#lt. jake seresin x you

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Got My Mind Set On You - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: I know I said fluff, but somehow I got to spicy stuff instead. Oops.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

content/warnings: suggested smut.

word count: 1.7k

Jake Seresin leaned casually against the rustic exposed wooden beam of the dimly lit bar, his gaze fixed on you as you shared a moment of laughter with your friends across the room. With the air of someone who knew they were being watched, he flicked another dart effortlessly towards the board, the satisfying thud of it hitting the bullseye punctuating the room. He took a slow sip of his beer, the corner of his lips curling into a self-assured smirk as his friends marveled at his accuracy.

Javy couldn't help but prod at Jake's seemingly supernatural dart-throwing abilities. "How do you do it, man? You never even look at the board."

Jake chuckled, tapping the side of his temple with his index finger. "Photographic memory, my friend. I've got every angle mapped out up here," he said with a grin, never once breaking his gaze from you.

Bradley, ever the skeptic, scoffed from the sidelines. "Oh, please. Anyone can get lucky tossing darts at a board."

A challenge hung heavy in the air as Jake raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Care to put that theory to the test, Bradshaw?"

Bradley, never one to back down, accepted with a lazy smirk. "Fine. But don't blame me if your girl decides she wants a more skilled pilot."

"Bring it on," Jake replied, his confidence unwavering.

With practiced ease, Bradley sent his first dart flying, hitting the bullseye just as he predicted. Jake's expression remained cool, but there was a flicker of admiration in his eyes as Bradley repeated the feat with his second shot. Bullseye again.

Jake's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, raising his pint glass towards the dartboard. "You can't do it a third time."

Bradley's competitive spirit flared as he confidently launched his final dart, only to miss the mark by a fraction of an inch. He turned to Jake, a hint of defiance in his eyes as he admitted defeat.

Jake couldn't resist a playful jab. "Not quite perfect, Bradley."

But any teasing was forgotten as you appeared beside him, your touch warm on his shoulder. "Hey there, sugar," Jake greeted you with a smile. "See me get a perfect streak?" Jake purposefully drawled out the word ‘perfect’, resulting in a dramatic eyeroll from Bradley. 

Jake's smile softened as he wrapped an arm around you, his gaze never straying far from yours. You grinned as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, nodding your head as you spoke. “Sure did, honey. You did great!”, you gushed.

“I am great, darlin’, you know that.”

Bradley groaned and rolled his eyes before downing the rest of his beer. With an exaggerated sigh, he shook his head, holding his empty glass up to you and the others before speaking.

“Anyone down for another round? I’ll buy.”

You chuckled at Bradley's offer, exchanging knowing glances with Jake before nodding in agreement. "I could go for another," you said with a grin, feeling Jake's arm tighten slightly around your waist.

“Sure, thanks man,” Jake started, handing Bradley his empty glass, “After, why don’t we rematch? We can switch to the pool table, if you guys would rather, that way you might actually have a chance at beating me.”

Bradley scoffed and shook his head. “Fine, you’re on.”

Javy, always up for a good time, eagerly agreed. "I'm in. Let's see if lightning strikes twice for old Bradshaw here."

Bradley shot Javy a mock glare before laughing, his competitive streak undeterred. "We'll see about that," he retorted, already heading towards the bar to order everyone’s drinks.

As Bradley disappeared into the crowd, you leaned into Jake's side, relishing in the warmth of his presence. The soft buzz of conversation and clinking glasses enveloped you, creating a comforting backdrop to the evening.

"You know, I think Bradley's just jealous," you whispered teasingly, tilting your head up to meet Jake's gaze.

Jake chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you. "Can you blame him?" he replied, his voice low and playful. "After all, he's got to compete with the best."

You rolled your eyes affectionately, swatting his chest playfully. "Smooth talker," you teased, but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Besides all that, I’ve got the best girl, so really, poor Bradley didn’t stand a chance, did he?” Jake whispered as he leaned into your ear, his green eyes fixed on yours as he planted a soft kiss on your lips. 

“The best girl, huh?” You mused, raising an eyebrow, “That’s a new one for me.”

“Mhmm,” Jake hummed as he gave you a playful tap on the nose with his index finger. “You better get used to it, honey.”

As you all rounded the pool table, gathering into your teams, Bradley furrowed his brow as he gestured to you and Jake as Jake kept you close to him for his team.

“Oh no you don’t loverboy.” Bradley chided, shaking his head, “She’s on my team. Together you two’ll just end up getting handsy on the pool table and make us all lose our lunch.”

“He’s got a point there, don’t he?” Jake shrugged as he conceded, letting go of his protective, loving grip on your waist.

You watched as Bradley lined up to take his shot. Observing his form carefully, you tried to make mental notes so you could match his game - you weren’t the greatest at pool, Jake usually used teaching you as an excuse to put his hands all over you, not that you complained. It just resulted in some incredibly short lessons in pool, and some playful sessions in the bed of his Ford F-150. 

Bradley leaned in close to your ear, whispering softly as he came up with a game strategy. “How well can you accidentally distract Jake?”

“Oh, easy,” you responded with confidence, nodding your head slightly as your gaze fixated on Jake, who was lining his pool cue up for his turn.

“Perfect, do your thing.”

You sipped your cocktail and fiddled with the straw, your lips encircling the tip in a way that you knew Jake would interpret as suggestive. Sure enough, as soon as Jake looked up at you, sea-green eyes locked in a gaze at your mouth as it played with the end of your straw, he missed his shot, causing the cue ball to bounce off the edge of the table, not striking anything in its path. Jake straightened his posture, raising an eyebrow at you as you set your glass down to take your own shot. Bradley smirked from behind his beer bottle, admiring your technique for riling Jake up better than any amount of trash talk ever could.

During Jake’s next turn, you shoved your glass into Bradley’s open hand, before fiddling and unbuttoning the top two buttons of your plaid shirt, exposing just enough cleavage to have Jake’s mind wandering. Once again, as soon as Jake caught a glimpse of you, he missed his shot, shaking his head and grumbling to himself as Javy joked about him being off his game.

“I’m not off my game. Everyone has one off game.”

“Just admit it, Jake, you’re not as good at pool as they are. Bradley’s got you beat.”

Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes again, before leaning over to take his next shot, trying to follow up after you sink one of the balls into the pocket, eliciting a high-five and a cheer from Bradley. As the game progressed, Jake caught on to your little game. His cheeks blushed when you whispered what you wanted him to do to you later that evening, he had to clear his throat to cover the involuntary moan that threatened to escape his mouth when your hand caressed his bicep, and he had to position himself carefully behind the pool table while he tried to focus his mind on anything other than the mental image you put in his head when you described what kind of underwear you were wearing under your skirt. 

After losing another round, Jake felt a simmering frustration bubbling beneath his skin, an insistent urge gnawing at him with every passing moment. He clenched his jaw, struggling to rein in the primal desires coursing through him. All he could think about was laying you down on the smooth surface of the pool table, indulging in the raw passion that pulsed between you. But he knew he couldn't act on those impulses, not here, not now.

Instead, he tossed the pool cue down with an uncharacteristic huff, the weight of his competitive nature hanging heavy in the air. His typically composed demeanor faltered, a rare glimpse of vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he turned away. You exchanged a knowing glance with Bradley, silently acknowledging the tension that hung between you all, before following Jake's retreating figure outside.

The night air enveloped you like a thick blanket as you stepped out of the dimly lit bar, the humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. Concern etched across your features, you approached Jake cautiously, your footsteps echoing in the quiet night.

"Jake?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as you closed the distance between you.

"Mhmm?" His response was gruff, his body tense as he leaned against the side of his truck, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Are you alright?" you asked softly, furrowing your brow with worry. "I wasn’t trying to be a dick—Bradley and I just thought it’d be funny if I, you know, distracted you a little."

Jake chuckled, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes as he turned to face you. "I'm not mad."

"You aren’t?" Relief flooded through you, easing the tension in your shoulders.

"Of course not," he reassured you, his gaze softening as he reached out to pull you into his embrace. "I mean, you got me good, I’ll give you that."

"I did?" A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, grateful for his understanding.

"Sure did, Sugar." Jake's smirk was equal parts wicked and enticing, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But now it’s my turn to get you back." His words hung in the air like a promise, igniting a fire in your veins as you met his gaze with a playful challenge of your own.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Time of Our Lives | Dancer!Jake Seresin x dancer!reader | Dirty Dancing AU

TGM masterlist

Characters & pairings: dancer!Jake Seresin x dancer!reader (romantic)

Content warnings: fluff, light profanity, pop culture references | Female!reader (she/her) | WC: 8.8k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @eternalsams 🩶🥹)

Premise: what happens when two childhood best friends from well off families reunite at a country club leading into a summer that would impact their careers for eternity while dancing around a decades worth of brewing feelings and recreating an iconic dance for the country clubs annual showcase? Here’s a hit, it’s gonna be like that one song Baby and Johnny fell in love to.

Note: I am alive and just know I (quite literally) had the time of my life writing this piece. It brought me back to my 80s movies/dirty dancing hyperfixation 😭 @eternalsams thank you so much for your patience and requesting this gem. I hope I did you Justice and dancer Jake has my heart and soul. Thank you for trusting me with your vision 🩶

————————

“You could at least act like you’re having fun, Y/n,” came the scolding words of her mother when she noticed the unamused expression Y/n possessed.

A natural state she would describe since they arrived at the resort. And what Y/n could not depart from no matter how hard she tried.

Summertime. The best time of year for some folks who are eager to get away from the stress and drama of work and school to relax and have fun. Whether it be a week or two whole months. For high school dance teacher Y/n L/n, her ideal summer vacation would be in the comfort of her own home with a book or chilling at her favorite resultant sipping on Margaritas while enjoying live music. Going out with her small select group of friends to dance was also on her list of summer necessities…but her family had other plans.

To kick off her 2023 summer break—which is to last nearly three weeks if she manages to survive—Y/n and her family were at an upscale Catskills resort located in the Appalachian Mountains not too far from New York, the place she currently called home. A snazzy estate one may add, for it was filled with alumni from the top Ivy League schools in the country.

And Y/n’s personal hell.

Of course she loved spending time with her parents and siblings….to an extent. But, when they’re constantly berating her life choices by becoming a dance instructor—on top of displeased opinions of her love life—-Y/n felt suffocated by them.

It was like she could never live up to the expectation they had of her no matter how much she proved herself and her talent. Not only were her parents highly respected doctors in their community, but her sister graduated Summa Cum Laude at Yale Law School, marrying her college sweetheart before taking a job at one of the city’s top firms. Then there was her brother. He went on to become a naval fighter pilot, distinguished and respected with his place at number one in his class during his year at Top Gun. His wife was a trauma nurse who worked at the same hospital as her parents.

Yet here she was—mind you, a former member of the New York City Ballet Company, Juilliard Alumni, performed at the Super Bowl, toured with Rihanna in the mid early 2010s, appeared in several music videos, and teaches at the Frank Sinatra School of the Arts—unable to adhere to their standards.

Parents…they want what’s best for their children. Right?

Yeah she found that hard to believe.

If only they saw her in the Ballroom. And no, not talking about the kind you see on Dancing With The Stars. She’s talking about the Ballroom that calls New York its home.

But also ballroom dancing. Her sister would have a heart attack if she discovered Y/n danced Bachata with Prince Royce at a New York latin club.

“Fun?” Y/n scoffed, sipping at her glass of champagne resulting in a light cringe at the taste. For rich people one would think they’d have the best there was. What just hit her tastebuds was something out of a box container imposing as fancy liquor. “I don’t see how anyone could find this type of rendezvous fun, mother.” She received a scolding glare.

“Keep your voice down,” the older woman kept looking around to see if anyone heard, “these are our friends.”

“Your friends,” Y/n corrected. There was no way in hell she’d consider any of the fake people in front of her friends. No matter how long their families have been acquainted. None of them liked each other, and were always trying to one up whenever someone voiced an accomplishment.

Instead of answering, Y/n’s mother simply walked away with an annoyed huff. No longer in the mood to argue. Rolling her eyes, Y/n downed the last of her champagne before making way out the french doors of the lounge and into one of the many patios. The sunshine greeted her with its vibrant and warm rays. Chatter from the guests sitting under umbrellas and beside the pool filled her ears. Y/n placed her sunglasses and booked it across until she was on the pathway leading to the guesthouse she and her family were staying.

“Y/n!” Had it been anyone else the woman would’ve mentally signed, but the voice behind the greeting was none other than her childhood best friend growing up, Natasha. A genuine smile appeared on her face as she turned around.

“Hey, Nat!” the two embraced in a hug, “Been a while, huh?” In truth the two hadn’t seen each other face to face since 2019 when Natasha moved to California to base her talent agency. Despite this, Natasha still traveled every year to Caskilles around this time to see her family, whereas Y/n remained in New York due to shows and gigs.

“More like four years,” a playful nudge was sent her way, “girl you left me here to fend for myself. I should feel betrayed,” Nat smirked, “but I can’t blame you. The only reason I keep coming to this place is to please my mom. It’s the only time all of us siblings are under the same roof.”

Natasha was the oldest of four and the only daughter to three sons. Her father had been the Mayor of New York City while her mother was the former District Attorney. All of her brothers had achieved prospective careers. Antonio, the second oldest, had been drafted by the MLB and currently played for the Washington Nationals. Dominic, the middle brother, was a nuclear engineer who rarely ever got time off but always managed to get a week in the summer. Lastly the youngest of the bunch, Victor, was a professional photographer who went on tour with artists like Journey, Lionel Richie, Daddy Yankee, and Stevie Nicks.

For Natasha, she had fallen in love with the fashion industry at a young age. After graduating from the Fashion Institute of Technology Natasha received an intern position at Vogue Magazine before becoming a product and brand marketing manager at Louis Vuitton, for which she got the opportunity to live in Paris, France for four years. There she got to work closely with Virgil Abloh, who unfortunately passed away in 2021, and Nicolas Ghesquiere.

As of 2022 Nat relocated to San Francisco and developed her own talent agency for aspiring models and fashion photographers who come from low-income backgrounds, LGBTQIA+, people of color and disabilities. With its success Nat’s had several clients on the face of Vogue and walking runways at every fashion week.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n said, the two beginning to walk down the path together, “Life’s been hectic. During the pandemic there were little to no gigs so I had no idea what to do.” Unfortunately being in the dance industry meant competitive opportunities with a maybe 10% success rate if lucky. Y/n’s last big break was dancing with Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande in their ‘Rain on Me’ music video. Y/n occasionally attended the Balls in New York, but hadn’t walked a category in ages.

She did have a following on social media, which bought in a reasonable amount of income. Over 100k on YoutTube and roughly 2 half a million on TikTok. Instagram had close to 3 million since it had been the primary platform in the 2010s and several of her dance videos went viral.

“I understand,” Nat nodded solemnly, “It was like that for me too. It’s nice the world is slowly going back to normal. Although,” she paused to chuckle, “the amount of damage control getting bookings back to their normal pace was probably the most stressful point in my career.”

“Has it been easier now?” They stopped at a little bench overlooking the lake, “I saw you were at fashion week.”

Nat instantly brightened. “Much better than before I will say. We’ve got a great wave of new clientele—I just landed this fella a cover with GQ so I’m pleased with that.” Y/n congratulated her before the agent changed the subject, “But enough about me, what about you?”

The woman scoffed, “Well my last big thing was the Lady Gaga music video—and that was going on three years now,” the thought made her frown. It wasn’t like her to go so long without a gig. “I auditioned for a spot on Beyoncé’s tour.”

“The Renaissance tour,” Nat nearly gagged. It was all anyone could talk about since tickets went on sale earlier that year. Nat managed to snag two for her and her boyfriend for the Los Angeles show. “And?”

“I’ll know in about a month or so if I book it.”

“You so got it,” Nat assured with a tap on her shoulder, “You’re one of the best dancers in the world. You danced with Madonna at the Super Bowl,” her gaze became pointed, “and toured with Rihanna. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Nat,” Y/n laughed, though deep down she felt the hope in her rise.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha leaned back against the bench and was about to comment when someone in the distance caught her eye. “Is that who I think it is?”

Peeking over her shoulder, Y/n suddenly straightened her posture upon seeing the blonde man grinning from ear to ear as they made eye contact. Jake Seresin certainly landed on the right side of the puberty coin. With his tan, muscular frame, gorgeous green eyes, blonde hair and smile that belonged on the cover of a magazine, he was a sight for sore eyes.

“Ladies, fancy seeing you two here on this beautiful afternoon.”

A wave of butterflies simmered in Y/n’s tummy, a shy smile forming as he approached the bench. It’d been several years since the two saw each other despite being friends since childhood. “Jake,” she greeted, moving to accept his hug when he opened his arms. Natasha followed before the two sat back down, “It’s good to see you. Is your mom with you?”

Like Natasha and her family, Jake’s were part of the same circuit in terms of highly respected, sometimes influential people. His mother, a doctor, was a colleague of Y/n’s parents, and his late father was one of Texas’ Congressmen during the 2000-2010s. Jake’s only sibling, his sister Krista, was a young adult novelist with over ten publications.

Jake on the other hand was like Y/n: a professional dancer and known in the industry as a real life Ken Doll. He had a massive following online, choreographed music videos and tours—even went on tour with Bruno Mars, Justin Bieber, & Ariana Grande—and was a guest judge on ‘So You Think You Can Dance,”. During the pandemic a lot of his dance sequences went viral and became trends, Y/n even posted on to which he reposted with the caption, “you know I had to shine the spotlight on my favorite dance partner. Miss you Y/n/n.”

You can bet Y/n experienced internal fireworks.

There was no denying she had a crush on Jake growing up. The two were inseparable whenever their families stayed at the resort. They’d even make trips out to each other during winter break, eventually attended Juilliard at the same time, and collaborated early in their careers. Jake and Y/n used to sneak out of the country club when they were younger to dance on the dock while blasting music from the boom box they’d stolen from the lounge. They learned ballroom together, competing in competition without Y/n’s family having knowledge of it.

Unlike Y/n’s parents, Jake’s mom and dad approved of his career choice. Though skeptical in the beginning, they grew to be very supportive and attended his showcases at school, the concert he was performing in and kept up with what he was doing.

Because of their disapproval of her pursuing dance, Y/n believes their learning of Jake’s endeavors resulted in them no longer coming to the country club if he and his family were there. They also never asked about him or worked with his mother despite being in the same field. It’s like they blamed Jake for Y/n not becoming what they wanted her to be: a doctor or a lawyer.

“She and my sis are settling in,” he gestured down the path he came, where several cabins were located. “We just got in about an hour ago.”

“How long are you guys here for?” The question came from Nat, who threw a look at Y/n.

Jake didn’t notice, “a couple weeks. Needed a break from the world—and Mr. Collins asked me to help him with this showcase he’s putting together.” Y/n raised her brow.

“Showcase?”

“It’s more for the youngins,” Jake explained. “He asked if I could help teach some dance lessons for those interested.” Though it physically hurt not to react, Y/n somehow managed to remain neutral. Even putting a semi-fake smile.

How come Mr. Collins didn’t ask her?

“Stop it,” the voice in her head said, “it’s not a competition and you know Jake would never be upset if the roles were reversed.”

“Wow, Jake, that's great!” She was happy for him. And scolded herself mentally for the childish thought she had. Jake was an exceptional dancer and a great teacher. Y/n had watched some of his YouTube videos in passing and had no doubt he could get the job done.

“Say if you have the time I’d be happy to have you join in,” he flashes a smile that would have any girl weak in the knees. “I’d say you’re more of an expert in certain areas that I’m not really well acquainted with.” Warmth fills her chest.

“I’d love to. Thank you, Jake.”

The second he departed Natasha was on Y/n. “Girl, if you do not hop on that—.”

“Natasha!”

“What?” She whispers shouts after being hushed, “you’re into him, he’s so into you,” Y/n’s expression is that of, ‘You’re delusional’. “Skip the previews and start the movie.” Now that was a metaphor Y/n had not heard before, but clever nonetheless.

“Jake and I have been friends for years,” Y/n brushed her off. “I am not going to risk ruining what we have because of some middle school crush.” The brunette rolls her eyes.

“But it’s not, ‘some middle school crush.’ You’ve had feelings for him for over decades now—which is a conversation for another day,” Y/n makes a sound of offense, but does not deny the woman. “It’s time to put on your big girl panties and get your man.”

She’s quiet for a moment, glancing to her feet, “What if it’s not meant to be. My family would never approve—.”

“Like you’ve let them dictate what you do in life.”

“My point is—,” Y/n cuts back, “I’ve already disappointed them with my career path. Call me naive or delusional, but I don’t want to have to deal with constantly being berated for my choice of partner. Jake is wonderful in every aspect, but what he does will just set my parents off again for another twenty years if by some miracle we start something up.”

Natasha sighs, placing a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Sometimes you have to accept that parents are always going to have their opinions that are unchangeable. And you have to let go of the hope they’ll come around. Y/n, you’ve dealt with this since you were seventeen, maybe it’s time to distance yourself from it.”

“And if it all backfires and I end up alone?”

“You’ll never be alone,” she nudges her, “I’m here. And even if it all blows to hell, then at least you can say you tried.”

The next day Y/n found Jake at the little studio room the club used to teach waltz lessons. She was met with his gorgeous smile and an army of preteens in the middle of showing off who could do the best tik tok dance. “I see I’ve interrupted a very important matter.”

“None wanted to do the one I created,” he dramatically pouts, “saying it was too complicated.”

She laughed, “Well they’re not wrong.”

“Hey!”

For the next week, Y/n and Jake spent four hours a day--two in the morning and two in the afternoon--with the kids teaching them different styles of dance. Of course the crowd favored breakdancing, hip hop, modern, and vogue, but would request to watch Jake and Y/n perform routines they used to do back in the day. Swing was a popular one, as was quickstep and jive because of its upbeat and face paced. One day Jake busted out his tap dancing skills while Y/n displayed some ballet.

“How can a person do that?” a kid commented as she stood on revelé. Jake leaned down, whispering, “she’s secretly an alien from another planet.”

“C’mon I wanna show you something,” Jake grabs her hand one night after dinner. He leads her to a cabin not too far from the main resort where members of the staff have started a party. On the speakers were some 2000s hits that summed up the millennial crowd. Jake waved to some of the guys who ran group activities in the corner, Y/n spotted the culinary department at the food table. And if she were to glance at the door on the opposite end of the cabin, she’d see the housekeeping passing around an object containing a certain plant.

“What’s this?”

“The only place where the workers get to catch a break after spending all day with those uptight rich folks. They call it ‘Dirty Dancing’,” Y/n’s expression becomes amused, letting out a soft laugh.

“Like the 80s movie with Patrick Swayze?” Jake beams.

“The one and only,” taking her hand once more, he leads her to the makeshift dance floor. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

To say the two became the life of the party was an understatement. Jake spun Y/n to the sound of her laughter and Elvis ‘Jailhouse Rock’. Jumping up and down with a crowd around them to Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything.”

“Tonight, I want all of you tonight,” They pointed to each other, “Give me everything tonight.” Y/n pointed to the girl beside her, “For all we know we might not get tomorrow. Let’s do it tonight.” Jake fist pumped with some guys around him, “Don’t care what they say, or what games they play. Nothing is enough, ‘til they handle love.” people in the back shouted “let’s do it tonight.”

“I want you tonight, I want you to stay,” Jake gave Y/n a look, “I want you tonight,” she squealed upon him pulling her toward him, “Grab somebody sexy tell ‘em hey.” the entire house exploded into the chorus. Everyone having the time of their lives, it felt like a scene from a movie.

Y/n pulled girls into the middle during Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies.’ Then they carried the party when ‘Year 3000’ by the Jonas Brothers came on. “He said, ‘I've been to the year 3000. Not much has changed, but they lived underwater. And your great-great-great-granddaughter is doing fine!”

Some staff who happened to be part of the New York Ballscene recognized Y/n, leading to a vogue battle to commence. “This is what I wanna see!”

Let’s just say….that was the moment Jake knew he was in love.

“‘Cause we are living in a material world. And I am a material girl,” The next morning Y/n was rudely awoken by her ringtone. “Hello,” her groggy voice answered, hearing Jake on the opposite end sounding equally as tired.

