don't think, just do.

✨ FIC MASTERLIST ✨

Jake Seresin

Ultimatum | 3.3k | 🩷💔 **Can you really build a future with someone who only lets you love their shell? (angst, ultimatum given, mentions of emotional baggage, emotional exhaustion, therapy, arguing, swearing, alcohol)

Tiny Promises | 1.1k | 🩷 **Feeling your baby kick for the first time makes your pregnancy to finally feel real to Jake. (pregnant!reader, mentions of pregnancy, swearing)

After Work | 1.9k | 🩷 **After you and Jake both have long days at work, it’s nice to be in each other’s company as you unwind from the day.

No Persona to Hide Behind - Part One | 1k | 🩷 **You work with Hangman, who, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't get you. But meeting Jake, that's a different story. (swearing, some potential poor naval knowledge)

No Persona to Hide Behind - Part Two | 3.6k | 🩷🔥 **Hangman might not be your type, but Jake just might be - no matter how hard you try to pretend he's not. (swearing, little bit of slow burn, gets steamy towards the end)

Sticky Notes | 2.3k | 🩷 **Even though the Navy requires Jake leave for work before you wake up, he still finds ways to say good morning, even when he's thousands of feet in the air. That is, until he's late for work one morning. (potential incorrect Navy/aviation knowledge, swearing, mentions of guilt)

Jealousy, Jealousy | 4.2k| 🩷💔🔥 (18+ MDNI) **Jake's too untouchable, so you decide it's time to crack his composure. With Bradley as your accomplice, you try to push Jake to his limit...but it comes with a price. (friends to lovers, mentions of drinking, decoy dynamic/weaponized flirting, jealousy, provocation, slight male dominance, competitive teasing, making out, mark making)

My Captain America | 1.1k | 🩷 **After a movie night, you can't help but realize how similar your husband is to one particular Marvel superhero. What starts as a lighthearted debate quickly turns into a deeply meaningful moment.

"Alright, Coyote," you start, lining up your shot. "Get ready to lose another twenty bucks."

Javy scoffs at your teasing, "In your dreams. Hangman may let you win to keep the peace at home, but I have a reputation to uphold."

From the barstool, Jake watches you with Javy. He's leaning against the counter, a condensation covered beer bottle in his hand, his eyes locked in on you. Moments ago, Maverick had been making small talk with him about some upcoming drills, but Jake's attention drifted. He couldn't help himself.

You lean across the green felt of the table with a sharp focus, and you hit the cue ball forward with a clack. The eight-ball effortlessly sinks into the corner pocket.

"Pay up, Coyote!" Phoenix laughs from a nearby hightop. "I tried to tell you she was going to do it."

Javy shakes his head as he pulls a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket. It was faint, but you heard him whisper an 'unbelievable' under his breath. "You are a menace."

You took the cash from his hand with a dramatic bow, laughing as you put it in your back pocket. Your laughter was bright, and from where Jake was sitting, it floated over the music from the jukebox and rang beautifully in his ears. It was his favorite sound in the entire world.

He was still captivated by it as Bradley walks over to you, slinging a friendly arm around your shoulder. "Hey," he chuckles, "if you're that good, I need you on my team for darts next. Let's consider it payback for Hangman destroying me last week."

Jake's posture at the bartop shifts instantly. His eyes narrow for a second as the ingrained friction flares in his mind. It's a brief flash of their cockpit rivalry, but as Rooster offers a knowing smile to Jake, the tension in his body escapes and is replaced by a warmth. An understanding of chosen family.

"Hey now, watch the merchandise, Bradshaw," Jake finally says casually as he pushes up from his place at the bar. He walks over to the pool table, stepping right next to you. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against his chest as a playful grin makes its way on his face. "Don't go recruiting my girl because your game sucks."

"My game is fine, Seresin," Rooster hits back, though his face also has the same smile on it. "Unfortunately for you, your girlfriend just so happens to have better aim then you do."

Jake leans in closer to your ear. "Is that right, darlin'?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. It's enough to send a small shiver down your back. "You turning on me for the loser squad?"

You tilt your head to look at him, flashing him a sweet smile. "I go where the winners are, Hangman. And as of this moment, I'm undefeated."

"Ooof, that's brutal," Bob chimes in from where he's standing by the dartboard, making everyone laugh.

"Alright everyone, step aside," Phoenix declares, giving you a playful nudge. "Darts. Right now. You and me against the boys." She shoots a glance at Jake, poking a dart to his chest. "And you better behave, Hangman. She's the best thing to ever happen to your arrogant ass. Don't break her heart."

Jake lets out a small chuckle at her words, raising his hands in surrender. "Yeah, yeah. I know my place, Phoenix."

"Oh, it's on," you say excitedly, slipping out of Jake's grip to follow Phoenix.

Jake lingers by the pool table as you walk away. The banter between the squad members continues around him. Javy's complaining to Bradley about the pool table, Maverick is laughing at Penny from behind the bar. But for Jake, the room suddenly gets quiet.

In his mind, the noise in the bar fades away, trapping him in a capsule of his own thoughts. He watches you stand with Phoenix, cheering for her as she throws a bullseye. When your hands stop clapping, you turn around to hand Bob a beer, cracking a joke that sends the quiet WSO into a fit of laughter.

You look like you're in your element, completely at ease with his group of friends. You balance Jake's sharpness with a sense of warmth. It brings out a side of Jake that they've never seen before - one that's grounded and content.

For someone like Jake, the feeling is terrifying. He's the man who has built his entire career and adult life on being independent and untouchable. In the sky, he was a one wolf, the guy who leaves his wingman behind because he believed he only needed himself to survive. Domestic life, settling down, having a partner - these were concepts for other people, not for a fast paced, egotistical pilot.

A flash of fear hits him in the chest. For someone in the Navy, love is a dangerous game. His job consists of brutal, high stakes attachments that could leave someone alone at any given moment. The stakes become much higher. He's not flying for his own survival anymore. The thought of losing what you have together, or leaving you with nothing but a folded flag, makes his throat feel like it's closing.

But when he looks at you, the fear doesn't make him run. It grounds him. In the middle of the Hard Deck, a realization floods his brain and knocks the wind out of him.

He doesn't just want you to be his girlfriend. He doesn't want to live off of small talk in shared apartments. He wants the entire thing. He wants to watch you laugh with his friends for the next hundred years. He wants you to be the one he comes home to after every deployment, every detachment, every long day. He wants to watch you grow old, and he wants to hear your laugh every single day for the rest of his life. He wants to put a ring on your finger, buy your dream home with a yard for the kids, and call you his wife.

The certainty in his decision leaves him frozen. His guarded, lone wolf persona is beautifully shredded.

You glance back over your shoulder, as if you could feel his gaze on you through the crowded bar. Across the tables and shuffling people, your eyes lock onto his. You give Jake a soft smile, one meant only for him, and give him a small wave before turning back to the game of darts.

Unbeknownst to Jake, Javy steps up beside him. "Hey man, you good?" He bumped Jake's shoulder with his own. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Jake blinks, snapping out of his thoughts and tearing his eyes from you to look at his friend. The look on Jake's face, the one full of a vulnerable joy, makes Javy's eyebrows raise in shock. It wasn't normal for Jake to show any emotion other than the classic smirk.

Jake lets out a breathless laugh, looking back over at you just in time to watch you throw a dart that lands in the inner ring.

"Yeah," Jake whispers, not even trying to hide his emotions anymore.. "I'm better than good, Javy. I'm going to marry her."

Javy looks towards you, then back at Jake. The teasing smirk on his face fades from, replaced by a massive smile. He nudges Jake's arm, his voice sounding more sincere. "It’s about damn time you figured it out, Hangman. You haven't talked about yourself or looked in a mirror once tonight. She took the solo man and turned him into a human being. You better go get her."

Jake smiles, setting his unfinished beer down on the table next to them. He makes his way through the crowded bar until he's standing right behind you again. As Phoenix takes her turn, Jake wraps both arms around you, pulling you back against his chest and resting his head on your shoulder.

"Whoa, okay," you laugh softly, leaning back into his solid frame. "What's this about? I haven't won the game yet."

"Just missed you," he mumbles, his voice vibrating against your back as he tightens his grip on your waist, holding you as if you'll float away if he lets go. "Wanted to hold my girl."

You smile, wrapping your hands over his forearms. You give them a light squeeze. "I'm right here, Jake. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," he whispers, kissing your jaw. All of the previous fears he had before escaped his mind. Because I'm never letting you go.

-

Jake's truck cab is quiet compared to the chaos of the Hard Deck, the dashboard lights glowing blue, highlighting Jake’s jaw. His hand rested on top of yours, his thumb is moving in slow circles across your knuckles. You thought it was comforting, but for him it was grounding.

You’re leaning back in the passenger seat, your eyes closed, humming along to the country song quietly coming through the speakers as you reminisce on the perfect night. Peeking over at your boyfriend, you notice he's not as chatty as he usually is on the way home.

"You're awfully quiet over there, Seresin," you murmur. "You alright? Coyote didn't hurt your feelings too bad, did he?"

Jake lets out a low chuckle, his eyes staying locked in on the dark road ahead. He doesn't look bothered; he looks dangerously focused. "No, darlin'. Coyote can't get to me. I’m just having a small debrief in my head."

"What about? Talk to me."

He catches your eye for a brief, flashing second, a slow, familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But the smirk doesn't have its usual malice. It’s the look he gets before he breaks formation to go his own route.

"Thinking about how you had the entire bar in the palm of your hand tonight," he says, his voice dropping. "Rooster, Phoenix, Bob. You had all of them fooled. Had me over there thinking I might have to lock you down permanently just to keep the peace around here."

Your heart flutters. You twist your hand to squeeze his, stepping right into the playfulness of his tone. "If I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure I told you that I'm not going anywhere."

He brings your hand up to his lips. "Good," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your fingers. His eyes shoot back to you. "Because I'm not known to be a patient man. I never have been, darlin'."

I don't do anything slow, he thinks as his attention goes back to the road. His thumb continues it's soft circles on your hand. When I lock onto the target, I take the shot.

His realization that he's going to marry you isn't one that brings panic; it turns into a mission. He is not waiting for the perfect moment, he's not putting an engagement in a timeline. He wants a ring on your finger and your last name to be Seresin. And knowing himself well, he's going to fast-track the whole damn thing.

-

The next afternoon, the clock had barely ticked to 5:01 PM when Jake practically shoved Javy into the passenger seat of his truck.

"Dude! Slow down! What's the rush?" Javy asks in worry. Jake peels out of the hangar parking lot, causing Javy to grip the handle above the door.

"We have fifty-nine minutes until the jeweler downtown closes for the day, and I'm not losing anymore time." Jake's eyes are locked in on the road, his eyebrows furrowed in determination. It's a look Javy has seen many times in the simulator and in the air.

A massive grin finds its way to Javy's face. "Today? You're doing it today? Damn, Seresin, you had the realization less than twenty-four hours ago."

"I knew it the moment she was laughing with Bob last night," Jake snaps back. "When I know what I want, I don't idle on the flight deck. I take off. Look up the store on your phone. I need specs. She's not getting anything on her finger that isn't flawless."

