’re gonna make my dreams—and Spencer’s nightmares—come true.”

His dreams?

Your breath catches in your throat. Then, like a startled chicken, you turn and bolt to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Your head spins as you scramble to grab the pyjamas stashed under your pillow. Every inch of your skin feels hypersensitive, like Jake’s gaze alone has lit up your nerve endings one by one.

Once you’re dressed and your face isn’t quite so scarlet red, you head for the bathroom. You hang up your towel—deliberately ignoring the sight of Jake’s hanging next to it—and start brushing your teeth. But the flutter in your stomach is relentless.

Jake appears a moment later and joins you silently, his eyes finding yours in the mirror. You try to avoid them, but your gaze keeps drifting back, always checking, always wondering. And every time, he’s still watching.

You rinse and spit, then flee the bathroom before your knees give out. You don’t bother with the rest of your night routine—you need sleep, or space, or maybe a total reset of your entire hormonal system.

You crawl into bed and flick on the TV perched atop your dresser, the hum of background noise a small comfort. But it does nothing to quiet the static under your skin when Jake steps into the room.

He flicks off the main light, shuts the door with a soft click, and then sits on the bed beside you. The mattress dips under his weight, and it feels like the whole room tilts with him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just sits beside you in the dim glow of the TV, his body so close you can feel the heat radiating off his bare skin.

You pretend to be engrossed in whatever’s on the screen, but your heart is thundering, and you can feel his gaze on you like a brand.

Then his voice, low and rough, slices through the quiet. “You always wear shirts like that to bed, or is this part of the fantasy?”

You try to scoff, but it comes out a little breathless. “You think everything’s about you.”

Jake chuckles. “You’re sitting here braless in a tissue-thin shirt, biting your lip like you want me to devour you—and I’m the one with the ego?”

You turn your head, ready to throw back some snark, but he’s already watching you with that look. That look that makes your insides clench and your breath catch. Like he’s starving. Like you’re the first real meal he’s had in days.

“Jake…”

His gaze drops to your lips, and his voice is rough around the edges when he says, “I’m not gonna make it through this night if you keep lookin’ at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” you whisper, but even you don’t believe that.

Jake leans closer. “No? Then why’s your chest rising like that? Why are your pupils blown wide? Why is every part of you screaming touch me?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

He shifts toward you slowly, like a predator moving in, until his thigh brushes yours and his hand finds your jaw. His thumb drags lightly along your cheek, then down to your bottom lip, tugging at it just enough to make your breath stutter.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Just say the word.”

You stay frozen, heart galloping in your chest.

“Because if you don’t…” he leans in, voice barely audible now, “…I’m gonna lose every ounce of self-control I have left.”

Still, you say nothing. Can’t say anything.

Jake’s eyes search yours for a second longer. Then—

“Fuck it.”

He crashes into you like a storm. His mouth slants over yours, hot and possessive and desperate, like he’s finally giving in to something he’s been denying for far too long. His hands cup your face, then slide down, over your neck, your shoulders, gripping your waist like he needs to ground himself.

You gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping in to taste you. It’s not gentle. It’s fire and tension and not just one day, but years of pretending finally snapping all at once.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging, pulling him closer. He groans against your lips and pushes you back into the mattress just slightly, moving over you, his body caging yours in without touching more than he has to.

You arch up into him, chasing his heat, his weight. And when his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just above your waistband, your breath catches in your throat.

He pulls back just enough to look at you—his pupils dark, his lips kiss-bruised. “Still pretending?” he breathes.

You shake your head, dazed. “Not even a little bit.”

You wake up warm. Too warm.

Jake Seresin is sprawled across half your bed, one leg tangled over yours and an arm wrapped around your waist like you’re his personal body pillow. His bare chest is pressed to your back and his breath ghosts hot across your neck with every slow, sleepy exhale.

You’re painfully aware of two things: one, you’re very, very naked. And two, so is he.

And then... you remember everything.

The kissing. The touching. The downright Olympic-level sex. The way he looked at you like you were something he’d been starving for.

Your body aches in the best way, but your brain is in full meltdown mode. You try to untangle yourself without waking him. Emphasis on try. Because the second you shift, Jake groans and tightens his arm around you.

“Nuh-uh,” he mumbles, voice still rough with sleep. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You huff, trying to wriggle free. “I have to pee.”

“Fine,” he says, releasing you with an exaggerated sigh. “But don’t even think about climbing out the window. You’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes as you slip out of bed, grabbing the closest shirt—his shirt—and tossing it over your head. It hangs low on your thighs, smelling like him and sex and very bad decisions.

By the time you return from the bathroom, Jake’s propped up on one elbow, watching you with the same hunger in his eyes as last night “Damn, you look better in my shirt than I do.”

You scoff and head for your dresser. “Don’t you get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

“Not when I’m this right.”

You grab a pair of shorts, but before you can pull them on, Jake is already moving. He slides off the bed, all muscles and tan skin, and corners you against the dresser.

“You know,” he murmurs, eyes dark and wicked as his fingers slip under the hem of his own shirt you're wearing, “you didn’t officially wake me up yet.”

Your heart kicks up a notch. “Is that a thing now?”

“Absolutely.” He leans in, brushing his nose along your jaw. “You gotta wake me up right, darlin’. Or I’m gonna be all cranky.”

You arch a brow. “Define right.”

He grins, lips brushing yours. “Tongue. Teeth optional.”

You laugh into the kiss he gives you—hot, deep, and toe-curling. His hands roam down your back, tugging you flush against him. You can feel he’s already half hard again, the cocky bastard.

But before things can spiral into round two, your phone buzzes loudly from the nightstand.

Jake pulls back with a dramatic sigh. “If that’s Spencer again, I swear to God-”

You smirk. “Jealous?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Jealous? Sweetheart, I just spent the night making you scream my name.”

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile, and he grins like he just won the damn lottery.

To Jake’s great disappointment, it is Spencer. He’s on his way over, and the motel he’s staying at is only five minutes away. You both overslept—but can you really be blamed? No way. You were up most of the night tangled together, doing something that definitely didn’t feel pretend.

“Come on, Romeo,” you say, tossing Jake his shirt. “Get dressed before Tybalt gets here.”

Jake pauses, one brow arched as he tries not to stare at your naked chest. “Did you just imply that you used to date your cousin?”

A light laugh bubbles out of you. “Not intentionally, but I’m surprised you know Shakespeare.”

He grins, smug. “A little knowledge never hurt anyone. Helps win the ladies over, too.”