“Are you busy this afternoon in between lessons?”

“Not that I know of. What’s up?”

“I just got off the phone with Collin,” his tone shifted to one she couldn’t decipher, “He’s asking if you and I would be interested in performing at the showcase.” Jolting from the bed, Y/n was fully awake.

“Come again.”

“You and me. Me and you,” Jake repeated, “we put on a little number for the finale.”

Fiddling with her pajama top, Y/n suddenly became nervous. The night before she was on Cloud 9 with the way Jake was looking at her. They danced the night away and those feelings she desperately tried to hide were slowly becoming difficult to keep down. “What did you have in mind?”

“Time of My Life, really?” The two were at the studio dressed in comfy attire they usually danced in. “Don’t you think that’s a little cliche.”

“I thought it was fitting,” the blonde rebutted. Jake suggested the two perform the iconic dance sequence at the end of the 80s classic. “What, you got something against it?”

She rolled her eyes, “Only that my parents blame my childhood obsession with it as the reason I didn’t follow their dreams for me.” Jake made a face.

“They’re still not over that?”

“Nope,” She popped the ‘p’. “In fact they still remind me every chance they get about it.”

Jake finished setting up the song loop, standing from his crouching position, “Well, let’s prove just how wrong they were when you blow their mind with your talent at the showcase.”

Between the giggles and constantly finding any moment to procrastinate, it was a miracle the two managed to choreograph a routine. It wasn’t an exact copy of the iconic dance Baby and Johnny performed, but they kept some elements in.

Including the lift.

“Jake, I don’t know about this,” Y/n shivered when her body hit the cold water, following him until their waists were submerged. The whole idea made her nervous. It was an intimidating maneuver.

Jake, however, did not show any sign of hesitation. “Worried I’d drop you?” he teased, “I thought you trusted me? We used to do this all the time as kids.”

“Exactly. I do trust you, but we’re not fifteen anymore. I’m not--,” he cut her off gently.

“Don’t say what I think you’re about to say,” his look was soft but serious at the same time. “You have nothing to worry about. And besides, we’re out here taking precautions instead of being in the studio where if something did go wrong, we’re not as likely to end up in the ER.”

Sighing, Y/n rubbed her eyes. “Fine, let’s just get this over with, before I drown in embarrassment..”

About two and half hours of non-stop repetition of Jake lifting Y/n in the air passed. Sometimes he purposely lost footing so they both planted into the freezing lake water and other times he genuinely faltered. “Jake!”

“I’m sorry!” Thankfully at least one out of every ten attempts were a success. By that we’re talking they were able to hold the position for more than four seconds. “Okay, we’re done for the day.”

As the sun started to set, Jake climbed onto the dock before pulling Y/n up. “Thanks,” she took the towel he handed her, immediately squeezing the excess water from her hair. “Well that was fun.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, grabbing his towel. “I think we made some great progress. We’ll go through the whole routine tomorrow and see what needs adjustments.” The showcase was in just over a week, meaning they were crunching down on time.

“Sounds like a plan.” Stars painted the sky, the two eventually sitting on the dock with their towels wrapped around them. Soft music played from Jake’s speaker.

“How’s it been for you?” Jake was the one to break the silence, “thinking about it, we haven’t really got the chance to catch up. New York still treating you well?”

“Oh uh,” Y/n swallowed, unsure of how to answer without sounding too pessimistic. “It’s been alright. I’ve been teaching for the last two years.”

“A teacher you say? Where at?”

“Frank Sinatra School of Arts.” Jake’s smile grew.

“That’s amazing!” Butterflies erupted at his praise. “I’m happy for you, Y/n, really. You’re inspiring the next generation.”

“Thanks,” she looked away, unable to keep eye contact when her heart was beating so fast. ‘Geez, why am I like this? He’s making me feel like I’m fourteen again.’ “I’ve enjoyed it. My students were amazing.” Jake raised a curious brow.

“Are you not teaching anymore?”

Y/n bit her lip, “well, I haven’t renewed my contract for the upcoming school year yet,” she paused before adding, “I’m waiting to find out if I got a spot on this tour I auditioned for.” Now Jake was super curious. Lots of artists were touring that summer. The Jonas Brothers, Big Time Rush, Kesha, SZA, and of course the much anticipated Era’s and Renaissance tours of Taylor Swift and Beyonce.

And Jake was going to be involved in one.

“Is it okay if I ask which one?” his tone had an underlying hint of excitement at the thought the two might work together. Traveling across the country in what would be one of the best experiences in their lives.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, “something tells me you have a secret, Jake Seresin. Would you like to share with the class what’s on your mind?”

Scratching his head, Jake answered, “I’m not really supposed to say…..but,” she held her breath, releasing with a low gasp, “I’ll be touring with Taylor Swift.”

“Wow,” the woman was speechless, breaking into a massive grin. “I-uh, wow, Jake that’s incredible! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he accepted her hug, not caring that their clothes were still damp. “I honestly didn’t believe I’d get it.” a playful slap landed on his arm.

“Please,” came her scoff, “You really thought Miss Americana herself would not see the talent in front of her?” Y/n mentally cheered in victory at the sight of his blush. “She’d be foolish to not have you as part of her time.”

“Okay okay,” he swatted her hands away with a chuckle. “Now answer my question.”

Once revealing who’s tour Y/n auditioned for, the two embarked on an hour long conversation about their careers and life. Jake mentioned how he had been in a relationship but it didn’t work out. Y/n vented on the ongoing emotional feud with her family--to which Jake told her, “It’s their loss for not seeing you the way the rest of the world does.”

Yeah, that made her melt.

By the end of the night there was a shift in the atmosphere. Both felt it, glancing away when they held eye contact longer than usually without a word passing by. They had suddenly become quiet, only the crickets singing through the trees.

“It’s getting late,” Y/n rushed out, moving to stand. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Jake mirrored her movements. “Same time.” Heading back to the cabins their families were staying at, they arrived at Y/n’s first.

Opening her mouth to say goodnight and avoid an awkward moment, Y/n’s words paused upon seeing Jake’s expression, “You look troubled.”

“I--,” he began before stopping, causing Y/n’s nerves to rise. “It’s nothing.”

The dancer wasn’t having it, “No, no no,” she playfully raised a hand, “you can’t leave me hanging like that, Jake. I thought we were friends.” Suddenly it became quiet again. Next thing Y/n knew was Jake softly grabbing her hand.

“You know I adore you right?”

Her heart skipped, “Not really, but I do now,” the light chuckle was obviously embedded with nerves. “I adore you too.”

“And we’ve been….rather close for a long time.”

“Yes,” the word trailed off her tongue, somehow managing to hold the eye contact Jake was giving her. She was practically pinned where she stood.

“I realize this isn’t the best time or way to say this,” his cheeks become rosy, “but I’ve really enjoyed these past couple weeks catching up and being able to dance again like we used to. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bring back some feelings I tried to ignore for fear it would ruin what we have.”

Y/n couldn’t believe what was happening, “Bring back?” Did the man she secretly longed for since they were teenagers want her too? After all this time? She nearly pinched herself.

Jake looked away, bringing his other hand to scratch his neck. “Yeah. Look, I understand if you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry for dropping this on you but after the party I felt like my world was finally on its axis. You…” he struggles finding the right words, “I can’t stop thinking about you and what we could be. You’re my best friend, Y/n. And I view you as someone I wanna dance with till we’re old and gray.”

“Jake,” his name was the softest it had ever been coming out of her mouth. Here was the moment she had been dreaming about. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

His reaction was immediate, “You--you feel the same?” The tone was that of disbelief and hope. Heart pounding beneath his skin.

Y/n cupped his face in her hands, grinning ear to ear, “There is no one else in this world I’d rather dance with than you, Jake. I’ve felt this way about you for as long as I can remember.”

Not wasting a second longer, Jake leaned down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Fireworks exploded between the two, the butterflies escaping their stomachs to swarm around them. Jake's lips were soft against hers, moving slowly as though to commit them to memory. When they pulled away, he kept his forehead against hers, “wow.”

She giggled, repeating, “wow.”

“Is this what Could 9 is supposed to feel like? Because I’m getting those vibes.”

Y/n threw her head back, laughing before covering her mouth when she remembered her family was asleep on the other side of the door, “You’re not the only one, hot shot. If this is what cloud 9 feels like then I never want to lose it.”

In the days following that magical night, the two continued their practice session. Perfecting the dance to where they didn’t even hear the music to be able to hit the steps right. When it came to the lift, however, Y/n was still worried of a disaster. Thankfully after several successful attempts at the studio she was able to let go of her doubt.

Plus she was tired of hearing Jake’s teasing.

Each night after parting ways that afternoon the two would meet up at the docks. Spending hours laying on the wood to watch the stars twinkle and talk about life. Then Jake would walk her back to the cabin, saying goodbye with a sweet kiss. With every minute they spent together, every dance, every kiss, both Jake and Y/n were falling more and more for each other.

One could go as far as to say it was love.

One could say they were having the time of their lives.

But of course what is life without a little drama? Y/n silently prayed drama would be avoided. Once in her life could things just be great? Without the everlying feeling of something going wrong?

Yeah, it was too good to be true.

“Jake!” a voice interrupted the peaceful morning, ripping the two apart from their kiss. They had gone for a jog together that morning around the lake, stopping at their usual spot of the docks before heading to the studio to practice for the night's event. Turning to the direction of the voice, Y/n’s eyes landed on a fiery redhead storming up the path. Her attention was on the man beside her, not hiding the obvious fact she was furious. “Who the hell is that?”

“Tatiana?” Jake’s tone was of shock and confusion. He let go of Y/n’s face he had been cradling, but kept a firm touch on her arm. “W-what are you--.”

“Is it so much to ask for you to answer your phone?” stopping in front of the two, her blazing hazel eyes locked on Y/n. “Who are you? And why the fuck were you making out with my boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” she stammered, glacing at Jake who now looked pissed off. ‘He’s had a girlfriend this whole time?”

“I haven’t been your boyfriend since December, Tatiana,” he raised a pointed finger, casting a look to Y/n with pleading eyes that he was telling the truth. “We’ve been broken up for a while now.” he turned back to his ex, “You made that clear to me when you had me choose between the career I’ve spent decades building and you.”

There was anger in his tone, not pleased with her claims. Y/n didn’t know what to believe, all she could feel was a weight clamping down on her shoulder.

“Oh really,” removing her phone from her back pocket, Tatiana tapped the screen a few times before pushing it in Y/n’s face, “Does that seem like it to you.” Leaning forward, Y/n gulped at the sight of text messages indicating Jake and Tatianna had been in contact a few months prior. From the looks of it, Tatiana was hoping the two could pick up where they left off and Jake replying, ‘I’ll think about it,’ then it was silent until this past week where Tatiana sent texts asking when they could meet up. Jake, however, responded it wasn’t a good time and believed the two should stay friends.

“Y/n,” Jake started, glancing back between her and Tatiana, which only made her more perplexed. Unable to decipher what he was thinking. “Just please, wait right here.” He gently squeezed her arm, brushing their fingers together as he let go. Then before she could say anything, Y/n watched Jake gently escort Tatiana away from the docks. They went a good distance away to where Y/n was unable to hear the two. With Jake’s back to her, Y/n’s view was of the red head’s angry expression as she pushed her finger into Jake’s chest.

She saw him gently raise his hands, stepping away to escalate the situation. Y/n’s head spun, feeling a wave of nausea and the woman grabbed her water bottle from the ground. In a fast pace, Y/n stepped off the dock and onto the path leading back to the clubhouse. Once a distance away she broke out into a run, unaware if Jake saw her leave considering his back was to her. This was confirmed when she didn’t hear him call out for her.

Sprinting past the clubhouse, Y/n made a beeline for her cabin. Throwing the door open she moved past the living room not caring if anyone was there and straight to her bedroom where she locked the door behind her, pressing her back against it and sliding down to the floor to finally catch her breath.

Her water bottle had been drained, sweat coating her forehead and tears threatening to spill. Covering her mouth, Y/n refused to let the sob forming in her throat to release. There was no time to let her heartbreak. Not when the showcase was fast approaching.

The showcase.

“Fuck,” she sniffed, kicking off her shoes in the process. Of course it had to be that day all blows to hell. The perfect world she thought she finally obtained crashing down.

Of course she was being dramatic. Her life was shy from perfect, and this was another dent in the walls she tried to build.

She kept thinking of Jake. Willing herself to not jump to conclusions. He was clearly taken aback by Tatiana’s appearance. Even more when she called herself his girlfriend. Jake appeared rather offended by the accusation they were still together. Bottom line of the story: there was tension--especially animosity--between them, unfinished business if Y/n had to guess.

Whatever it was, she couldn’t bear to witness it. Right now she needs to think with a blank mind. And with Jake already spamming her phone, the solution for peace and quiet was to turn off her phone. Going as far as to power off her apple watch and not have music play while she showered.

The tears slowly cascaded while Y/n stood beneath the water. It was eerie with the silence, but it assisted with the clearing of her thoughts. Once clean Y/n dressed in comfy clothes and decided to nap for the remainder of the day. The morning had drained her, and until it came time to get ready for her dance with Jake--which she already dreaded--Y/n willed herself to sleep imagining what the day had been if his ex had never stepped foot on the docks.

“Need some help?” Y/n jumped, the hair clip falling from her hand. In the mirror she found Nat staring back at her with a sympathetic smile. “You look like you could use a hand.”

“Thanks,” she picked up the clip, holding up for Nat, who took it in her hand and stood behind Y/n. Gathering her hair up, Nat styled it in a messy but pretty updo.

“You seem tense for someone so used to the spotlight by now.”

A frown appeared, “It’s always nerve racking going on stage in front of people no matter how long you’ve done it.” Nat wasn’t buying it.

“Wanna talk about it? I know it’s more than a few nerves rustling your feathers, Y/n.”

Biting her lip, the dancer shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to be, Nat. Simple as that.” Sadness washed over her for the millionth time since that morning. She hasn’t seen Jake since, only replying to his several texts after a dozen unanswered calls to confirm she would still do the showcase.

Although part of her thought about backing out.

“What exactly happened?” Nat softly asked, moving to now help Y/n on her makeup. She was going for a simple look so she lightly concealed, blushed, highlighted and added some minimal eye makeup.

“Everything felt so amazing” she started, looking up as Nat dabbed the beauty blender under her eyes. “After we did the lift at the lake, we talked for hours on the dock and when he walked me back to the cabin….he told me how he felt about me,” Y/n could still feel the tingles on her lips, “and we kissed.”

Nat withheld squealing, knowing it was a bad moment considering it didn’t end the way she hoped for her best friend. Now she was conspiring on how to get payback on Jake. Filled with sudden disdain.

“The next few days went by--like I was walking on cloud 9. The way he looked at me, Nat,” Y/n connected their eyes, “It was magical.” Nat brushed powder onto her cheeks, followed by light blush and highlighter.

“And then what happened.”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped, making her slouch, “Jake’s ex showed up this morning.” Nat’s hand froze, a second passing before continuing its movement. “They broke up last year, but I guess they were in the works of getting back together. Because she was very vocal about it--not shy of asking who the fuck I was and why was I with her boyfriend.”

“And what was Jake’s reaction?”

Y/n waited until after Nat finished sweeping a thin coat of eyeliner to answer, “He denied it--was very shocked when she showed up out of the blue. Said that she ended things because he refused to choose her over his career. Then she went on about how they were talking things out--that a few months ago he said he’d think about it.” Y/n thought back to the texts, “She showed me the messages from this week. He rejected her invite to meet up and said that they should remain friends. Then he pulled her aside to talk where I couldn’t hear. I sorta left after that.”

Nat grabbed the mascara, “You didn’t wait for him to explain?”

“Could you blame me?” Y/n rebutted, a little on the defense but not saying it in a mean tone. “I was dealing with a hundred emotions. Confusion, embarrassment, shame, sadness, anger. I wanted to cry, I wanted to yell. But the only thing I could do was shut down and walk away.”

Nat said nothing, spraying Y/n’s face with a setting mist before handing her the tube of her favorite lipstick.

“I know,” Y/n groans, “I should’ve stayed--to at least hear him out. But I didn’t want to face the humiliation if it were true.”

“And if it’s not true?” Nat suggested, “What if he was genuine and they really are done? Where does that leave you two?”

Blotting the color onto her lips, Y/n capped the tube and threw it into her makeup bag with a shug, “I don’t know, Nat. We’ll find out tonight I guess.” Taking one last glance in the mirror, she added, “That’s if he shows up--which I doubt he won’t. He wouldn’t want to let Collins down.” leaning back in the char, Y/n turns to her friend. “Thanks for the hair and makeup.”

Nat patted her shoulder, “anytime. You look beautiful. That dress was made for you.” Y/n bore a light pink dress with a flowy skirt and corset styled top. It was similar to the one Baby wore in Dirty Dancing, ironically enough, but unique in its own way. She paired it with simple dance shoes.

“Thank you, Nat.”

A thought suddenly came to the brunette, “Hey, did you ever hear back from that audition?”

There was no hiding her grin, Y/n looked like a child having just received a gift from Santa, “I got a call back. They’re having me fly to L.A. next week to dance for them again.” Nat jumped from her seat, squealing and pulling the woman into a hug.

“Ah that’s amazing! Congratulations--I’m so so happy for you!!”

“Thank you,” Nat’s happiness was contagious, making Y/n giggle as they swayed side to side. “I can’t believe I’m so close.”

“I knew you’d get it,” Nat maveled, playfully pinching Y/n’s side making her swat at her hand.

The happy moment was interrupted right on cue as Mr. Collins rushed in. “There you are!” He was frantic, clipboard in hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Have you seen Mr. Seresin?” Y/n’s heart dropped.

“No,” was her response, heat coating her skin. “I thought he was here already.” Collins took a peek at his watch, groaning in annoyance.

“You guys are the last ones so that gives me hope he’s just running late,” Motioning for Y/n to follow him, the man leads the two out of the makeshift dressing room. “You’ll wait by the end of the side stage while the other performers have their turn. Then I’ll announce--hopefully both of you--and we’ll call this showcase a success. Which by the way,” he spins around, stopping Y/n in her tracks, “Do you happen to have a backup plan by any chance if our friend decides to be a no-show?”

Y/n stuttered lightly, hands up in a ‘Not really?’ She goes, “I mean I can whip something up--Not to toot my own horn but I’m pretty good at what I do and will dance to any music you give me.”

“Fantastic,” Collins snaps his finger, “We’ll work with that.” Spinning back again, Collins high tails it to the stage, Y/n taking claim to a chair a few paces from the steps. She spotted Nat seated with her family, Y/n’s own folks at a table in the far back. Almost like they were hiding from the rest of the guests, causing her heart to sink further.

Collins opened the showcase with an animated greeting to the audience. After some announcements and thanks to staff and sponsors who helped put the showcase together, he introduced the first of 10 performers on the list. Nearly all were the teens and children Y/n taught with Jake, the woman standing from her chair to cheer them on. At the eighth performance she froze at the sight of the blonde man behind the curtain. He hadn’t seen her yet, so Y/n ducked back to her chair, peeking slightly to find him conversing with Collins.

‘Well looks like I’m not getting out of this one,’ she thought to herself.

When the second to last performer appeared, Y/n found Nat in the audience. The two shared a look, Nat able to see the unease seeping off Y/n, and throwing her thumbs up in hopes to relieve some of it. The (y/h/c) shook her head slightly, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless with a small smile.

Mr. Collins glides to the stage one final time, “And now,” a quick glance to his clipboard, then to the side of the stage opposite of Y/n, a smile curling on his lips. “We have a very special presentation from two people who were kind enough to help me put this whole shabang together,” raising a hand out he announces, “Please welcome the beautiful and ever so talented, here to bring you the time of your life, Jake Seresin and Y/n L/n!!”

There was a light applause from the adults overshadowed by the children, teens, staff members, and Natasha. Y/n’s parents were unreactive, glancing at her siblings wondering if they knew to which they received shrugs.

Still sitting in a chair just off the stage, not moving despite the lights flashing on her, Y/n’s head was down. The door was not far. She could easily make an escape. But she felt eyes on from those within view and felt trapped. To run now would be a lifetime of embarrassment and shame.

“C’mon, Y/n,” she scolded under her breath. “It’s just one dance.” "Then you can go back to New York and pray this whole thing never happened.”

As the thought left her mind, footsteps came toward her, and Y/n glanced up to find Jake, dressed in black slacks and buttoned down enough to make a girl weak in the knees, staring down at her with an expression that took her breath away. It was as though they were the only two in the room, much like in the studio. Everyone else simply disappeared. Leaving two people who danced around feelings for years only to come together at that very moment.

Whatever hostility Y/n had for Jake was gone. She saw the pure love in his eyes. Pleading with her to give him a chance.

Simply holding his hand out to her, Jake held her gaze and spoke clearly for everyone to hear, “Nobody puts Y/n in a corner.” Had her heart not been beating at 100 miles per second, Y/n would’ve laughed at the reference. Considering how fitting it was to their situation.

The beginning lyrics of the song echoed as Jake led her to the middle of the stage. Already igniting applause from the audience who recognized it. “Now I’ve had the time of my life.” An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to him. Never once straying eye contact “No, I’ve never felt this way before.” Y/n dipped back, Jake keeping her from falling to the floor until she was upright, “Yes I swear, It’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.”

“‘Cause I’ve,” Jake came around to her left, Y/n bringing up a hand which his own followed the trail of her arm. She caressed the side of his face. His group of friends hooting and hollering, “had the time of my life. And I owe it all to you.” A gentle kiss was placed on her nose.

Cheers from their students erupted when Jake spun Y/n, bringing a smile to both their faces as they began their routine. “I’ve been waiting for so long. Now I’ve finally found someone to stand by me.” Natasha whistled from her seat, “Yeah!”

“We saw the writing on the wall. As we felt this magical fantasy.”

All through the dance Y/n never once stopped grinning. Jake’s aura, the nostalgia of the song, and the love she had for dance were contagious. “Now with passion in our eyes, there’s no way we could disguise it secretly.” Unbeknownst to the woman, her parents and siblings were watching in awe. Having been the first time they truly watched her perform. “So we take each other’s hands,” Jake spun her again, Y/n throwing her arms in the air, head swaying back and forth. “‘Cause we seem to understand the urgency.”

“Just remember,” the pace picked up. “You’re the one thing. I can’t get enough of. So I’ll tell you something,” Y/n was lifted, dress flowing as Jake twirled them in circles. The audience applauded with glee.

“I’ve had the time of my life. No, I never felt this way before.” The cheers heightened when the two pressed against each other, the sight very intimate. “Yes, I swear, it’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.” Jake snuck a kiss to her cheek, moving away to leap off the stage. “Hey, baby!” Y/n tilted her head back in laughter, fingers on the hem of her dress skirt and swaying to the beat.

“With my body and soul, I want you more than you’ll ever know. So we’ll just let it go, don’t be afraid to lose control, no.” It was Jake’s moment to shine. He fed off the energy of the crowd, winking at his boys in the back hyping him up. Y/n caught Natasha’s thumbs up, the two sharing a silent victory. “Yes I know what’s on your mind. When you say, ‘Stay with me tonight’.”

“Stay with me. Just remember,” Jake danced up and down the aisle, “You’re the one thing. I can’t get enough of. So I’ll tell you something,” locking eyes, they gave each other a nod. “This could be love,” staff helped Y/n off the stage, the woman bolting toward Jake, “because--.” Squeezing every muscle in her body, Y/n exhaled in relief as she was successfully lifted in the air.

“I’ve had the time of my life. No, I’ve never felt this way before.” It was a spectacular scene around them with everyone jumping from their seats, in awe of what they were witnessing. “Yes, I swear (yes I swear), it’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.”

Y/n giggled the whole way down, arms sliding over Jake’s shoulder who shared her happiness. “‘Cause I’ve had the time of my life. And I’ve searched through every open door,” Several people joined in the celebration. Spouses dancing together, children off beat but having the time of their life like the song called for. “‘Til I found the truth. And I owe it all to you.” Even Y/n’s parents managed to get on their feet.