Thirty minutes later, the most cocky aviator known to man is a nervous wreck pacing the floor of a boutique jeweler. Javy stands at a case, shaking his head in laughter as Jake rejects the sixth ring with a dismissive flick of his fingers.

"That one's too bulky," Jake mutters, "She has delicate hands, dainty fingers. Something like that'll weigh her down. And that one is too flashy; looks like something an A list movie star would wear. She likes simple."

"You know you're treating this like a pre-flight inspection, Seresin." Javy puts a hand on his friend's shoulder in support. "Relax."

The jeweler behind the counter, an older woman with a kind smile, who has more than likely dealt with other intense military men in her lifetime, reaches down into another drawer. "I might have just the thing for her, Lieutenant. We actually got it in this morning."

She places a black velvet box on the counter and opens it up. Inside is a beautiful, delicate oval diamond set on a thin yellow gold band. It's timeless, elegant, and exactly what Jake's been searching for.

Jake stops his pacing. His chest tightens as his eyes lock onto the ring. He doesn't take a peek at the price tag, and he doesn't even think about the damage it may do to his savings account.

"That's it. That's the one," Jake whispers. His voice falls into something vulnerable, something quiet. He points to the small box, "That's her ring. Wrap it up, right now."

Javy steps up next to him to look at the ring, then he chooses to look down at the price tag. He looks up at Jake, a look of shock on his face. "Hey, you sure man? That's a heavy bill for a Thursday afternoon."

Jake looks at Javy, his familiar confidence taking over his entire body. But it's not the normal cocky confidence you find him walking with each week; it's a confidence of certainty.

"I've never been more sure in my life, Coyote," Jake says, a smile breaking across his face as he hands the jeweler his credit card. "Please just box it up. Every second it's sitting behind the glass is a second longer it's not on her finger."

-

By 7:00 PM, the sky in San Diego is a beautiful mix of orange and purple as the sun begins to set. Jake called you an hour ago, instructing you to meet him at the beach. You didn't even have to ask, you knew exactly where he was going to be. It was a small area by the base, a one that most people didn't hang around at. The two of you often went down there to watch the waves or have picnics; it was the spot you grew your relationship on.

You wrap your arms around yourself as the breeze sends a slight chill down your spine. As you're walking over, you spot his truck near the cliffside. Then you see him.

Jake is standing near the water, he's out of his uniform and in a dark sweater and jeans. You loved seeing him in a flight suit, but it always make your heart flutter a little extra getting to see him in civilian clothes. His hands were in his pockets, and from afar, he looked like he was deep in thought as he stared at the ocean. But the second he sensed your presence, he quickly turned around.

You stopped in your tracks when you see the look he has on his face. His eyes are bright, his chest rising and falling quickly, as if he was pulling high Gs right there on the ground.

"Jake?" you question him, a puzzled look on your face. You walked up to him and rested your hand on his forearm in an effort to calm him down. "What's going on? You look like you just finished a dogfight."

He doesn't answer you with words. He reaches out to grab your waist and pulls you against him. He lets his face bury itself into your neck, holding you so tightly that you can feel his heart thump against you.

"Honey, you're scaring me a little," you nervously laugh, your arms finding their way around his shoulders. "What's going on?"

He pulls back from you, his hands moving from your waist to lace his fingers through yours. He has a tight grip, but you can feel the subtle shaking in his fingers. It shocks you, almost confusing you. Jake's hands are always steady and still, but looking at you in this moment, his composure is collapsing.

"There's nothing wrong," he says, his voice thick with emotion he couldn't hide if he tried. "Everything is completely fine. It's completely right. I need you to listen to me, darlin'."

He looks right into your eyes, his green irises practically glowing from the light coming from the sunset.

"Last night, at the bar, I was watching you," he starts. "They couldn't get enough of you. You were laughing with Bob and Phoenix and it hit me in an instant. I've been spending everyday of my life searching for the next big thing. The next high, the next rush. I thought I didn't need anyone to do life with, thought that I could survive on my own. But with you, looking at you, I realized you are the only high I ever want to chase. You're not the next thrill. You're my finish line."

Your eyes widen at his words, the weight of what's happening finally settling over the moment. You didn't even realize your breathing stopped while he was talking.

"I don't want to wait," he continues, letting out a slight chuckle thinking about who he is. "I don't do things slow. I'm sure as hell not waiting for some vacation in six months to ask the question when I already know the answer. I want the rest of our lives to start right now. Right this second."

Before the words could process in your mind, Jake drops onto one knee in the sand. He pulls the velvet box from his pocket and opens it. The diamond inside glimmers from the last rays of the setting sun. It was the most perfect piece of jewelry; you couldn't have picked something better.

"Sweetheart, will you marry me?" he asks. He was undone, laying out his heart and handing it over to you. "Will you please let me spend the rest of my life doing everything in my power to make you happy?"

Tears blur your vision as a sob escapes your lips. You don't even look at the ring, you look at him. Your partner, your safe place.

"Yes!" you cry out, laughing in glee. You nodded frantically as the tears began slipping down your cheeks. "Of course Jake. Yes, yes!"

Jake lets out a laugh of relief. He lunges toward you, lifting you up off of your feet before he can get the ring out of the box and onto your finger. He spins you around, his deep laugh hitting your ears. You wrapped one arm around his neck as your other hand cradled the back of his head, lightly pulling his hair.

He finally puts you down and slips the ring onto your finger, his fingers still shaking from the adrenaline and nerves. The ring fits perfectly.

He places his hands on your cheeks, cupping your face and tilting your head to meet his lips. The kiss is deep and passionate, one filled with excitement and unspoken promises. He pulls you tightly into his chest, your arms finding their way around his waist. As you both look out to the ocean to watch the final minutes of the sunset, you know that every single tomorrow belongs to him.

---

Jake spits, letting out a scoff as he rinses off his toothbrush. "Stark?! Please. He's such a wildcard. He constantly flies by the seat of his pants, and he has to rely on millions - billions - of dollars of tech to get him through it."

"Oh, what? And you don't?" you teased, leaving against the cool countertop.

"There's a difference," he corrects with a wink, pointing at you with his toothbrush. "I rely on pure, absolute talent."

You laugh softly at him, shaking your head. You reach over for your face wash and for a few minutes, you both continued your superhero logistics debate. Thor's airspace violations, Black Widow's interrogating, and the list goes on.

There's a small lull in the conversation.

As you wipe away the water and leftover suds from your face, you look at Jake through the mirror's reflection. He's leaning against the bathroom doorframe, watching you finish your routine. He has a content look on his face, which brings you comfort after watching him go through the stressful week he's had.

"You know," you start thoughtfully, hanging the towel on the towel ring. "You're kind of like Captain America."

Jake lets out a genuine, soft chuckle, a smile forming on his face. "What could you possibly mean by that?"

"Think about it," you start, shifting to look up at him, leaning against the sink. "Steve Rogers carries a weight of a symbol, and you do too."

You held up your hand, ticking the points on your fingers. "You lead from the front, but you use your smug Hangman persona to mask your exhaustion because you don't want anyone on your squad to see you falter. You both use a shield to protect yourself; his is a physical shield, and yours is your arrogant attitude. But also, behind the shield, you're the fiercely loyal guy who will break protocol, risk being court-martialed, and disregard poor orders if it means you'll bring your men home safely. That 'I can do this all day' determination? You have that exact same thing. You're the guy who, in a world full of skeptics, truly believes in the uniform and in the mission."

It wasn't supposed to be super sappy; you stated it factually. They were small observations that rose from watching the movie and watching Jake do his job week in and week out.

But in front of you, Jake goes still.

Every witty comeback he could have used disappears from his train of thought. Inside his chest, his heart soars.

He's used to compliments about his work, his flying, his looks - even his ego. But hearing you, his wife, the one who knows every single fear, insecurity, and flaw he hides from the rest of the world, comparing him to a symbol of good like Steve Rogers? That knocked the wind right out of him.

Jake's eyes move from your face to the floor. He stands there looking down at his feet, blush creeping up his neck. A small smile tugs at his lips. For the first time since you've known Jake, he almost looks shy.

A smile finds its way to your face at the reaction, realizing how much your words really impacted him. You fill the distance between you, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck.

He doesn't look up at you right away. He's still smiling at the floor, which causes you to life his chin up.

"Plus," you add, your voice falling into a playful whisper. "You're incredibly handsome and very strong."

You let your voice move into an even softer whisper. "You're my Captain America."

Jake takes a deep breath as he tries to play off the softness your words made him feel. He swallows hard, then clears his throat. He's trying so hard to cover up how touched he is, but his usual mask won't come.

He moves his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Please," he speaks lightly against your hairline, his familiar cockiness coming back slightly. "Steve Rogers doesn't stand a chance against me."

You burst out laughing, swatting his shoulder. The sound echoed in the bathroom, ruining the soft moment that was there previously. "Oh, shut up. Let's go to bed."

A few moments later, the house is dark, and you're laying together in bed. Jake immediately pulls you into his side, moving his arm under your head. Your cheek is against his chest, the sound of his heart beating right under your ear. You close your eyes, his warmth summoning you into sleep.

But Jake doesn't follow.

He's staring at the ceiling, listening to your breathing fill the room. His brain is completely flooded by your compliments you gave him in the bathroom; they were flowing on repeat. You lead from the front. You believe in the mission. You're my Captain America.

In his world, where he consistently needs to prove his worth through being the loudest, fastest, and best pilot, you looked at him and saw something good. It was truly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.

His grip tightened on you slightly, adjusting himself to be as close to you as possible. A quiet smile landed on his face in the dark room, gratitude filling his bones as he found himself falling asleep with the words finally settling into his mind.

---

Bradley maneuvered the walkway as he carried the tray of beers to get you a spot next to him. Jake, who finally escaped the pool table to rejoin the Daggers at the table, was sitting right across from you.

"Alright, I'm judging whoever ordered the light beer," Fanboy joked, reaching across to grab a bottle.

"That one would be Payback," Bradley said, laughing as he settled back into his seat. His arm effortlessly draped over the back of your chair, his thumb lightly brushing your shoulder. To you two, was a completely platonic gesture, but you saw the exact second Jake noticed it.

His smile didn't leave his face, but it stiffened. He picked up his own beer, taking a long slow sip. His eyes started to track Bradley's hand.

"So, Maverick has us doing low-altitude drills tomorrow," Phoenix says, leaning forward to start the conversation. "Who's going to take the lead?"

"I figure Hangman will try to jump into it, per usual," Javy chimed in, tossing a crumpled napkin at Jake's chest.

"Hey, when you're the best, you don't wait in line," Jake replied easily. His tone was confident, but his eyes flew straight to you. It was almost as if he was begging you to fire back a sarcastic comment like you normally do.

Instead, you ignored him. You turned to face Bradley, laughing at an unrelated expression he made. "Please, Bradley," you said, your voice carrying just enough over the music and the rest of the squad. You reached out and placed your hand firmly on his forearm, letting your fingers linger against his skin. "I'd bet on you any day to be the one who'll clear the canyon first."

Bradley's arm twitched underneath your hand as he tried to hold in a laugh. "Did you hear that, Hangman? Someone's got faith in me."

