#sweet home alabama fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

domesticgoddess22 · 30 days ago

Text

A night With Joel Miller

Dad's enemy!joel

Ao3 | masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings : dub-con, unprotected PIV, breeding kink, mild gun violence, dark!joel miller, raider!joel, deep throating, spanking, daddy kink, creampie, dom!Joel, dad's enemy!joel, praise kink, captivity word count: 4.1k summary: You're scavenging around an old CD store in Austin when the notorious Joel Miller catches you alone. Clickers swarm the street, so he takes you upstairs to hide out for the night. He says you were free to leave, but you stay and things get steamy.

a/n: This is my little one shot I posted to Ao3 awhile back. I've been considering making it a series once I finish some chapters of Wish Upon A Cowboy. Also this is the first time I've ever posted a fic on Tumblr so I hope I'm doing it right<3

~~~

You were always the adventurous type, always exploring, always curious. Never doing what you’re told and trading obedience for the sweet thrill of temptation. Your old man only caught you traversing through Austin by yourself a handful of times now. Those were the times you were lazy, slipped up a little, enough for someone in the faction to notice you were missing and rat you out. Your dad would send his guys after you like you were some fucking kid that couldn’t handle yourself out there. The other 300 times you did it, he had no idea you had even left your room.

Tonight was another one of those nights.

You were on your way to an old CD store to see if you could scrap up something new to listen to. It was time to put Sweet Home Alabama to fucking rest and change up the tunes, and if you were lucky, maybe you’d find an old Nirvana CD still intact.

The beam of your flashlight reflected on what little shine the CD cases had left to offer, most of them dusty and scratched, tossed across the rubble like relics.

The sound of a gun clicked behind your ears.

“Don’t move,” a low, smokey voice breathed into the shell of your ear. Instinctively, your arms shot up, palms facing outward. The Nirvana case crashed at your feet, fragments of plastic splintered this way and that. “Turn around. Slowly. ”

You obeyed, heart hammering, blood pumping, eyes beginning to tear. When you do turn to face him, you’re blinded by a blaring flashlight pointed at you.

“‘s just you here?”

“Yes–yes it’s just me, I swear it.”

“Ain’t it a bit dangerous for a little thing like you to be runnin’ around Austin…?” He aimed the light away so it’s pointed somewhere off to your left, scanning the room before his eyes lock back onto yours. “... Alone. ”

You could see him more clearly now, tall, broad shoulders, face lined with stress, and eyes so cold, you’re sure he’d seen death more than you ever had. You were no match for him either, even with the revolver strapped to your ankle and a knife in your bra. He was too big. Too imposing.

“I uh…” you swallowed the acidic bile creeping up your throat. “I like to live on the edge.”

“Mmm,” he licked his teeth, studying you. “That ain’t very smart. Lot more out here to be ‘fraid of than infected.”

He’s going to fucking kill you, isn’t he?

“My dad will raise hell if anythin’ happens to me.”

“Your dad, huh?”

“Mhm. Old man is probably on a wild goose chase lookin’ for me as we speak.”

He chuckles darkly, “I ain’t scared of your daddy.”

“Look, man, I don't have much on me,” you plea, eyebrows knitted inward. Maybe he’d pity you and let you loose.

“Not much, but sounds like you got somethin’.”

“Got a granola bar.”

“Think your life is worth a granola bar?” He cocked his brow.

You rolled your eyes. “Got a revolver on my left ankle. Map in my back pocket with some marks where my dad hides his shit. Happy?”

His lips tugged into a smile that didn’t reflect in his eyes, “Atta girl.”

In one flood motion, he binds your wrists together with one hand, tucking his gun back into his belt and then patting down your pant legs searching for weapons. When he reaches your ankles, he takes the revolver.

“‘s only got one bullet,” he grumbled.

“Times are tough.” People are out there stealing your faction’s shit.

He straightens, your arms are pinned against your head now and his eyes are dark, boring into yours. His grip tightens and he steps closer, a greedy hand sliding into your back jean pocket, you wince at the feel of a man’s hand on your ass.

“Other pocket.”

He grabs your wrists with his left hand, letting his right hand explore your left pocket this time, his fingers grabbing the little paper you told him about.

“Easy, cowboy.” You drawl, eyelashes fluttering, eyes trailing up his washed-out green flannel. Up, up, up until they land on his wide chest. His thick shoulders. And then finally, his eyes, dark and matched with an expression so stern and sharp it could cut glass.

His stare burns into you like he’s turning your flirtatious words repeatedly in his head. And then his gaze falls to your lips. The weight of his hand is hot on your waist now, even through layers of cotton, you can feel his heat in this late October cold.

There’s a distant sound of a soda can rolling down the pavement, knocking into rubble, and then feet shuffling.

“What was that?”

The man looks over the shelves to see what you can’t at your height.

“Clickers. Come on.” He tugged you by the waist, guiding you to the back exit and up a flight of stairs.