Finally seeing their daughter for who she was.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, the first words spoken between the two. It made her heart skip, filled with an overwhelming surge of happiness.

“I feel like I’m on cloud 9,” the response had Jake chuckle, pulling her closer to him as he voiced, “me too, doll.”

They kept their gaze on one another, swaying chest to chest, the tune became softer, “Now I’ve had the time of my life. No I never felt this way before (never felt this way),” Jake’s hand caressed her cheek, Y/n leaning into it. “Yes, I swear, It’s the truth (It’s the truth),” the two leaned in at the same time, Bill Medley’s voice belting the final lyric of the bridge, “And I owe it all to you!”

The kiss set off a million fireworks. Just like it did the first time. They didn’t know if the cheers around them were intended for the two, but they didn’t stop the kiss to find out. Y/n’s hand covering Jake’s on her face, brushing her fingers over his knuckles, “I’ve had the time of my life. No, I never felt this way before (never felt this way). Yes, I swear, it’s the truth (it’s the truth). And I owe it all to you.” Pulling away, Jake’s touch remained.

“Be my dance partner,” were his words, pushing through the ending chorus. ‘Be mine,’ “Forever.”

“‘Cause I’ve had the time of my life. And I’ve searched through every open door.”

Y/n brushed her lips against his. Uttering nothing more than a simple, “Yes.”

“‘Til I found the truth. And I owe it all to you…”

…………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris @kmc1989

[50calmadeuce]

Do you by chance have a master list where I can better navigate your fics?

This should bring you right to it. If not, let me know. I do need to do some updating which I will do after I finish my current story.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Happy Fourth of July

Lt. Robert ‘BOB’ Floyd x Reader

Words: 3341

Summary: Penny hosts an Independence Day Bash that the whole gang is invited to. The reader finds herself drawn to a certain, quiet WSO. 

Notes: The amount of will power it took to not name this Independence Day… Anyway, this one is just super sweet and fluffy and was a blast to write. I hope you enjoy! 

More Bob and 80s-inspired movies: HERE

-

There was no reason to be nervous. You knew that. Everyone there was friendly- well, friendly-ish. They were pilots. Not that that bothered you. You knew tons of pilots. It came with working at The Hard Deck. They were flirty, arrogant, and sometimes couldn’t pay their tab, but if they were invited by Penny, then they couldn’t be so bad… right?

You straightened your red, western-style vest and looked in the mirror. You felt a bit like a rodeo clown, but Penny insisted it made you look ‘like a sexy firecracker’, whatever that meant. Paired with a white tank top and denim shorts, you looked thoroughly decked out for the holiday. 

“Making a fool out of yourself is one of the best parts of life,” Penny had said when she took you shopping. “You’ll learn that the longer you spend with those yahoos.”

“And by yahoos, you mean your boyfriend?” You snickered. “Also, nobody says yahoo anymore.”

“Yes, Maverick, but also his pilot ducklings that treat him like he’s a god. And believe me, when you meet them,” you’ll understand. Was all the elaboration she gave you. 

Maverick equals plane god. Pilots equal… ducks?

You checked your hair one more time and decided it would just have to be good enough or else you’d fuss over it for another hour. If you didn’t force yourself out that door, there was every chance Penny would sail over and drag you out herself. She said she always liked an excuse to come out to Sky Reef.

It was the reason you moved out to North Island to begin with. Your grandfather owned a small island off the coast with a bungalow and sail boat. He always kept to himself, except when he was getting drinks at the Deck with his old Navy buddies. It was close enough that getting to work was never an issue, but far enough that the noise of the beach didn’t quite reach you. 

As your little boat made its way across the stretch of water, you spotted a huddle of people on the beach. They darted around, their laughter carrying out to you across the waves. A ball flew back and forth but it wasn’t like any game of football you’d ever seen. Behind them, smoke trailed up from a barbecue, and Penny waved.

“Y/N!” She called out. “You came!”

You laughed, waving back. “Here I am!”

Her voice sang over the crowd, like a queen commanding her knights. “Boys, go help her at the dock. I need her for the drinks!”

You’d promised to make your grandfather’s famous boozy iced tea. Penny had begged you for the recipe for years but the old man swore you to secrecy. She jokingly dubbed it North Island Iced Tea, which wasn’t too far off to be honest. 

Three of the players from the beach jogged across the sand to the small dock she let you use whenever you had a shift. Your grandfather’s boat wasn’t too big, so you didn’t have to worry about running aground. It also meant you didn’t really need help tying her off, so you had a sneaking suspicion that Penny had ulterior motives. You had the knots half done by the time they even reached you. 

“Well, fellas, I think our work here is done for us,” one of them said, grin spreading on his face. “Which just leaves room for introductions.” A handshake accompanied a wink. “Jake Seresin.”

You took his hand, unable to hide a smirk of your own. “I believe we’ve met, Lieutenant.” He raised a brow. “Penny made you buy a round for that terrible pick-up line.”

The mustachioed one next ot him howled with laughter, pityingly putting an arm around his shoulder. You crossed your arms, letting the confidence of the moment take over like riding a wave.

“And don’t think I don’t remember having you thrown overboard, Bradshaw,” you scolded. “No amount of pretty piano playing could save you from a declined card.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to snicker, blowing out a low whistle. But it wasn’t the two of them you were paying attention to, no. It was the one kneeling at the edge of the dock, tying off the last line.

“Thank you,” you said, walking over to him. 

The man’s eyes widened behind his glasses as his head snapped up, like he was surprised you’d noticed him at all.

“Oh, um,” he let the extra line fall against the post. “You’re welcome.” For a second, he just stood there, looking at you, but then he held out a hand. “I’m Bob.”

There was something about his small, nervous smile that had heat creeping into your chest. 

“Y/N.”

“Yeah. You work with Penny, right?” His fingers grazed your wrist and sent a shiver up your arm. 

“I work for Penny,” you laughed. “I think I’ve seen you in before.”

“Bob here is our stealth man,” Jake said, patting him roughly against his chest. “But hey, it’s always the quiet ones.” He winked at you again. 

Bob ducked his head to hide his blush. You remembered him a little more, then. He was always polite when he ordered and always carried all the drinks back to the others. And he always wished you a nice day.

“Well, boys,” you said to all three, “those drinks aren’t going to make themselves.” 

Bradley Bradshaw gave you a mock salute. Jake just smiled that cocky, flyboy smile, and Bob double checked the lines. You stayed back with him, the quietness of his demeanor calming amongst the blaring music and chatting crowd. The two of you fell into step together, listening to the calm roll of the waves beneath your feet. 

“So do you like working at the Hard Deck?” He asked, though you could barely what him over the game of not-football. Bradley and Jake had rejoined, playfully tackling each other. 

“Yeah,” you said, still watching the game unfold. “Yeah. Penny has been great and you Navy boys always keep things interesting.” You tried to follow along, but they all ran around each other with no apparent formation or anything. “I’m sorry, but what the hell are they playing?” You stopped so abruptly, his shoulder bumped yours. It’s your turn to blush and his sheepish smile returned with excitement.

“Dogfight football,” he said. “Maverick taught us. It’s offense and defense at the same time.” His gaze followed one of the women playing as she made her way down the beach. She must have scored, because he yelled, “Yeah Phoenix!” Bob turned his attention back to you. “It’s a lot of fun.”

“Looks like it.” You continued along the dock and onto the beach, turning back to him, expecting him to still be watching the game, but he was looking at you. “Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you want to get back in.”

There was that shy smile again. “Actually, I could use a break.” 

That feeling in your chest swelled. To be looked at the way he looked at you. To be noticed, really noticed, not like guys sometimes did at the bar. Irises the color of the ocean you’d just sailed on stared into yours with interest and attention and you could do nothing but keep walking with him at your side. 

Penny and Pete stood over the grill together. She cooked, he mostly tried to sneak a grilled peach and kept getting swatted at by her spatula. You’d met Captain Mitchell a couple of times. He was exactly how you always imagined your grandfather when he was young- charming, a little over-confident, and only able to love so completely, it showed in everything he did. 

“So she didn’t manage to scare you off, huh Bob?” Pete teased, hooking an arm around you for a side hug. 

Bob glanced at you again. Noticing. “No, sir.”

“I told you,” Pete tsked, tossing a drink umbrella at the younger pilot. “This is a party, Bob. You don’t have to call me sir.” 

Bob just nodded, muttering another ‘yes, sir’ which earned him another umbrella to the cheek. He flinched but didn’t deflect it, making all of you laugh. 

“Will you quiet it?” You scolded, snatching the container of drink accessories away from Pete. “I need those.”

Penny snickered, flipping over a hamburger and shaking her head. “You are just as bad as they are, I swear.” She pointed at the group of people tackling each other on the beach. 

Pete’s grin never faltered for a second. “You’d better help the lady with those drinks, lieutenant." He kissed Penny’s cheek. “I think our captain is getting restless.” He reached over her shoulder and managed to pop a slice of peach in his mouth only to spit it out again. “Shit, that’s hot.”

“I only told you that a dozen times!” 

You smiled at the couple and found yourself reaching for Bob’s hand. “Come on. The stuff’s in here.”

His fingers laced together with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. That alone made your head swim more than any drink you could mix up. The two of you went into the bar, where Penny had left out what she thought were the ingredients you needed. You laughed to yourself and put them all away, grabbing the large pitcher.

“Now,” you said, counting out the correct bottles. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to turn around.” Bob’s head tilted, a little line forming between his brows. You giggled like a kid and only felt a little embarrassed by it because this man was just so cute. “This is a secret recipe. Upon pain of death, lieutenant.” You made a twirling motion with your finger.

“I see. Well, when you put it that way.” He did as he was told, turning so his back was to you. “I wouldn’t want to compromise your mission.”

“Thank you.” You grabbed another pitcher since there was such a big group and began to mix the right liquors to make the iced tea, using very little actual tea. 

“So are you from the area?” Bob asked, rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands were clasped behind him and his eyes scanned everything on his side of the bar. 

“No, actually. I moved out here to take care of my grandpa a couple of years ago.” You’d made the drink so many times, it felt like second nature now, pouring the ingredients together and adding ice. “Penny gave me a job and I’ve loved it here ever since.”

“Is your grandfather coming tonight?” 

You couldn’t help the wince that overtook your features. “No. He, uh, passed away last year.”

Bob glanced briefly over his shoulder, a deep and sympathetic look on his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. He was sick for a long time and-” You inhaled. “Eyes forward, soldier.”

Bob whipped back around. “Right, sorry.” 

You were just about done anyway, only needing to take a few glasses out and pour you each a drink for ‘testing’. “Alright, you can look now.” Holding one out for him, you took a sip of your own to make sure it was right. Sweet, refreshing, and packing a punch.

Bob drank and his eyes widened. “Wow.”

“Right?” You grabbed one of the pitchers while he got the other. “Careful, though, this stuff will sneak up on you.”

“Noted,” he chuckled. “Don’t give it to the firework brigade.” He took another sip and followed you back out to rejoin the party. 

-

Through the whole of dinner, you were catching up on how the team met and the journey of Maverick- rebellious pilot to reluctant teacher to Penny’s grill bandit. Now, the group of Top Gun top pilots met every chance that they could, many of them having formed deep friendships, even the unlikely pairs like Bob and Jake, or as they called him, Hangman. 

“We should make this a tradition,” Penny suggested. “Every fourth, I’ll throw a dinner and you idiots better do your best to get your asses here for it.”

Another group might have said yes halfheartedly, knowing that they would come up with some excuse not to come next year. But when everyone raised their glasses and cheered in agreement, you knew they meant it. The thought made your smile widen even more. 

“And I hear one of us may be around more often.” Pete motioned to the young man next to you. “Rumor has it, Robert Reynolds will be assisting in the WSO course at Top Gun.”

A collective round of hoots and hollers made its way around the table while Bob’s face turned red. Pete patted him on the back with a “I look forward to working with you.”

Penny shot you a knowing look across the table. 

You frowned. 

She shrugged innocently and poured herself another glass of tea. 

“Professor Baby-On-Board.” Jake teased, rustling Bob’s hair. Bob shoved him off, but couldn’t help laughing. 

“So I guess that means we’ll be seeing a lot more of you,” Penny said, giving you another eyebrow-raise. 

“Yeah.” Bob cleared his throat, sneaking a glance at you. “Yeah, I hope so.” 

Penny nodded, a plotting smile spreading across her face. You pretended not to notice. 

“Does anybody want some more chips?” You asked, forcing your attention to the empty bowl instead of the very cute and soon-to-be very local naval pilot beside you. Just because he was sticking around didn’t mean you needed to get your hopes up. So you picked up the bowl and headed back toward the bar for a refill. 

“Bob, could you go help Y/N grab the extra BBQ chips from inside? I think there should be several bags,” Penny asked sweetly, making you roll your eyes and snicker to yourself. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Bob wasted no time and caught up with you in just a few strides. “What’s so funny?”

You just shook your head and took the bowl inside. Once the door was closed, you flashed him an apologetic look. “I”m sorry about her. Ever since my grandpa died, she must be worried I’m going to keel over on the island all alone and-”

“I’m sorry,” Bob held up a hand, “what are you talking about?” He watched with such sweet curiosity it melted your heart. 

“Well, Bob, I think you have become the next victim in Penny’s match-making project.”

“Oh.” He stayed in the doorway, pushing up his glasses. “I did think it was weird she thought you need help carrying chip bags. I mean, you definitely seem like a strong and capable woman who can take any bag of sliced spuds she comes across.” He glanced back up with a sheepish smile. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed dramatically at the whole two bags on the counter. “Seems like a two-man job to me.” 

His uncertainty faded into something warm in his chest. He liked the way you laughed, like there was a joke he was finally in on. You noticed him. He didn’t know how else to explain it. You saw him when so often he was left in the background. And he liked it.

“If you insist,” he teased back, snatching up both bags so you could just take the bowl. Bob let you go ahead, admiring the way the straps of your sundress sat delicately on your shoulders, sun-kissed and freckled in places. 

He couldn’t help but hope that maybe, if he was reading you correctly, Penny might be on to something. 

-

Around sunset, the crew began setting up the firework “show stopper”, as Jake called it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen that many explosives, if ever. A part of you even wondered if they had to get permission from the Navy for something this big. With Maverick’s reputation, though, you figured it might lean more towards a forgiveness over permission kind of deal. While the others stood around, putting things together, you found yourself beside Bob, both of you staring out at the orange and gold horizon. 

“This is my favorite part,” Bob said. “Before it all starts.” His glasses reflected the sunset and he nervously toyed with the hem of his shirt. 

“Not a fan of fireworks, huh?” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Smoke in the air.”

Your stomach sank. Of course. The Fourth was known for being a holiday that could trigger PTSD, and, from what Penny said, these guys had seen a lot. 

Bob gave you a shy smile and tucked his hands in his pockets. “It’s not so bad. I like watching the colors and everything. It’s mostly just the noise. And they all really like doing them, so…” He trailed off. 

An idea sparked in your mind and, once again, your fingers intertwined with his. “Come with me.” 

Bob glanced back at the others, waiting for some catcall or teasing remark, but they were all focused on getting set up. He nodded and you nearly pulled him off his feet, leading him down to a small boat at the dock.

“Where are we going?” He laughed, almost out of breath from how fast you were dragging him. 

“Just trust me.” You started the boat’s small engine and he climbed on board. 

Bob was right. His old squadron were too busy with the fireworks to notice the little vessel cutting across the water. Penny, however, shaded her eyes and watched you go. 

“Y/N leaving already?” Pete asked, his gaze following hers. 

“I think we’ve been ditched for a party of two,” she said, beaming. 

The sun was gone when you reached the island and the first few stars were coming out to watch the show. You docked and Bob tied the lines. He marveled at the quaint waterfront house at the end of the beach. 

“You live here?” He awed. 

You blushed. “My grandpa left it to me. He said I was the only one he wanted to have it.” Finishing up with the boat, you found the perfect spot on the beach to see the other shore. “Wait here, I’ll go get something to sit on.”

You rushed inside to the little storage shed attached to the bungalow. Just next to the door was a large, navy-blue blanket. On the other side were two folded up lawn chairs. After a brief consideration, you bit your lip and grabbed the blanket. 

Bob stood along the tide, letting it wash over his feet. Hearing the door behind him, he turned, the excitement and nerves he got every time he looked at you building up at you. Even in the faint light of the stars, you looked beautiful. 

“I think they’re about to start,” he said.

You laid out the blanket and stretched yourself over it, propping yourself up on your hands. After a second's hesitation, he joined you, half sitting, half lying down like you were. His hand planted right beside yours, the tips of his fingers grazing yours. 

“We’ll still hear them, but it shouldn’t be as loud,” you explained. “And the smoke won’t reach over here-”

“Can I guess you?” Bob blurted, already leaning forward like you were drawing him in with each breath. 

You were taken off guard for a second and your collective shyness settled between the two of you. But, with a shaky breath, you managed to say, “Yes.”

Bob’s eyes fell to your lips. His hand moved on top of yours. Slowly, he closed the space between you. His lips were soft and tasted like the watermelon you’d had with dinner. Your hand came up to his face. His moved to the small of your back to pull you closer. 

You didn’t even notice the first firework go off.

It really was a spectacular show, as promised, and the distance helped to settle Bob’s anxiety. Well, that, and the warmth of your body against his as you spent the night in each other’s arms, watching sparks take over the sky. 

[hardlyinteresting]

Stop in the middle

Jake Seresin x reader

Two sides of the same coin; they were joined at the hip; partners in every way but the romantic. The words “I love you,” had passed between them many times, but neither of them had been brave enough to say, “I’m in love with you”.

So much wine by Phoebe Bridgers  Somewhere else by Indians Abbey by  Mitski

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, (call sign Angel), with no physical description, crash landing, wilderness survival, major injuries (non-graphic description), discussions of death, happy ending though (I promise!), hurt/comfort, idiots in love, possible Navy inaccuracies, (please let me know if you'd like me to add anything else)

Word Count: 4.7K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

This is as good a place to die as any, she thinks.

 Laying in the snow she watches the sun rise inch by inch over the tree line. The sky bathed in a soft orange glow that warms her skin for what she can only assume will be the last time. He’ll hate her for leaving him without saying goodbye, but her voice has already left her and her arms are too weak to shake him from his slumber. 

In the distance the cotton fluff clouds rest on the peaks of the mountains; tremendous contrast so perfectly balanced. She feels each of Hangman's breaths expanding the firm plane of his chest as her breathing grows slower. Two days ago she never would have imagined dying in the arms of Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin. 

---

They had taken off at the barest crack of dawn breaking. 0600 hours. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission. Take off from the carrier. Fly over. Survey the valley below—report anomalies. Continue the flight path, and land at a nearby ally airbase. Refuel. Return to the carrier. They'd been tasked with flying similar paths for the last two weeks as part of a larger peacekeeping and security effort. As far as deployments go, they were lucky to have been selected to be the joint task force; and more fortunate to not be engaged in active combat. 

Though Hangman would loathe to admit it with his two confirmed air combat kills, she knows herself that no pilot wants to be under enemy fire or in a position to take a life; it's an unfortunate consequence and frequent reality of the job. 

In the time they’ve known each other, she’s heard Jake speak frequently about his mother and her homemade pie waiting for him in Texas. He tells stories about the boys he used to play football with in high school, and family reunions with little nieces and nephews running about barefoot. She’s heard him making plans to buy a home and settle down. He dreams of a future. Anyone paying attention knows that beneath the outwardly cocky exterior, and adrenaline rushes, he's afraid of dying. 

It wasn't enemy fire that took them down two days ago, but rather sudden major malfunctions that left them without any navigation system, defective coms, and an aircraft almost completely unresponsive to pilot commands. Their saving grace had been Hangman's quick thinking to point them towards a clearing in the tree line, and her decision to dump their fuel as they descended rapidly toward the ground. Flying too low to eject safely they braced themselves for impact, an apology for something he could not have stopped on Jake's lips. 

The sounds of alarms and rapid beeping tones woke them. The smell of burning jet fuel startled them into action again. Jake's head stayed lulled forward his eyes slipping shut again before his limbs burst into action with a level of urgency that forced her to react with equal fervour. She watched wide-eyed as Hangman pushed open the canopy pulling himself up and out of his seat, rolling sideways out the opening. Only in watching his exit did she notice the awkward angle the jet had landed at. The nose crumpled by the force of the impact, their wings clipped and lost somewhere in the trees or across the clearing; the body had slid half on its side, a couple hundred feet through revealing mud beneath and leaving a wake of burning grass melting through the powder white snow. A sharp pain threatened to make her lose her breakfast as she clambered from her seat and the tangle of buckles and straps that had saved her life. She tumbled with purpose but little grace out into the frozen valley. 

“Alright?” Hangman asked standing with his back straight as she doubled over trying hard to catch her breath. She nodded but he didn't make any effort to speak or move giving her a moment to collect herself. 

Sucking in the ice-cold air she ignored the searing pain tearing through her rib cage. Her attention drifted from herself back to Jake who swayed on his feet, the soft crunch of snow sounding beneath his feet as he tried to find a place to stand steady. Watching him pale she only grew more convinced Jake was concussed. 

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Dizzy for sure”. 

“Well, we'll thank our lucky stars we crashed in allied territory. Once we find shelter, I'll run a concussion protocol for you.” 

Their non-functioning radios had left them no way to communicate their mayday calls. They had tried in vain to transmit their approximate coordinates as their headsets filled with static. Their navigation system ran haywire, the coordinates too impossible to be accurate in any case. 

His brows furrowed as he turned to survey their crash sight. His usually bright smile had been pulled into a firm line that confirmed to her they'd be stranded for a while. 

A gust of wind reminded them of how exposed they were in the clearing. While enemy scouts wouldn't be an issue, the potential for hypothermia would be. 

“Map. Compass. Let's grab the chutes from the seats as well,” she suggested. Hangman was uncharacteristically quiet in his agreement, giving her a nod of affirmation as they collected what they could from the jet. 

The sun was still high in the sky above them providing decent light though filtered through bare branches and evergreen limbs. Somewhat guarded from the biting wind they allowed themselves to settle for a moment hoping to find their bearings and build a solid plan for their survival. 

Before they began to plummet they had been about a quarter of an hour's flight from the air base on the other side of the valley. Plotting their estimated crash site on the paper map they found themselves nearly 250 miles away from their destination, walking sun up to sun down would still mean a 2-and-a-half day walk. 

“Look alive sunshine,” she teased as Jake's eyes began to droop. He'd let out a laugh his smile surprisingly bright as he tilted his head back to look at her. “You're so bossy,” he complained. 

“I'm about to get bossier, I've got to make sure you don't have a concussion”. 

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted. 

“Don't sass me Seresin,” she warned, though she tried to keep the tone playful. 

For years they'd played this game; pushing each other's buttons skirting around the edges of flirtation and toeing the line of verbal bullying. Ribbing him was how she had learned to be affectionate towards him. Giving him a hard time made him flustered, or it made him laugh, and either reaction was a well-welcomed sight that had left a fluttering in her chest. The lighthearted back and forth they'd learned to communicate through made it easier to ignore the sidelong glances, and yearning that had begun to take shape beneath the surface. 

“Alright,” she sighed, pulling the tiny flashlight out of her belt, “eyes on me”.

“They usually are,” he smirked. 

With the light, she checked his eyes and got promising results: no abnormal dilation. Both pupils were even and responsive to light. “Today's date?” She asked him. 

“February twelfth”.

“Your date of birth?” 

“October twenty-first. Nineteen ninety”.

“Any headache, nausea, persistent dizziness?” 

He responded no to all the symptoms and she allowed some relief to fill her knowing the initial symptoms had dissipated and not worsened. Finally, she held one finger up waiting for his eyes to focus. “Follow me,” she said her hand moving to the left, his eyes followed. 

“I'll follow you anywhere,” he said as her hand moved to the right. 

“Don't flirt with me, Hangman”. 

“Wouldn't it be stranger if I didn't? I’m just proving I’m not concussed”. His point was somewhat valid but she didn't let him know she thought so, continuing her evaluation in silence.

He's like this with everyone. She'd been telling herself the same thing for years. You're not special. He'll flirt with anyone. A painful truth that's helped her ignore his beautiful green eyes and warm countenance. 