Across from you, Jake stopped fidgeting with his beer bottle. His jaw tightened as he stared directly at your hand that was rested on Bradley's arm. His cool demeanor was starting to evaporate, and an irritation began taking it's place.

"Well, is that so?" Jake asked, his voice dropping an octave, which made him sound even more serious than you'd ever heard him. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table as he looked right at you. "Sweetheart, I didn't realize you were such an expert on aviation strategy."

You chose to keep your eyes off of Jake as you squeezed Bradley's arm one more time. You pull your hand back to take a drink of your beer. "I just know who I like to back," you mumbled, smiling at Bradley.

Jake gripped his beer bottle to the point his knuckles turned white. Not a single word escaped his lips for the remainder of the conversation. His eyes felt like they never left you and Bradley.

-

When midnight rolled around, Bradley announced to the group that it it was his time to call it for the night.

He stood up and stretched, "Alright, I'm out."

"Past your bedtime, rooster?" Fanboy called out. Bradley waved him off with a grin.

You decided to stand up from the table with him. "I think I'm going to take off too," you said to the group. You quickly caught Jake's eye; he was still sitting, leaning back in his seat. He was trying so hard to look like he didn't care, but his eyes were tracking your every move.

"I'll walk you out," Bradley offered smoothly.

You walked next to each other as you headed toward the exit. The moment the doors opened, the cold air outside hit you instantly. You walked into the parking lot, stopping by Bradley's Bronco.

Inside of the bar, Jake sat frozen for a few seconds, but to him it felt like minutes. The sight of you walking out of the bar with Bradley brought an ache to his chest. His brain told him to play it cool, to not let anyone see it messing with him. But his heart and gut had a bubbling, jealous anger that drowned out all of his reasoning.

He stood up abruptly and marched out of the bar.

Outside, you faced Bradley. "Thanks for the assist, Bradshaw. That was pretty enjoyable."

Bradley grinned, "Anytime." He glanced over your shoulder to see the bar's entrance doors fly open. "He just walked out. There's your cue to get the job done."

There wasn't an ounce of hesitation. You stepped closer to Bradley, wrapping your arms around his neck for a hug. You held on for a second longer than you normally would. Right before pulling away, you planted a kiss onto his cheek.

"Drive safe," you whispered.

Bradley gave you a subtle wink, one that Jake couldn't see. "Good luck," he mumbled as he climbed into his Bronco. As the engine turned on and he backed out, you started to head towards your car.

You managed to make it three steps toward your car before a hand grabbed your arm.

The grip wasn't painful. It was uncompromising as it spun you around until your back was against your car. It made your breath hitch.

Jake towered over you, completely in your space. His cocky arrogance that was seen an hour before was gone. His jaw was clenched so tight, and his green eyes were darker than normal. His expression was a mix or frustration and possession.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. His voice had a dangerous growl that you felt through your chest.

Your heart hammered as you swallowed hard. You forced an 'innocent' smile to your lips. "What was what, Seresin? I said goodnight to a friend."

"Don't play dumb with me," Jake snapped. His hands came up and landed on each side of you on the window, trapping you between him and the car. "You have been over Bradshaw all night. Touching him, laughing at him. Then that?" He scoffed. "Do you think it's funny? You think I'm just going to sit there and see you do that in front of me?"

"I didn't think you would care this much," you teased. Your voice trembled just enough to betray you; his sudden dominance was affecting your game. "You seemed really busy with your pool game."

A breathy, angry laugh escaped from him, his eyes locked into yours intensely. "Didn't care? I've been wanting to rip him away from you for the last two hours. You're playing a dangerous game, darlin."

"And what if I am?" you challenged him. Your chin tilted up defensively.

Jakes eyes flashed with a desperation you'd never seen before. "Then you're about to lose."

He didn't give you any time to respond. His hand came up to your jaw, his fingers firm as he brought his lips down to yours with force. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a possessive, desperate claim.

The kiss was a dizzying, chaotic collision of tongue and teeth. The kiss tasted like beer and months of unspoken feelings. Your hands moved to his chest, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. You attempted to match the aggression as you pulled him closer to you, but you were never going to catch up with him.

He let out a slight groan against your mouth, a sound that sounded low and defeated. The grip he had on your jaw softened enough to graze his thumb along your cheekbone. He pulled back, both of you trying to catch your breath.

The energy between you two was heavy and completely charged. The weight of his feelings made it tight, crushing any playful feelings that were there at the beginning of the evening.

Jake didn't let you go, he couldn't get himself to. His chest heaved against yours as he looked down at you, his eyes still the same dark green they were when he first entered the parking lot.

"Get in my truck," he commanded. His voice was rough, sending a shiver down your spine. The usual, smooth Texan drawl he had was nowhere to be found.

You blinked, trying to clear your brain and process what he said. "What? What about my car?"

"Darlin, I don't give a damn about the car," Jake said, his fingers grasping a little tighter on your waist. You consumed every ounce of his focus. His grip on you was firm as he led you toward his truck. "I said get in."

You let out a breathless laugh, adrenaline coursing through your veins. He was completely unraveled by you. The controlled, unshakeable persona he always had shattered.

You were eating it up.

You didn't protest any longer, letting him take you take you across the gravel parking lot to his car. Your heart was racing at how intense and undeniable the air had become.

The door of his truck slammed shut behind you as Jake climbed into the driver's seat. His movements were sharp, moved by pure adrenaline. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, almost tighter than the grip he had on his beer bottle inside of the bar. He didn't look over at you right away as settled himself into his seat.

"Jake," you started slowly, not paying any mind to the teasing tone in your voice. "You're going to break the steering wheel."

He let out a rough chuckle, finally looking at you. His pupils were blown. "If I don't hold onto this steering wheel, darlin, I'm going to pull you over the console. And if I do that, we will not be making it back to my place."

Before you could process the depth of his words, he turned on the car and backed out of the parking lot faster than you've ever seen anyone drive. The number on the speedometer climbed quickly.

A wicked smile spread on your face. The tension in the truck cab was intoxicating. You shifted in your seat to turn your body towards him, completely unbothered by how fast he was driving.

"What's the rush, Seresin?" you asked, your voice bringing back the playful innocence from earlier.

Jake continued looking forward, keeping his eyes on the road. "Shut up," he grumbled, even though there was no maliciousness in his tone. Just the desperation of a man trying to hang onto his last shred of control.

But you didn't shut up. Instead, you reached across the center console, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw before sliding to the nape of his neck. You slowly slid your hand into his hair, gently tugging at the short strands at the base of his head.

Jake let out a sharp breath, his shoulders tensing as a shiver visibly ran down his back.

"I'm serious," you teased. You brushed your thumb behind his ear, "I asked you what the rush is."

"You knew exactly what you were doing back there," he growled. His voice made butterflies form in your stomach. "You spent three hours trying to push me to the edge. And congratulations, you did it. So now were going to my house, and I'm going to take care of it."

The intensity of his words and how they were said so confidently sent anticipation flying through your bones. A silent understanding sat in the air of the truck.

You chose to reply with your hands, not your words. You let your hand move from the back of his neck to glide across his chest. You could feel the heavy thudding of his heart racing through the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers lingered there for a moment, and then you started moving your hand lower down his abdomen.

You tilted your head with a playful smirk. "Whoops."

Jake let out another ragged breath, his grip on the steering wheel getting even tighter as he tried to focus on the road. "You're testing every bit of my patience." He was fascinated at how well you were managing breaking him. "We're almost there. Just try to stay still for five minutes, alright?"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you lifted your hands in a mocking defeat. "Alright, alright. I'm keeping my hands to myself," you mumbled as you leaned back against the passenger seat.

He tried to hide it, but you caught the glance he shot you before you settled back into your seat for the last few minutes of the car ride.

The moment Jake turned into his driveway, he cut the headlights and unbuckled his seatbelt. He was out of his seat before the engine even completely turned off.

He moved with laser-focused concentration. He sped walked to your side of the truck and yanked your door open, remaining a southern gentleman even in times like this. But you were more surprised he didn't break the door off of the hinges.

He didn't speak one word. He reached up to wrap his hand around yours. His grip was firm, tight, and full of the last hours of built-up tension. He pulled you down from the cab of the truck with a force that caused your heart rate to spike.

You looked over at him in the moonlight. His expression was serious, not an ounce of anything else was on his face. He looked like a man on a mission. You on the other hand couldn't fight off the slow smile that was spreading across your face.

You knew exactly what was coming, and you weren't complaining one bit.

His hand never left yours as he led you up his porch steps. He unlocked the front door, opened it, and led you inside.

The second the door clicked shut, it was game over. Jake didn't turn on the lights. He barely set his keys down on the entryway table.

In the dark of his entryway, his hands found their way to your waist. With one swift motion, he spun you and pinned your back against the wall. Your breath left in a gasp, immediately replaced by his mouth crashing onto yours.

This kiss was different than the one before. The pent up anger in the parking lot turned into a pure, needy hunger. He kissed you until your knees almost gave out, his hands moving their way up to your hair. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

He pulled away from you for a second as he rested his forehead against yours in the dark.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch you tonight?" his voice vibrated against your lips. He nipped at your bottom lip in between his words. "Sitting across from you while you touched him." He grabbed your hips and pulled you until they were against his, moving his head to your neck and biting lightly. "You did this to yourself, darlin. I've been trying to be good. I tried to take things slow, be respectful. But you pushed me right over the edge."

You let out a small gasp as his mouth moved up to your jawline, his fingers laying delicately against your skin. Even in this state, you couldn't help but lean into the teasing.

"Please, Seresin," you whispered. You tilted your head to give him better access as a smile fell on your lips. "You love a challenge. I'm just giving you one."

He didn't say another word as a growl escaped his chest.

Before you could process the sound that came from him, Jake slid his hands to the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up in one swift motion. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you buried your face into his neck, playing the same game he was.

He began walking blindly toward his bedroom down the hall, but for you, the teasing wasn't over. As he carried you, you nipped lightly at his neck, your teeth grazing his pulse point. Jake let out a hiss as the grip he had on your thighs tightened. You were going to have bruises on your legs in the morning, but that was the least of your concerns.

You moved your kips up to brush his earlobe, your teeth catching it in a playful bite. Your fingers that were once locked behind his neck started to slide down his shoulders. You let your nails dig into the muscles of his biceps as you held onto him. He was completely undone by your touch.

Jake kicked the bedroom door open and walked you to the bed. You expected him drop you down forcefully. Instead, he lowered you down slowly, his body following until he was hovering over you.

He leaned down closer to you, pinning his arms on each side of your head like he had earlier in the parking lot. His lips lightly brushed against your ear; his voice was low and rough.

"You wanted to give me a challenge, darlin?" he whispered. His breath was hot against your skin. He pulled back just enough to look you straight in the eyes. "Challenge accepted."

Once those words fell off of his tongue, the last of the playful banter you had kept up with this whole time crumbled. The teasing attitude you held on to all night disappeared in his bedroom. You didn't want to play a game, you didn't want to have banter. You wanted him.

You reached up to tightly grab his shirt and pulled him down to meet you. Jake didn't hesitate. His mouth immediately landed back on yours. His hands found their way to your waist as he pinned you to the mattress.

His tongue parted your lips as he took everything you allowed him to. You moaned into the kiss, your back arching against the bed as his body pressed down on yours.