He’s joking, you know he is—but the way he says ladies—plural—hits you like punch to the gut. That’s what Jake is: a ladies’ man. It was stupid to think this could be anything more than a bit of fun. Some stress relief between two friends who spent all day teasing each other until they snapped.

If anyone can do casual sex, it’s Jake Seresin. It doesn’t matter how many pretty words he said last night—you can’t let yourself believe he actually meant them.

“Hey,” he says gently, catching the shift in your energy. “You okay?”

You nod a little too quickly, offering a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. Your nose starts to sting, and you blink fast, trying to will the emotion away. Who the hell cries after the best sex of their life?

You gather your clothes and retreat to the bathroom, needing a buffer between you and Jake’s curious, overly perceptive eyes. You dress quickly, trying not to think about how good his shirt felt against your skin.

It isn’t long before Spencer buzzes the intercom again, and you’re almost grateful. Jake doesn’t get the chance to press you, to ask about the look on your face that feels like it could crumble into a sob at any second.

You’ve really fucked up now—because you let yourself believe it might’ve meant something.

The two men spend the morning in the spare room, exchanging nothing more than grunts and sidelong glances while packing Spencer’s things into boxes. You don’t bother checking on them—you're not sure you can look at Jake right now anyway. So, you remain firmly planted on the couch, stuck in a spiral of your own damning thoughts.

Around midday, you consider offering them lunch, but then you remember the mischievous glint in Jake’s eyes when he said that “it helps win the ladies over,” and you quickly decide against it. Instead, you grab your keys, tuck your phone into your back pocket, and head toward the door.

“I’m heading out for a bit. Won’t be long,” you call out, not waiting for a reply before stepping out.

“Wait,” Jake’s voice calls after you as the door swings shut. But you pretend not to hear.

You stride toward the elevator, pressing the button more forcefully than necessary, but it doesn’t arrive fast enough. By the time the doors finally slide open, Jake is already in the hallway, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Hang on a second,” he says, stopping right beside you, raising a hand to hold your jaw gently.

When you step back, his face falls, confusion and dread flickering across his features.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you answer, stepping into the elevator.

But he follows you in, jaw ticking with tension. “Darlin’, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking I broke you.”

You shake your head. “I’m not broken.”

“Then what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?” His voice softens, but the underlying concern is still very present.

You take a deep breath, averting your eyes to the floor of the elevator as you try to carefully assemble your thoughts. You don’t want to hurt him, but you also can’t ignore how wrong everything feels in your gut.

“I just... I can’t do this, Jake,” you say, your voice almost cracking.

He looks absolutely gutted, like you’ve just sucker-punched him.

“I know it shouldn’t be a big deal. Plenty of people do it without any consequences,” you ramble on. “But I think there could be some huge consequences if we keep doing this. There’s just too much on the line. And while the sex was—God, it was mind-blowing—I just don’t think I can handle you doing it with other people while I’m over here trying to... figure out what this is.”

The hurt on his face quickly morphs into utter confusion. “What the hell are you talking about, sweetheart?”

“This,” you gesture between the two of you. “Last night. Us having sex and the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.”

Now, he looks genuinely offended. His eyes widen, green irises flashing with disbelief. “You think that’s what this is?”

Your heart races, the pulse in your throat thrumming. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Jake lets out a short, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. He glances briefly at the elevator doors before locking his gaze on you, intense and unyielding.

“Is that what you think?” he asks, his tone a low warning.

Suddenly, you feel very small—not in a sad way, but in a vulnerable, exposed way. He steps closer, stalking toward you with predatory intent, and you instinctively back up against the elevator wall. His presence fills the small space, and the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable.

You swallow thickly and nod. Just a small movement, but it’s enough to make him pounce. He presses his body to yours, trapping you between him and the wall, the metal rail digging into your lower back as he cages you in.

“I thought I made it pretty fucking clear last night, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice low and almost dangerous. “But if I didn’t, then let me say it now.”

He pauses, eyes burning into yours as you breathe in each other’s air, hearts racing in sync.

“I want you. Only you. All of you,” he growls. “I’ve been waiting years to do what I did last night. And now that I’ve had a taste?” He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. “I’m never letting you go. You’re mine.”

Your mind goes blank. Your mouth is dry, and your heart’s thundering in your chest as his words hit you like a freight train.

“Say it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls you closer. “Tell me you understand.”

“I’m yours.” The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them, but they feel right. Like they were meant to be said.

Jake smirks, a wicked, cocky grin that makes his eyes sparkle with unspoken mischief. “Good.”

And just like that, his lips crash into yours—urgent, fiery, and full of need. The kiss is wild and untamed, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance. His hands drop to the curve of your ass, lifting you effortlessly, forcing your legs around his waist as he presses you harder against the elevator wall.

Every inch of your skin hums, the heat between you two scorching. You can’t get enough of him, his touch, the rawness of this moment. You claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours, and before you can even think, you're already lost in him, all logic and restraint flying out the window.

But then, right on cue, your personal cockblock arrives. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Spencer stands there, completely flustered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Neither of you had pressed a button when you entered, but the look on Jake’s face suggests that it might have been intentional.

“Sorry, pal,” Jake grins, his lips bruised and swollen. “I just can’t get enough, you know what it’s like.”

Spencer’s mouth moves, but no words come out.

Jake casually takes the box from Spencer’s arms. “Let me help you with that. Go grab another one. Let’s get you out of here before you see more than you’re willing to, hm?”

Spencer nods woodenly, still staring in complete shock.

You can’t help the giggles that escape you as you slip past Spencer and out of the elevator, back toward your apartment.

There’s nothing fake about you and Jake anymore—not that there ever really was. And now, you can confidently say that Jake’s ego is as well-proportioned as the monster between his legs.

END.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #glen powell #glen powell x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #one shot #imagine #maverick

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crowdedimagines · 8 days ago

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Tailspin - Bradley Bradshaw

summary: Bradley Bradshaw was happy to retire to the small town of Southport with his two children after their mother had passed. He traded in training pilots at Top Gun in San Diego to being a fire chief for a small town of 3,000. What he doesn't expect in his small town is a new neighbor who captures his attention. She's making the cross country move from New York promising never to fall for a man quickly ever again and then she meets the hot single dad next door. Yeah right. Between the two of them and everything they have going on in their lives on they going to fall out in a Tailspin?