---

Laying on her back in the snow drawing her last breaths now she wishes she could see those eyes one more time as her vision begins to blur. The blue sky swirls into the emerald pines, the colours lightened by the soft sunlight. The colours like sea glass make her think of him and tears begin to gather behind her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she wants to say but only a pathetic whimper leaves her. She wonders if she would have been kinder to him if she had known she was going to die. Would she have been more honest with her feelings? Or pushed them down deeper in some foolish attempt to protect him? The sun continues to rise and she knows he will wake soon. Selfishly, she hopes she’s drifted off before then, unwilling to see him hurting on her behalf. 

---

“Not concussed, but still a pain in my ass,” she had teased him, pushing his hair off his forehead, double-checking for any wounds. He took her words as permission to keep moving. Each of them threw a parachute pack over their shoulders and continued their walk northeast through the woods. 

By 1900 hours the sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon, and the sky above turned a deep blue dotted by tiny spangling stars. Breathtaking and brilliant it had been easy to forget, just for a moment, where they were. She slung the chute of her shoulders towards the ground hissing at the movement. She hadn't had the time to check herself over. Best case her ribs were bruised, at worst she'd find out they were broken, and there would be nothing to help her until they had access to a medical bay anyway. 

“Are you sure you're okay, Angel?” Hangman asked, using her call sign letting her know he meant business. He was not asking as a friend, he was asking as her teammate. 

“Yes,” she lied. The pain was tolerable, only worsening with sharp or sudden movement. Nothing she couldn't handle, and nothing she would force Jake to worry about. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn't be opposed to stripping you down to check for injuries,” his flirtations softened the conversation in an attempt to get her to tell him the truth. 

“In your dreams,” she responded instead, moving along the base of a nearby tree in hopes of gathering some firewood and kindling.

“Quite frequently, actually,” the wink he shot her way repeats in her head even now piercing through the fourth wall of the masquerade they had built, an honest and boyish confirmation that their feelings for each other were something beyond friendship. 

The plethora of fresh fallen snow meant finding water wasn't an issue of concern. Finding food would be more difficult and that first night under the stars they sat watching the flickering flames of the fire they had built, their empty stomachs rumbling with nothing to fill them. 

Stretched between two trees, one of the parachutes they liberated from their wreck was used as a windscreen, protecting them from the cold. The second one lay draped around their shoulders as an extra layer. 

Proximity wasn't an issue for them. They had spent enough time in cramped cockpits together to be familiar with the sounds of each other breathing. They had sat shoulder to shoulder in briefings enough time that she had memorized the smell of his cologne. And yet, when he put his arm around her to pull her closer in their makeshift cocoon her heart stuttered. How could his hands be so strong when her own wouldn't stop shaking? How could a simple touch warm her from the inside out? His fingers brushed along her side with no real pressure, but still prompted a gasp to escape her. Tears left glass trails on her cheeks in the firelight. 

She tried to turn away from him, to feign sleep but he wouldn't have it. “Hey,” Jake caught her attention, waiting for her to look at him before he continued, “We're going to be okay”. 

She believed him. 

---

Everything about their uniforms has been painstakingly designed to keep them safe. 100% cotton undershirts and pants because the material won't melt to their skin in the event of a cockpit fire. But the surprisingly soft base layers have never stopped the blaze burning inside her. From the moment she laid eyes on Jake Seresin she knew he'd be the beginning and the end of everything. He pushed people away with his cocky attitude, somehow convinced that his refusal to be vulnerable would keep him safe from forming meaningful bonds; that he might get further ahead if he had fewer people to let down. But, he'd let her in. He'd let her break down his walls and climb over the fences he'd tried to put up. She'd held him when he got the news his father had died. On a ship thousands of miles from his home he'd told her about his brother dying when he was a child, and growing up in his shadow. He told her how badly he wanted to make his parents proud and how lonely he had made himself in the process. He'd kissed her forehead as they parted that night, and her world changed forever. 

What had been an embarrassing schoolgirl crush she couldn’t shake had become a push-and-pull relationship neither of them could do without. She knew how to put him in his place when he took a joke too far. He knew how to goad her into showing everyone what she was capable of, refusing to let her slip into the background when he knew she deserved more. 

Two sides of the same coin, they were joined a the hip; partners in every way but the romantic. The words “I love you,” had passed between them many times, but neither of them had been brave enough to say, “I’m in love with you”. She wishes she would have said it. Lying at death’s door she remembers being told that you often regret the things you haven’t done more than you regret the things you did. “I’m in love with you, Jake Seresin,” she whispers to the wind. 

---

Their second day of walking was far more painful than the first. Jake had startled himself awake, his eyes wild as he fought to remember where it was they had ended up. The acceptance of their reality hadn't seemed to comfort him and he grew uncharacteristically quiet as they packed up their makeshift camp. The pine trees towering above them had been kind enough to shed some of their cones while they had lay sleeping in shifts. Though they hadn't offered many, they were able to harvest a handful of pine nuts between the two of them for breakfast. It was nowhere near a meal, but the snack had managed to quiet their angry stomachs for a few minutes.

The ache in her side had grown to become a constant agony. What had started as a negligible strain was now a torment that threatened to collapse her with each footfall. Despite the subzero temperatures, a sweat had broken out across her brow, and the heat spreading up the back of her neck left her wanting to strip off her cold weather jacket and flight suit. 

“Have you ever had rabbit?” Jake asked around noon. His footsteps had slowed enough for her to catch up with him. His voice had startled her after all the silence. 

“I can't say that I have,” she answered. A gunshot pulled her from her thoughts and she realized she hadn't ever answered out loud. Jake stood a few feet ahead of her, his service pistol in his hand. The world around her was spinning. The trees blurring together as a sudden wave of nausea filled her. She could hear her name being called; muffled and distorted. Jake. His face soon filled her line of vision. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he told her, but her mind still struggled to put the pieces together. For a moment it felt like she was underwater, all her breath gone from her lungs and all she could feel was the scalding pain burning from the inside out. Momentarily she entertained the idea that it was her who had been shot until she spotted the rabbit lying lifeless in the snow. 

“We need to eat,” Jake spoke again, “you're going quiet on me and I don't like that-- we’ll get some energy in you again before we keep moving”.

The very idea of eating anything threatened to leave her dry-heaving, but she took advantage of the moment to rest. He didn't mention her lack of assistance building a fire or preparing the rabbit, but she watched with incredible focus his hands moving with precision and surprising gentleness for the task at hand. 

She can recall him telling her stories about his childhood, standing on step stools to reach the countertop in his mother's kitchen rolling out pie crusts and later on slicing apples. He once told her that it was his mother who had taught him patience and gratitude while they baked together; two traits he had neglected to exhibit far too often in his adult life. 

She listened to him thank the rabbit for its life as he cut away pieces to feed to her. There was an unmistakable love in the way he moved, his eyes cast over his shoulder to check on her. Slowly, she realized that she was not doing a good job hiding her suffering. In a fleeting thought, she imagined Jake having to carry her lifeless body for the rest of their journey. In their line of work, it had never been considered morbid to have funeral plans from a young age. Flying with him for years she had learned to trust him implicitly, despite the call sign he'd earned and worked tirelessly to recover from she knew early on that he'd do right by her. Challenging authority, but always following the rules; complete and unwavering dedication to whatever task he had at hand; precision and perfection in the execution of his duties be it laundry or taking down a fighter jet midair. As her energy continued to leave her she took comfort in knowing her life would be in Hangman's hands. 

“I'm not hungry,” she said to him. 

“You need to eat,” he insisted again but didn't push any farther. With a longanimity he forgot he possessed, and a magnanimity he couldn't credit himself for carrying he cared for her; making the executive decision to make camp early as her seemingly catatonic state worsened. She managed to chew and swallow bites of the gamey meat, her body grateful for the nutrition.  

Night fell too soon after and the sound of the wind in the trees and the rustle of creatures that may have been lurking left both of them far more on edge than they had been the night before. 

“Scoot closer,” she whispered to him, and he complied without complaint. Neither of them was warm, but their proximity to the fire helped them imagine they could be. His shoulder bumped hers and she leaned her head against him. “Put your arm around me?” She asked. He complied again this time with more hesitation. 

“You know if you wanted to snuggle with me you could've just said so,” he teased though she could tell his heart wasn't in it. 

“I'm scared,” she confessed, a half-truth. She was terrified, feeling her heart rate starting to slow by the minute, her vision slipping in and out of focus. 

“We're going to make it home,” he whispered, both arms wrapped around her now, his lips pressed to her hairline. Tears blurred in her eyes and she gave up fighting back a sob, body shaking and heartbreaking. “I won't let anything happen to you,” he said so sincerely. She cried harder knowing she had already broken that promise for him. 

She had realized she'd lost feeling in her fingers and toes when he'd begun to trace shapes on her back. Her digits buzzed with needles and pins and her limbs had began to feel heavy. Bile rose in her throat choking her as she scrambled to get her distance before dinner made a reappearance. Jake didn't make a fuss, or make his worry known, but she could tell that her perturbation had begun to seep beneath his calm, cool, mien. His hand shook as he rubbed her back hoping her coughing fit might free her off the anxiety and discomfort that had overtaken her. 

She can remember almost every time Jake Seresin has touched her. The memories float suspended in golden warmth, kept safe from the things theyve done, and the things they’ve seen. She holds those moments of fleeting, passing goodness, near to her heart. The smallest reminders that Hangman has a heart; and it’s full of love to give, and on some occasions, she has allowed herself to believe she could be worthy of that love. 

He used to sit beside her in the mess hall no matter how many seats were available; his broad shoulders bumping her own, his elbow knocking at her ribs, their hands brushing as he slid his mashed potatoes onto her plate and she slid her green beans onto his. Silent and symbiotic in their bond, determined to look out for one another. 

The first New Year's Eve they were able to spend together off base was spent with as many friends as possible and too much liquor to handle. Neither of them got a midnight kiss because she was spilling her guts in the alleyway behind the bar, Jake by her side saying “I told you not to do shots after drinking a glass of wine”.  But his satisfied smirk was overshadowed by the genuine concern in his eyes and the steady warm hand he'd placed on her back. “There you go, you'll feel better once you get it all out”. He was drunk himself, his words half slurred but no less encouraging. She had thought then that he was seeing her at her worst. She knows now that she was wrong. 

By some miracle they had been deployed together more often than not. At first it was pure coincidence, but over time it became clear that together they were a dynamic duo with a combined force and efficiency they're commanding officers could not deny, and were often interested in capitalizing on. They had become two halves of a whole, a packaged pair anyone would be disinclined to separate. Still, they had not been permitted to bunk together, and neither of them had ever been interested in breaking the rules of the institution so they never pushed it. But on nights when the creaks and groans of the 900,000 pound ship kept her awake, and the rocking of the waves around them was too much to ignore she knew she'd be able to find him lurking around the corridors as well.

 “I couldn't sleep,” she'd say. “Me neither,” he'd respond. Sometimes, when the world felt too heavy on his shoulders and they'd been away from home for too long they'd find their way to the floor together, his back pressed to hers, their arms circling their knees, and he'd sync his breathing to hers convincing himself that so long as she was their he had some piece of his real life with him. A part of Jake Seresin that wasn't just a pawn in battles bigger than him, he was a man with thoughts and feelings, and dreams outside of his role worth achieving. 

---

This is as good a place to die as any, she thinks.

The parachute that isn't being used to block the wind is still draped over the two of them and she hopes it keeps Jake warm until he wakes. His walk to the base will take him longer now dragging her weight behind him, he'll need his sleep. 

She lets the sound of the wind lull her and she finds that she's not afraid anymore. Just sad; angry even; but not afraid. Her pain is excruciating, and she’s honestly welcoming the relief of a permanent slumber. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. The wind gusts come steadily, growing louder and ever closer. 

Jake stirs beneath her, sitting up her head falling to his lap. “Well would you look at that! No more walking for us,” he grins. Her eyes have shut but she can hear it in his voice, the boy like wonder bursting  the surface. “Angel, wake up,” he shakes her shoulder. The joy that had filled him moments ago has been replaced with a more serious tone, “they sent a chopper for us, honey,” he says, shaking her again, “you've gotta get up,” he pleads with her, but she cannot answer him. His hand is surprisingly warm on the side of her face, and the world goes dark and silent. 

Death is softer than she expected. It's dark still, but her head is resting on something plush, and there's a feel of woven fabric at her fingertips, it reminds her of the blanket Jake's mom had sent to her last Christmas. Her back and her legs feel stiff and she makes no attempt to move them uninterested in exploring this darken world she's found herself in. Her ribs ache but far less than they did back in the snow, the pinch she feels with each breath is like an echoed sound, a pallid reminder of her last moments. 

There's a humming; a mellifluous tune. It drifts in and out, bookended by murmuring she cannot decipher. Come back to me. The words become clear. Angel. Guilt fills her, petulant and helpless as emotion overwhelms her. She wants to move towards the voice, to apologize for leaving but she's not sure she can. I need you honey. 

Jake. Oh, it's so clear now. Jake. 

“Hey, hey, you're okay,” Jake's hands brace her shoulder, and just above her knee willing her to stop flailing her panicked limbs. Her eyes shoot open to meet his; golden green and brimming with tears she wishes she had the strength to stop. The insistent beeping that had filled the room quiets as she relaxes back into the pillows. 

The Navy infirmary isn't anything fancy, but it's far more comfortable than the nights she spent with her back up against the bark of a tree. She has so many questions but they fade out of her mind as quickly as they spark in. Blips of clarity overriden by the need to speak to Jake who is looking at her with more wonder than she's even seen. The man has seen the world from 40,000 feet but he's looking at her like she hung his stars in the sky. 

“Jake,” she manages. 

“Yeah, Angel”. 

Her throat feels like sandpaper, her voice scratchy and raw with disuse, but she fights through it, 

“I'm in love with you,” she says, sucking in a breath that makes her cough. Her lungs feel like they're on fire and she works desperately to inhale and exhale as the ache in her side is reawaken. 

Jake offers her water that manages to swallow down, and when she takes a few shaky breaths without wincing, he sets the paper cup aside. 

She gives him a gentle nod, refusing to meet his gaze. He doesn't let it slide, his forefinger tilting her chin up so she can't hide from him. She envies his confidence, his ability to simplify a scenario. 

“I'm in love with you,” he tells her too. 

[moon-fics]

Hi hi! Just read your Bob Floyd x young girlfriend/wife! Reader, and I’m gagging for more! It was so perfect and suited to him, your characterisation skills are 💋 👌 (chef’s kiss)!!!! Could I please maybe request the first time all the topgun pilots meet reader, maybe like at the Hard deck? Thank you sooo much!! - LT xx

OMG, thank you so much, you're so sweet!! Ok, I can try to write for the other characters, but I cannot promise it won't be OOC bc Jake, Rooster, and Bob were my main men. I cannot do all the pilots because that would genuinely take me ages, but I can do three!

Jake Seresin

You meet Jake at the Hard Deck while out with friends.

He spots you immediately and makes you his target for the night.

However, Phoenix and Fanboy notice this just as quick. Since Jake left them hanging during training, they decided to sabotage his entire night.

When Jake goes to approach you with a drink in hand, Phoenix 'accidentally' leaves a pool stick lying around.

Jake had to spend a few minutes apologizing about his drink getting on your purse and offering to pay you back.

Thankfully, you don't yell at him, and instead help him clean your bag.

When he tries to smooth-talk you, Fanboy decides it's a perfect time to bring up when he threw up one time during training.

After an entire night of consistently foiling Jake's plan to sweep you off your feet, he decides to drop the cool guy act.

That's how you find yourself sitting at a table with him having the most wonderful conversation.

He talks about his family, his home, and how much he enjoys his job.

This actually works, and he can't help but smile at the fact that you enjoy his company. Not his job or how he looks, but who he is and what he wants in life.

This is when the tricks stop from Phoenix and Fanboy. Even they know not to ruin something like this.

By the time the bar closes, you're still chatting with him. The conversation flows perfectly, and it ends up being you who asks him out for coffee.

--

"Ok, so you didn't forget?" You ask Natasha for the fifty-first time. She rolls her eyes playfully and fixes your hair. There's a large smile on both your faces as she examines you.

"I think if I forgot, Jake would actually kill me." She laughs. You flatten out your outfit and check for wrinkles. The white fabric is just as you imagined it would be. "You look beautiful."

"You're just saying that because you still feel guilty for ruining my purse years ago," You giggle. Then, it hits you quickly. You're more than thankful for her and how she decided to get back at Jake that night. "I wouldn't be here without you."

"Hey, what about me?" Jake's voice comes from around the corner. Natasha is already stepping in his way to stop him from seeing you. "I'm not gonna. I just wanted to talk to my soon-to-be wife one last time before we're married." He remains on the other side of the wall. "I cannot believe I still paid for that purse."

Bob Floyd

Bob did not meet you at the Hard Deck. He met you while running on a trail.

He might not seem like it, but cardio is important to him and he finds nature relaxing.

You, however, were completely lost. This was a new trail for you and you knew you should have started out easy.

So, when Bob hears someone yelling from the woods, he immediately goes to help.

He finds you only a few feet from the trail, and yet you look so terrified. He can't blame you. There are so many stories of people getting lost in the woods and dying there.

He helps you back to the trail and decides to run with you. He says it's to make sure you stay safe, but it's also because you're pretty.

You don't say much because it exerts too much energy, but there's a connection there.

He visits this trail often and can point out animals he's seen before. It makes the experience much better, and you honestly enjoy having small things pointed out.

You two decide to take a break by a brook. The conversation is awkward at first, and there are a few moments of silence. That doesn't stop you from laughing at his bad jokes or asking about other animals he's seen.

By the end of the run, he asks for your number but stumbles over his words. You gladly give it to him, and thus begins a friendship that slowly grows.

After a few months of running together and spending time outside of the trails, he asks you out.

He makes a whole day of it, too. He sets up a picnic on the trail you two met at.

---

The sun is pounding on your back as you run down the trail. You decided to go alone today because Bob had errands to run. It was beautiful out and you weren't about to waste the day.

But your eyes land on a trail of flowers that were never there before. They lead up a hill that you can't see the top of. Against your better judgment, you follow them. Who knows, maybe you'll find fairies.

Once you reach the top, you notice a large sign with the question 'Will you marry me?'. You immediately assume that you've just spoiled someone else's proposal, until Bob appears next to you.

"What kind of person has a proposal in the middle of the woods?" He asks with a chuckle. You don't know why he's here or how he knew you'd be here. It catches you off guard, and you're stuck trying to think. You're stopped when he gets on one knee. "Probably some guy who is madly in love," He cracks his sweet smile.

Natasha Trace

You meet her because you steal the pool ball to her game.

You genuinely thought it was one from your table and picked it off the ground. Natasha tried to tell you, but you were adamant it was yours.

She's great at playing the long game. So, she lets you have it and watches as the game goes on. She does it with a smirk that tells all.

When you realize you have two of the same balls, your heart drops. This is humiliating because you did this to yourself.

Nervously, you turn to her and hand her the ball back. She isn't mad about it, and she accepts your apology with a laugh.

She invites you to play with her, Bob, and Hangman. You agree and find that they are great company.

Even when Hangman makes cocky comments that pisses everyone off. You can't help but connect with Natasha and almost cling to her. She's vibrant and snarky. She makes the conversation stand out.

When you return the next day to see her there again, you don't hesitate to join her. She introduces you to a few more people, but spends most of her time with you.

She brings up the pool ball story to everyone she can and revels in the way you have to explain yourself. It isn't malicious because she then talks about how she's glad it happened. Otherwise, she'd never have met you.

When you decide to ask her out, it takes a lot of courage. She's such a strong person, and her friendship means the world to you.

When you do ask her out, she acts completely surprised. She pretends she pretends as if this came out of the blue, right before saying yes excitedly.

You two moved in together rather quickly, but it slowed from there. She's not the type to rush everything and instead lets the flow take you towards the future.

--

You enter the house with groceries in hand. They're heavy and there are a lot of them, but you can manage. Your dog greets you happily and follows you into the kitchen.

"Oh, babe, you could have asked for help!" Natasha says while getting up from the couch. She instantly helps you unload the bags and put the food away. As she's reaching for the last item in the paper bag her hand grazes over a small box.

"I didn't want you to do anything on your day off," You explain.

She can feel the velvet texture and is confused as to what you could have bought. When she pulls it out, she's met with something that makes her heart race. She opens it and sees a gorgeous ring that resembles the one she joked about buying.

"Is this-?" She covers her mouth with her hand. She's never been one to cry, but right now she can feel the tears forming in her eyes. "Yes!" She laughs.

[littlemissrbf]

Summer Lovin’ (pt. 2)

Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!Reader

(No use of y/n, reader is a SoCal native & Bob is from Montana, language, reader has an annoying but loving uncle, Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a jackass, & Natasha "Phoenix" Trace is amazing and I love her, the Mickey-Rooster-Reuben department of shits and giggles is my new favorite thing)

Part 1, Part 2, Next Chapter [Word Count: 2.6k]

Until now, you’d only seen Lt. Robert Floyd from across the room, sitting or standing to the side with his shoulders pulled inwards like he was worried about taking up too much space. The distance between the two of you only made him look smaller, more like a “little nerd” according to your uncle.

But now that you have him all up close and personal, you realize just how big this man actually is. He's at least six feet tall with broad shoulders which only seem to add to his height. He practically towers over you, and when he stands too close you have to tilt your head back just to meet his eyes.

You realize you fucked up as he began to set up the pool balls into a diamond shape. You had asked him to play 9-ball but you've only ever played 8-ball, where the balls are set up in a triangle and you have to pocket all the stripes or solids before you go for the 8-ball. You couldn't even last 5 minutes without making a complete fool of yourself.

"You wanna break?" he asked, holding out the cue ball.

You laid your cue stick to rest against the table before making your way over to him, you took the ball from him and laughed at yourself before he could,

"I'm sorry I meant to say 8-ball instead of 9, but I got them mixed up in my head. I actually have no idea how to play 9-ball."

But he didn't laugh at you. He just smiled, grabbed the rack from another table, and started pulling six more balls from the pockets to rearrange them into a triangle.

"I'm really sorry about that, I should've said something before you'd finished setting up." you looked down and began to roll the cue ball in your hands.

He paused from lining up the rack with the foot of the table to look up at you, "It's okay, I don't mind."

When you still didn't look at him he made his way over to you, leaning down to get you to meet his eyes,

"Hey, it's alright. I figured I could show you how to play 9-ball after our bet." then he added "As long as you're okay with that."

You couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, that sounds good. But only after you've bought me a drink 'cause I'm about to destroy you."

"Oh someone's feeling confident all of a sudden." he smirked at you.

You smiled as you rolled your eyes at him.

"I'm still breaking," you said as you grabbed your cue stick and placed the ball on the table.

The two of you probably spent more time chatting than actually playing pool. The initial trash talk quickly blended into full-blown conversations that ended up with both of you forgetting whose turn it was (you ended up using rock-paper-scissors to decide who would go). At one point, you got so distracted that you forgot you were solids, accidentally sinking one of Bob's stripes into a pocket.

"You from around here?" he asked before taking a shot, the cue ball hitting a red one with a satisfying click, it rolled towards a corner pocket but bounced off the rails.

"No, I'm actually from OC," you said looking for an easy shot.

"OC?" he tilted his head.

"Orange County," you lined up for a pocket shot, "I live in Anaheim, it's about a two-hour drive from here." You hit the cue ball and watched as it rolled straight past your target and into the pocket. You sighed and lightly slapped your forehead, this was probably the fifth time you'd scratched. "What about you?" you asked as he reached into the pocket and pulled out the cue ball.

"I'm born and raised in Montana, my family owns a cattle ranch in Whitehall." he placed the ball on the table and leaned over to take a shot.

"Robbie, are you telling me that you're a cowboy?"

"No ma'am," he chuckled and shook his head, "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm just a Weapons System Officer."

"Yeah I have no idea what that means, you mind explaining?"

It's like you just triggered a sleeper agent, Bob immediately stood up, completely forgetting about his shot, and started to explain every last detail about what he did as a WSO. He talked with his hands and the pitch of his voice raised when he got excited.