"My god, you drive me crazy," he muttered against your lips.

He took a deep breath in, the energy in the room no longer something that could be described. The playful games earlier on in the evening turned into something more serious than you could have planned for.

Without breaking the kiss, Jake's grip shifted. He moved one of his hands from your waist and slid it down your thigh, hooking his fingers on the bend of your knee. He pulled your leg up around his hip, moving you right against him. He closed every inch between you two.

Your breath caught in your throat as you let out a light gasp into his mouth. Your hands moved from his shirt to his arms, tightening against his biceps as you attempted to ground yourself to him.

He moved his hand out from behind your knee to your hip, pressing you against him. The other hand that was securely on your waist finally moved, slowly trailing its way up to your face to tilt your head so he could deepen the kiss.

Just as it felt like you were both boiling over, he pulled back from your lips.

The seriousness on his face turned into a slow smile as he looked down at you. "You talk a lot of talk," he chuckled, "you think you can actually handle this?"

A blush formed on your cheeks as he tried to tease you. You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. Your eyebrow raised in amusement as you kept eye contact with him.

Your fingers moved back to the small hairs at the nape of his neck, something that had him undone earlier. You grip tightened ever so slightly, pulling him back down to be close to you again.

"Try me," you whispered against his mouth.

The words barely escaped your lips before he crashed back down onto you. The months of pretending you both didn't want this and the tension it brought was released in that moment.

He shifted his weight to fully come down over you, burying both of you into the mattress. His mouth moved lower, moving down your jaw, then trailing a path down your neck, to your collarbone.

The room blurred away, the only thing you could focus on was the sounds escaping your mouth as he lifted your shirt and continued moving his lips down your body.

-

The late hours of the night crept into the early hours of the morning. The moon was still glowing into the bedroom through his window, but you couldn't bother to worry about what time it was.

Jake is lying on his side, facing you as his eyes still remained intently locked into yours. The fierceness and jealousy that was in his expression earlier in the evening was gone. His hair was messy from your hands. His heartbeat finally came back to a normal rhythm after the night's events.

For the first time that night, and one of the first times you'd ever seen it in your life, his guard was down. It made him look softer than he'd ever let himself appear on base.

He reached out to you, his thumb tracing your collarbone. His touch was light compared to the grip he had on you earlier.

"You really played me tonight," he whispered honestly.

You turned your head on the pillow to face him. "I just wanted to see if you cared, Jake. You always make it seem like there's nothing that can get to you."

Jake’s hand paused its movements on your chest. He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head at himself. His eyes dropped to the mattress, then locked back into yours.

"Nothing usually can," he admitted quietly. He moved his hand up to cup your cheek. "But you do. Seeing you with Bradshaw tonight, it made me hurt in a way I didn't think was capable. I pretend a lot on base because I have to, I need to. But with you? I don't want to play Hangman. I just want to be me. I want this."

Shock rippled through your body. Hearing the words actually come out of his mouth made your chest flutter. Until Bradley had told you about Jake's feelings hours before, you had been completely oblivious to what he was feeling. To hear him say that he felt deeply about you shook you.

You didn't reply to his confession right away. You reached over to intertwine your fingers with his, laying your hands down against the sheets.

"I've wanted you for so long, Jake," you whispered. You looked straight into his eyes, letting the pure delight of the vulnerable moment take over. "I had no clue you felt the same until tonight."

Jake’s eyes widened slightly as a smile tugged at his lips. The heavy tension he was feeling lifted from his shoulders. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. His forehead rested against yours as he exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding all night.

For the rest of the night, you were his. And you were going to continue to be as long as he had a say in the matter.

---

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. You were hit with a wave of confidence; the same one that hit you in the grocery aisle two days ago. After months of his teasing, you weren't just taking it anymore. Two could play at that game.

"I did end up going with the fun, truthfully," you said, tilting your head and letting a smile flirtatiously fall on your lips. You kept eye contact, your voice matching his quiet tone. "Though, if I'm completely honest, I think the company in the aisle was way more interesting than the cereal itself."

Jake froze.

The reaction was instant, and it was beautiful. For a split second, the Hangman armor cracked. His smirk was gone, and his green eyes widened in surprise. He didn't think you would ever bite back, let alone full on flirt with him. A small, almost unnoticeable red color formed on his cheeks.

You didn't say anything more as you enjoyed the view of the fighter pilot becoming disoriented over a single sentence.

The bubble you two created was quickly popped by a loud whistle from the tarmac. "Seresin! Briefing room, five minutes!" Javy shouted from the other side.

Jake blinked, coming back to reality. He straightened his posture up from the partition of your station. He looked at you, really looked at you, his eyes radiating with Hangman's captivation and Jake's warmth.

He adjusted his flight suit, his eyes never snapping away from yours. "Duty calls," he murmured, the familiar smirk landing back onto his face, though this time it was much softer. "Don't miss me too much while I'm up there."

He gave you a nod and a lingering look before turning around and heading toward the briefing room.

You watched his back as he walked away, your hand trembling just slightly as you reached for your water bottle. You took a sip as your chest started to tighten with anticipation.

Oh, you are seriously in trouble.

---

As the day was coming to a close, most of the mechanics had clocked out for the night, which made the massive space around you quiet.

You were standing on a maintenance scaffolding leaning nervously over the open cockpit of Jake’s jet. A diagnostic tablet sat in your arm as you ran a final sweep on the display wiring.

The unmistakeable sound of boots on the concrete echoed through the quiet hangar. You didn't need to look to know who it was.

"You know, they tell us that these jets are state of the art," a tired, raspy voice spoke from the floor. "But seeing you up there, I'm starting to believe the real part that's state of the art is entirely behind the scenes."

You glanced over the side of the scaffolding. At the bottom of the metal stairs was no other than Jake. You took one quick glimpse at him; he looked absolutely exhausted, but the sight of him made your heart stop.

His flight suit was unzipped down to his waist, the sleeves tied securely around his hips. It left him in a dark black tee shirt that was fitted to his chest. His hair was messy from his helmet, which he held loosely in his left hand.

"The state of the art is entirely structural, Seresin," you called down to him, turning your attention back to the tablet in your hands to hide the sudden blush on your face. "Though, if it were up to you pilots, I think you'd fly these things until the wings literally fell off."

"Hey, I think it's in the job description to push the limits," he said.

The metal stairs creaked as he climbed up them. He stepped into your workspace. The air quickly grew warmer, the smell of the air starting to fill with his scent. He leaned against the cockpit frame, looking down at your tablet, then up at you.

"Everything looking okay?" he asked. The normal banter was there, but his voice was lower, ditching the edge he usually had to it.

"Just about done," you murmured, your eyes remaining on the tablet. "Need to verify the pitch-rate gyros. You had kind of a hard pull during your drill earlier this afternoon."

"Yeah. The air was bumpy today," he said softly.

He didn't move away from you. He lifted his body from the jet, moving himself closer to you. The playful rhythm that you both had earlier in the day felt different now.

The hangar was empty, with no audience to perform for. The silence between you grew heavy, but charged with a tension that made your fingers move nervously over your tablet.

You could his eyes focused on your face intensely.

"Jake," you said, barely above a whisper. You decided to finally look up from the screen. "You're distracting me."

He had a sudden shift in his posture as he let out a ragged breath. His helmet dropped onto the pilot's seat in front of him.

He didn't stop himself as he stepped right into your space, his hands finding the metal railing on both sides of you. He trapped you between his arms and the jet.

"That's okay. I'm completely distracted," he admitted, his green eyes shooting into yours. Hangman was gone; Jake looked entirely undone.

"I have spent the last five hours flying in the air thinking about what you said to me this morning. I'm done playing this little game darlin. I don't want to wait until next weekend to hopefully run into you. Let me take you on a date."

Your heart felt like it stopped for a moment. The directness and honesty in his voice was intoxicating. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. A small smile started to form on your face despite your nervous system making the rest of your body race.

You tilted your head up and made your voice quiet. "It depends. Is this Hangman asking me out or Jake?"

The effect of using his first name was immediate. His shoulders dropped, the shield he always wears completely fell off right in front of you. His face softened into something vulnerable. It made your chest ache. He got closer, closing the few leftover inches between you two.

His eyes locked into yours with honesty. "Jake," he promised. His voice was rough and sent goosebumps down your spine. "I promise you. It's Jake asking."

You became completely defenseless; there was no way you were saying no to him like this.

"Okay," you managed to breathe out, "tomorrow night."

A boyish joy washed over his face, and a smile broke across yours. The tension faded when he showed a real smile; one that made him look happier.

However, he quickly noticed how exposed he had been in the hangar, and he fixed himself. He swiftly grabbed his helmet from the cockpit seat and pulled away from you. Even though his body moved, his eyes focused on your lips for a long moment. The familiar Hangman smirk put itself right back on his face as he climbed down the scaffolding.

"Tomorrow it is," he said. "Don't hurt my jet before then."

You were left leaning against the metal railing, staring at the jet in front of you.

-

Monday was one thing. Tuesday was completely different.

The moment you woke up to your alarm, you were hit with the reality of what you agreed to the night before. In 12 hours, you were going on a date with Jake Seresin.

By the time you made it to base, the knot in your stomach was tight, and a nervousness took over your entire body. The confidence you found the day before was gone and self-consciousness took its place.

The hardest part? He wasn't hanging out at your station today. Most days, Hangman was incredibly hard to brush off. He always made sure his presence was known so he could get a reaction out of you. But today, he kept his distance; he was just as nervous as you were.

The realization of that hit you early on during the shift; he was strangely quiet, his hands in his pockets, his body completely still while listening to a briefing.

No words were spoken between the two of you. This Tuesday became a quiet war of quick glances. Where there's usually a blur of noise throughout the hangar, the day felt quietly cut by the tension held by your shared secret.

Around lunchtime you were at your desk, forcing your brain to wrap around fuel pump schematics. At the same time, you felt tense, as if someone was looking at you.

You raised your head and turned from the computer in front of you. Across the hangar, Jake stood with a wrench in his hand. He was standing next to Maverick, who he was supposed to be listening to, but he wasn't looking at him. He was looking straight at you.

The second his eyes connected to yours, all of the air in your lungs disappeared. He didn't smirk at you; he didn't wink. The expression on his face was soft, like his eyes were watching you intensely. It made your heart skip a beat.

You immediately shifted your face and looked at your computer in front of you, the smile that was appearing on your face unstoppable.

About an hour later, the roles reversed. Your eyes scanned the hangar as you stepped out of the tech office. You saw Jake over by a jet, inspecting a hydraulic line with Javy.

You let your eyes linger on his broad shoulders, watching how the overhead lights caught the golden blonde edges of his hair.

Almost as if he could feel your eyes on him, Jake's head snapped up. He looked past Javy, his eyes locking into yours even with all of the distance in between. It made you freeze - you expected him to break out the Hangman moves for his friend to see.

Instead, he gave you a small, private nod as his lips turned into a genuine smile. It was meant only for you.

Your boots were the only thing you could quickly find to lay your eyes on as your heart hammered against your chest. You hurried back to your desk before the heat could form a blush on your cheeks.