🤭8.7K omg my baby single dad Bradley and neighbor!yn what else could a girl want?Warnings: domestic violence, stalking, use of Y/n

✿

The loud and clunky engine of the moving truck breaks up the usually peaceful houses that sit all in a row this Saturday afternoon in Southport, California. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone once a shiny red sold sign got slapped on the sale sign for the old McCallum property. They knew it would be inevitable that someone new would be joining their neighborhood.

Y/n is trying to find the driveway to the house that she’s only seen in person once. Yesterday as a matter of fact when she made the deposit and signed all the paperwork. She manages to park and make her way around to the back of the truck when she sees a young girl standing at the end of her driveway, still on the sidewalk.

“Hi.” The little girl calls out. She has a piece of chalk in one hand and a bucket with twenty different colors in the other.

“Hi there.” Y/n smiles, she reaches back to swing the lock on the truck and push the large door open to reveal all of her belongings. Thankfully most things look like they made it intact and she didn’t send anything flying around back there.

“Did you just move here?” The young girl asks. She doesn’t move her feet from where they are planted on the sidewalk, but leans in to look at all of the stuff in the truck.

“I did-”

“Did you know I live next door?” The little girl interrupts, taking a few steps closer onto her driveway. She points to the house sitting to the right of where they stand.

“No.” The woman pauses to chuckle, “I did not know that.”

“Did you come all by yourself?” The young girl asks another question and smiles brightly at the woman in front of her.

“Yeah.” The woman continues to smile down at the curious young girl. She sees her golden curls that sit wildly in a ponytail on the top of her head. Most of it is escaping the small pink tie, Y/n can tell she’s spent a fair amount of time today pushing the stray curls back out of her face.

“That’s pretty cool.” The little girl smiles finally, “My daddy would never let me do that.”

“No, probably not.” Y/n squats down next to the girl to be at eye level, “Once you’re an adult though, you can do whatever you want. That’s the fun part.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Her grin grows wider.

“You must be an artist.” Y/n nods to the chalk still in hand.

“Yeah, I am.” The girl attempts to push the loose curls back away from her face, streaking a pale line of pink chalk across her face making Y/n bite back a laugh. “I’m starting the sidewalk because I filled up the driveway.”

“Do your parents know you’re over here?” Y/n asks, looking around to see who the girl could belong to. How far has she strayed to come say hello.

“My dad is in the backyard with my brother, they’re working on a new swing set. ”

“Maybe we should get you back over there-”

“Where did you come from?” The young girl asks yet another question before Y/n can finish her question.

“Sadie!” A voice calls loudly making them both look up. A tall man with a matching set of curls is making his way around the neighboring house up to the front yard. “Bug, what did I say about leaving the yard?”

He holds his hands up outstretched with concern as he makes his way down the driveway to the sidewalk to make his way over to join them.

Truth be told, Bradley had heard the loud vehicle enter the neighborhood and a few minutes later when he looked around and his youngest was out of sight he knew where she was likely exploring.

“I wanted to come over to meet her.” Sadie explains while she looks back up to the woman standing next to them with an amused smile, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” She looks up to Bradley and reaches out a hand out to introduce herself to the man in front of her,�� “Y/n Y/LN, I just moved in. Or at least I'm about to start the move in.”

She nods to the house behind her and Bradley reaches out to shake her hand.

“Bradley Bradshaw.” His hand is significantly bigger than hers, rough with life from work but still warm.

“Nice to meet you.” She covers her face from the sun for a second so she can look at the tall man in front of her.

“So someone finally decides to tackle the McCallum house.” Bradley smiles, “It’s a beautiful property.”

“Thank you.” She pushes her hands in her back pockets and forces herself to look away and admire the view instead. The beachfront property is close enough to the water that they can hear the waves. “It’s going to be quite the project.”

“You tackling it alone?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Trying to. We’ll see how long until I throw in the towel and hire out. This is my summer project so I’ll be pretty focused on it.”

“Where’d you move from?” He asks, Sadie grows bored with the conversation and plops down on the ground between the two and begins drawing a flower with the same pink chalk in hand. Now that the adults are talking she forgets that she had been the one to ask that question initially.

“Sadie, this isn’t our driveway. You need to ask first.” Bradley gently reminds.

“Sorry-”

“It’s okay, Sadie.” Y/n crouches down next to her again. “Maybe I could get some of your beautiful artwork right here.”

She points to the area they stand in and Sadie quickly goes back to work.

“I’m from New York City actually.” She stands back up to look at him while answering his previous question.

“Wow, that’s a complete change of pace. You do realize Southport is about as quiet as it gets, right? I think we only have five stop lights.” Bradley chuckles.

“We’re less than an hour away from San Diego, so if I never need to get my city fix I can head down there.”

“I know that drive well, I actually moved here to Southport from San Diego. I was a pilot in the Navy and taught at Top Gun down there.”

“Oh wow.” Her face shows how impressed she is, “Are you still in the Navy then?”

“No, actually I got out right after she was born.” He gestures down to the girl seated below, she’s working on a bee now. “I actually run the fire department here in Southport.”

“How often do you see anything crazy in this town?” She asks, trying not to focus too much on how tight his tee shirt is stretching across his biceps.

“I will say there are more cats stuck in trees than fires most days, but I’m okay with that.”

“Good. I’m sure you got your fill of crazy being a pilot.”

Is there a Mrs. Bradshaw? She finds it hard to believe that a man that looks like this could possibly be single, but the way he’s looking at her makes her think otherwise. Is it really possible he’s sleazy enough to flirt with the new neighbor in front of his daughter if he’s married?

“I could tell some stories, that's for sure. In fact-”

“Dad!”

They all pick up their heads to see another member of the family standing in the driveway. The boy must be Sadie’s brother, she had mentioned him earlier. Y/n would guess that he’s around ten and Sadie seems around five years old. He is a total copy and paste of his dad standing in front of her.

“Bud, we’ll be right back over. Why don’t you go ahead and head in and get washed up.” He doesn’t respond to Bradley, but just turns around and takes off for the front door.

“Well I’m Bradley and you’ve already met my daughter who is going to give me grey hair before I can turn forty.” He grins making Y/n laugh. He’s even more delicious up close, and Y/n gives herself a second to picture him as a silver fox. It still works.

“Yeah, she was the welcoming party for the neighborhood. It was very much appreciated.” She reaches down to fistbump the girl making her giggle.

“Yeah, she’s a stray who wanders the neighborhood even though she knows she’s not supposed to.” He scolds, reminding her while she guiltily looks away. “If she ever comes bugging you, feel free to send her in the direction of home!”