"So, the pilot flies and you shoot, but you're also like the pilot's second set of eyes and ears?" you asked.

"Yep that's pretty much it," he nodded.

"That sounds... intense." You couldn't imagine being in charge of all of that, not to mention being responsible for someone else's life. "Have you always wanted to do something like this?"

"Well, my mom says I always really liked planes and jets." He made his way back to the table and lined up for one of the side pockets, "When I was a kid I told her 'One day, I'm gonna fly one of those things' and I figured the Navy was the best way to do that." He took the shot and the target ball rolled straight into the side pocket.

"It's really impressive." You started, he just shrugged and smiled to himself, he's too humble. "So is this your first time in Cali?"

"Actually, I was stationed in Lemoore for a bit before I got transferred here."

"San Joaquin Valley area?" That area is mostly farmland, so you can't help but ask, "Is it true that it smells like shit all the time?"

He smiled, "You get used to it."

He took another shot and sunk the ball into a corner pocket.

"You're pretty good at this," you said looking down at the table. He only had one ball left and you had five, at this rate you should just go buy his drink already.

A quiet "Thank you" slipped out as he leaned down over the table and lined up to knock his last ball into a corner pocket. He paused for a second, then hit the cue. He scratched.

He just looked at you and shrugged, trying to hide a small grin.

You raised an eyebrow at him, "Lt. Robert Floyd, are you letting me win to make me like you more?" You asked, hand on your hip.

You expected him to look down or maybe blush, instead, he held your gaze and tilted his head. That stupid grin showing up again,

"Is it working?"

Now you were the one blushing.

"Maybe." You said, brushing past him to grab the cue ball from the pocket.

This went on for a bit, you miss your shot and then Bob misses his (but on purpose), the cycle continued until some of his fellow pilots made their way back towards the pool tables, putting a pause on your game. It was a woman you recognized from earlier, two men who always seemed to trail behind her, and Mr. Mustache aka Rooster. Bob introduced you, and you shake their hands and learn that Natasha, Reuben, and Rooster are all F/A-18 pilots and Mickey is Reuben's WSO. You ask Natasha if Bob is a good back-seater and she laughs,

"I sure hope so, I haven't gotten the chance to fly with him yet. Most of us just got in today."

"Ooo something important about to happen?" You asked

"Well, I'd tell you if I knew." She smiled, and holy shit she's pretty, actually forget pretty, Natasha Trace is drop-dead gorgeous. Maybe the Navy is only taking hot pilots or something?

As if to prove your point, Rooster, who is tall and ridiculously good-looking, decided to make his way into the conversation,

"Nah you wouldn't, 'c'mon we all know you're a goody two shoes." Rooster pipes up and without missing a beat, she reaches up and slaps him up the back of his head.

"Don't mind him, he's an idiot," she says, "So what brings you around here? Family? Maybe a boyfriend?"

"No, no boyfriend," you say, trying not to look at Bob, but you can see Mickey out of the corner of your eye nudging him with his elbow. "I'm here with my uncle, he just retired from the Navy, today actually."

"Oh good for him, you guys here to celebrate?"

"Well he's definitely here to celebrate, I'm sure he just brought me along to be his designated drive-home." It was a good cover story, there is no fucking way you are about to tell these people that you were brought here to find yourself a husband.

"That's sweet," she starts "I love your dress, by the way, does it have pockets?"

You reach down and fluff out the skirt a little, "Thank you so much! I wish it had pockets, then it would be perfect."

You got to know the group better after just minutes of chatting apparently Natasha and Rooster go way back, Mickey is a chatterbox once he starts talking and won't shut up unless he's either eating or asleep, and Reuben's had his (albeit less dramatic than Rooster's) mustache since high school.

While listening to Rooster, Reuben, and Mickey get into it about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza. You subconsciously start drifting towards Bob, who is standing off to the side and silently observing the heated debate. Once you were side to side you gently bumped him with your shoulder, and he smiled before leaning over to whisper,

"I think it's your turn."

He was so close now and you could feel his breath against your neck, your heart decided to skip a beat and you figured if you didn't move soon this man was gonna give you a heart attack. So you quickly shuffled closer to the table and you locked eyes with Natasha, who saw the whole interaction, she gave you a knowing smirk and you felt the flush spreading further up your cheeks. You look down and try to focus on your next shot, but before you can pick which ball to go for you hear a new voice coming from the bar.

"Would you look at that, 'Baby on Board' actually has some game."

The man standing across from you is tall and blonde, he's got a set of perfect teeth that he flashes with a shit-eating grin, you notice the way Natasha looks at him as if she's fantasizing about punching him in the face or setting him on fire, or maybe both.

"Excuse me?" You tried to sound as polite as possible.

"You know B-O-B, 'Baby on Board'. I'm starting to think that's what his callsign actually stands for"

"Bob is just his nickname," you started, "It's short for Robert."

"No sweetheart, see 'callsigns' are what we fighter pilots use for communication and identification." he explained.

"So like a nickname." you replied with a flat tone.

You can hear Rooster and Mickey snickering, Natasha is still standing with her arms crossed but at least now she's smirking.

You decided to press your luck, thinking maybe if you annoyed him enough, Mr. Pearly Whites would just go away.

"What's your nickname?" you quickly corrected yourself "I mean, what's your callsign?"

More laughter came from the Mickey-Rooster-Reuben department but Mr. Pearly Whites just stood there and grinned.

"I'm Hangman, this here is Coyote." he nodded to the man next to him.

"Hangman?" You asked, you saw a slight crack in his smile and decided to go in for the kill.

"Do you just really like kid's word puzzles or something?"

At this, the Mickey-Rooster-Reuben department fucking lost it, cackling as they leaned on each other for support, Natasha was laughing too but at least she was still standing up on her own.

To your disappointment, Hangman just kept on smiling.

"At least someone's got a sense of humor, isn't that right Bob."

When you turned to glance at Bob, his mouth was pressed in a thin line, he nodded politely but his shoulders were hunched inwards again.

"Listen, it was great to meet you Hangman, and you too Coyote, but if you don't mind I'm gonna go back to playing 8-ball." you said turning back towards the table.

Before you could register it, you felt the pool cue being snatched from your hands and suddenly Hangman was in your place, shooting the cue ball perfectly to sink a ball into a corner pocket.

"I'm really good at this kind of stuff so let me give you some pointers," He started.

"No thank you." You reply immediately, but still polite.

"Aww c'mon I'm just trying to be nice, besides, it looks like you could use the help." He pressed on.

Before you can repeat yourself, Bob made his way around the table and he stood right next to Hangman, bringing his hand down onto his shoulder with a bit more force than necessary.

"You having some trouble with your hearing, Hangman?" He asks.

"Pardon?"

"I guess you are because I just heard her say 'No thank you' loud and clear. Maybe you oughta get your ears checked." He said, smiling sweetly, feigning concern.

Oh shit, he's hot.

Now Rooster got in on the action, "Nah, with that level of hearing loss I say we just let him get discharged."

"It's a shame, I was really looking forward to working with you, Bagman." Natasha chimed in.

And Hangman, the smooth son of a bitch just chuckled and patted Bob on the back, "Looks like we're all a bunch of comedians now." And he turned to you.

He held out the pool cue but when you took it in your hand, he held on, looking straight into your eyes.

"I apologize," he said with his other hand on his chest, it almost sounded genuine. "You have a good night, sweetheart." He flashed his pearly whites again, still holding on.

"Thank you." You replied, not breaking his gaze, not backing down.

He nodded and finally let go, making his way towards the dartboard on the other side of the bar. Before following him, Coyote nodded to you saying "Take care." You nodded back and said, "Thank you, you too."

The second the two men were out of earshot you whipped around to the group, "Oh my god, how do you guys put up with that?!"

Natasha lets out a groan, "He's the worst."

"Tell me about it." Rooster said leaning against a wall.

"You guys deserve a fucking medal of honor or something, I mean he is just such a..." You trailed off while trying to fish out the ball that he sunk.

"Jackass?"

"Dipshit?"

"Asshole?"

You placed the ball down on the table with a thud, "Yes, yes, and yes."

You made your way to Bob and placed your hand on his arm,

"Thank you for sticking up for me, I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome." Is all he gets out, looking down to where your palm rests on his arm, smiling softly.

When you pull your hand away, you barely see the way he leans towards it, as if his body is trying to chase your touch.

Natasha grabs the boys and makes a half-assed excuse about going for another round of drinks, winking at you as she gives you and Bob some privacy. No surprise, Natasha Trace is a solid wingman.

You let out a small laugh, "So, where were we?"

"I think you're about to win."

"Ha ha very funny," you said, aiming for one of your remaining balls. You took the shot and missed with flying colors. "Alright, Robbie go ahead." You said with a defeated sigh.

He sunk his last striped ball then picked a corner pocket for the 8-ball. He lined up his shot, looked at you, and hit the cue ball. It knocked the 8-ball into its pocket before rolling straight across the table and into the other pocket. Scratch on the 8-ball, he lost.

He turned to you and grinned.

"Oops."

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

(Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Part 3 is in the works. This is still my first ever fic so let me know if you have any writing tips or suggestions!)

[godzilla-barbie]

Good In Bed

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has made it crystal clear to you that you're only friends with benefits, so why did he go and delete your dating apps?

Warnings: brief mentions of smut but not smutty, jake kinda being an asshole, reader getting upset and yelling at him, fluff ending all the way baybay

Notes: u have no clue how much i love u @roleycoleyland for literally being the reason this got finished &lt;;3 <;3 <3 title from Good In Bed by Dua Lipa <3

Masterlist

Jake pumps his hips hard into yours one final time, before he at last collapses beside you, chest sweaty and heaving, his eyes closed and his face raised to the ceiling. Your position had shifted from the pure force of your fucking, and somehow your head had fallen off the side of his bed, leaving you hanging slightly as you too try to catch your breath.

“Damn, I’ve missed this,” he says a short time later, shifting himself fully out from between your legs, and tucking his hands behind his head, the afterglow of a good lay lingering on him beautifully. Once upon a time his words might’ve sparked pride or even joy, but now they’re just one more cut that stings painfully before being swallowed up. You note sourly he doesn’t say he’s missed you, despite the fact he’s been gone ten weeks now, and against your better judgement you missed him.

You lay there on his bed in the late evening and regret every moment that led you to this point. You shouldn't have picked up when he called tonight, you shouldn't have come over for drinks, and you definitely shouldn't have had sex with him again.

It’s not that Jake isn't a nice guy, well, he isn’t always, but for the most part he was a mile more decent than most of the guys you’d actually dated in the past. From the start he was straightforward and blunt with you about what this thing between you would be, how much he was offering you, and to his credit, he rarely seemed to step outside of that. And like an idiot, you’d gone and gotten feelings for him anyway.

You should have stopped seeing him long before his most recent deployment, and you shouldn't have been there the night before he left for him to hit you with another straightforward and blunt assertion that you were only fuck buddies, nothing more.

The thing is, you and Jake got on well, so well in fact most people assumed that you were an item, and at this point maybe you were blinded by your feelings, but you couldn’t exactly see why you shouldn't be, aside form the fact that Jake didn’t seem to be interested in any sort of commitment, despite what that offered was basically what you had now, only he didn’t have to go out of his way to break your heart once a week.

After the last time, before he’d left for ten weeks, you’d sworn off him for good. You put his name in your phone as ‘DO NOT CALL’, you downloaded a few dating apps, you’d even been on a few dates… and then Jake had sauntered back into your life, invited you over for the night and just like none of your progress existed in the first place, you’d come at his beck and call.

You lay there feeling pathetic as it sinks in what you’ve done, but swallow back your emotions for now. You were an adult, you chose to do this with him tonight, you knew what it would do. Warm fingers make you jump as they wrap around your wrist, and you glance up to watch as Jake effortlessly tugs you back onto the bed, closer to him, never letting his hand leave your skin as he releases you to skim his fingers up and over your shoulder, drawing you even closer until you’re almost cuddling. You nearly pull away.

Jake wasn’t a post-sex cuddler, not really anyway. Aftercare? No problem, but this wasn’t exactly the sort of session that required aftercare, so you’re more than a little surprised by his continued affections, staying still as he curls himself onto his side to face you, hand dropping to grab at your thigh, which he hikes over his, as if this was something you normally did.

“You may need to give me a few before we go again,” you tell him, realising this position was probably just him gearing up for round two. Jake peeks an eye open at you, and lifts an eyebrow as though what you’ve said is very funny.

“I don’t think I’ve got more to give tonight,” he says, adjusting your leg around him again, pulling you in even more. You refrain from frowning, if only to avoid explaining to him why. Jake closes his eyes again and lets out a contented sigh. His hand stays curled around your leg, though he begins rhythmically smoothing his thumb back and forth over your skin after a few moments, and you begin to wonder at what point he’s going to withdraw from you like he usually does.

Luckily you’re saved from the dreaded wait, your phone buzzing loud and distractingly. You use it as the perfect excuse to extract yourself from him, instead moving to a sitting up cross-legged position as you reach for your phone, and draw the screen closer to your chest when you see who it’s from. Jake seems only a little disgruntled by your movement, though gets over it quickly, replacing his hand almost exactly where it once was around your thigh.

“What's going on?” he asks casually, eyes closed again as you tap out a reply. You spare him half a glance, but don’t feel much point in lying to him about things, seeing as he’d never done so with you.

“Just this guy I met on Tinder a while back.” you tell him lightly, completely missing how his eyes pop open immediately and he stares up at you with an unreadable expression.

“You’re on Tinder?” he asks, voice blank, finally making you look down at him properly. You blink and shrug, before going back to your phone.

“Sure, I mean, I don’t know how else to meet people these days, I kinda don’t get out much when Dagger’s not around,” you inform him, shifting in your place slightly as he withdraws his hand from your thigh to lay over his sternum instead.

Feeling the mood shift, but unsure as to why, you force out a laugh and shrug.

“It’s been sorta nice, trying to get back out there again properly, not just, you know, settling or whatever.” that makes Jake react clearly, frowning at you while pushing himself into an upright position. “Settling?!” he repeats, though it’s not really a question. You stare at him in confusion.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m getting past the point in my life where I wanna be doing this,” you getsure between the two of you. “All the time.”

Jake blinks at you in clear offence, before quickly his entire demeanour seems to change all at once, and his expression falls into a somewhat familiar cocky grin.

“Alright, I get it,” he says, only further confusing you and you’re caught off guard enough that when he reaches out and plucks your phone from your hands, you don’t have time to react.

“Hey! Jake!” you protest, suddenly a little panicked as he very easily plays keep-away from you, using one of his hands to do something on your screen, while the other easily bats away you various attempts to swipe your phone back.

“You don’t need any of this shit, alright?” Jake tells you almost condescendingly.

“Jake!” you warn, your voice growing less calm by the moment.

“There, gone. Deleted.” he says proudly, before at last turning your phone screen around to face you, and letting you take it back off him, which you do hurriedly, snatching it away and standing up from the bed.

“What the fuck?!” you demand, looking agape between your now tinder-less phone, and Jake. The blond looks more relaxed now, and all of a sudden any thought of keeping your brooding and your feelings to yourself goes out the window. Your eyes prickle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you do that?!” you shout. Jake has the smarts to at least drop his smug grin, but now he stares up at you in even more annoying surprise.

“I was just–” he starts, but you don’t even care what he has to say anymore.

“You don’t get to leave for ten weeks after, especially after reminding me that you don’t want me, and then just show up again and ruin my chances at finding someone who actually does!” your raised voice wobbles, and you don’t bother trying to hide your sniffling as you continue to lay into him. “That’s not fair! You’re being unfair!” you cry. “How many girls did you take home while you were away, huh?”

Jake blinks at you, a shade of indignance colouring his features now.

“None.” he tells you, but you can only scoff.

“Right. And how many did you flirt with? How many did you buy drinks for?” he stays silent at those questions, either not wanting to answer or no longer seeing the point in the face of your tirade. You stare at him until your eyesight blurs completely before at last you reel back from him.

Gasping a little at the state you’ve worked yourself into, you turn half away from him and wipe desperately at your eyes.

“Baby–” Jake starts, his fingers brushing your wrist, but you jerk away this time, pulling your hand and your phone to your chest.

“I need to go. I shouldn’t have come,” you tell him, collecting your clothes quickly before escaping into his bathroom.

You can't help but feel a little pathetic as you cry harder once you’re in the relative privacy of his ensuite, a strange but familiar disappointment lancing through you when he doesn't come after you. However upon swinging the door back open once you’re dressed, you find Jake standing in front of his bed, sweatpants now fastened around his hips, and a determined expression on his features.

“I’m not letting you leave like this,” he tells you firmly, as if he has any say in what you do. You scoff at him, but don’t cover up your still dripping eyes. If anything, his resolve seems to strengthen.

“Look, be pissed at me, I deserve it, but I’m not letting you drive home when you’ve been drinking,” his voice leaves little room for argument, and even though in the back of your mind you know he’s actually being the decent version of himself right now, you can’t help but snarl at him in disgust.

“Fine! Then I’ll call an uber. I’m not staying here.'' You're aware you sound a little childish, and you feel a small pang of regret when Jake’s face flashes with hurt that is quickly covered up by sternness. Going against all the signs you’re putting out to him right now, Jake moves forward and stops your movements to find your shoes by laying both hands on your shoulders. When you look up at him, eyes still blinking away tears, he seems sincere and pleading.

“Just… just stay here, I’ll sleep in the lounge, alright? Just don’t go home like this.”

You want to snap at him that he has no right to ask that of you, but somehow you think he already knows that, and is still asking anyway. You realise dully, that just like you always wanted, Jake was chasing you now, though, you aren’t sure you really want it anymore.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you–” he cuts himself off, just as you shrug out of his hold.

“Please do not talk to me right now.” is all you can manage by way of agreeing to his terms.

You can barely bring yourself to look at him as he goes about collecting up his pillow and a spare blanket, and a part of you feels cruel, but the bigger part of you is proud that you’ve finally put your foot down. Maybe at some other time you’d let him talk, but right now all you can think about or hear is every moment prior to this night when he’s hurt you.

You’d hoped you’d at least be able to fall asleep somewhat fast, but the longer you lay there, the longer you go over and over every little detail of your night until you find yourself downstairs, wrapped up in the throw blanket from Jake’s bed, and standing a few feet away from him on the couch. He sits up immediately when he noticed you, chucking his phone down and focusing intently on you. You note he doesn’t open his mouth, or attempt to speak yet, and you almost regret telling him not to earlier.

You stare at one another hard, until you have to suppress a small hiccup, at which point you frustratedly wipe your face with the back of your hand and cross your arms in front of you.

“Why did you do that?” You ask, amazed your voice sounds as firm as it does. Jake stares up at you with a mixture of uncertainty and something you want to say is remorse but you can’t bring yourself to believe right now that he would be.

“I’m not good at this stu—”

“—No, tell me why you did it.” You cut him off, not willing to listen to his self-pity right now. Jake closes his mouth and blinks up at you, staring intently for a few moments before he shifts in his seat. “Did you miss me?” You prompt after he continues to stare, eyes somewhat pleading. You understand relationships and vulnerability are hard for him, you’re willing to give him this olive branch for now. To his credit, Jake immediately nods, his hands coming together across his spread thighs to wring anxiously.

“Yes. I’m sorry—”

“—If you ever try any of that shit again, I’m kicking your ass,” you tell him. Jake blinks, then straightens up, and nods again. Your lip wobbles and this time when he reaches a hand out for you, he doesn’t grab you, but waits for you to shuffle forward toward him before pulling you in.

He tugs you forward to come stand between his legs, and bows his forehead to rest against your abdomen, his hands anchored at your hips.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t want you,” Jake mumbles, loud enough for you to hear, and you know this is a big admission for him.

“I know it probably doesn’t feel like it, but you can just, you know, tell me that…” you reply, letting your hands fall into his hair where you begin to smooth down some of the mess you made of it earlier. “I want you,” you say, realising while he may subconsciously know that, you’ve also never told him before. “I would never have let you mess me around if I didn’t,” you add with a short laugh, and flick his ear gently. Jake huffs, and lifts his head so he’s looking up at you now, chin resting on your belly.

“I don’t want you to date anyone else. I should have told you that back when I realised it…” he says softly, looking for the first time since you’ve known him like holding your eye contact is uncomfortable for him. “Is that okay?” He asks even quieter.

“Only if you don’t half ass it,” you peer down at him with playful scepticism.

Jake’s fingers at your hips tighten and his eyes narrow.

“I don’t half-ass anything,” he tells you sourly, before making a face. “Tonight notwithstanding.” he adds after a moment. You can’t help it then, you chortle, and hold the sides of his face. Jake smiles, seemingly proud of himself for making you laugh, and he adjusts his hold on you, moving his hands down to tug you into him, so your knees buckle and you’re forced to catch yourself on his shoulders just as he manoeuvres you to sit on his thigh.

“I’m sorry,” he says, far more seriously, leaning his forehead against yours now that you’re face to face. You cup his cheeks again, and dip forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You will be out on the curb so fast if you fuck me around again,” you tell him cheerfully, making him laugh this time.

“Noted,” he says, before he steals another kiss, longer this time.

When he pulls back at last, you feel yourself relax fully against him, and move to rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Can we go to bed now?” he asks after a few seconds. You nod, stifling a suspiciously timed yawn, and yelp a little when he scoops your legs under his arm and stands, grinning smugly all the way back upstairs.

[allbark-no-bite]

don’t write checks you can’t cash.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 3.6k)

summary: jake seresin is under your skin. or maybe you’re under his. either way you’re going to eat each other alive. jake isn’t about to take the fall

warnings: mentioned age gap, heavy sexual tension (the smut is coming i promise)

author’s note: back on my topgun bullshit bitches (respectfully). i’m not usually one for multi part fics but i actually wrote something with plot for once so please just bear with me. loosely inspired by Zach Bryan’s ‘nineball’. please note this fic title is subject to change bc i hate it

(you can read part 2 here!)

————————————————————————

You don't believe in love at first sight. You think the whole concept is some foolish idea that people who have already fallen in love have the liberty of saying they believe in. Then people who have been through failed relationship after failed relationship are convinced that they're never going to fall in love because it just doesn't happen. The whole idea pretty much just sets the rest of the population up for failure from the start.

Even the concept of finding the right person one day and growing to love them is hard for you to grasp. Because how can you love someone that much? How do you know you love them enough?There are some days that you don't enjoy the presence of even your closest friends for very long, friends who you would do anything for. Even family, you only tolerated so much.

Your high school boyfriend hated that about you, the fact that you realistically needed so little of him—or anyone for that matter. You have always been violently independent, able to provide what you require, and therefore having to maintain a simplistic relationship became nothing but a monotonous task. Even most of your closest friendships faded with time.

Eventually, you prosed the question: what can someone else give me that I cannot give myself?

The answer was companionship. Because when you strip away everything from a person and all they have left to offer you is themself, you have to be willing to choose them. And sometimes that's not the most appealing quality.

Something did happen, the first time you made eye contact with Lt. Jake Seresin, but it was far from love. It was something terrible in your chest, like an aching. Like you knew in your gut that he was going to change your life. Good or bad, you didn't know, but it was certain to happen.

You don't even believe that you two were destined to meet — you just happened to, and in that moment, the damage was done, it was your fate to ruin each other.

——

You like the way he says your name. You like that he says your name on purpose, like he is intentionally seeking out reasons to say it. It's not as harsh sounding coming from his mouth.

"You from around here, [L/n]?"

You're wiping down the glass hatch of your F/A-18 when he approaches you from behind. You swivel your head to catch sight of him behind your back but he's already making a wide circle around you, his chin tipping up then down as he inspects your plane from behind his tinted aviators.

As you watch him scrutinize your aircraft, you regard him with a certain level of apprehension. Jake Seresin was nothing short of gorgeous. He was six feet of bronze skin and lean muscle, withbright green eyes, and a movie star smile. Not to mention the southern accent that had girls drooling over him.

"Austin," you correct him. "Austin, Texas."

You'd been transferred over to Miramar a little over a month ago, becoming the newest addition to the Dagger squad. California was a nice change of scenery, and everyone you had met so far had welcomed you with open arms. That is, everyone but Lt. Seresin— Hangman as they called him. You were still trying to find your footing with him.