That was how the whole afternoon went: shared looks, breathless pauses, looking at the floor to hide your smiles. The anticipation for the evening ahead was intoxicating. It made every minute of work feel like an hour.

By 4:00, you two hadn't said a single word to each other. Yet, there's never been a time you've felt more connected to him. There was a sweet torture knowing that nobody else on base had any idea what you two were counting down to, and it was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your workstation clock felt like it was moving at half speed. You take your time packing up for the day, taking even more time to organize your tools in order to keep your hands busy and eyes off of the clock.

Around you, the office begins quieting down as people head home for the night. The anticipation and nerves for the night ahead of you however makes your chest tighten. Every shadow that passes your desk causes you to be more hyper aware than the one before it. You can't help but be distracted by the thought of how the night is going to go.

After many shadows of people wrapping up for the day, you catch the familiar stride of a particular one. Then the sound of the boots enters your ears.

Jake casually walks past your station, as if he's also just trying to make his way to the parking lot. His pace doesn't slow down at your desk; he knows as much as you do that any pause would cause suspicion. Tonight, he wants to have you entirely to himself.

As he gets closer to your station, he leans down just enough for you to catch the scent of his cologne. It hits you before his voice does.

He murmurs low and privately, "I'll pick you up at 7. Wear something casual."

You look up at him and catch him straightening back up. No wink, no cheeky grin - just another one of those genuine smiles he gave you earlier. The one that softens his face and warms his eyes.

You don't have time to reply. Before you can even take a breath, he is walking away towards the parking lot. Now you're officially counting down the hours until seven.

-

At 7:00 exactly, there's a sharp knock on your front door. When you open it, your breath hitches.

Jake is standing at the door, looking effortlessly like he just came out of a movie. He's wearing dark jeans and an olive green Henley, the shirt fitting him just right. It hugged his chest and shoulders perfectly, and the color made his eyes glisten.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. His eyes traced the lines of you fact, down your outfit, and back up to your eyes. Hangman, the one who always has some kind of comeback to throw around, is completely speechless. You made him completely speechless.

"Wow," he whispers, "hi."

You smile, a faint warmth creeping onto your cheeks. "Hi."

He takes you to a hidden Texan barbecue joint that he swears is as close to the real thing as you can get in San Diego. The atmosphere of the restaurant was loud and unrestrained, which helped remove any remaining tension that was between the two of you.

Sitting across from him at the table, you noticed every part of Hangman melt away from his personality. There was nobody around to impress or maintain the reputation; he was just Jake.

Conversation between two of you flowed effortlessly. You found yourself leaning into him, wanting to peel back every layer and figure out who Jake is outside of the hangar.

"Alright, Seresin," you teased. "Give me the real deal Where in Texas are you really from? Why did you actually join the Navy?"

Jake lets out a chuckle, his finger slowly tracing the rim of his glass. He looks up from his glass to you. "I'm from a little town outside of Austin," he starts, his voice softer than normal. "Texas is just so big, you know? I always craved more, wanted something bigger. Once I saw a jet fly over for the first time, that was it for me. It wasn't just about flying fast, it was about showing that I could conquer the toughest things the sky could bring. I simply wanted to be the best."

You nodded along, getting as much information out of him that you could. "And when you're not bossing people around at work or trying to break the sound barrier?"

"I'm surprisingly boring," he shrugs, a grin breaking on his face. "I'm somewhat of a perfectionist, if you haven't noticed. So I usually drag work home with me more often than not. I'll spend time fixing up an old truck or organizing tools to keep my hands moving. I don't really know how to slow down." He pauses and his fingers stop twiddling with the glass. He looks at you seriously. "And lately, I've been spending way more of my time thinking about you."

The confession hangs in their air, but it's not awkward. A sudden confidence floods over you. "Why me, Jake? Out of everyone there?"

Jake slowly reaches across the table, his thumb brushing the back of your knuckles so softly. "Because you don't buy Hangman," he starts quietly. "Everyone else in that hangar sees what I want them to, but you have managed to look right through it. You're so smart, you're slightly stubborn," he lets out a soft chuckle, "but the second you walk into a room, you're the only person who can manage to make me forget about everything else I'm doing."

By the time dinner is done and he's driving you back home, the temperature outside has shifted to something much cooler. He walks you up your steps, his face looking as if he's a little upset that's where the night is ending.

You unlock the door and step into the warm entryway, but you don't close the door behind you. You turn around to face him, leaning against the wooden doorframe.

"It's cold out there," you start playfully, "do you want to come in for a minute?"

Jake's eyes go wide, the question surprising him. But then his eyes go dark. "I shouldn't," he starts slowly, even though he's already taking a step in. "If I come in, I'm not going to leave."

"Then don't," you whisper.

He comes into the house fully. The second the door clicks, all restraint Jake had the rest of the night snaps. His hands find your hips and guide you back to the wall. There's no hesitation anymore. His mouth catches yours as he leans down, the kiss desperate, breathless, and revealing exactly how long you both have been waiting for that moment. One of his hands moves from your waist to your cheek, his palm cupping your jaw as he pulls you completely against him.

When he finally pulls back just an inch, he rests his forehead on yours. It's quiet for a moment, the only thing being heard is the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath. Jake stares at you, his eyes looking at your face in its entirety, ending on your lips.

Even with how dark it is in the room, you can see his vulnerability in his eyes. A vulnerability you've never seen in the hangar. Your heart is pounding against your chest. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

His fingers find a strand of hair that he gently tucks behind your ear, his hand lingering a little too long.

"Ive been wanting to do this since the first time you ever argued with me," he admits to you. His voice was breathless and low, something you had never heard before.

You look into his eyes, a smile finding its way to your face. You whisper, "Well cowboy, you took way too long do do something about it."

A quiet laugh escapes his lips. He doesn't waste another second. His hands make their way to your waist again, his grip on you possessive and firm. He pulls you right back into him as your hands slides up the soft fabric of his shirt to the base of his neck. You fingers find their way into the short hairs at the nape of his neck to pull him in closer.

The trace of fear that lingered in your head, the voice that whispered I'm in so much trouble, completely vanishes. As his hands rest on your waist and he deepens the kiss, the fear turns into certainty.

You're not in trouble at all; you're exactly where you're supposed to be.

---

Ahh I hope you all liked it and I hope I did them justice!

---

On Monday, a bright yellow piece of paper is stuck to the top of the coffee maker. Written in his scratchy handwriting there's a message: You took a lot of the bed last night. But I still love you. Enjoy your coffee. - J

On Wednesday, it felt like you were sprinting through the house to try to make it to work on time. When you grabbed your keys from the entryway bowl, a neon pink note was resting on your keychain: Your laptop is still in the office. You look beautiful. See you at 1800. - J

By Friday, the door of your fridge was full of his handwriting, written on sticky notes in all different colors. Your lates one was right on the handle of the fridge door when you went to grab your breakfast: We made it through another week. Two more drills and I'm all yours. Counting down the minutes. - J

A childlike smile fell onto your face as you moved the sticky note to the door of the fridge with the others. The house may physically be empty when you wake up, but the sticky notes are a constant reminder that Jake never really leaves you hanging, even when Hangman is 30,000 feet in the air.

-

After a weekend spent only in each other's presence, Monday quickly snapped Jake back into reality. The bliss of sleeping in with his wife was immediately ruined when his alarm didn't go off. By the time his eyes snapped open, the clock read 5:40 AM.

Panic immediately sets into his bones. The following twenty minutes was a blur. Jake raced around the bedroom, putting his uniform on blindly.

By 6:00, he practically throws himself on top of you as he quickly kisses your forehead. "Darlin, I'm late. Heading out, gotta fly." He didn't even wait for your sleepy mumbles before he was walking out of your house.

It wasn't until later that morning, when he was fully strapped into his jet and ready for takeoff that his brain finally processed the chaos of the morning.

His eyes shot up. The sticky note. Your sticky note.

Through the frantic rush of the morning as he dashed out the door, he completely spaced out the pad of sticky notes on the counter. The realization punches him in the gut. He tries to reach for his phone to text you, but once his fingers reach the empty pocket, he remembers his phone is locked away in the locker. He is cut off from you completely.

Maverick's voice comes through comms, quickly snapping Jake out of his panic. "Hangman, do you copy?"

"Copy, Maverick. Aligned and ready," Jake replies as he's trying to clear the thought from his brain.

For the rest of the morning drill, that forgotten note takes up a large chunk of his mind. He feels the guilt of imagining you waking up and walking downstairs to nothing.

Luckily, he's Hangman. His muscle memory kicks in for him during the training. The second his wheels touch the ground, however, he is out of the cockpit and running to the locker room.

The whole squad is watching him as he scrambles out of the jet and down the hall, his Hangman persona disappearing in a swift motion.

"Woah, where the hell is he going?" Javy chuckles as he sees Jake head toward the hangar.

Jake flies through the locker room doors, throwing his flight helmet onto the bench as his locker is ripped open. He grabs his phone and unlocks it, heading to your messages.

But a notification catches his eye before he can even begin typing. A text from you that was sent an hour ago.

Good morning J! I just got to work and can't wait to see you tonight. Fly safe, I love you! 🤍

His chest feels heavy with affection and guilt. His fingers are flying a mile a minute as he replies to you.

I realized when I was in the cockpit that I didn't write you a note this morning. I'm so sorry darlin. I woke up late and I hate knowing that you woke up to nothing downstairs for you. I love you so much, counting down the minutes until I come home to you.

The message was through a phone screen, but the genuineness of his apology is so clear. Reading it from your office, you can hear his worried tone through it. It makes your heart swell.

By the time 4:15 rolls around, the front door flies open - much different than it's normal, gentle click.

Jake soars into the house looking frantically for you as you're sitting quietly in the living room. Before you can even stand up from the couch, he is dropping onto his knees on the floor in front of you. His hands engulf yours, and he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

You laugh softly, "Jake, breathe. Welcome home."

"Sweetheart I am so sorry," he pleads, his voice distressed. He squeezes your hand. "I haven't stopped thinking about the note since the canopy closed. You woke up and the house was empty with not even one sticky note waiting for you-"

"Jake, love, it really isnt' that big of a deal," you quietly interrupted, placing a soothing kiss to his forehead. "I am not upset, I promise you. You were running late this morning, I completely understand."

"But it is a big deal," Jake insists; he refuses to let himself off of the hook. He rests his elbows on your knees, moving closer to you. "It's our thing. I leave you a note every morning. I swear I'm making this up to you. I'll write you fifty notes tomorrow. I'll write you two hundred notes. They'll be everywhere. The fridge, the mirror, your shoes, your car, every single piece of silverware we own. You won't be able to see a piece of this house that doesn't have paper on it."

You burst out laughing as you cup his face with your hands. "That sounds like a really bad paper cut hazard, Commander."

"It's a risk worth taking," Jake mumbles, a relieved smile finally breaking through him as he relaxes into your touch. He leans up to press his lips to yours that completely resets his mind after his stressful day. "Can you promise me that you know I didn't forget about you?"

"I always know," you whisper against his lips, trying to pull his body up to the couch next to you. "Now, please at least change out of your flight suit before you start writing the first hundred."