“Woah, where are we going?” You whispered harshly.

“You’d rather stay out here?” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and your gaze follows. There was a dozen clickers roaming around. How convenient.

“If you give me my fucking gun back, yeah.”

“You got one bullet, kid. There’s fuckin�� ten of ‘em out there.” You step into an old apartment and the front door clicks behind you. He scopes out the rooms. “It’s clear. We can stay here for the night. If we gotta fight, better we do it in the daylight.”

“I’m not stayin’ the night here with a stranger. Especially not a hunter. ” The word was thick on your tongue. Hunters were despicable people who stooped to the lowest of the low.

“By all means darlin’, you wanna test your luck, go right ahead. I ain’t stoppin’ you.”

You scowled at that, but he was right. It seemed like you’d finally got yourself into a pickle, and despite your attempt to look calm and collected, you were scared shitless right now. Either you were going to spend the night with this random guy or try to dodge all the clickers and make it back home.

“Fine,” you rolled your shoulders in defeat. “But I’m not sleepin’. As soon as the sun comes up and the clickers disperse, I’m out.”

“Don’t sleep then,” he murmured, looking through the cupboards and drawers for any remnants of the past.

“Still got that granola bar? ’m gettin’ pretty hungry.”

You threw the granola bar at his chest and he smirked, tearing the wrapper open.

“Thanks, Darlin’.”

“Not like you were gonna give me a choice.”

Joel sat on the old couch and leaned back, arm propped against the back cushion. Legs spread. Brown eyes on you. He had removed his green flannel, exposing just a simple black tee barely holding onto his muscles. It took every ounce of sense in you to ignore how fucking good he looked.

“Like what you see?” He said, a cocky grin on his face. Your eyes flicked elsewhere, dancing around the room to find something else to occupy your mind with.

“Don’t flatter yourself, old man.”

Arrogant son-of-a-bitch.

“What’s your deal?” he pried. “You runnin’ away from your daddy or some’n?”

“Nah.”

“Then?”

“Just like goin’ out. Seein’ the world.”

He scoffed. “‘m surprised he lets you run ‘round Austin all by yourself.”

“He doesn’t. Doesn’t think I can handle myself out here.”

The man cocked a brow, challenging you.

“I can handle myself. I’m twenty-seven years old.”

“You wanna handle yourself, darlin’, you better scope out places before hangin’ out in ‘em,” he grumbled, chewing on the granola bar. He pointed the rest of it in your direction, nodding his head in a gesture for you to take the rest.

“You’re lettin’ me have the last bite?”

“Take it, ‘fore I change my mind.”

You snatched it from him. “Did ya finally learn you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”

“You sayin’ I won you over, sweet thing?”

“Not a chance. I still don’t trust you.”

“Probably for the best.”

“That so?”

“I ain’t really a good guy.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. You robbed an innocent girl, nearly killin’ over a damn granola bar and a half-empty revolver. Swell guy.”

“Hey, you woulda been dead without me.” He sat forward with his elbows on his knees and pointed a finger at you. “Clickers woulda chased after your dumb ass, loud as you were with those old CD cases and whatnot.”

“Whatever,” you slumped into the armchair across from him. “Wouldn't of made noise and dropped Nirvana if you hadn't surprised me.”

“Nirvana ain’t worth dyin’ over, kid.”

“Then what is?”

“Som’ else.”

“Go on,” you waved your hand, urging him to enlighten you on what he considers music worth dying for.

“The Eagles. If I see you again after this, I’ll give ya a listen. Got a few CDs of my own.”

“Okie dokie, random hunter dude that robbed me.” Because intentionally hanging out with a hunter sounded like a smart plan.

“Joel,” he leaned back against the cushion again.

Your blood was ice in your veins.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Joel.” Your eyes were still wide in shock as Joel shook his head, tossing his hands like what don’t you understand?

“As in… Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?”

Joel fucking Miller.

This whole time you’ve been with the heartless hunter your dad cursed daily.

Now that you could put a face to the name, it was hard to believe he looked so attractive. With the way your dad talked about him, you imagined Joel as an ugly troll.

“My dad would have a heart attack if he knew I was with you right now. He hates your guts, ya know.”

“Your dad? You’ll need to fill me in, sweetheart, I got a lotta guys that hate me.”

You tell him about your dad and watch the way Joel’s head nodded slowly in recognition.

“He’s had it out for me ‘n my guys for some time now. Can’t say I blame ‘im.” His eyes shifted to the left in thought, probably flashing back to the terrible things he’s done, and then his brown orbs fell back on you. “If I’m rememberin’ right, you must be…”

He tastes your name on his lips with a southern drawl as sweet as tea.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I know a lotta ‘bout your faction. Stole from ya ‘nuff times.”

“Lovely.”

“Gotta survive, baby. Ain’t got somebody to do the dirty work for me like you do.”

“And what are you implyin’?”

“‘m just sayin’. And you’re dad ‘n I ain’t so different. Just survivin’ the best way we know how. Only difference is, he probably does what he does to protect you. I do what I do just… ‘cuz. ”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pretend you know anythin’ about me or my old man.”