You genuinely don't know what his problem is with you. The guy had hardly even given you a glance since the moment you'd arrived. Your first guess would have been that he was one of those dickheads who didn't like women working in the field, but his relationship with Phoenix disproved that theory.

Your answer seems to warrant his attention, and he looks up. His expression twitches at the correction but he doesn't say anything in response. For the first time since you arrived at Miramar, still, unsmiling green eyes catch yours from across the aircraft.

You hold his gaze. After a moment, your stomach twists in an unsettling way, like even it doesn't know what to do with itself. Your first instinct is to look away. Your brain is telling you that if you do, you can avoid any sort of confrontation that may happen as a result. But it's like you can't.

This is the first time he's looked at you, and now you don't dare to look away.

Even from behind the tint of his perfectly polished aviators, you can make out the distinct color of his green eyes. They're so distracting that you have to remind yourself to breathe.

After what feels like eons of uncomfortable staring, he breaks your gaze —surely it couldn't have been longer than a few seconds. Flustered, you glance around to see if anyone else has picked up on the affair. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you're not quite sure which, it's nearing 6pm and the base is on the better side of empty. It's a Friday evening and everyone is eager to head out for the weekend.

Someone clears their throat. Hangman is still standing there, hands shoved in his pockets like he doesn't have anywhere better to be. You want to say something but your gut is telling you that there's some sort of game going on here and you're not sure of the rules.

Finally, he faintly nods his head, as if to excuse himself, and turns to walk away. You watch his retreating back and relax a little, breathing a bit easier.

As you're turning back to your plane, relieved that the interaction is over, you hear him call back over his shoulder.

“The team is heading to the Hard Deck at nine. Don't be late."

And then he's gone, disappeared between one of the hangars.

——

For nine thirty on a Friday evening, the bar isn't nearly as busy as you'd expected it to be. You don't have to fight for a parking spot out front and there's not even a line at the bar. Other than a rowdy looking gaggle accumulating at the pool table, the atmosphere is pretty laid back. Looking around as you walk further in, there is a handful of people in civilians, but the majority of the crowd is composed of off duty aviators in their summer khakis.

You're about to head over to the bar top, where you were sure you had spotted Captain Mitchell, when someone shouts your name.

"Hawk!"

Your head swivels at the sound of your callsign, and you catch sight of Rooster beckoning to you over at the pool table. Immediately you recognize the familiar faces of the Dagger squad around him. You acknowledge him with a smile and head over to join them.

“And here we thought you were going to be a no-show," the brunette pilot chirps, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as soon as you're close enough. You lean into his embrace while touching his chest with a friendly pat of your hand. Bradley is by no means close to drunk but most definitely more than a little buzzed if you're going off of the smell of beer and lime on his breath and the occasional involuntary twitch of his mustache.

"I thought about it, but I can't keep letting you guys have all the fun," you laugh, holding out your other arm so that you can greet Natasha with a hug as Rooster releases you.

After hugging you, she presses a sweating bottle of beer into your hand. "Coyote bought everyone a round so I figured I'd save you one before the boys wiped them out. Sorry if it's a bit warm, you did show up fashionably late."

You playfully roll your eyes at her, taking the beer anyhow. "Thanks, Phe."

Payback places a large palm on the top of your head, diverting your attention towards him as he returns from the bar. "Don't let her fool you, we're just getting started over here. Rooster isn't even drunk enough to get on the piano yet."

Laughing, you glance over at the brunette aviator. "Now that I've been waiting to see. I hear you're quite the show, Bradshaw."

Since you transferred over to Miramar, you had been hounded nonstop to go out drinking with the team for weeks, and Rooster's infamous performance had been one of their key selling points. That and the fact that the owner, Penny, often gave them free drinks. Apparently she had a thing for Captain Mitchell.

Rooster grins, leaning against the pool stick in his hand as he waits for Fanboy to take his shot. "Let me get a couple more beers deep and I promise you won't be disappointed."

As you go about making your rounds to greet everyone else, you can't help but notice that there's someone missing. After you take a seat beside Bob to watch Rooster and Fanboy play, you glance around the bar a few times, convinced that you've somehow overlooked him despite the fact that the place isn't busy enough for that.

An almost disappointed feeling pulls at you despite how ridiculous the realization makes you feel.

After spending the better part of an half hour trying to push the feeling away, you finally spot a familiar head of blonde hair over at the dartboard. He's by himself, about three darts in and half a bottle of beer down. So much for the personal invitation, you think.

You watch as he throws a dart, practically without so much as aiming whilst contemplating whether or not you even have it in you to muster up the courage to face those green eyes again.

Without giving yourself the chance to back down, you swallow back the rest of your now warm beer and head over.

He tosses another dart just as you reach him, and it finds itself dead center with the previous three.

"With a hand like that, you should be kicking Rooster's ass over there in pool," you say as you come to a stop behind him.

Walking away from the dartboard, Jake turns to grab his bottle of beer from the table beside you.

"I'm not much of a betting man," he huffs, leaning back against the table. The muscles of his biceps bugle distractingly against the sleeves of his uniform.

You look back over your shoulder, watching from a distance as Fanboy's cue clips the eight ball and sends it ricocheting off the sidewall. He groans, and Rooster whoops triumphantly from behind him.

"It wouldn't be much of a bet. Even with his winning streak, I think you'd give him a run for his money."

Hangman takes a sip from his bottle, mouth lingering on the rim before he sets it back down and crosses his arms. "Rooster's all luck and no skill. The table's got a lean."

You raise your eyebrows at the confession, half laughing at his lax confidence. "Oh? And you would know this how?"

"C'mon, son. Fuckin' hit it in."

Body tense, his arm quivers ever so slightly and the pool stick bobs shakily in his hand. He closes his eyes and takes a breath in.

"I haven't got all day, kid."

He breathes out and breathes back in. The smell of cigar smoke and cheap beer swims in his head.

"What're you doin'?! Quit wastin' time."

He exhales, opens his eyes, and hits the pool stick forward. The white cue ball shoots out to the left, bounces against the eight ball, and sends it hurdling towards the side pocket. At the very last moment, it veers off to the left and falls into  the back corner pocket instead.

The man standing on the other side of the table curses, his pool stick dropping to the ground, but Jake pays little mind to him. He straightens, looking around eagerly for the only set of eyes that matter. The grin falls from his face when he realizes the old man isn't even watching, too busy counting out his prize money and yanking out a ten to hand to the bartender.

Jake looks up at the clock on the wall over his shoulder.

12:57 am

"Dad, I wanna go home."

"Not yet, son. I've already got fifty put down on another round."

"Want me to show you?"

His offer makes you pause, and you can't help but cock your head a bit as you try to weigh out just where this is heading. For weeks he has acted as though you barely even existed and now you're engaged in the longest conversion the two of you have had since your arrival.

Jake finishes his drink and sets the bottle down whilst walking over to you. "Final offer. Take it or leave it."

You laugh a little before stepping back so that he can make his way to the pool table. "Lead the way then." But before you can make it too far, his palm finds the flat of your back, pressing you forward so that you're in front of him. You're glad he can't see you because your face flashes hot at the unexpected contact.

"I'm not the one playing, kid. I'm just going to show you the ropes."

"Oh, I didn't-"

Any objections you have about the situation are ignored as he pushes you firmly in the direction of the pool table and asks Payback for his cue. "Look alive, Bradshaw. Hawk is about to show you how this thing is done."

Straightening his wide shoulders, Bradley grins, smug and easy as you and Hangman approach the opposite side of the table. "And here I thought you were here to reclaim your throne now that I'm intoxicated."

Jake grins back. "You don't need to be drunk for me to do that."

Bradley's mustache twitches, but he's still smiling. "Sure."

Jake turns back to you, placing the pool stick in your hand. You can't help but think that his expression is all too confident for someone who has never even seen you play pool.

"Nervous?" he asks as you take the stick from him.

"Should I be?" you ask back, turning your head to watch as Rooster takes the liberty of breaking the rack.

He shakes his head, his green eyes glowing with a warmth that you've yet to see from him. "Not as long as you don't totally suck."

Seeing that it's your turn, you brush past him to stand at the table. "I guess I'll let you be the judge of that."

Thankfully you've played your fair share of pool and so you're able to hold your own for most of the game. Jake remains criminally silent as you play, arms once again crossed as he leans against a nearby stool, but you can feel his gaze burning into your back the entire time. It isn't until the end of the game and you've missed the same ball multiple times that he steps in.

"Shift left," he directs you. When you glance over at him, he nods his head as if to insinuate where you should move but doesn't move from where he's planted himself since the beginning of the game.

Hesitantly, you shuffle over a half step and take the shot. The ball comes closer than you have been but still hits the sidewall just short of the pocket. You huff in frustration, and Rooster steps forward to take his turn, sinking his second to last ball in the same pocket.

"I hope you're ready to buy the next round, Seresin. Looks like Hawk is losing her nerve," Bradley goads, unable to keep himself from boasting a little at your expense. When it comes to Hangman, he can't resist the chance to taunt him.

You roll your eyes at his comment, not bothered so much by it as compared to the fact that you're losing. When it's your turn again, you line up the ball and lean down to assume your position when Jake stops you.

All the sudden he's right beside you, palm pressing into your hip to scoot you to the side. "Move over." When you look at him like he's crazy, he huffs. "C'mon, do you want my help or not?"

It isn't so much of a question as it is a statement and the press of his hand against your side doesn't leave you much of an option and so you shuffle over to the far right side of the pool table.

Before you can even comprehend what's going on, he's leant over you, his impossibly tall frame pressed to your back so that he can reach around you and guide your hands. One wraps around your hand on the stick and the other cups your opposite elbow.

It takes everything in you not to jerk away, overwhelmed by his sudden proximity. Instead you try to focus on controlling your hammering heart and pray he can't tell how clammy your palms suddenly are.

"Hey, that's not allowed," Rooster complains. "Is that allowed?"

Coyote shrugs. "It's not not allowed."

Distracted by their bickering, his voice in your ear nearly makes you jump. "Hit the cue ball. Hard."

The lean press of his body is almost enough to distract you from the fact that he's done a god awful job of lining up the shot. There's not one alternate reality where you make this shot.

"You can't be serious."

He's so close that you feel him smile beside your ear. "Dead."

"Any day now," Rooster prompts, as if you aren't aware that Jake Seresin has been pressed against you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. And if Hangman has noticed the fact that your heart is fluttering erratically inside your chest or that your skin is flushed hot to the touch, he doesn't let on. 

"I'm waiting," he reminds you, his voice placid in your ear.

Against your better judgement, you take the shot.

The white cue ball hurtles into the black eight ball with a hard clack and sends it flying across the table. It smashes against the sidewall, exactly as you had expected it to, and you release a breath of defeat. And then something unexpected happens. The ball slows, but instead of bouncing to a stop, it continues to roll left across the table. You all watch as it rolls directly into back corner pocket of the table.

"Well I'll be damned," Payback mutters aloud.

"Hell yeah, [L/n]!" Phoenix shouts, her loud and robust voice ringing out across the bar. "Shots are on Bradshaw!"

"Thanks buddy," Coyote laughs, teasingly grabbing the back of the brunette aviator's shoulders as he heads off for the bar.

Bradley waves them off, looking a bit miffed but still good naturedly accepting his defeat.

"How about it? You're a cold blooded killer."

Like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head, the sound of Hangman's voice coming from behind you jerks you back to reality. You haven't even noticed that he'd stepped away. Something inside you twinges at the loss of his body pressed against yours.

You turn around to face him, your brain still trying to comprehend what just happened.

"How'd you do that?" you ask incredulously, your tone almost accusing. A deeper part of you wants to ask 'why did you do that' but the smile on his face stops you.

His top row of pearly white teeth that you glimpse is pristine, however brief, before his pink lips come back together in a more subdued smile. It's an expression that is so very genuine and carefree that it sends a spark straight through to your heart. You've never seen him actually smile before, and especially not at you.

"You're smiling," you accuse before you can stop the words from coming out of your mouth, half giddy at the discovery yourself.

Jake looks slightly away, turning his head briefly in order to suppress his smile before looking back to you. “Yeah? So?” His green eyes are twinkling as he says it, like he knows he’s been caught.

You jab the short end of the pool stick into the center of his chest, but he’s quick to grab it before it can find home.

“Up until yesterday, you could barely stand to even look at me,” you say.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s not true.”

“So you’re saying that I’m seeing things.” You try to tug back on the pool stick but Hangman doesn’t release it.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t be seeing things.”

With that, a larger portion of the previous smile is gone from his face, a more sober look replacing it.

Just like that the spark fades. Even though you want to shut down, turn your back to his face and just walk away. You force yourself to keep talking, holding your voice steady. “I don’t think I’m following you.”

Inside you know exactly what he means.

His eyes flicker up over your shoulder but the Dagger squad has already moved on to crowd around Rooster at the piano.

You clamp your jaw together as he releases the pool cue and crosses his arms in front of his chest. It makes him look more relaxed than he is.

"Look, whatever this is—whatever you think I am, I'm not." He says this with the realistic conviction of someone who knows that even if it is, you can't. He says it like he’s trying to convince himself.

You’re not quite sure how old he is—barely thirty if you had to guess— but he’s older. Too old. Not to mention fraternization is deeply frowned upon.

"I know," you answer firmly. Because you do. Because even if it isn't, you want it, whatever it is.

He stares down at you with those green eyes, his pupils pinpoint sharp. After a moment he heaves a sigh and releases it, nodding his head. “So we’re in agreement?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We’re in agreement.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

[ragingbookdragon]

I Wanna Talk About Me

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.1K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: This is a direct continuation of this fic here! Enjoy!

**********************************************************************

She stood outside the gate, smoothing the fabric of the slim fitting, black dress, waiting for Jake to show up. The air was cool, and she ignored the continual whistling from the security officers stationed just a few feet behind her.

A sleek, black Dodge pulled up and parked before her, then Jake stepped out and walked around the side of it, casting a glance at her before he opened the passenger door.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” he sarcastically said, and she rolled her eyes, walking up to him.

She took a moment to take him in full view, the way the dress blues fit him perfectly. “You look…good, Jake.”

“I am good,” he replied, taking a look at her too. “I see you managed to dress appropriately for the occasion.”

“You’re a dick,” she insulted, and put her foot on the step while grabbing the handle above the door. Jake’s hand found its way to her rear as he helped her up and she stopped, deadpanning, “Hand. Off. Ass.”

He snickered but didn’t remove his hand as he practically shoved her inside and closed the door behind her, then he looked over at the security guards who immediately stood straight and saluted. “You boys just keep this little secret, yeah?”

They nodded and he walked around the front of the truck, climbing in. As they drove, she kept fiddling with the clutch in her hand.

“You nervous?” he asked. “I’m not going to bite unless you ask for it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just not used to dressing up like this and going out to fancy restaurants.” She looked at him. “Still taking me to the Ritz?”

“Uh no,” he answered. “The nearest Ritz is in Cali.”

“You looked it up?”

He went uncharacteristically quiet for a moment then said, “I’m taking you to Wild River Grill in Reno.”

“That’s an hour away,” she said. “We’ll be getting back here at like 0200.”

“What are you a teenager with a 9:30 curfew?” he retorted. “Relax. We’ll be fine.” She cocked a brow and looked at him from her seat but said nothing. “You do look nice though,” he said lowly. “I like the dress.”

Her cheeks warmed and she smiled. “Thank you. I had to rent it from a boutique.”

Jake snorted as he turned on to the main highway. “Yeah, that enlisted pay isn’t all that, is it?”

“Hey, I’m an LDO thank you very much,” she griped.

He looked at her skeptically. “We still do LDO programs?”

“Uh, yes? You think I was going to spend my entire career being enlisted?” she shifted in her seat. “I did the same thing my old man did.”

“Your dad was Navy?”

“Mhm, retired as an LT after 28 years.”

“Wow, career man then,” he noted with impression. “So, you were a regular military brat too, huh?” he said smugly.

“Yes,” she answered exasperatedly. “I was, Jake.”

He hummed low in his throat. “My dad was Navy. So was my grandfather.”

“I heard,” she said. “I bet you grew up with expectations.”

“I did.” He looked to the left as he switched lanes. “It was expected that I would graduate high school and immediately go into boot camp.”

She looked over at him. “Is that what you wanted?”

He shrugged. “Never had anything else going for me.”

“You? I don’t believe that.” She reached over and squeezed his bicep. “I bet you played sports. What one? Baseball? Football?”

“Lacrosse, actually,” he informed. “And I was incredible at it.”

“You know it’s okay to be humble, right? I do promise it won’t kill you if you are.”

“And I would be humble if I knew I sucked. But I don’t. So, I have no reason to be humble before you.”

“Arrogance begets failure,” she muttered. “That’s why Mav beat you in dogfighting.”

“Rude.”

“Truthful.”

“Hurtful.”

“You’ll live,” she comforted and patted his arm.

***

As they walked in, a hostess smiled at them. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

“We do,” Jake said, pulling off his cap. “Under Seresin.”

The hostess clicked a few times on the screen before she nodded. “Yes sir, a table for two.” She grabbed two menus and handed them to a waiting server. “If you’ll follow, they’ll lead you to your table.”

Jake placed a hand on the small of her back and gently led her as they followed the server to a small table near the corner. Like a gentleman, he pulled out her seat and helped her sit down before he took his own seat.

“Would you like me to take your cap, sir?” the waiter asked, and he nodded, handing it over. “I’ll put this up and be right back.”

As he left, Jake looked at her. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, looking around. “I like this place so far. Comfortable. Classy.”

“Came here with a couple friends when we graduated Top Gun,” he said. “Good food. Good drinks.”

As the waiter came back, he placed the menus down. “I’m Graham, I’ll be taking care of you both this evening. Can I start you off with any of our wines, beers, or hard liquors?”

Jake scanned the menu and answered, “I’ll take a 10 Torr Secret Cove.” He looked at her. “You?”

She made a face as she scanned the cocktails and looked at Graham. “What would you recommend for cocktails?”

“Definitely the Apple’y Ever After or the Practice What You Peace. I love both.”

“I’ll take the first then,” she smiled. “And a glass of water with lemon on the side.”

“Yes ma’am. Any appetizers to start with? I recommend the Cheese Plate or the Caprese Bruschetta. Both are really light and leave enough room for entrees.”

She looked at Jake. “You?”

“The Cheese Plate, and add the chef selected cures.”

“Yes, sir,” Graham said. “I’ll go put those in and get your drinks.”

As he left again, she looked over the menu. “Jake…”

“Yeah?” he said, already scanning over the steaks.

“These prices are pretty high.”

“Uh huh. Good food usually is.”

“You aren’t worried?”

“Why would I be?” he asked, then looked up at her. “Don’t worry about the prices, pretty girl. You just order whatever you want.”

She narrowed her eyes and said, “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean?’” he replied. “Order whatever you want.”

She glanced at the menu. “So, if I wanted a filet mignon with seared scallops and blue cheese cream…I could?”

Jake sighed. “Pretty girl, this isn’t a game of gotcha. Order. Whatever. You. Want.”

“Okay…just checking.” She looked at him. “You aren’t going to say something stupid like, ‘Oh wow, you know how to eat’ if I order a steak will you?”

“You’re a grown woman. I expect you to eat food like a grown woman. Which includes eating whatever you want,” he added exasperated.

“Okay, I got it,” she laughed. “But I’ll go ahead and say, I’m not really a steak person.”

“You look like a chicken tenders and fries type of woman. No offense.” He hummed. “I actually mean that with full offence.”

“Well, lucky for you I don’t take offense,” she said. “I do love a good chicken tender.”

Jake scoffed and shook his head with a grin.

When their drinks and appetizer came, Graham smiled. “Have we decided what we want to eat?”

Jake nodded at her to go first, and she said, “I’ll have the chicken piccata. But can you hold the lemon capers in the sauce?”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll let the chefs know. And for you sir?”

“Let me get the ribeye and the seared scallops with it.”

“Of course.” He gathered the menus. “I’ll get this put in. Is there anything else you need at the moment?”

“No, we’re good, thank you,” Jake said, and Graham walked off; he took a sip of his draft.

She looked at him, really looked at him for a good moment. Jake was, objectively an extremely attractive man. Though he’d be much more attractive if his attitude wasn’t as cocky as he was. But she knew that cockiness came from skill and the simple fact that he was raised to be who he was.

“Something on my face?” he asked, and she blinked.

“No, just looking at you.”

“Look all you want, pretty girl. This is me in all my glory for you to take in,” he smirked, and she rolled her eyes, sipping her cocktail.

Setting the glass down, she said, “So, tell me a little about you, Jake.” When he met her gaze with a raised brow, she added, “And I mean the real you. Not the man we all know and ‘love.’”

He snorted. “What do you want to know?”

“What do you do in your spare time when you’re not on duty?”

Jake took another sip of his beer. “I read. And cook. Go exercise. Visit war memorials. Museums.”

“What do you read?” she asked.

“Mostly non-fiction history about war and aviation.”

“Figures,” she smiled. “Did you ever read that World War 2 biography about Louis Zamperini?”

“Unbroken?” his eyes lit up. “I did. I loved it. It was such an amazing and powerful story.” He leaned forward. “Do you read them too? World War novels, that is?”

“I do.” She enjoyed that honest smile on his face. “Did you ever read the story about the USS Indianapolis?”

“Oh man, yeah, and did you watch the movie they made with Nicolas Cage?”

“Men of Courage?” she replied. “Yes! It was so heartbreaking…and tragic.” She looked at him. “You said you visit museums? Did you ever visit the Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola when you went for training?”

“I did,” he said. “Every time I visit, I try to go. Just to see if I learn anything new.”

“Me too!” she grinned. “I think I’ve been there like ten different times. Every time I go, I always point out to people around me the carriers my dad and I served on.”

Jake smiled at her. “I forgot you do sea duty most of the time. Which carriers have you been on so far?”

“Uh, let’s see,” she murmured, thinking for a moment. “I’ve been on the Truman and Washington so far. Even did a stint on the Roosevelt destroyer a couple of years ago.”

“Ever think about trying for shore duty?” he asked.

“Sometimes, but it always feels more natural being on the water,” she smiled at him. “Kind of like you being in the air.” She leaned close. “What’s it like, Jake? Being up there, just you in God’s ballroom?”

He sat back and thought for a moment. “The first time I ever flew, I was ten. Dad took me up in a rental on an airstrip back home. And I remember sitting in my seat just, watching the ground get smaller and smaller until cars looked like ants.”

“Were you scared?”

“Shitless,” he joked. “But…dad, he kept telling me to look up at the sky and when I did…we were in the biggest, white clouds I’d ever seen before. And I could see the rays of sun shining down over the land.” He looked so far away in his memory. “Dad showed me how to handle the stick and I remember everything else faded away as I flew us through the clouds.” Jake’s expression was one of reverence. “And it was just beautiful. Like nothing I’d ever seen in my life up until that point. There’s…really no way to describe it.” His gaze met hers. “I knew then that all I ever wanted to do with my life was get back up there no matter what it took.”

She smiled softly at him. “It sounds beautiful, the way you describe it.”

He nodded his head gently, then asked, “What about you? Why’d you want to be an AM? Was your dad one?”

“My dad was actually an AT. My brother was an AM when he served.” She took a sip of her drink. “I was eleven and my dad brought me to the hanger one day. I was hanging around his office and he had a meeting to go to, so he left me with some of his AMs and asked them to watch me for a little while.”

“Oh, nice, give the caffeine and nicotine addicted eighteen-year-olds a kid to be impressionable on.”

She laughed. “Something like that.” She took a piece of the cheese on the platter and popped it in her mouth. “They started showing me all different pieces of the F-16. How to change out fuel capacitors, how to fuel one up, how to fix this and that.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, felt right with tools in my hands. Dad kept bringing me back to the hanger when I wouldn’t stop asking him about it and he let the guys teach me how to work on it.”

“Ah, so you were a natural grease monkey then,” he grinned, and she nodded.

“I was. I also spent a lot of time tinkering with machines at home. I can fix just about anything if I look at the inside of it long enough.” She took another piece of cheese. “I have been trying to change my rate to AT though. Wanted to get a better technical point of view than mechanical.”