-

You woke up on Tuesday morning, the house already quiet. As you pulled the blankets off of you, a smile already tugged at your lips as you remembered Jake's pleading promises from the night before. You told yourself he probably left three or four extra notes down on the counter to make up for his mistake.

You stood up and froze.

Stuck to the center of your house slipper is a bright blue piece of paper. You reach down to pull it off and notice that familiar handwriting:

Good morning darlin. Slide these on and follow the trail. - J

You slip the shoes on and open the bedroom door. The staircase to the main floor is a colorful sea of small, square papers. Jake didn't write two hundred, but he definitely cleared fifty. And he stole your office supply of sticky notes to complete the task.

You head down the stairs, taking each one off of the wall as you walked. He didn't only put them on the walls; he put them on everything.

On the bathroom mirror, dead center: WOW you look pretty today, even fresh out of bed. Especially fresh out of bed.

The thermostat in the hallway? Don't touch this. It's just like your husband: perfect.

You rolled your eyes as a chuckle escaped your lips. You headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. There, the countertops looked like a stationary bomb went off. There's notes on the coffee maker, the mug he left out for you, the sink faucet, and right on the cabinet door.

The one on the coffee maker comes off first: 100% caffeine, 0% chance I forgot about you today. Love you.

When you looked in the fridge for your favorite coffee creamer, there's a neon pink note on the egg carton. These eggs are fragile, but my ego is not. I'm still the best pilot in the Navy. Enjoy your coffee.

You grab your coffee in one hand, a large stack of colorful sticky notes gathered in your other hand. Heading towards the door to grab your keys, you spot one more bright square by the handle of the door. The green sticky note was written in bold black Sharpie, as if he was shouting this message to you.

I told you I was going to do it. Never doubt me. Have a perfect day, Mrs. Seresin. You can count on me to be at home at 1800 to receive my reward as best husband on base. I love you - Jake

You slowly peel the note off of the door, adding it to the top of the rest of your stack. You put them against your chest, your heart flooded with emotion and admiration for your husband. The house might by empty in the morning, but Jake's true, chaotic, arrogant, and sweet love absorbs every corner of your home.

You gather your breakfast, a massive stack of neon papers already accumulating in your left hand, and head toward the front door to grab your keys for work. Slapped squarely over the deadbolt of the front door is a massive, extra-large green sticky note. It’s written in bold, aggressive black sharpie, practically shouting off the wood.

Told you I was going to do this. Never doubt the executioner. Have a perfect day at work, Mrs. Seresin. I'll be home at 18:00 to collect my reward for being the most attentive husband on base. - Jake.

You peel the final note off the door, holding the thick stack of neon paper against your chest, your heart completely full. The house might be empty when you wake up, but Jake’s chaotic, arrogant, and deeply tender love fills every single corner of your world.

-

By Thursday, the normal routine resets: 5:15 alarm, the rustling of Jake getting up in the morning, and the forehead kiss from him before he slips out of the room.

When 6:45 AM rolls around, Jake is walking into the locker room on base. Bradley and Javy are sitting on the benches, finishing getting dressed and groaning about the 7 o'clock briefing.

"Morning, boys," Jake confidently says, his Hangman persona fully locked in. "Ready to chase me today"

"Quiet, Seresin," Bradley groans, rubbing his eyes. "Some of us still need to have coffee."

Jake smirks to himself, reaching into his locker to get his flight helmet. As he lifts the helmet up, he sees something small and bright inside the ear cup.

It's a green neon sticky note.

The smirk on his face turns into a soft smile. He pulls the piece of paper out of the helmet and immediately recognizes your handwriting.

Javy looks over to Jake, raising his eyebrow. "What you got there, Hangman? Secret admirer?"

"Mind your business, Coyote," Jake laughs, his back turning to give himself from privacy. He looks down at the green piece of paper: Waking up in an empty bed sucks, but your fast flying makes up for it. Kick some pilot butt today, Hangman. See you at 1800. - Your Wife

Jake keeps looking at the note for a long moment, warmth flooding through his chest. He delicately peels the note from his helmet, opens his wallet, and puts it safely inside.

"Seresin! Briefing in two minutes, let's go!" Maverick calls out.

"I'm right behind you, Mav," Jake says smoothly. He tucks his helmet under his arm and is ready to dominate the sky. But his heart is on the ground, anchored by a single sticky note.

---

However, this week of all weeks, Jake had a few cracks in his armor and he was starting to show. First, you caught him on the tarmac taking the time to explain something to a struggling young mechanic. Then, you saw him comforting a Lieutenant after a drill that left him shaken up. With no mockery.

It made you quickly realize that behind that perfect golden boy charm, there was a heart. You simply had yet to meet that part of him on your own. Until one Saturday morning.

You were roaming the cereal aisle of the grocery store looking boarder line homeless. The design on your hoodie was faded, your hair was messily tossed up into a claw clip. You reached for a box of cereal when an incredibly familiar voice spoke right next to you.

"You know, generic brand versus name brand, they're really all the same when you think about it."

You jumped, turning to face the voice next to you. Standing there casually was Jake.

No flight suit, no cocky persona. He was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, looking the part of the Texan he was proud to be. The most interesting part to you was his face: no clever smirk, no sharp look in his eyes. His eyes were soft, his face was relaxed.

You let out a sigh. "Seresin," you chucked, "what are you doing here? I thought you lived off of protein shakes and adrenaline rushes?"

The laugh he let out was a genuine one, not like the pretend or performative ones you've seen from him at work. "Hey, a man's got to eat. I'm just trying to remember which one my mom told me to look for when I come. I usually just grab one and hope it's right. So far, no luck."

You looked at him briefly, blinking rapidly. He was smiling like a normal human being, not the practiced Hangman grin that he tried to use when attempting to get your clothes off. His smile was sweet, comforting.

"Well," you said, tilting your head. "That's strange. Hangman would never say anything as honest as that."

Jake paused. He looked down at the floor for a brief second. There was a reserved, quiet expression landing on his face.

"That's because Hangman only exists at the hangar. This is Jake." He said the words so softly that it sent goosebumps down your arms.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You felt your chest tighten as you really looked at the man in front of you, who had no military protection around him.

"Jake," you repeated slowly, trying to recall if you had ever actually said his first name before. "Let me get this straight. Jake doesn't feel the need to lecture me about my day being faster if I looked at him instead of my computer?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, the look of embarrassment starting to form. "Yeah, fair point. Look, at the hangar, you have to project a certain level of certainty when you fly jets that go as fast as ours do."

"Is it the same when you're picking out groceries?" you joked, finding your rhythm in the conversation again.

"I'll have you know that when I'm looking for cereal, I'm just a guy who can't decide between fun or fiber," he said, his voice grounded. The second part came out shyly, "and maybe a guy who's somewhat glad he ran into the smartest person on the base in something other than her work uniform."

The genuineness in his eyes was completely different than anything you'd seen before. You swallowed hard, taking a breath and being hit with his scent. Which for once wasn't masked by jet fuel and sweat.

You cleared your throat, snapping back into reality. "Right," you managed to say, nodding your head. "Good to know."

He lingers for a second longer than he probably should have. "Anyways," he started, "I should let you make your final cereal decision. See you on Monday?"

"Yes, I'll see you Monday."

You gave him a polite wave as he walked away. You watched him leave, your mind now racing. Your heart felt like it was pounding against your chest, and your brain was still buzzing from the small interaction.

Before he could completely escape the aisle, a strange new confidence took over your body as you spoke again. "Hey, Jake?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to look at you. He gave you his full attention, his eyebrow raised curiously.

You took a breath in, hoping to not regret what you were about to say in the middle of the aisle. "For the record, I like Jake much more than I like Hangman."

Jake froze for a moment as he started to blush. The arrogant pilot you knew was entirely gone and instead replaced by a man who looked flustered as he looked down at the floor.

But a split second later, a tiny hint of that familiar Hangman charm appeared in his face. He looked back up to face you fully. "That's the whole point, darlin."

He smirked at you and winked, turning the corner and disappearing into the next aisle. You were left entirely alone.

You stood there dumbfounded for thirty seconds, frozen on the empty space he was just in. You looked back down at your basket, a nervous laugh escaping you.

Oh shit, you thought to yourself. I'm in so much trouble.

---

You drag him up the stairs to your shared bathroom. Jake didn't protest this time; he followed you slowly, like a lost puppy.

You enter into the bathroom, pulling him inside. You face him, reaching up to take off his dog tags. They clinked softly against your rings as you set them on the marble countertop.

You reach for a washcloth and run it under warm water. "Hold still," you order gently as you wring out the excess water.

He didn't hold still. Instead, his large, calloused hands, the exact ones that had pulled nine times the force of gravity earlier that afternoon, gripped your hips. With a sudden, swift lift, he hoisted you straight up, sitting you on the edge of the counter.

"Better," he decided, stepping into the small space between your knees so you were perfectly eye to eye. "Now I don't have to look down at you."

"I was doing you a favor, your neck is probably stiff," you shot back, but you didn't move away. Up close, the bathroom lighting showed the faint, red pressure lines etched into his cheeks and the bridge of his nose that were left behind by the seal of his mask.

You gently pressed the warm cloth to his face. Jake let out a long exhale, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch. In an instant, the arrogant pilot vanished, replaced entirely by the man who just wants to be taken care of.

"Tell me about your day," he mumbled against the warm fabric. "Please tell me you had a meeting that could have been an email. I need to feel superior to corporate America right now."

"Worse," you laughed, using the cloth to gently wipe away the sweat and soot tracing his neck. "Our department head spent forty five minutes trying to share his screen on Zoom, and then accidentally revealed his poker addiction with a game of Blackjack going on in the wrong tab. What about you? Did you hit supersonic speeds today just to prove you’re still the fastest one on the squad?"

He chuckled, opening his eyes. They were bright and fixed completely on you. "Actually, one of the rooks bet me he could eat three gas station burritos right before a dogfight training session. Let's just say when I was leaving, the maintenance crew was making him clean his own cockpit with a toothbrush. But your screen sharing disaster sounds tragic, sweetheart. Truly."

Once you were finished wiping off the day's remains from Jake's face, he reached down and opened one of the drawers to find your makeup wipes. He began slowly wiping away what was left of your makeup after your own long day. Once he was done, he tossed the wipe into the trash and took the few steps over to the shower.

He turned the handle, turning the water temperature up. Steam slowly started to fog the glass.

"Come on," he said, helping you down from the counter. "You're coming with me."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I have to go make dinner, Jake. You take a shower and meet me downstairs when you're done."

That comment only made him pull you in closer, his arms wrapping around you as he cut you off with a kiss to your lips. "I don't care about dinner, sweetheart," he whispered against your mouth, "but I do care about spending time with my girl. Get in the shower with me. Please."

His please did you in. The way his green orbs were staring straight into your heart, you caved instantly. Rolling your eyes, you undressed and climbed into the shower with him.

The shower was spent together quietly. Neither of you needed to say anything as the water washed away the stress of the day. Per his request, you helped wash his hair using your shampoo. The entire time, he held onto you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him upright.

Most people who met Jake on base wouldn't believe you if you told them that deep down he was a soft guy. But you didn't mind; it just meant there was more of him left only for you.