“I don’t know, I’ll never turn down free labor.” Y/n jokes, turning back towards the truck to start unloading things.

“Well, if you ever need any help with anything I’m just next door.” His eyes rake down her figure and she can tell he does it without thinking when his eyes widen. Sadie continues her own grin obliviously standing between the two of them.

“Let’s get you washed up Bug.” Bradley hoists her up onto his shoulder and walks in the direction of his own driveway. “It was great to meet you, Y/n. Welcome to Southport.”

“Nice to meet you Y/n.” Sadie echos with giggles from the top of her dads shoulder.

“Bye guys!” She waves and makes her way back to the truck ready to get started on hauling everything inside.

✿

It was early afternoon when she pulled up to the house and it’s dark out by the time she emptied the entire truck. Doing a close walkthrough of everything it’s alarming how much work the house really needs. Most of it is cosmetic, but some things she knows she’ll need more than a Youtube video to accomplish. She doesn’t have a car yet, but Southport is a small enough town she can walk the short distance into town when she needs things. She meets her neighbor on the other side of her house that morning before leaving. Iris is in her seventies and has lived there for the past forty years. She welcomes her onto the porch for some lemonade.

“So what brings you to Southport?” The lady asks, taking in the younger woman.

“I needed a change of scenery and Southport was the perfect little beach town to settle into. I was looking for something a little quieter than New York.” Y/n admits.

“Well, something tells me there’s more to that story, but we can table it for a rainy day. Here in Southport you definitely found quiet.” Iris rocks her chair looking out to the neighborhood, “Although it’s more exciting now that you’re here!”

“I don’t know about that.” She shakes her head, still reeling over the fact she wants more information. Information Y/n doesn’t need to be handing out to her new neighbors, this is her fresh start. “Trust me, you’ll be the talk of the town! I see that you’ve already met Bradley.”

“Yes, his daughter was actually first on the scene for the small town gossip.” Y/n teases.

“Isn’t Bradley something?” Iris wags her eyebrows causing Y/n to roll her eyes, “He’s available.”

“He is?”

Iris nods and explains the story of the boy next door. Five years ago his wife Anna passed away from cancer. She was pregnant with Sadie and barely made it long enough to deliver. After that happened, Bradley moved their family to the quieter town where he felt he could be a single dad. He’s spent the past five years here in Southport and is now the fire chief for SFD. Y/n never would’ve guessed that Sadie had lost her mom with how bubbly she was.

Iris continues to tell her more about the town, the things she should know while they finish their lemonade. Y/n decides to return the empty moving truck and pick up some things at the hardware store so she can get started on some of the projects. She makes laps and laps through the hardware store and becomes well acquainted with Hank who runs it. Hank has had the store for several years and she’s asked nearly a dozen questions and he’s walked her through every single one thoroughly.

The bell chimes as the door swings open to the small shop. She picks up her head only to meet the familiar brown eyes of her neighbor Bradley. Small town indeed.

“Hey neighbor.” He pulls his sunglasses off and puts them on top of his head while walking up to her.

“Hey, how do you feel about a yellow kitchen?” She holds up a paint sample of a bright yellow. The sample shows six shades, but her finger points to a soft butter yellow.

“Your kitchen faces out to the beach, right?” He leans against her shopping cart, looking over her cart and the various things in it. “That’ll be bright with the sun reflecting out on the water.”

“That's kinda the point.” She squints down at the sample still in hand, “I was going for blinding.”

He snorts and looks up to the color again. The one she’s picked is by far the least horrendous of the options, but he’s still not convinced.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to see it to believe it.” He snorts.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ll just have to prove you wrong then.” She pushes her cart away, effectively nudging him with the cart. She makes her way up to the counter to order a gallon of that color and grab a gallon of primer as well. Bradley follows her to the counter and waits while she checks out for everything and Hank starts mixing her order.

“Hey, Hank.” Bradley greets as he steps up to the register.

“Bradley, I got your order in back! Just a second.” Hank leaves to go grab the order and he’s gone for a minute before he comes back with a large package of sidewalk chalk. Y/n grins while still waiting on her paint, but she knows exactly who the chalk is for.

“Here ya go!” Hank hands him the box, “Let me know when we need to order some more and I’ll bring it in.”

“Thanks Hank.” Bradley pays for the chalk before saying goodbye to them, waving to Y/n as he makes his way back out into the blazing California heat. Y/n is waiting for a few minutes for the paint, but Hank gives her extra stir sticks and throws in an edging tool for free to help her out.

“Where’s your car?” Bradley asks, looking around the parking lot that is vacant save for the Bronco he’s sitting in. She looks up from the sidewalk to see her neighbor has waited for her. The Bronco she’s seen in the driveway next door is running, and he’s sitting inside with the window down. His sunglasses are back on his face. She adjusts her grip with a can in each hand and a bag or two of supplies hooked on various fingers. “You need a ride?”

“I’m a big girl. I didn’t have a car in New York, but getting one is part of the summer project.” Her voice light and carrying a hint of humor.

“You’re going to need a car in this town if you’re gonna make it.” Bradley can barely stand it watching the sun beating down on her while she adjusts her grip again. His mother would smack him if she could see him sitting comfortably in the car while she’s beginning to sweat. She just needs to let him give her a ride home. It’s a hot day in Southport and home is at least a mile away. “Even if you city folk are too good for them.”

“Here I was thinking now that I’m out of the city I can have the luxury of a vehicle.” She teases, “But maybe not, you car people sound kinda judgy.”

Bradley laughs out an exhale through his nose. He has to give it to her, she’s got a little bite back which makes her even more intriguing. He would struggle to admit it, but the girl next door is the first person to pique his interest in years. He knew it the second he saw her crouched down next to his daughter with a gorgeous smile. This is something new to him, not something he’s felt at all in the past five years. It’s something Bradley didn’t have the time for. Two kids and a busy job kept him more than entertained, even if it meant going home to a cold bed. He watches her wave her hand as best she can with everything she’s holding before throwing a smile over her shoulder and continuing her walk through the parking lot.

“Let me give you a ride back.” He insists, swinging the door of the Bronco open to get out, he doesn’t want to let her get far. He waited long enough, but his mom seriously would roll over in her grave if he let her walk away. “You’re right on the way and it’s the least I can do for being so judgy. Especially for a neighbor.”