“You been able to?”

“I’ve been tinkering with a few ATs in my squadron. Sitting in on fixings here and there. I don’t think they’ll let me change so far in my career, but it never hurts to learn all I can.”

“I can always put in a word with Cyclone,” he offered. “He might have some sway.”

“I appreciate that, Jake,” she smiled. “But I do enjoy being a grease monkey. Not going to lie to you about it.”

He smiled back at her as their entrees arrived and they continued on in conversation, diving into family beginnings and careers.

***

“Jake…it’s 2300…when are we going back to base?” she whined as he drove up the side of Audrey Harris Park.

“Jesus, get you out of bed past nine and you get cranky, don’t you?” he snorted. “What are you, eighty? Need to go to bed old lady?”

“Some of us have duty tomorrow,” she griped, and he pulled up to the edge of the side of the road.

“Just, look,” he said and nodded out the window and she did, eyes widening at the view of lights and colorful displays out past the land.

“Oh…wow…Jake, it’s…gorgeous.”

His eyes never strayed to the lights from her face, watching the way that awe spread across hers. Something in his heart lurched when she turned and looked at him.

“Jake, it’s beautiful.”

The corner of his lips turned up. “Certainly not the night sky like I’d like to show you, but it’s…close.”

“You wanna take me up in the air?”

“One day,” he said and looked at the steering wheel and quietly added, “I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” she asked.

“The other day at Hard Deck. I…was a dick.” He met her gaze once more. “You didn’t deserve that.”

She shrugged with a smile. “Eh, it’s you. I’ve gotten used to you by now.”

“Still though,” he replied. “I should’ve been…nicer.”

“Jake,” she said, laying her hand on his thigh. “It’s okay, really, it is.”

He glanced down at her hand, then gently laid his on top of hers, rubbing his thumb over her skin. “You like me,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I do,” she answered honestly. “But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I know I’m not exactly your type.”

“And what do you think my type is?” he asked.

“Well…y’know…smart, funny, drop dead gorgeous?”

“You just explained like every guy on earth’s type,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, you don’t have a thing for an AM who spends most of her time covered in hydraulic fluid then goes back to her room and listens to shitty pop music and does crossword puzzles.”

“Jesus you’re really an old lady,” he breathed. “Crossword puzzles?”

“And Sudoku.”

“Oh my God, we have got to get you a social life.” He thumbed the back of her hand. “I happen to be…very interested in this particular AM who spends most of her time covered in hydraulic fluid.”

“No shit?” she asked, and he looked up at her.

“Pretty girl, I let people see who they want to see. A cocky, rude, arrogant asshat who can smoke just about anyone. But you…” he lowered his gaze again and sighed. “You see deeper. You want to see more.” He shrugged halfheartedly. “Pretty girl, you’re the only one who tries to put up with me to see me. And…that scares me.” His jaw tightened. “I don’t get scared…and you scare me. What you could be to me. What you see.”

She listened quietly then shifted, gently putting her hand on his cheek. “Jake…” he met her gaze, and she smiled softly at him. “I see you.”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yeah. Big ego and everything underneath,” she whispered. “I see you.”

He reached up and cupped her hand to his face, turning his cheek to kiss the inside of her palm, then said, “I wanna take you out again.”

“I’d like that,” she answered, pulling her hand away and smiled at him. “I’d like it a lot.”

Jake smiled back at her and put the truck in drive. “I should get us back to base.”

“That’s probably best. Mind if I play some music on the radio?”

“No pop shit.”

“Rude.”

“My truck, my rules. Play country or classic rock.”

“Country?” she cooed. “Ooo, I have the perfect song for you then.”

And Toby Keith’s “I Wanna Talk About Me,” filled the cabin and he chuckled as she sang to him.

“Are you saying I only ever want to talk about me, myself, and I?”

She grinned and replied, “That is your favorite topic.”

He nodded. “It is. I love talking about myself. I’m incredible.”

They looked at each other as the chorus came on and sang down the highway, “I wanna talk me, wanna talk about I. wanna talk about number one, oh my, me, my, What I think, what I like, what I know, what I want, what I see! I like talking about you, you, you, you usually! But occasionally, I wanna talk about me!”

Jake reached over and laid his hand on her thigh, gently caressing it with his fingers as she rested her hand atop his, smiling out the window as they drove back to base.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader

pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake

word count: 3.2k

The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene. 

Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion. 

Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.

“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”

“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”

“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.

“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”

“I think she might hit him.”

“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”

Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there. 

As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night. 

You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers. 

An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme. 

“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”

“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”

“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.

“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”

“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?” 

“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”

“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”

“Got it, thanks!”

You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.

“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you. 

“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass. 

“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you. 

“You’re Jake?”

“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.

“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”

“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”

“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”

“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”

You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job. 

“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.” 

“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”

“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”

“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.

“You’re funny, I like that.”

“I bet you do.” 

Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round. 

“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.

It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.

“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”

“Only the ones worth following.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”

“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”

“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”

“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”

Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting. 

“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.

“But you love it, don’t you?” 

Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires. 

Fuck it. 

Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you. 

“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”

“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”

Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second. 

“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.

“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin. 

It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.

“Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”

“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”

“Now, that any way to ask for it?”

A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more. 

“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”

“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.

You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.

“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”

“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.

“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”

Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.

“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”

You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake. 

Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours. 

“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.

“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.

“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up. 

“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”

“Mhmm? What’s that?”

“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.” 

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Now That We Don’t Talk | Jake Seresin blurb

Takes place during the TGM events

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x ex!reader (past romance), the dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: light angst, profanity, slight suggestive content, cheating, breakup | female!reader | wc: 2.2k

Note: I’m obsessed with 1989 TV and I’ll admit I was never a TS fan growing up but her OG 1989 I liked and I fuck with some songs Evermore, Reputation, Lover & Midnights. That being said, I’ve got the vault tracks on repeat and as a fellow directioner….Harry, baby, I thought you’d be safe.

————————

“You went to a party I heard from everybody. You part the crowd like the red sea, don’t even get me started. Did you get anxious though, on the way home? I’ll guess I’ll never ever know. Now that we don’t talk.”

His number had been deleted for well over three years when she stepped foot into the familiar bar she once called a second home. It’d been just as long since they’d seen each other, neither aware they’d be reunited in mere moments. When she did find his face among the crowd of their colleagues, she froze, contemplating running out the door and back to her car. Images of their last night flooded her mind. She could recall the constant pinging of her cell phone. Text messages from mutual friends informing her that he had been seen in an intimate embrace with another woman before disappearing from the party.

When he got home he avoided her like the plague. Anxiety consuming his entire being, making it clear the rumors were not rumors. They were true as the sun brightened the sky in the day and the moon reigned at night.

“Jake,” her whimper made him freeze, hand on the railing of the steps leading to their bedroom. No response, only a shake of his head before he continued his journey up. Leaving her to cry herself to sleep on the kitchen floor.

It was a domino effect in the days following. The trust was gone, Jake going out more and coming back late at night. Eventually after two weeks of prolonging the inevitable, Jake returned to an empty apartment. All reminisce of their five years together gone in the blink of an eye. She left a simple note, “Hope it was worth it.”

“You grew your hair long, you got new icons. And from the outside it looks like you’re tryin’ lives on. I miss the old ways. You didn’t have to change. But I guess I don’t have a say, Now that we don’t talk.

Natasha was the first to catch her eye in the Hard Deck, putting down her beer to run over and greet the pilot with a quick hug. Careful not to let anyone else see since they were in uniform. “I’m so happy to see you, Blue.”

She returned the smile, though hers was more tense, “It’s great to see you too, Phee. How’ve you been?” Nerves swarmed her belly with each passing minute. Despite being happy to see her old friend, she was unable to ignore the elephant in the room. The man she thought she’d marry and grow old with on a farm after retiring from the Navy with a bunch of kids and animals was several feet from her.

Overall, Jake had not changed much since their breakup. He was tanner for starters, definitely more toned. But he still had that aura of confidence sometimes confused with being cocky and golden blonde hair making him appear like a life-sized Ken doll. Throughout their relationship she noticed the stares they got from men and women alike. Woman looked at him with want and at her with envy. Men did the same but opposite.

It always surprised people when they got together. Complete opposites, they were known to have a rivalry during their time at Top Gun when they were on the path to becoming the Navy’s best fighter pilots. Jake loved to get under her skin, she loved to deflate his ego. Somewhere the dislike and tension turned into complete desire. And before they knew it they were sneaking into each other’s dorms and getting naughty in the locker room showers.

Her body reacted when he was looking at her. He’d spot her in a crowded room and instantly the woman felt heat along her veins. And she felt that fire right then when a sudden rush of jitters sweeped her figure.

Natasha sensed it too, noticing how the woman became tense. Peeking a glance to the side, a glare took over her once soft expression, “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

“No,” she objected with a slight wave, “I’m fine. A little surprised--although I should’ve expected he’d be a candidate as well given the context of this mission. It’s just we haven’t talked since….”

“I understand,” Nat assured, placing a hand on her back and leading her to the bar. “Let’s get you a drink first, then we’ll deal with him.”

“I call my mom, she said that it was for the best. Remind myself, the more I gave you, you’d want me less. I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost. And what it cost, now that we don’t talk.”

Her mothers words replayed over and over again with each step as the two approached the group. Jake was leaning over the pool, calculating his next shot when she moved straight past him causing him to lose focus and miss the ball he was aiming for completely.

“Blue!” Javy shouted, picking her up in a big hug and spinning them around. Not caring if superiors saw or the fact his best friend, who happens to be her ex, was right there. “I’ve missed you, Girl. What’s going on?”

“Nothing much, Javy,” she couldn’t help but giggle. Of all the friends Jake had, Javy was the one who still reached out to her from time to time. Plus he ripped Jake a new one when he found out why they broke up. To this day he still gives him hell for it. “Let it be Top Gun, to bring us all under one roof.”

“Don’t you know it,” he clicked his beer with hers. The two taking a swig at the same time. “Have you met these clowns?” he motioned to the three to his left, “This is Payback, Fanboy, and Bob.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” they shook hands, greeting her with the same enthusiasm. When Bradley arrived she was once again scooped up into a hug, although this time she caught sight of Jake’s hardened expression. That shouldn’t have surprised her. Bradley Bradshaw was the one man Jake always butt heads with.

But the blonde quickly shook it off when he realized he got caught. He had no right to be jealous. It’d been three years since they broke up. And it was his fault nonetheless.

“Well I’ll be damn,” Bradley set her down gently, still embracing her. “If it isn’t Miss. Blues Clues.” A playful slap hit his chest when they parted.

“You know I hate that name, Bradshaw.”

The two caught up briefly, sitting on stools at the opposite end of the pool table. At one point Bradley made her laugh that the beer she’d been sipping on spilled off her mouth, causing him to giggle and hand her some napkins. While dabbing the liquid away, she locked eyes with Jake. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. Pinning her to her seat with an unreadable gaze.

She nearly broke, feeling a speck of desire to talk to him, but then remembered her mothers words, “the more you gave him, the less he wanted you. While you may forgive him for all the hurt he brought you, you cannot subject yourself to that again. You deserve better.”

“What do you tell your friends, we, shared dinners, long weekends with? Truth is, I can’t pretend it’s platonic, it’s just ended so…”

She made a silent vow to herself, recalling the painful memories, the phone conversation with her mother along with bits and pieces friends have told her over the years of what Jake had relied on as the reason for their breakup. She would not fall again to his charm. There was no string that could be tied up in an attempt to fix what was cut.

Around them were friends they’d spend long weekends with. Javy and Nat were the most frequent, both having witnessed their relationship blossom and die. It made her wonder what others they hung out with knew. Whenever they’d see each other in passing the conversations always felt like they were walking on eggshells around her. And because she wanted to move on, she’d never ask what Jake told them.

For the sake of their jobs she’d be civil. The past was the past and it would stay there, but she’d make sure to remember it whenever those old feelings threatened to surface. From the looks of Jake throughout the night, he felt the same. It was obvious he wanted to find a moment alone with her to talk, but she refused to let that happen.

“I call my mom, she said to get it off my chest (off my chest). Remind myself the way you faded ‘til I left (until I left). I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost (what I lost). And what it cost, now that we don’t talk.”

When she arrived at her dorm that would be her home for the next three weeks, the first thing she did was retrieve the letter to herself she wrote all those years ago. It was crumbled, having almost thrown it away several times, but remembering the significance within the words inked on the lines, she always pulled it back.

Parts of the paper were withered. A result from the teardrops that had fallen when she took to her desk after the phone call with her mother to write down everything weighed on her chest. Pouring her heart and soul into the paper. It wasn’t much, only taking up the front of the page, but it was enough to get the message across.

Her past self coming to remind her of those fleeting last months. Where Jake slowly became the ghost of the man she’d once loved. The constant worry and anxiety from hours of radio silence. Dinners that felt like an awkward first date. Not inviting her out with his friends anymore. HIs lingering eyes on women who weren’t her. Excusing it with bullshit remarks to make her think she was being dramatic. Finally, the party that sealed the deal.

To imagine what they would be if she gave him another chance would be an insult to herself. Instead, she thought about all she gained.

“I don’t have to pretend I like acid rock. Or that I’d like to be on a mega yacht. With important men who think important thoughts. Guess maybe I am better off, now that we don’t talk.”

After the breakup, she realized how much she hid herself from the world. There were things she pretended to like in order to please him. Like watching college football every weekend, entertaining mostly his friends and leaving her to sit on the couch with a book in hand only to not be able to concentrate with the loud ruckus they’d cause.

Or having to refrain from the things that made her happy. Singing at the top of her lungs in the car while her favorite songs played for the first time in years felt liberating. Not having to be careful on what she spent her money on now that she didn’t have to save more for rent because Jake started to blow his on going to the bar during the last several months of their relationship.

The worst was having to put on a facade in front of Jake’s superiors. Though stationed at the same base they were part of different squadrons. During the banquets and balls, Jake tended to make comments on what dresses she should wear and how to act when they arrived. He was always the kiss ass type who wanted to get promoted faster than his peers. Even though she praised him constantly, Jake was never satisfied unless one of his bosses complimented him. If she were honest to herself, she hated attending the events. Despite being in the Navy herself. Unless they were mandatory she’d find an excuse to not go. Being around men with egos as tall as the empire state building who only talked in statistics and status was draining.

“And the only way back to my dignity. Was to turn into a shrouded mystery. Just like I had been when you were chasing me.”

For the last three years, the way she carried herself changed. She had to for the sake of not letting her heart rot away. Taking back the self-respect she’d lost, after thinking for so long it was her fault Jake had betrayed her. That she wasn’t enough.

She was more than enough.

He was the one who chose to cheat. He was the one who didn’t try to defend himself or fight for what they had. He let himself go. He let her go.

So, after a good month of wallowing in self-pity and despair, she lifted herself up with poise and elegance. Remembering who she was before him. The woman who carried herself with confidence, never allowing anyone to tear her down. Who fought hard to build her career to what it was, after so many doubting her abilities.

The woman he chased after. Who at the core was strong, daring, resilient.

Sure, Jake taught her a lot. About herself, about what she wanted in a relationship. About love. She’ll never forget what they had.

She lost him, but along the way she found herself. And to her, that was everything.

“Guess this is how it has to be, now that we don’t talk.”

……..

Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 5.1)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: banter, weather storm

words: 3k

Summary: You're on a date at a diner when none other that Jake Hangman Seresin of all people walks in there. And it seems like his greatest joy is to interrupt your date...

a/n: Part 5 as a whole was probably my favorite part to write, especially Part 5.2 which you can look forward to. Hope you like this one as well!

Link to my masterlist

You looked out of the window of the Diner, watching the rain pouring down outside. They said there was a storm coming, but you didn’t think it would hit tonight. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have agreed to go on this date.

Your gaze wandered back to the guy opposite you, still talking. He probably didn’t even notice that you weren’t paying attention to what he was saying. He seemed nice at the bar when he asked you out, but he turned out to be a wanna-be hedge fund manager, rambling on about his job not asking you a single question. It was like it was clear to him that only he had something interesting to say. The “interesting” part was debatable, though.

You wished you hadn’t agreed to this date at all, didn’t matter the weather. And now you’re sitting here, getting your ear talked off by this random dude, the storm was getting stronger and since he had picked you up at your apartment, you could either spend 40$ on a cab that you didn’t have or you had to sit this out and wait to be driven home. To think you had spent two hours in the bathroom getting ready, putting on make-up, curling your hair and squeezing yourself in a tight pair of jeans and a low-cut top. You sighed deeply and poked around in your food. This night couldn’t get any worse…

Well, yes it could. When you looked up, you spotted a familiar face at the register in the entrance area of the Diner. Just when you spotted him, he spotted you as well. Hangman’s face lit up when he noticed that you were on a date and that you looked miserable.

He finished placing his order and then he actually came over to you. “You gotta be kidding me”, you mumbled under your breath. That’s when your date finally stopped talking and looked at you irritated. “Is something wrong?”, he asked completely clueless what was coming down the aisle.

“Y/N? As I live and breathe”, Hangman exaggerated when he arrived at your table. “Jake”, you said unimpressed, fearing for the worst. “What are you doing here?”, you asked him through gritted teeth. “Had a late workout. Gotta keep this body in his prime shape”, he told you and rubbed over his flat stomach. That gesture had you looking him up and done. He was wearing a dark pair of chinos, a white t-shirt and a black jacket.

You didn’t even try to hide it when you rolled your eyes at him. “Picking up some food to take home”, he continued. “Great! Then go home. No one’s keeping you”, you told him and nodded towards the front.

Your date cleared his throat and only now Jake seemed to notice him. “Y/N, are you on a date?”, he asked with a cheeky grin, like he didn’t already know it. “Yes, and we would appreciate it if you would let us get back to it”, you told him and shot him angry glances, trying to make him go away.

“Don’t you want to introduce us first?”, Hangman suggested. “Not really”, you grunted and shot him another death-glare. “Don’t be rude”, he said and lightly slapped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “She can be so rude, sometimes”, he said to your date and he playfully frowned. He loved every second of this and you hated him for it.

“I think she’s lovely”, the guy said and looked at you. You were sure it was supposed to sound sweet and endearing, but to you it somehow sounded sleezy.

“Jake, this is Joe”, you introduced your date. “Actually, it’s Joseph”, he immediately corrected you and extended his hand to Jake. You ground your teeth for a moment. “Jospeh”, you emphasized, “this is Jake”, you continued. Jake grabbed Jospeh’s hand and shook it. “Lt. Jake Seresin, naval aviator”, he introduced himself with his full name and job title. “You can say my whole name, people like to know”, he said to you and when you turned your head to look at him, he shot you a cheeky wink. You knew that he was having a blast with this situation. And he knew that you knew.

“A naval aviator, really? That sounds incredible”, Joseph said and sounded like a little boy seeing a fire truck up close for the first time. “Because it is, Josep. It is”, Jake confirmed, making sure to say his full name just to get on your nerves.

“Do you maybe wanna sit while you wait for your take-out?”, Joseph offered and gestured at the bench you were sitting on. “Oh, he doesn’t have time”, you intervened, blocking the bench. “I would love to, Joseph”, Jake said overly enthusiastic and pushed you down the bench with his whole body. Reluctantly, you gave in and now were caged in between Jake and the wall, his leg pressing against yours, elbows touching.

“How often do you get to fly the jets?”, Joseph asked him. “Pretty much every day, pal. Flying maneuvers, going on missions. Which, of course, I can’t talk about”, he told your date and gave him a winning smile. “I can imagine. But can you tell me, are they all dangerous?”, Joseph kept asking. He was so laser-focused on Jake, you could think that he was on a date with him. Turned out, Joseph could ask questions instead of giving endless monologues.

“I only fly the most dangerous missions. They need the best for the job and I am the best there is”, Hangman answered him. “Good god”, you mumbled under your breath and Jake gave your leg a little nudge with his. You pushed him right back. All under the table, out of Joseph’s sight.

“Wow, that sounds so cool. I always wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid, but I got incredible motion sickness”, he explained and pouted like a kid that got his candy stolen. “Aw, that’s too bad”, Jake said in a fake sincere tone that sounded so much like mockery that a little laugh escaped your mouth which you quickly covered with your hand. Gladly, Joseph didn’t even notice as he looked down at his plate, shaking his head at the harsh cards’ life has delt him.

“I always liked the special names you guys give each other”, Joseph picked up the conversation again. “Call signs”, you and Jake said at the same time. He threw you a little side glance at the harmony of your answers.

“My call sign is Hangman”, Jake told him. “And that’s so fitting because who doesn’t want to hang this man?”, you said with a fake enthusiastic tone and big smile, patting Jake’s hand that was placed on the table automatically. He looked at you a bit surprised by the sudden physical contact and lightly smiled at the joke.

As soon as you realized what you did, you pulled back your hand like you had just touched a hot stove. You folded your hands in your lap as you weren’t sure you could trust them anymore.

Joseph seemed to be completely oblivious to the situation as he just kept asking Jake questions about his job and training. And Jake answered them willingly because he knew how the situation annoyed you.

While the men talked, you leaned your upper body against the big window, looking around the Diner, bored out of your mind. When your phone rang, it seemed like a welcome distraction. You grabbed it out of your purse that was placed behind you on the bench. You saw Penny’s caller ID on the screen.

At first, you wanted to apologize to the men for taking a call but then you realized that they weren’t paying any attention to you. So, you just picked up.

Penny asked you to get over to the bar as the storm was getting heavier and check on it as she couldn’t make it. At her words, you looked out the window and saw the palm trees bending heavily in the storm.

“I’m sorry, Joseph, but I need to go. A friend needs my help, it’s urgent”, you crashed into the men’s conversation, glad to have a solid reason to end the date.

“But we are having such a good time”, he said and looked honestly sad. “Well…”, you began and left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air. Hangman was suspiciously silent next to you, watching with glee as the situation unfolded.

“I see how it is”, Joseph’s face suddenly changed and he had a knowing smile on his. “Was that your fake friend calling with a fake emergency to get you out of this date?”, he asked in a mocking tone. “No, my boss really needs my help because of the storm”, you told him the truth. “Now it’s your boss? I thought your friend needed help?”, he asked, content thinking he caught you in a lie.

“Penny needs help at the bar?”, Jake asked with honest interest. “Yes, she’s out of town and is worried because of the storm”, you answered Jake first. “My boss is also my friend, we get along great and…why am I even explaining myself to you?”, you told Joseph and shook your head with a frown.

You put your phone back in your purse. Jake had already stood up to let you slide out the bench. “Hey, you can’t just leave me here like that. I paid for dinner”, Joseph called out and was about to stand up as well. “Let it go, buddy”, Jake said in a tone that let no room for discussion and put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down on the bench.

You walked up to the front of the Diner and grabbed your denim jacket off the rack. “How the hell am I getting a cab in this weather?”, you said to yourself, but Jake had heard you as he suddenly stood right behind you. “I’ll take you”, he said and startled you a bit. “Jesus, are you everywhere?”, you asked rhetorically and put your jacket on.

“You don’t have to drive me”, you declined his offer. “And who’s gonna take you? Joseph?”, he asked and at your date’s name his voice had a mocking tone. You cocked your head to the side, looking at him. “You still have to wait for your food”, you started another try.

“Number 69!”, was called out and a white paper bag with the Diner’s logo was placed on the counter. “That’s me”, he announced with a bright grin and turned around to pick up his food. “Of course it is”, you mumbled and rolled your eyes.

“I’ll park right next to the entrance. Think you can make it?”, he asked and nodded at the rain outside. “I think I’ll manage”, you shot him an annoyed glance. “Okay, then let’s go, sweetheart”, he said and held the door open for you. “Don’t call me sweetheart”, you told him when you walked past him and hurried over to the passenger side to his car. He unlocked the car with the remote and you quickly got in. Jake got in on the driver seat and put his food bag on the back seat.

He started the car and turned on the heat of the seats. You sighed, happy about the warmth that hugged you from behind and sank deeper into your seat.