After the water was shut off, he wrapped himself in a towel, then carefully wrapped you in another. Without a word, he picked you up and placed you out of the shower right back onto the counter where you were previously.

He opened the cabinet, staring down the organized mess of your skincare products: serums, toners, moisturizers. It wasn't the easiest thing for him to navigate, but this wasn't the first time your evening was spent this way. After pulling out the bottles he recognized, he picked up your hairbrush. He gently started working your damp, tangled hair from the bottom up, the way you had taught him months ago.

"You're surprisingly patient with this," you teased as the brush moved smoothly through your hair. You placed your hands on his bare chest as he stood in front of you, "I half expected you to just rip through the tangles."

"Hey, precision is my job description, darlin," Jake murmured, his chest rumbling a low vibration against your palms. He caught your eye and a soft, genuine smile replaced his usual cocky smirk. "However, if I pull too hard, I know you're not going to complain about it."

"There's the smart-mouthed man I know and love," you laughed.

As he set the brush down to reach for your moisturizer, you noticed the lingering tension in his jaw. He was trying so hard to take care of you, but he was still carrying the weight of the day in his body.

"My turn," you said, reaching past him into the cabinet. You grabbed a small bottle of hair oil; one that smelled faintly of cedar and vanilla.

Jake blinked, pausing his movements. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing your crazy hair," you said, shaking a few drops of the oil onto your hand. "And fixing you. Lean forward."

He didn't need to be told twice. He let out a low grunt as he leaned his forearms against your knees, lowering his head to give you perfect access to his hair.

You rubbed your hands together to warm the oil, then slid your fingers slowly into his damp hair. The moment your fingertips pressed firmly into his scalp, a violent shiver ran down his spine. You started moving your fingers slowly, deeply tracing from the crown of his head to the tight muscles at the base of his neck.

Jake let out a sound that was half sigh, half groan, his head moving town to rest completely against your leg. All of the leftover adrenaline from his flight drill evaporated into the steamy bathroom air. The stiffness in his shoulders completely dissolved, sinking under the rhythm of your touch.

"Don't stop, ever," he mumbled, his voice so thick with exhaustion and relief. It was barely a whisper.

There was a sense of pride and adoration that took over your body knowing that Jake, the guy that every new Top Gun pilot feared, comes home and melts into your arms. That you're the only person in the world he trusts enough to let his guard down and show his exhaustion to.

"You pull insane Gs in a cockpit babe. And you carry all the stress right here," you whispered, using your thumbs to apply firm, kneading pressure to the base of his skull.

"It's hard when you're the only one who knows how to get it out," he mumbled against your leg. He was completely defenseless. He was entirely yours.

After a few more minutes, he reluctantly lifted his head to look at you, then grabbed the moisturizer he was previously reaching for. He pumped a generous amount of the product into his hand.

"Hey, stop, that's expensive!" you protested in shock, quickly grabbing his wrist. "You only need a dime-sized amount."

"Hey now, let me work my magic," he said defensively, rubbing his palms together. He leaned in to your face and slowly started working the cream into your cheeks. "You complain about my neck tension, but your skin is stressed."

"You are terrible at this," you mumbled. It was hard to say anything when your lips were being pinched together by his lotioned fingers.

"I am a United States Naval Commander," he whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss onto your freshly moisturized nose. "I excel at everything I do. Now relax and let me moisturize you."

By the time he was satisfied with his work, the bathroom was thick with the blended scents of all of the products used. Jake stepped back, looking down at your face to admire his handiwork with a look of satisfaction. Your skin was glowing and his hair was damp and neatly laying away from his face. The work fatigue he had brought home was completely replaced by a warm comfort.

"Alright," you teased, sliding your hands down his forearms as he caught your waist and helped you hop off the counter. "You've been cleared by security. But my stomach is growling, and you still haven't eaten."

Jake wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest as you both exited the bathroom. "I told you, darlin. I don’t care about dinner. I’m fine raiding the cabinet if it means I don't have to let go of you."

"Absolutely not. You flew a jet today, Seresin. You are not eating stale cereal for dinner," you laughed, gently nudging his chest to get him to release you from his tight grip. "Throw on some sweats. I'm making breakfast for dinner."

His eyes lit up, the boyish charm flashing through his sleepy gaze. "Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"If you hurry up, yes."

Ten minutes later, the house's quiet lull was replaced by the sizzling noise of a skillet. Jake slowly dragged himself into the kitchen, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. The light from the kitchen still caught the faint red lines still trying to fade from his face, but the tension in his jaw and shoulders were gone.

He didn't say anything as he came up behind you, sliding his harms around your waist. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaled the familiar scent of your shampoo.

"You're burning the first one," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and hoarse.

"I am not," you protested back. You leaned back into his chest, happily letting him anchor you to the kitchen floor. "Even if I was, you should be able to handle it."

Jake let out a soft laugh, his lips brushing against the top of your shoulder. "You got me there. Just make sure mine has extra chocolate chips, chef."

---

The moment finally came on a random Thursday evening. You were both exhausted after a long day of work, your brain fried and his body drained from running new drills.

You were laying in bed, the room illuminated only by the soft, flickering glow of the movie playing quietly in the background - a movie neither of you were truly watching.

Jake was sprawled out beside you, his heavy head resting against your chest. His hand rested lightly on your stomach, his thumb mindlessly tracing slow circles over your skin. It was a new habit of his now; a quiet way of anchoring himself to the two of you.

Then, you felt it.

A series of familiar flutters started up; your baby was starting to stir.

Your entire body went still. You froze, the sudden jump of adrenaline stopping all of your movements. You didn't dare shift an inch. You felt like you had stopped breathing, straining to keep your chest from moving too much against his head. You were silently praying that your heartbeat wouldn't tip the baby off. Just keep moving. Please don't stop this time.

For a few moments, though the seconds felt like minutes, there was only the quiet murmur of the television.

Then, the baby didn't just flutter: they rolled, shifted, and brought an unmistakeable kick right against Jake's palm.

Jake’s head shot off your chest so fast. He bolted upright, his eyes wide and completely locked onto yours in the dim light of the bedroom. The exhaustion was gone and was quickly replaced by an overwhelming look of hope, excitement filling his eyes.

"Was that-?" He cut himself off. His voice cracked, too afraid to finish the sentence in case he had only imagined it.

You couldn't even speak, relief and joy taking over your body. You nodded quickly, a large smile forming on your face.

The realization hit him hard. A smile broke across his face, bigger than the one on yours. He lowered his head back down, but this time he pressed his ear directly against your stomach, wrapping his arms securely around your hips.

"Do it again, please baby," he whispered against your skin, pleading for the next movement.

It happens again. A light chuckle escapes his mouth, followed by a quiet, "holy shit."

You can't help but smile at him as you move a hand through his soft locks, trying to decipher what emotions he's feeling. You intervene slowly, "It's crazy, isn't it?"

He shakes his head, almost speechless. "It's unbelievable. That's our little one, our baby is really in there."

You want to joke about how it's just now feeling real for him, and question how the back pain, nausea, body changes, and random cravings just weren't enough evidence for him. But as you think about it a little deeper, you tell yourself that this is the first thing he actually gets to be a part of when it comes to you being pregnant.

You let him have his moment, just him and his baby. You continued to run your hand through his hair as he continued to rub your stomach - trying to find the exact spot he felt the movements.

Within moments you felt small kisses begin to be placed on your stomach and heard small whispers fall from his lips:

"Hi baby, it's your daddy."

"I want you to know that whatever you are, and whatever you decide to do, I love you so much already."

"I promise I am going to do everything I can to take care of you."

"I promise I am going to do everything I can to always come home to you and your mommy."

"I promise to be the best dad I can be, for you."

"I can't wait to meet you.”

"I love you so much."

Not knowing if he knew you could hear him, you chose not to say anything. You knew he wasn't talking to you anyways.

Eventually, Jake rose up from your stomach and came back up to lay next to you. You turned your body to face him, placing your hand on his cheek. You could tell that his mind was racing; you knew him too well.

"Talk to me," you whispered, "what are you thinking about in that handsome head of yours?"

He sat there for a moment before he spoke. "I've spent the last five months watching you be pregnant, but this is the first time I've been able to feel it, to understand it. This moment made it feel so real for me. I just got to feel our baby."

Your heart soared at his openness. You slowly rubbed his cheek with your thumb. "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" you murmured, smiling softly.

He couldn't form a sentence, he only nodded his head against your palm. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. The kiss was gentle and filled with a quiet gratitude. Almost as if he was saying a silent thank you for everything your body was doing.

"We're really a family," he whispered after a moment, looking deep into your eyes. The usual, playful glint in his gaze was now replaced with something affectionate.

"We are," you whispered back to him, pressing another kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away from him, every racing thought going through his head had been calmed. He settled back down into the pillows, pulling you to his side as close as possible. His hand immediately found its way back to your stomach, his fingers resting protectively over your bump. It felt almost as if he was shielding your little family from the rest of the world.

The movie continued to play quietly in the background, casting a soft light throughout the room. You laid your head on his chest, breathing in his familiar scent while his fingers mindlessly traced slow patterns on your skin again.

Your eyes finally closed as you were wrapped in his arms, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

For the first time in five months, you weren't carrying the physical weight of this pregnancy alone. Jake was right there with you, anchoring your new little family in the quiet of the night.

---

"Morning, sunshine. How'd you sleep?"

In front of you was an outstretched arm with a cup of coffee. You smiled and accepted the mug gratefully.

You took a sip of the hot drink. "No offense Natasha, but it was impossible to sleep."

She smiles at you, turning back to the stove. "I don't know if that one's my fault or yours. Care to enlighten me?"

You sat down on one of the barstools at the island, deciding how deep you wanted the conversation to be at 6 in the morning. "No, not your fault. I couldn't stop thinking about last night. I think it's officially taken over every part of my being."

"No, no. We can't have that." She nudged the pan of bacon your way, eyebrows raised in a silent want some? You gave a quick shake of your head.

She continued, "I know it's hard, but you can't let it eat you. He may be an idiot, but Jake loves you. He'll come to his senses. You did the right thing."

You chuckled at her comment. You did the right thing. If it was the right thing to do, why did it feel so wrong?

**FLASHBACK**

Yours and Jake's shared dinner was quiet. They usually were after long days, but tonight felt different. Tonight felt like a tension hung in the room.

You didn't want to have the conversation with him, but you also knew you couldn't go on much longer with the way it's been going.

When dinner finished, you both sat down on the couch in the living room. Before you could chicken out or he could stay something, you spoke up. "We need to talk."

Jake looked at you, his eyes filling with concern and confusion by the gravity in your voice. He slowly nodded, giving you his full attention.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the heavy feeling in your chest. "I can't keep doing this. I love you so much, more than anything in the world. But I feel like I'm living with a roommate, and I don't know how much longer I can allow us to live like that."

Jake's posture shifts as he questions your words. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Jake." You ran a hand through your hair. "We share a house, a home, but I have no idea what is actually going on in your head. I never know what you're going through or how you're feeling about things."

The weight of your words hit him hard. The direct eye contact becomes too heavy. Jake's gaze drops, and his fingers find a loose thread on the couch, twisting it around his finger.

"I'm here," he says, his voice defensive but quiet. "I'm right here. I love you. Isn't that enough?"