She pauses her steps and turns to see him already walking around the back to open his trunk. He leans against the back while she debates, her grip on the thin metal handle slips a little. The sun beating straight down on them isn’t helping her case. Her hands are sweating and it’s starting to dig in. He shrugs his shoulders, his mustache can’t block the slight smirk he’s maintained this entire interaction.

“Alright, I give. My hand is cramping.” She pivots to make her way back in his direction. Bradley meets her halfway to take the gallon of primer from her and load it with everything else into his trunk. He shuts it and quickly makes his way around to the passenger door to pull it open for her. She smiles and thanks him while climbing into the truck. She takes in her surroundings a bit once he shuts the door, the car smells like him. It’s almost overwhelming. There’s a tear in the leather that she runs a finger along on the bench seat, the vehicle is old but very well loved and maintained. She can see a booster seat in the back before Bradley climbs into the car and backs out of their spot.

Bradley knew the house she had moved into fairly well with it being right next door, he had checked it out when it listed and he was curious. It needed a lot of work. More work needed than the one he settled on next door, but he could argue she had a slightly better view. A larger stretch of beach for the larger house. Both houses back up to the water and sit on a popular stretch of beach for the small town. Houses on the beach needed extra love to stay nice, and with how long it sat on the market it’ll need a lot of it.

“So lots of plans for the house then?” Bradley asks, the windows are down letting in a breeze. The wind is the only other noise other than the radio that is still playing softly.

“This is the start really, I’m taking things as they come. I know renovations can be pretty unpredictable so I’m trying to take it one step at a time.” She admits, “I’m starting with the kitchen and first floor since it needs the most work.”

“You’re experienced in renovating then?” He asks, his eyes peek off the road in front of them to dart to her. He takes in her legs that are on full display in her shorts, her hand rests on the windows ledge wiggling with the breeze.

“Not at all.” She laughs as his eyes go wide, “I’ve barely picked up a screwdriver unless you count putting together Ikea furniture.”

“and you’re tackling that entire house by yourself?”

“You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m quite stubborn when it comes to getting my way-“

“Never would’ve guessed.” He mutters.

“What I mean is-“ she rolls her eyes, “When I set my mind to something I’ll achieve it. I can do this. I’m determined.”

“I actually have no doubt.” His voice is laced with sincerity and it makes her flush warm inside. She doesn’t know why it suddenly matters what her neighbor thinks of her project, but she’s happy someone else thinks she can do it.

“Thank you.”

The rest of the short drive is quiet, but it’s comfortable. Bradley wants the drive to last a little longer, but they approach their street faster than he would like. He backs into her driveway to help her unload everything.

“Thank you, I’m sure I would be sweating my ass off only halfway home by now.” She takes the can of primer from his hand and sets it down on the porch by her front door.

“Happy to.” He grins, taking a step backwards off her steps back onto the sidewalk while still looking up at her, “You’ll find that I can be very helpful.”

“You better watch out, I’ll take you up on it.” Her cheeks dust pink from his blatant flirting, but she’s enjoying the butterflies he’s giving her. It’s been a long time since a man has given her butterflies feeling so high school.

“I’m counting on it.” He nods and continues his walk back to the bronco to move it to his side of the white picket fence. She shakes her head but is unable to wipe the smile from her face even while she carries everything inside. Before she can pull the door shut she hears a voice call her name, she peeks her head out to see Iris is still sitting on her own front porch.

“Well that was awfully nice for him to give you a ride back.” Iris smiles into her lemonade taking a long sip.

“Iris, I’m starting to think you’re the cause for all the small town gossip.” She shakes her head with a smile, “I ran into him at the hardware store and I don’t have a car here yet.”

“Mhm, sure baby.” Iris nods and continues to rock slowly on the porch.

✿

For days Y/n sets off to work on the house and hit the ground running. She realizes in her research she really shouldn’t paint yet since she wants to resurface the cabinets. She learns how to do that, and after several trips to Hank she manages to sand them down, stain them, change her mind, sand them, restain them and fall in love. It took days but she's happy with the results.

She also spent an afternoon in the front yard cleaning it up. She was joined by Sadie who kept her company while covering her driveway in doodles.

“What else can I add?” Sadie asks. Today's theme was ocean so she’s managed to fill a lot of the space already with fish, coral, sharks, and everything else they can both think of.

“How about a sea turtle?” Y/n continues pulling at weeds trying to clean up some from the flower beds.

“Sea turtle!” Sadie shouts, loving the idea.

“Hey, ladies.”

Y/n picks up her head to see Bradley walking out towards them. Over the past week they have interacted a couple times. He had a busy stretch at the station where Y/n really didn’t see him or the Bronco at all for a few days. It was nice however for a couple days not really having to worry about the hot guy next door while being a sweaty mess. So much for that now.

“Hey.” They both call back.

“I’m embarrassed to say she escaped me long enough to have accomplished this much.” He looks over the expanse of driveway covered in pastel scribbles in vague fish shapes.

“Daddy, I think Miss Y/n knows more sharks than you.” Sadie doesn’t pick up her focus from the sea turtle she’s working on.

“No way!”

“Mhm, she knows what a tiger shark is too.”

“Wow-”

“Dad, I’m meeting Tanner at the fishing pier.” His son makes another appearance. In all of her interactions with Sadie and Bradley, he’s still a stranger to her. He doesn’t ever leave the beach or his bedroom according to Sadie.

“Nick, what time do you need to be back?” Bradley asks, turning to watch his son walk down the trail to the beach.

“Seven, Dad.”

“No later-”

“No later than 7:00pm for dinner. I know, Dad.” He continues his walk and Bradley simply shakes his head.

“Ten going on twenty.” Bradley jokes, breaking the tension. Sadie hadn’t even picked her head up so it would seem this isn’t out of the ordinary.

“I don’t even want to picture me talking back to my parents. I’m lucky we made it through my teenage years.” She smiles with a gentle laugh, “What about you? Is this some karmic debt for being a terrible teen?”

Bradley chuckles before diving into a few stories of his high school years and admits he probably gave his mom a few wrinkles before she passed. He also explains he didn’t know his dad long enough for that.

“How’d you haul the mulch here?” Bradley questions, changing the subject. He noticed the yard had been cleaned up, but only just noticed the mulch in the flower beds she had been working on before he came over.

“Iris let me take her car. Apparently she doesn't like driving much anymore.”

“I could’ve taken you.”

“Wanted to be my knight in shining armor again?” She asks with a confident laugh.

“Maybe.” He admits, “So, when do I get to see that yellow kitchen of yours?”