“So, Joseph, huh?”, he asked as he drove off the parking lot. “Shut up”, you said and looked out the window. “Any chance for a second date?”, he kept asking and you could hear the mockery in his voice. “Only when hell freezes over. I would say when pigs fly, but you’re in the air regularly, so…”, you shrugged your shoulders and looked over at him. You expected to find him coming up with a counter punch or at least looking mad, but instead he surprised you with a deep belly laugh.

“Who’s going on a date on a Tuesday, anyway?”, he asked, squinting his eyes at the heavy rain, making it hard to see the road.

“I work on weekends”, you reminded him and looked back over to him. “Also, you brought a date to the bar on a Wednesday night”, you added. “I gotta spread ‘em out over the week. Hangman’s a wanted man”, he replied and you could hear the smug smile in his voice. “Yeah, probably for causing public nuisance”, you countered, chuckling at your own joke and turning to look out the window again.

The weather outside was dreadful. You didn’t know how he even managed to drive out here, but you were glad he did.

When you arrived at the bar, everything was dark. Since it wasn’t open that wasn’t that surprising.

“There, it’s still standing”, Jake said as he looked through the windshield, the wipers flying across the glass, not being able to manage the downpour.

“I have to go inside and take a look”, you told him and took off your seatbelt. You slipped out of your denim jacket and put it over your head. “You’re not seriously going out there?”, he asked with furrowed brows. “I promised Penny. You can go home. Thanks for the ride”, you simply said and opened the car door.

The loud sound of the rain and the howling wind filled the car. “And how are you gonna get home?”, he called out after you when you stepped out, but you just shut the door. He groaned and hit the steering wheel with his hand, before he shut off the engine, grabbed his food off the backseat and followed you.

“Please tell me you have a key?”, you suddenly heard him shouting behind you at the main entrance of the bar. “She’s got a key here somewhere”, you shouted back and turned over a few stones next to the door.

When you finally found it, you had trouble opening the lock with your slippery fingers, but you finally managed. You and Jake hurried inside, putting your wet Jackets on the coat rack.

“Jesus Christ”, you said and shook the water off your arms. The denim jacket didn’t do a lot to keep the rain off. You were completely drenched, your wet hair dripping onto your shoulders and down your back. Jake didn’t look that much better. The front of his white shirt was sticking to his torso which you tried very hard not to notice too much. Water was running out of his hair and down his neck. He put the bag of food onto the bar top that he had carried under his jacket.

You walked over to the light switches and flipped them on, but nothing happened. You did that a few times. “I think it’s not working”, Jake said. “Thanks, Lieutenant obvious”, you replied in a dry tone and walked behind the bar, using your phone flashlight. “Isn’t that usually Captain obvious?”, he asked and leaned on the bar. “You didn’t earn that promotion yet”, you countered and bent down, grabbing two dish towels, throwing one over to Jake. You put your phone down with the flashlight up on the counter and started squeezing the water out of your hair. “They’re freshly washed”, you told him when you caught him hesitating.

“We need to check the fuse box”, Jake said and rubbed over his head with the dish towel. “I think I know where it is”, you told him and dabbed your face with the cloth, wiping under your eyes as you were sure that your mascara was probably all over the place.

You grabbed your phone and led the way through the door across the bar that also led to the storage room. At the door, you turned the other way into a dark corner of the little hallway, discovering the very old looking fuse box. You tried opening the little metal door, but it was stuck. Jake reached past you and opened it with one swift pull. “The door was stuck”, you told him. He threw you a look that meant that he didn’t believe you.

“God, this thing is ancient”, you said as you directed the light of your phone at the line of fuses. There was a lot of make shift fuse controls. “There’s no way you can do anything here”, you said to him. “Excuse me, but I fly jets for a living”, Jake reminded you. “Well, Jake, you’re not supposed to fly the fuse box”, you countered. “We probably need to leave this for Jimmy. After all, that’s his work. We’re never gonna figure this out”, you huffed and for you the topic of fixing the fuses was off the table. “Just let me take a look and stop whining”, Jake said and moved in front of the fuse box. He took out his own phone and turned on the torch.

“I need to call Penny and let her know”, you said out loud but more to yourself. You dialed her number but the call didn’t get through. Damn weather.

“Ouch, fuck!”, Jake called out behind you after receiving a light electric shock. “Are you still alive?”, you asked while typing a message to Penny without turning around. “Yeah”, he grunted. “Yay”, you said dryly, finishing your message.

Just when you were about to hit send, an alert appeared on your phone. It was a weather warning for your area, telling people not to leave their houses for at least the next two to three hours. “Hey, did you get that, too?”, you asked and held up your phone. “Yes”, he sighed.

“Let’s go back to the front, there’s not much we can do here anyway”, you told him and without waiting for an answer you walked back to the main bar area. “Looks like we’re stuck here”, you said into the empty room, looking outside the big windows. Like a confirmation, a loud thunder rolled over the building, accompanied by lightning strikes.

Next chapter: Part 5.2

[mlqueen89]

Glossary of Terms linked to (i love you) it's ruining my life - jake "hangman" seresin x f!oc

Ace (Flying Ace or Fighter Ace) = Military aviator credited with shooting down five or more enemy aircraft during aerial combat.

Avionics = Advanced processors and networking systems to fiber optics and conformal wideband antennas, etc.

Bandit = an aircraft identified and verified as enemy.

Bogey = radar or visual contact whose identity is unknown and not yet verified as an enemy. Bogey can also be a friendly once identified.

Break (right/left) = when an aircraft is instructed to sharply turn left/right, essentially "breaking" away from its current flight path to the left/right side

HUD = "Head-Up Display," for fighter pilots is a transparent screen in the cockpit that projects critical flight information directly into the pilot's line of sight, allowing them to view essential data like airspeed, altitude, heading, and weapon targeting details without needing to look away from the outside environment, maintaining situational awareness during flight operations. 

Lt. = Lieutenant (rank)

Lt. Cmdr = Lieutenant Commander (rank)

LTJG = Lieutenant Junior Grade (rank)

Preflight checks = a thorough inspection that pilots perform on an aircraft before each flight, meticulously examining its exterior, systems, controls, and documentation to ensure it is in a safe condition to fly, identifying any potential issues that could compromise flight safety by checking for damage, fluid levels, proper functionality of components, and reviewing necessary paperwork.

Qual(ification) hop = refers to a flight performed by a pilot to demonstrate proficiency in a specific skill or maneuver required for certification or qualification. In the military aviation world, pilots must complete these hops to be officially qualified to perform certain missions, fly specific aircraft, or execute advanced tactics.

RADM = Rear Admiral (rank)

RIO = Radar Intercept Officer (now known as WSO)

SAM(s) = Surface to Air Missile(s)

Splash = typically refers to the moment of impact when a bomb or missile hits its target, essentially signifying the detonation or "splash" of the explosive upon contact.

Tally = communication used to tell a controller they are about to engage enemy aircraft. Also used to announce to the squadron leader (or other person of command in the flight) the spotting of an enemy aircraft.

Telemetry = the collection of data from a remote and usually fast-moving device for measurement purposes. It is used in aircraft/missile testing to track moving objects in action or collect data provided by instruments and sensors on the test object.

Tone = fighter pilot speak for a missile or weapons lock. When a pilot is tracking a target the computer will beeping as it acquires a lock-on, which changes to a continuous tone when lock is established.

VFA = Strike Fighter Squadron

Weapons envelope = the area around the bandit where your missiles or gun can be effective.

WSO = Weapons System Operator (formerly known as RIO)

NATOPS F-18 Manual

Am I missing any? Send me an ask!

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

"Fine, I'll go with you." Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F! Reader

Summary: It was exciting waiting for your boyfriend amongst the sea of families. If only your boyfriend didn't have a whole family waiting for him too. Thank god Lt. Seresin is there to save the day.

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F! Reader

Warnings: Language, Cheating (not Jake!), protective Jake, asshole ex-boyfriend, military inaccuracies I'm sure.

Cross Posted on AO3

The homemade sign feels heavy in your hands. Your heart pounds steadily in your chest as a sea of blue uniforms begins to unload from the massive carrier. It feels incredible to be drowning in this sea of love and reunions. Families crying in each other's arms as they make it through another deployment, another separation. 

It would only be a matter of time before you could feel the same euphoria. You step on your tip toes, trying to seek him out when someone stumbles into you from behind. “Sorry,” she shakes her head, “I’m a mess right now.” 

She certainly looks it, a newborn strapped to her chest in a carrier and a toddler barely holding on, trying to bolt every chance he gets. “No worries,” you’re quick to reply, glancing down at the large sign and balloons in her hand. 

You pause, reading and re-reading it over again. Nicolas Arias. There is no doubt you could be reading it wrong and when you get a glance at the toddler again, your stomach churns. He is a spitting image of Nick…your Nick. You carefully fold up the sign and go to turn when you hear the little boy shout, “DADDY!” at the top of his lungs. 

Why you glance back, you don’t know but your chest aches when you see him, his smile blinding as he bends down to pick up the little boy. “Hi buddy,” you hear him shout, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around. He looks back at the woman, his eyes softening at the bundle against her chest, “and hello Princess,” he coos, “nice to meet you, I’m your daddy.” 

The tears spring to your eyes, and you quickly suck in a deep breath when his eyes lift to meet yours. He pauses, a deer caught in the headlights, you can see it, the raw panic on his face. Before you turn and walk away, you’d be damned if you were going to ruin this happy homecoming. While Nick is a fucking cheating bastard, and you would certainly be sending an anonymous letter to his wife later, they didn’t deserve this today. 

All around you is love and reunions, but instead, you just feel sick. The parking lot is jam-packed and you look around before stepping onto the road, letting out a gasp when someone grabs your arm and quickly pulls you back into a broad chest. A truck roars out of the lot, a handful of sailors inside shouting about freedom and shots. 

“Fuck,” you turn, taking in the man before you, he’s gorgeous; with blonde hair and eyes that look like the sea after a storm, “thank you,” you whisper, taking a step back when you realize you’re still in his arms. 

He smiles, but it doesn’t really meet his eyes, “not a problem, darling,” his accent surprises you, maybe Texan with a slight twang. He points down at the sign crumbled in your hand, “Didn’t find who you were looking for?” 

“Oh,” you glance at the sign, tossing it into the nearby trash can, “I found him alright. Along with his wife, newborn, and toddler.” 

He grimaces, “What a fucking turd waffle.” 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes, “a turd waffle?” 

He grins, “if the shoe fits.” Suddenly you notice a figure rushing towards you and you groan, turning quickly away mumbling obscenities under your breath. 

“Sweetheart,” Nick runs to your side, pulling you in for a hug, but you stay stiff as a board. “I can explain everything.” You step out of his arms putting some distance between you, the mystery man steps up behind you, towering over you like a looming bodyguard. 

“I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other Nick,” you wrap your arms around your waist, “seeing you married with two kids was enough of an explanation for me.” 

Nick stares down the man behind you, “Hey buddy, can you give us some privacy?” 

“Lieutenant Commander Seresin to you, Ensign,” he stands straighter, Nick pailing as he recognizes the name, “and I’ll leave when the lady tells me to.” 

“Please don’t go,” you whisper stepping back closer into his arms, one of his massive hands resting on your waist, strong and sure. 

“Seems like she’s made up her mind,” he grins, confidence coming off him in waves. “Why don’t you go back to your family and save this young lady the trouble of putting up with any more of your bullshit.” 

“I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” Nick takes a step closer, reaching for your arm, “sweetheart you just have to let me explain.” A wall of man blocks his path, “get the fuck out of my way,” Nick seethes, “I want to talk to my girl.” 

You step around the Lieutenent, “I’m not your girl anymore, you’re married for Christ's sake, with TWO kids,” you hold up two fingers for emphasis. 

“It didn’t bother you before,” he shrugs, “why should it now?” 

“I didn’t fucking KNOW,” you shout, drawing attention from several others around you, “do you really think I’d be here standing like an idiot waiting for you if I knew you were married?! Do you really think I would be dating you or sleeping with you, if I had any idea you had a wife?!” 

Nick looks around at the onlookers before letting out a scoff, “I knew you were a whore. Looks like you already replaced me, ain’t that right? And with someone of higher rank.” He laughs, “Keep this up baby and you can fuck an Admiral before the year ends.” 

“Stand down, Ensign Arias,” your protector steps closer, his jaw clenched, “go back to your family and leave now. Before I court-martial your ass.” 

“What the hell for?” Nick shouts. 

“Harassing civilians, disgracing the uniform, threatening an Officer, the list goes on and on.” Nick pales before he spits at the ground. 

“You can have her,” he glares at you, “wasn’t that good of pussy anyways.” The Lieutenant takes a threatening step closer, and you grab his arm while Nick scurries away like a rat. 

You both watch him walk away before you let go of his arm, “thank you,” you whisper, feeling the tears well up in your eyes, “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t here.” 

“He really is a turd waffle,” he mumbles and you burst out laughing, the tears spilling down your cheeks. He hesitantly lifts a hand, brushing the tears off your cheeks, and you lean into his palm closing your eyes, his thumb brushing back and forth. “Jake,” he mumbles and you slowly open your eyes, blinking at him, “My name is Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin. 

You tell him your name and he repeats it back, the words like honey on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you,” he repeats it again making you shiver. “Would you like to join me for a drink? I know this really great Navy bar called the Hard Deck, and I was going to meet up with a few of my fellow officers and their families.” 

“One question,” you step closer, and his hand drops from your cheek, moving to your waist as he whispers anything under his breath. “Are you married or currently seeing anyone? No secret mistresses or lovers I should be concerned about?” 

He grins, tugging you by the hooks in your denim jeans closer his lips ghosting over yours, “no, ma’am, I’m a one-woman type of man. And right now,” he presses his lips to yours in a soft kiss, stars exploding across your vision, before pulling back, “I’d like that woman to be you.” 

“Fine, I’ll go with you, but only on one condition,” you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down and closer to your lips. 

“What’s that?” he smiles, all the way up to his eyes, glancing down at you like you’re the only one around for miles. 

“You do that again,” and he does. 

A/N: Comments are appreciated, and yes this is me begging.

[bobfloydsbabe]

make the tables turn (the rewrite) | jake seresin x oc

a turning tables fic

SUMMARY: Jake goes in for a routine physical, but is shocked to learn that his doctor is Jasmine Lane—the woman he tried to take home the night before.

WARNINGS: Getting weighed, inaccurate medical stuff. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

A/N: I decided to not take down the original chapters of Turning Tables, so you can still find the fic in its original iteration. It will remain up until I'm done with the rewrite, so you can still enjoy the story in its entirety.

ORIGINAL MASTERLIST | REWRITE MASTERLIST

“Thank you, Lt. Garcia. That’s all for today,” Jas said, putting a final note in his chart.

“Thank you, Dr. Lane,” he said with a crooked smile and did the last few buttons on his khaki uniform. He bid her goodbye with a small wave, exiting the treatment room. 

Leaving the door slightly ajar, she heard him speak to someone in the waiting area, wishing them luck. She glanced at the file of her next victim, confirming that the voice in the waiting room belonged to exactly who she thought.

Martha, the head nurse, came in to top up the supply of needles on the cart in the corner. “Who’s your next victim?” She asked and straightened the already straight line of needle packs.

Martha had become a reassuring presence when Jas was first reassigned to Top Gun. She was a shoulder to lean on and she listened to Jas’ rants about how much she hated prescribing fluids and rest to men who really should be able to handle a little flu without seeing a medical professional. Martha brought her coffee on their shared night shifts and told Jas to get it together when she complained about the long and boring hours.

“Can you please send in Lt. Seresin?”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. “Watch out for that one,” she warned and went to collect him from the waiting area.

Sitting in her chair, Jas tried not to grin at the prospect of the look on his face when he saw her. He had no idea he was about to come face to face with the woman he had failed to take home.

She heard him before she saw him.

“Listen, Doc, I’m in peak physical condi…” he trailed off, stopping in his tracks just inside the threshold of her office, eyes trained on her. Martha closed the door behind him, sending Jas a knowing look.

“I’m sure you are, lieutenant,” Jas said and stood, offering her hand for him to shake, which he took with a skeptical look in his green eyes. “But you’re required to be here, so suck it up. I’m Dr. Lane.”

“You,” was all he said.

“Me.” She let go of his hand and gestured to the exam table. “Have a seat.”

He didn’t move. He looked every bit as attractive in the fluorescent lighting of her office as he had in the yellowish glow of the bar the night before. The only difference was the accusatory gleam in his eyes. “You didn’t tell me you worked here.”

“You didn’t ask,” Jas answered and gestured for him to sit once more.

His eyes hardened, but he still sat. “I asked what you did for work,” he argued.

“That you did,” she agreed. “And I told you I’m a doctor, which I am.” She waved a hand around her office at all the medical equipment, then adjusted the stethoscope around her neck for good measure. She shouldn’t wear it that way for safety, but old habits die hard.

He stared at her. “You lied.”

“I didn’t.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but you were too busy trying to get in my pants to notice.” His mouth flattened into a tight line while his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you ready to begin?”

He grumbled a yes and answered a few routine questions. When Jas asked him to stand at the measurement on her wall, he did so without complaint. She joined him and brought the block down, noting the height on his chart.

“Have I grown, Doc?”

It was as if he’d flipped a switch. The sour mood of just a moment ago now replaced with an easy smile and a confident lilt to his tone. Jas saw it for what it was: an attempt to get the upper hand, but she had played this game many times before. He would have to do better if he wanted her to crack.

She met his gaze. “No.”

His brows drew together for an almost indiscernible second before he schooled his expression back into the unbothered folds of before.

Jas consulted with her checklist. “Okay, if you’ll just hop on the scale for me.” He turned to it, but she stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “Without your shoes.” 

He glowered. Gone was the smirk and the air of nonchalance he tried too hard to put on. In its stead was a seething temperament and barely concealed frustration. If she wasn’t enjoying this so much, she might have taken pity on him and stopped taunting him, but he was too much fun to tease. It was his own fault, really. Hadn’t he been cocky in his conviction that he could get Jas to sleep in his bed just the night before?

He sat on the exam table and undid the laces of his standard issue boots in silence.

He stood on the scale, and Jas joined him by it, adjusting it until it was even. She felt his eyes on her, assessing her every move and breath. Usually, her patients were eager to get this part of the exam over and done with, not keen to be weighed, but Hangman seemed unfazed.

“Alright,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Weight is normal.” She glanced up, finding his eyes still trained on her. The smile had crept back, the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Do I have something on my face, lieutenant?” She asked, stepping away to note the weight on his chart.

“You’re beautiful,” he drawled as he stepped off the scale.

“So you told me last night,” she reminded him, grabbing onto the ends of the stethoscope around her neck. “But charm won’t get me to change your weight.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t—”

“Now, have a seat on the table so I can check your vitals.” He crossed the room to the table and sat. “Remove your uniform shirt.”

He smirked, cocky and self-assured. “If you wanted me to strip, all you had to do was ask,” he said, his voice lower than before as he undid the buttons on his shirt.

“Your undershirt can stay on,” she informed him.

He frowned again, but didn’t argue. He placed the khaki shirt on one end of the table and offered his arm to her, familiar with the process of a physical. Jas placed the blood pressure monitor on his arm and ignored the feeling of his muscles rippling under the surface of his skin. She could make out every corded muscle in his shoulders under the white undershirt, and her mouth went dry.

She could feel him watching her again. Jas bit her lip, concentrating on reading the results on the monitor, not the thrilling feeling of his attention solely on her.

“Okay,” she breathed and undid the band of the monitor. “Blood pressure looks fine.”

“No need to be modest, Doc. It’s perfect,” he proclaimed. “I’ve gotten many compliments on my blood pressure.”

Jas snorted, unable to help herself. “I find that hard to believe.”

She went to her desk to note down the results before moving on to listen to his heart and lungs. Both sounded good, and she was a little annoyed that his numbers were essentially the same as his last physical. Perfect. If there was ever any reason to hate a man, this had to be it.

“Right,” she began. “I’m just going to have a look at your ears and throat. Open up.” She placed a wooden stick on his tongue and shone a light down his throat. She shouldn’t imagine what that mouth would feel like pressed against hers, or what wicked things his tongue could do to her body, but the vision was vivid in her mind. Jas forced the thought from her mind and ignored the fluttering feeling in her stomach. It was the last thing she needed right now. 

After clearing his throat, she looked in his ears and found nothing out of the ordinary there either.

He really was in peak physical condition, and she almost hated him.

The Navy was truly punishing her. She had saved a man’s leg, and this was the thanks she got? Having to check high and mighty fighter pilots over for issues that weren’t there? 

Silently fuming, Jas walked back to the desk once again to check off the throat and ears on her list, then returned to Seresin, who still sat dutifully on the exam table. “I’m just going to check the lymph nodes in your neck, okay? Then we’ll check your vision afterward.”

He smirked. “Go ahead, Doc.” Jas placed her hands on either side of his neck and felt for swelling under the skin.

“How’d you end up stationed here?”

Jas leaned back, hands stilling on his neck. “Why?”

He put his hands up. “Good, old-fashioned curiosity.”

“It’s a long story,” she admitted, hoping the answer would be enough to discourage any further questions. She dropped her hands from his neck and walked to the back wall, turning on the light in the vision chart.

“Do you take any medications?” she asked, handing him the occluder.

He shook his head. “Make a long story short?”

“Not a chance,” she said. “Now, cover your left eye and read the line with the smallest letters you can see.”

He rattled off all the letters on the bottom row without issue and did the same with his right eye. Jas rolled her eyes and took the occluder back from him.

“Any unusual moles or other marks on your skin?”

“No,” he answered. “Tell the story over a drink, then?”

Jas snorted. “Not gonna happen.”

He hummed. “Alright, your loss.”

“Oh no. How will I ever survive?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

His eyes darkened, going from the color of sea glass to mossy green. He stood from the exam table and strode toward her like a predator on the hunt, and Jas’ breath caught in her throat. He stopped right in front of her, their chests a hairbreadth away from each other. He was only a few inches taller than her, but she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

“You’ll change your mind,” he said, voice low and sultry. “Soon, you’ll beg for my time.”

The moment broke.

Jas stifled a groan and placed a hand on his chest, forcing him to take a step back and put distance between them. “I think I need to refer you to a specialist,” she told him seriously.

He frowned. “What’s wrong with me?”

Jas turned back to her desk and picked up his chart. She pretended to study it, allowing herself a moment to regain her composure. “I think you need to have your ego surgically removed,” she explained. “It’s a risky procedure, but you should be just fine. You might even get a date afterward.”

Hangman groaned, running his hands over his face. “Are you done?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Not even close, but I’ll spare you for today. You can put your shirt and boots back on.”

Jas jotted down some additional notes in his chart, including his perfect eye test, as he redressed. She put the pen down and placed her hands in her lab coat while she waited for him to finish tying his shoelaces.

He stood, and their eyes met. A battle of wills locked in a stalemate. His signature smirk spread across his handsome face. “I’ll see you around, Doc,” he said and tipped an invisible hat to her, reaching for the door handle. Jas could acknowledge that he was charming without shuddering at the admission. Almost.

“I’ll count the hours,” she joked.

Hangman abruptly turned around and caged her in between the desk and his body. She could feel the heat radiating off him. He bent his head down, and Jas felt his breath on her lips. Her eyes darted to his for a split second, but he had caught her. She knew by the way the corner of his mouth turned up.

“I’ll be thinking of you tonight,” he said, voice barely audible. The implication was obvious, and Jas’ cheeks grew hot for the first time in his presence. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable in the fluorescent light or she would never hear the end of it.

He stood back, and Jas tried to hide the fact that she had to gasp for air.

“You have a nice day, Dr. Lane.”

He winked at her and exited her office, leaving the door open and allowing the thick tension in the room to dissipate. She was still catching her breath when Martha escorted her next patient into the room.

“Dr. Lane, are you alright?”

Jas snapped her head up, finding Martha and a bespectacled aviator looking at her with worry etched into their features.

She forced a smile. “I’m fine.” She offered her hand to the aviator, who shook it dutifully. “You must be Lt. Floyd. Have a seat.”

As Jas went through Floyd’s physical, her thoughts kept returning to Hangman, trying to understand exactly how he had gained the upper hand.

She wasn’t sure, but she vowed to get it back. Whatever it took.

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