"No, it's not enough," you whisper, to heartbroken to talk any louder. "Being physically present isn't the same as being emotionally present. I'm tired of having to do all of the emotional lifting. It feels like I am constantly begging you to let me in, and you just manage to keep locking the door tighter."

He lets go of the thread, his hands falling onto his knees. He looks up at you, his expression frustrated and distressed. "I don't open up to anyone, really." His voice was flat, almost defensive - but not quite. Did he really think that would be a good excuse?

You look right at him, the distance between you two suddenly feeling larger than it really is.

Your voice isn't loud; it's tired of fighting. "I'm not just anyone."

The words sat heavily in the living room. Jake flinched slightly, taken aback by the sentence that fell off of your lips. He opens his mouth to argue, to find some way to make what he said better, but nothing came out. The realness of what you said hits him. He doesn't know how to fix it.

His eyes drop from yours, falling on the floor to his feet. He sits there, frozen, a rush of confusing thoughts he doesn't know how to let out.

You watch him stare at the floor. You wait for a moment, hoping that he would say something - anything - but nothing comes out. A wave of sadness and a numb calmness hits you. The energy to fight is gone. The exhaustion kicks in; you can't do this on your own anymore.

Quietly, you stand up from the couch and walk past him to the bedroom. You grab a tote bag, toss in some clothes, and text Natasha asking if you can stay with her for a few days.

There was no slamming of drawers, no dramatic throwing of your belongings, no harsh pulls of doors. Only brisk, quiet movements.

When you walk back into the living room, Jake is still in the same spot on the couch. He looks paralyzed by his own internal arguments.

You put your shoes on at the door and head back into the living room. You sigh as you walk in front of him, kneeling down so you can see his face.

"I'm going to go stay with Natasha for a few days," you say, steadily. "I want to give you some time to think. Think about what you want, and if you want this - us, I need you to choose to do the work."

Jake looks up then, his eyes wide and genuinely confused, like a man watching a storm hit his house without understanding where the wind came from. "You're leaving?"

You place a hand on his knee, trying your best to comfort him when you're sure it feels like his world is crashing.

"I'm giving you space," you correct him kindly. "I love you, but I can't keep trying to love your shell."

You wanted to wait for him to respond, but you knew if you waited, you wouldn't leave. You kissed him delicately on the top of his head and walked to the entryway, closing the door softly behind you.

**END OF FLASHBACK**

"Hey, snap out of it."

You blinked twice, coming back to reality. There wasn't a good answer to what she had stated. "Maybe it was right, but I feel like an asshole for doing it. I feel selfish."

"It wasn't selfish." She takes a final bite of her breakfast. "You need someone who's emotionally open, and he could use being emotionally open with someone. If anything, I think you're doing him a favor."

"I could be, but you know him. He's going to avoid it for the next week. Maybe more."

Natasha moved from the sink to across from where you were sitting, her hands resting on the countertop. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

You didn't think twice. "No. That's the last thing that needs to happen right now. I'll give him some time."

"Do you want to give him time? How does this play out in your head?"

"In a perfect world? He decides that he wants to open up to me and let me in. I'm willing to wait a little bit, but I can't wait forever, Nat. I want to be with him, but I want all of him. Is that so hard to ask for?"

Natasha chuckles, "I mean, you are talking about Hangman. I don't think he's ever told me one personal thing about him other than the fact that he's a Texas boy through and through."

She can tell by the look on your face that wasn't the answer you wanted to hear. She continues, "But, I also know that he loves you, more than he'd ever admit to any one of us. I do think he'll come to his senses, I think he just needs a little bit of time to get there."

You look at her, your eyes filled with hope and pain. Who knew you could grieve and believe at the same time?

Natasha starts heading out of the kitchen, shrugging her arms. "I'm on your side in this, I'm just saying that you got to give him a little grace."

She was right. You hadn't been hard on Jake, but you also need to give him the time to process what you've asked of him.

You knew before dating Jake that he had a shell that was tough to crack. It seemed like he was known for it. So many times it felt like he was going to let you in, then he'd stop. Then there were times that he would let you in, but then he'd pull back. It was something you could put up with the first few months of your relationship, but a year and a half in, you wanted a little more from him.

He's a sweet guy, that Texas boy. He never disrespected you, never made you feel less than. He always cared for you in all of the right areas, but he would never let you in to care for him.

Regardless of how the situation could have been handled, it was too far to go back now. Only one thought ran through your brain. Please come back to me. Please let me in.

--

Three days.

Three days of the same ceiling fan. Three days of the same breakfast (you really need to introduce Natasha to more than bacon and eggs). Three days of waiting. Three days of no Jake.

No texts, no phone calls, no run-ins around town. You even went to your shared apartment to grab a few things, and there was no sight of him.

You missed him - his smile, his laugh, his touch. You wondered what he was thinking and if he was okay. How he was managing what you told him. You would ask Natasha about him when she saw him at work, but she didn't give you much insight. You weren't quite sure if it was to protect you or because she was trying to stay out of it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a pinging of your phone.

Nat 🐦‍🔥 : Hard Deck tonight, you need to get out.

Nat 🐦‍🔥: And no, Jake won't be there.

A small smile fell to your face, shaking your head at your friend. She always knew what you needed.

The Hard Deck was busy for a Wednesday night. You didn't realize how anxious it would cause you to feel. Two deep breaths in and you're walking into the bar.

"Get out of your head, come on." Natasha said, grabbing your arm and guiding you to an empty table in the back. You two sat down and within seconds Penny dropped off your drinks.

"For my favorite girls!" She said chirpily, placing your regular orders in front of you. "These ones are on the house."

You at Natasha looked at each other, then at her. "Thank you, Pen."

Small talk began quickly between you two as you slowly sipped on your drinks. It felt like the weight was slowly drifting off of your shoulders. A piece of normalcy in the mess that the last few days have been.

"Oh, what the fuck is this?"

You shot your head around to the familiar voice behind you. Behind you stood Jake, with Bradley and Javy's each grasping onto one of his shoulders.

You turned back to Natasha, "What the hell, Nat? You told me he wouldn't be here."

Jake spoke again. "Yeah, you assholes told me the same thing." He looked at the two boys behind him. "What is this, some kind of intervention?"

Natasha stood up and grabbed your wrist, standing you up and moving you next to Jake. "That is exactly what this. I don't know what you guys need to do to figure it out, but you're figuring it out. Now."

Bradley and Javy dragged you both to the door. "You two haven't spoken in three days, and it's killing all of us," Bradley started. "Go take a walk on the beach and figure out your shit."

They left you and Jake at the entrance of the Hard Deck and pulled the doors closed behind you. You looked over at Jake, who was looking at you. You both took a moment to take a good look at each other. You could see in his eyes how bloodshot they were. How tired he was. You saw in his upper body how he was slouched more compared to how his usual confidence held him high.

You quickly broke the silence. "Do- do you want to go for a walk?" You were timid, scared of what to say to him, afraid of hurting him even more.

He nodded, giving you a small smile. "I would like that a lot." You returned a small smile back to him, relief flooding your body.

The view of the beach was enchanting. The sun sat perfectly on the horizon, turning the sky into shades of purple and orange. The ocean glistened underneath, the sounds of the waves filling the space that words couldn't quite hit yet.

Jake found a spot on the sand and invited you to sit next to him. You sat with a few feet in between you. The empty space feeling like the three days you had been apart from each other.

The tension could have been cut with a knife. The feelings in your body were conflicting; your chest was heavy with anxiety, yet your stomach was filled with butterflies. You swallowed hard, looking at the dark shoreline. You internally battled with a deep worry for Jake. You couldn't take the quiet any longer.

You turned your head to face him, "Listen, I think we need to-"

"No. Let me talk, please."

Jake cut her off. His voice was raw, pleading. You froze, blinking at him in shock. In the time that you've been together, he had never interrupted you. He had never dominated a conversation. Your frustration left your body and was replaced with a focused concern.

He rubbed his trembling hands along his legs, grounding himself. He shivered against the coolness of the ocean breeze. When he turned to look at you, his green eyes seemed more bloodshot than they did at the bar. He probably hasn't slept in days.

"The last three days have been hell on earth," he began, his voice cracking at the weight of the situation. "Absolute hell. I haven't slept, I haven't eaten. I've never been more terrified in my entire life than I am right now, looking at you. Because I realized I might have lost you."

You watched him as he spoke, your heart thumping in your chest. How could a man who has been a part of actual military combat be more afraid of losing you than that?

You desperately wanted to reach to him, but you remained still. You gave him the space he asked for, even as your own hands started to shake.

"I will do anything," he begged, the look in his eyes desperate. "Do you hear me, darlin? Anything. I'll go to therapy, I'll swallow my pride, I'll deal with every demon. I'll do whatever the hell it takes. I can't live in a world where you're not in it."

Jake eyes fell to the sand between you both. The shell he kept on seemed to be cracking right in front of you.

He sighed, "I know I pull away. I know I freeze. When things get tough, my brain shuts down and tells me to hide. And it's because growing up, I never had anyone who wanted to just listen to me."

The words hit like a physical blow. Your eyes softened, leaning in closer, but only slightly. Almost unnoticeable.

"Every time I shared a feeling, a thought, it was met with criticism." He stared into his lap, fingers twiddling and jaw tightening at the past thoughts. "I learned so early on that opening up meant getting hurt, judged, or corrected. I chose to not say anything at all. I thought I was protecting myself. But I've realized that the wall didn't only keep the bad stuff out. It kept you out. It made you feel abandoned. And for that I am so sorry."

His eyes went from his lap to meet yours, and you noticed a single tear fall from his eye. The sincerity in his apology matched how he was looking at you. You believed every word he said.

Slowly you slid your hand across the cold sand, brushing your fingers against his. He took your hand instantly, like a drowning man catching a lifeline.

"I'm not them, Jake," you whispered. Tears filled your eyes, but your voice remained steady. "I don't want to criticize you. I just want you. All of it. The good, the messy. I don't care. I want to be there for you the way you're here for me. I don't want you to feel like you have to carry the world on your shoulders. And I will cheer you on and I will be patient as you start tearing the wall down. But you have to put in the effort."

The desperation in his eyes melted to quiet relief. He pulled you toward him, and you went willingly, collapsing into his chest. It wasn't just a hug, it was a deep embrace. "I will," he whispered, "I will do anything."

He buried his face into the crook of your neck and held you tighter than he ever had before. Almost as if he would lose you if he let go; the three days of physical loneliness needing made up for. A ragged sob broke from his chest, shaking his entire frame against yours. It triggered your own tears, leaving you both clinging to each other, the shared tears washing away the painful days apart.

After what felt like forever, you pulled back just enough to look at him. Your hands remained lightly intertwined, your thumb stroking his hand gently. He reached up, his thump brushing a stray hair away from your damp cheek.

You sat like that for a moment, unspoken words coming to mind that didn't need to be shared, because he was already thinking the same things. The longer you sat with each other, peace flooded your body and hope flooded your heart.

"Will you come back home with me tonight?" he asked you quietly.

You looked deep into his eyes. You saw the devotion and truth written in them. You smiled softly, running a hand through his windswept hair.

"Yes," you said. "Let's go home."

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