“Wanna see?” She takes off the gardening gloves. Sadie jumps to follow, finally setting down the chalk. Bradley wordlessly follows them both up the steps.

She pulls open the screen door that sits in front of her front door, it squeaks loudly as she pulls it back. Bradley reaches out to push it back and forth a few times.

“Sorry, I know it’s obnoxious.” She nods her head to invite them in anyway.

“Hold on, I can fix that.” He leaves the two girls on the porch briefly and walks over to his garage only coming back with a red toolbox. He opens and closes the door a few times again, looking at the hinges. Y/n shrugs to Sadie while they watch him work some magic with WD-40 and a screwdriver.

“That should do it.” Bradley takes a step back and pulls it back again, this time it’s silent as he moves it open and closed.

“Okay, you’re definitely getting recruited to help now.” Y/n beams and it makes Bradley smile too. He can’t remember the last time he was this happy to see someone else happy. Sure, he was a good person and liked when people were happy, but something was different about being the cause of her grin.

He follows her in and immediately Sadie takes off to explore. Bradley has to admit, it does already look nice in here. He’s sure just having furniture in the space helps from when he first saw it. It’s brighter in each room he walks through though, it would seem she’s primed all the walls, but there's a lack of yellow as he walks through the first floor.

“I haven’t gotten to the yellow quite yet, but it’s not because I’m scared to commit!”

“Yeah right-” Bradley smiles mischievously.

“No no, it just turns out you shouldn’t start with that if you have a lot else to do. I sanded and stained the cabinets though!”

She proudly poses in front of one and Bradley has to admit it looks nice. She hasn’t changed any of the house's character, but she’s refreshing the space.

“Okay, I’m impressed.”

“I would say that now I can start the yellow. In fact-” She grabs the gallon can off the floor and shakes it before cracking it open. Bradley picks Sadie up to rest on his hip and take a peek of the color.

“What do you think of it, Sadie?” Y/n asks, leaning against the counter eyeing the younger girl.

“I like it!” She cheers.

“I do too!” She nods her head to Bradley to prove her point.

“Congrats on having the same preferences as a five year old.” His voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She rolls her eyes and focuses her attention on Sadie, “Would you like to do me the honor of the first bit of paint on the wall?”

It takes a minute to get them set up with paint brushes and rollers. Bradley takes on the higher parts of the walls, working along the entire upper trim. Y/n helps Sadie get set up on a blank wall with a small brush and grabs a roller for herself. It goes fast with the two of them, Sadie also contributing on her wall.

“Can I hire your guys full time?” Y/n asks, taking a full step back to admire their work.

“Can’t afford me, babe.” Bradley teases.

“Yeah, me neither babe.” Sadie mimics her Dad causing everyone to break out in a laugh.

“Okay.” Y/n dramatically backs up into the archway between the kitchen and the living room. “It’s still drying, but what do we think?”

Sadie runs over to stand by her and take in the view as well, she waves over Bradley to do the same. He looks at the two girls standing there and how serious they’re both being. With his arms crossed over his chest he walks over to take in the kitchen and the brand new walls.

The kitchen has a large window that looks out on the deck and beyond to the ocean. The sun is shining bright today, but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t because the room is bright enough on its own. The stain on the cabinets compliment it well and warm up the place.

“I have to admit, it looks good.”

“Right?” Y/n cheers, she breaks out a few goofy dance moves before pulling Sadie around to spin with her.

“You have a lemon kitchen now!” Sadie keeps dancing, letting out a goofy laugh.

“A lemon kitchen?” Y/n’s jaw drops.

“What’s next?” Bradley asks, he paces around looking at everything.

“Pretty soon I’m tackling updating that bathroom,” She points to one down the hall, “I had a wonderful idea to open this up and round it off, but I have no idea how to do that. I don’t know if this is load bearing.”

She reaches up to the large square archway that goes between the kitchen and living room. Bradley reaches up to examine it a little. A rounded arch would look nice, and you would have a better view from the living room.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Sadie announces, Y/n points to the same door down the hall and tells her she’s more than welcomed to use it. She comes back to find Bradley inspecting the arch himself.

“I could help with that. I can’t today because I have to take that one to a dance class in a little bit.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She shakes her head, “That's a big project, helping me paint was already more than enough.”

“What if we make it a date?”

“A date?” She asks, laughing with a bit of shock. There have been flirty conversations when they interact, but she’s surprised he’s so forward.

“Unless you aren’t interested.” Bradley quickly deflects with a nervous laugh, “We haven’t really talked about if we’re both single and-”

“I’m single.” She smirks, it’s fun and so far it’s been rare to see Bradley unsure of anything, “and I’m interested.”

Bradley sighs in relief at her admission. It would make for an awkward couple of weeks living next door to the first woman he’s hit on since his wife passed.

“How about this-” He regains confidence now, “You provide beer and pizza, and I’ll bring over everything we need to do this.”

He points up to the arch and she nods to agree. Sadie comes back out and reminds him her dance class is soon and she still needs to go home to change. Bradley says he can get a babysitter for the next night and it’s a date.

✿

“Slight change of plans.” Y/n opens the door wider for Bradley and the two children standing in front of him. “My normal sitter got the flu so she couldn’t, so my friend Jake promised to help out, but the open problem is he’s also a firefighter and when I’m not there, he needs to be.”

Jake is one of his Navy buddies, Y/n remembers the name. He retired two years ago and made the move up here to the small town where his god daughter lives.

“That's okay.” Her voice light, “Happy you guys could still make it.”

“Nick, have you met Y/n?” Bradley asks.

“Hi.” He barely looks up from the switch in his hands. He couldn’t be less interested.

“Hey, Nick. Nice to meet you.”

Bradley has to nudge him to reciprocate the sentiment. He mutters a ‘yeah whatever’ before they both launch off to the couch while the couple lingers by the door.

“These are for you.” Bradley pulls a bouquet of yellow daisies from behind his back.

“Thank you.” She can’t help but smile widely. The yellow is perfect, and she’s pretty sure she’s unpacked a vase she can use for them. Bradley looks her over, scanning for any hint of irritation at his plus two for the night.

It wasn’t his plan at all, and he’s interested enough he was genuinely scared of scaring her off by doing this. She’s already been so good with Sadie. Deep down he knows that if she had a big reaction to this, she wouldn’t be the one for him. His children are a priority to him, it can’t hurt to know that from day one. She doesn’t seem upset at all.

Bradley heads back outside to get some of his tools needed and Y/n gets Sadie set up with Moana on the TV and Nick focuses on his switch still glued to his hands. She called for a pizza delivery one for them and adding a cheese too for the kids, Bradley didn’t even have to ask.

“So, Navy pilot turned fire chief?” She asks, reaching out for her bottle of beer. They’ve got everything set up and he told her the game plan for how they’ll do everything. She knows things about him, but they don’t know a lot about each other. Y/n has gotten more from Iris about him than himself other than cheeky comments.

“Yeah, I wanted to stay active. It would’ve been a big shift to go from that to a desk job.” He pulls down the piece of drywall he just cut off.

“Trust me, the muscles are appreciated.” She blatantly ogles him, causing him a rare blush.

“Thank you, thank you.” He nods in his spot, “Yeah, I started off volunteering, which turned into working full time, which turned into the old chief retiring last year.”

“Was the stache a requirement for the position?” She teases, he snorts out a laugh.

“No, I had it before, believe it or not.” He grins.

Building out the rounded arch is a little more extensive as a project and she’s glad she’s got Bradley’s help as he walks her through everything they're doing. It takes a few hours, a few different movies for the kids, but eventually they get almost done. The kids are both completely asleep on the couch by now, it’s gotten dark out.

“Okay, I think we need to cut this.” Y/n holds up the last piece of trim “You wanna cut this, please?”

She bats her eyelashes looking up at him, leaning in holding out the board. He’s already taught her how to make the cuts on the saw in his garage. She's on her fourth beer, and he’s on his third. He has to admit, renovating was never a good date idea but he’s pleasantly surprised at how well they work together.

“I can take care of it, but only if you promise to be impressed with my skills.”

“When can I see your other skills?” She teases, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt.

“God, you sure know how to make a project hard.” He sighs, taking a deep breath.

“Hard? I haven’t even gotten started w-” Bradley cuts her off with a single finger pressed to her lip.

“My children are in the next room.” He reminds.

“Oh my god.” She cowers into his chest, hiding from embarrassment causing him to shake around her in a laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m gonna go cut this.” He presses an affectionate kiss to her forehead before heading outside to his garage for the saw. By the time he comes back with everything cut to size her cheeks aren’t on fire anymore. He can see that she cleaned up the area for him to frame it out. He hits it with the nail gun quickly and the job is done.

He sits on her large island with her looking at the work they’ve completed.

“Hell of a job.” She reaches out to cheers her beer with his.

“This has to be one of the most unconventional dates I’ve ever been on.” Bradley admits, “That’s gotta be up there.”

“What? You mean you don't typically bring your whole family on first dates while you’re helping them remodel?”

She leans in to bump her shoulder into his teasing him.

“If my mom could see me now, she’d be kicking my ass.” He laughs with a shake of his head. He breaks his stare on the two kids sleeping on the couch to look over to her, “A lady deserves your full attention on a date.”

“I happened to very much like this date.” She bravely reaches out to connect their hands. His warm and enveloping hers as he runs his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand.

“I wanna go home dad.”

Both their heads snap up to see Nick is very much awake now. His glare focused on their intertwined hands, which Y/n slowly drops.

“Yeah, bud. Why don’t you head home and I’ll be right behind you with the princess there.”

Y/n smiles looking at the tiara on Sadie’s head while Nick makes his way out the front door.

“Ahh, I’m sorry about him.” Bradley sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he gets up from the counter, “He’s just-”

“Ten going on twenty.” Y/n smiles repeating his phrase from last week. Patting his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. I don’t wanna push any boundaries.”

“You aren’t. I can’t even explain how happy you’re making Sadie.” He rests his arms on the counter around where she’s still sitting. It's an intimate position but it’s comfortable, “I think she’s almost as obsessed with you as I am.”

Y/n fights the urge and fails to stop herself from running her fingers through his hair. He sighs in relief and leans in closer.

“I’m kind of obsessed with you too.” She whispers, leaning to brush her lips against his ear.

“You’re something else.” He mutters.

Bradley scoops Sadie up from her spot on the couch while Y/n cleans up the bottles they’ve littered all over her kitchen.

“Have a good night.” He smiles, pausing by the front door.

“You too.” She takes a few steps closer to them to say goodbye and open her front door.

“We do a movie night every Friday night. Do you want to come over tomorrow?” Bradley asks, hoping to continue his trend of seeing her everyday.

“I’ll be there.”

She didn’t let it be known that she was shocked he invited them over for a movie night. Y/n would say she’s gotten to know Bradley pretty well over the last couple of weeks, Sadie almost more so. Nick however has been a different story. Y/n hasn’t crossed the fence over to their house at all so far. Each of their interactions getting stronger than the last.

Bradley gets up early to work a twelve hour shift before coming home at 6 to get the house ready for her to come over and join them. Sadie was thrilled to find out about the special guest for the night.

“Why is she coming?” Nick asks from where he’s glued to the stairs.

“Because I invited her, Nicky.” Bradley makes another lap through the living room picking up miscellaneous toys off the ground. A soft knock on the door has him whipping around to face it.

“Y/n!” Sadie yells and leaps off the couch to open the front door. Bradley walks up to stand behind his daughter and greet Y/n.

“Hi, you guys.” She smiles warmly at the kids. Bradley drinks in the yellow sundress she has on. Her hair is laying down air dried like she recently showered and he’s dreaming of her shampoo already. He opens the door wider so she can come in and he can see that she’s brought something over. “I made cookies too, it feels fitting for a movie night.”

“What kind are they?” Sadie already reaching up to take the container right out of her hands.

“Chocolate chip.”

“Sadie, after dinner.” Bradley warns and she gives him her best pout to give in. She simply shakes her head and she releases her grip. Nick stands up abruptly from the stairs and turns to go up them.

“Nicky, where ya going? We’re about to start something.”

“I’m not watching tonight.” Nick shouts back as he continues going upstairs. Y/n’s face goes pale and she looks at Bradley. She knows that the likely reason is her presence.

“Maybe I should go.” She takes a half step back toward the door.

“No, please don’t go.” Bradley places a hand on her arm holding her there, “Let me just talk with him for a second.”

Bradley takes off up the stairs and Sadie simply pulls Y/n further into the house. They talk about dinner and what movie to watch and by the time they’ve decided something Bradley has convinced him to come back down.

They eat together at the table, Nick is still quiet but Y/n catches him smile a couple times. She doesn’t wanna push it and address him directly, but he does answer a few of her questions about fishing.

Nick ends up picking Transformers for his movie, Y/n learns that that take turns in a rotation each week for who picks the movie. Sadie whines for a minute, but settles into a spot right next to Y/n for the movie. Bradley and Y/n share a grin while they both watch her inch closer and closer before Y/n just extends an arm to let her lean in. By the time the movie is finished its bedtime.

The kids make their way to bed, Bradley reminding them to brush their teeth. Sadie insists that Y/n help her pick out her pajamas. Bradley picks up stray laundry from Nick’s floor, listening to the girls giggle in the other room. Nick is already under the covers, his switch on and pulled up close to his face.

“Is it so bad having her around?” Bradley asks quietly, giving Nick a chance to talk about the woman in the next room. Tonight was the longest stretch she's been with both of the kids, and it wasn't perfect but it was better than any previous interaction.

“I don’t want a new mom.”

Nick doesn’t dare pick up his head to look at his dad.

“No one said anything about her being a new mom. Mom was mom, and that’ll never change. Y/n is kind and she might not be a bad friend to have, buddy.”

Bradley is met with silence.

“Did you know she used to go fishing with her dad?” Nick picks up his head to look at his dad now.

“Really? Why was she asking me how to do stuff then?”

“Hmm, maybe she wanted to connect with you on something. She knows you love fishing. Maybe you can help her get back into it this summer. You’re good at teaching, Nicky.” Bradley reaches out to ruffle his hair up causing them both to laugh.

“Ok Daddy, I’m ready for my bedtime story.”

Y/n is standing in the doorway with his mini me standing next to her. It would seem they settled on the pink striped pajamas. Bradley gives Nick a loud smooch kissing him on the forehead before leaving his room to move to his daughters.

“I’m gonna wait downstairs.”

“Goodnight Y/n!” Sadie reaches out arms to hug her, “Goodnight Sadie.”

She leans her head back towards Nick’s door.

“Goodnight, Nick.” She calls, he responds with a simple ‘night’ but she’ll take anything at this point. Bradley watches her make her way back downstairs and she smiles back at him over her shoulder feeling his eyes on her.

Bradley reads her a story and manages to drag out one long enough for her eyes to be heavy by the end of it. He softly shuts her door and peeks in on Nick before shutting his too. He makes his way downstairs and notices the absence of the person he’s looking for.

He scans the kitchen and living room before he sees the back of her head out on the back patio. He slides open the sliding glass door and she turns to see him, a grin blooming on her face. He joins her on the outdoor couch, kicking up his feet next to hers.

“These past few weeks have been amazing.” Bradley admits, they both lookout towards the water, his arm wrapping around her shoulders to pull her in closer.

“They have been.” She admits, “I have to say, you have been quite the surprise. This is one of the last things I could’ve expected with moving here.”

“You weren’t looking for a relationship?” He asks.

“Not at all.”

His heart stills for a second. They’ve never really had a conversation about what they’re both looking for, but she’s in his life already. In Sadie’s life already too. It's only been a couple weeks, but he's already felt such a strong connection.

“Pleasantly surprised though.” She clarifies.

She pauses to clear her throat and lean back a little to really look at him.

“I need to tell you something.” She admits, her heart is racing with anticipation knowing she can’t go back now. She doesn’t want to have this conversation either, but knows that she needs to with the relationship heading where it is. It’s serious and she can’t let him let her all the way in without knowing why she’s actually here.

“Don’t tell me you just wanna be friends” He jokes.

“No, trust me I could not be just your friend.” She presses a hand to his chest, “I just wanted to talk about how I ended up here.”

“Fresh start, right?” He reaches out to tuck her hair back behind her ear. He’s radiating warmth and it makes her want to lean back in closer and drop the conversation all together.

“Exactly. I needed a fresh start, but I didn’t tell you what it was from.” Y/n takes a breath and Bradley gives her all the time in the world, “I had a relationship with a man named Matt for four years. We were pretty serious, but I ended things when I had to get seventeen stitches and this arm was in a cast for two months.”

Bradley completely stills and his eyes dart between hers while he takes in all the new information.

“Oh, Y/n.” He sighs. She’s got tears in her eyes, but she knows she needs to get through this. Bradley gives her the time to gather her thoughts completely.

“I ended things and got my own apartment in a different burrow. I had to get a temporary restraining order, but he kept waiting outside of my office. He broke into my apartment a month before I moved in next door.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bradley admits. “I was in a total tailspin.” She admits, “So, I took his ass to court and went back and forth for weeks before we reached a settlement. His parents were the ones who arranged a deal and convinced him to leave me alone. In return for dropping the charges I was paid off. It was enough to get away and start a new life.”

He leans over to pull her in close to his chest, her head resting against it. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and lets his hand run down the back of her head a few times before he can really gather his words.

“I’m so proud of you.” His lips murmur into her hair. She can’t help but pick her head up to pull back and look at him.

“Proud?”

“Of course. That’s an impossible situation to be put in and you were able to get yourself away and start a new life. It’s brave to pick up and move away. Change your life.”

“You of all people think I’m brave?” She questions with a grin. “Mr. I literally run into buildings that are on fire and I used to fly planes on impossible missions?”

“I do, which is saying something.” He chuckles, “But seriously. I don’t think you understand how strong you actually are.”

She reaches out so her fingers brush the curls on the back of his neck. She can feel the goosebumps she’s raising as her fingers dust over the back of his neck.

“Y/n.’ He says her name softly, but something tells her it would come out horse if he tried to say it any louder.

Just with that little whisper she tilts her chin up with her eyes locked on his to kiss him. Slow at first, still smiling but tasting the warmth of his lips and the faint salt from the sea clinging to him. She’s sure she tastes like it too, not very sweet.

He loves the salt, it tastes like home. He responds with his hands gripping her waist to pull her onto his lap while deepening the kiss. It’s raw and honest, pulling them into each other and forgetting the whole ocean behind them. The waves and the world fade out for a few minutes while they just focus on each other and what feels good.

They break apart, both needing a full breath of air. His fingers are still holding her dress bunched up at her hips, revealing the white lacy thong she had on underneath.

They don’t speak for a minute still catching their breaths, the sound of waves curling against the beach come back into focus. Her lips are swollen and Bradley is sure he couldn’t be any better off. He reaches out to let his thumb brush against her cheek, she leans into the touch.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

YOU GUYS! this has been my baby that i have been sitting on for so long, and i have so many ideas where i want to take it i had to split it up.

please let me know if you want more to this series!!! this is heavily inspired by the Safe Haven by Nicolas sparks

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