“I don’t have to pretend. You’re an open book, darlin’,” he says with that same damn smirk on his face.

“Nah, I’m not,” you fold your arms across your chest and turn your gaze to the world outside the window. Below is a congregation of clickers on the road, confirmation that you were trapped alone with this man for the evening.

The couch creaks when Joel stands, a divet in the old cushion left behind in his absence. He steps toward you, his belt buckle a few inches from your face. Saliva builds in your mouth and you swallow. Hard.

Rough fingers grip your chin, tilting your head upward to look into the dark eyes that gaze down upon you.

“You look like you’ve been cravin’ some fun. Daddy’s been keepin’ you cooped up, ain’t he?” He exhales, a whiskey aroma riding the small breeze from his lips all the way to yours.

There’s an ache between your legs and your cheeks feel hot with shame. Your pulse quickened, and Joel fucking knew it. He could feel it.

You had two options: deny it and look away, or embrace the thrill.

“Joel… What are you…” Your voice trailed off and you look bewildered, but your hand finds a place on his thigh. The denim feels hot on your palm.

“I can help you with that. Make you feel good.” He’s leaning down now, his breath on your lips. “Anybody ever made you feel good before?”

“N-No one,” you stutter, glossing over the memories of one of the guys from your faction. You were both young, inexperienced. It was nothing but a night of experimentation and pain, and then it never happened again.

Joel nodded slowly, releasing his grip on your chin and then moving back to the couch, eyes dark, right arm relaxed along the backside of the seat, left hand lifting two fingers that gesture for you to come hither.

If you were being fucking honest, the attraction began the second he pat you down and only deepened when you found out who he was. It felt like a dangerous thrill knowing you were with the very man your father would forbid you to be near.

“Come’re,” Joel pat his lap.

Without batting your eyes, without even thinking twice, you obeyed. You found a spot on his thigh, thick enough for you to have ample space to sit.

The gray bristles in his beard were more noticeable up close. You guessed he was in his mid to late 40s. He slowly tugged your jeans off and tossed them on the floor.

Joel’s palm rested on your naked thigh, kneading into your skin with his face buried in your neck, licking and biting and licking again, growing increasingly heady with each one until he was sucking on your neck so hard you could feel it turn purple. Then his fingers brushed the fabric of your panties and you squealed from the sudden contact.

“You okay, sweet thing? He breathed into your hair.

“I’m nervous.”

“‘S okay,’ his voice was a low whisper into your clavicle, followed by soft kisses on the side of your neck. “Why are ya nervous?”

“Um… just shy, I guess… Never done this much.”

He groaned when the tips of his fingers felt your dripping heat. “Fuck–you’re so wet.”

Eyes lidded with lust and back arched to give him more access, you start to grind on his hand. Moaning at his touch, the wet heat that pools between your legs and soaks his hand, the way his fingers caress your folds in a circular motion.

“Good girl.”

The praise sent a tingling feeling through your core.

You were a good girl for him.

He rubbed your little bud more furiously now, picking up the pace and then he slid a thick digit into your slick. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that came in uncontrollable tidal waves as he pumped his finger in and out, in and out, in and out.

Just when you think you’re going to reach your peak, he firmly grips your waist on either side, lifting your ass until you crash down onto the seat of the cushion. His lips were on your pussy, before the two of you ever even kissed, you noted. He groaned the second his tongue glided across your wet slit, and the sound vibrates against your soft lips.

“Couldn’t resist… Baby… Fuck–Taste so fuckin’ sweet.” He babbled into your dripping lips, the stone-cold man from earlier was long gone, and now in his stead was a man drunk with lust. He was melting from your pheromones, your scent, your wetness. It felt good to know that you had that effect on him.

Joel bucked his hips into the couch with each lick and suck, growing more sporadic and sloppy in his rhythm. You weren’t an expert in the matters of men in the bedroom, but he clearly wasn’t going to hang on much longer–that much you knew.

A rough hand cupped your mound and then toyed with your sensitive nipple. He pumped his finger back into you, his tongue still keeping the pressure on your bud. Joel slid in another finger, and then another until three of his thick digits are stretching you to the brim, viciously fucking into you until you were screaming his name and begging him for more. He conceded, guiding you to the sweet bliss of the finish line.

Your chest was heaving, forehead tacky, and eyes planted on the popcorn ceiling above you as you came to. Two blinks later, the sound of a zipper snapped you out of your daze and you shifted your gaze to the space between your spread legs.

Joel had his cock out, thick and angry, veins pulsing.

He was huge.

Your mouth watered at the sight of it as you watched him jerk himself off to your body.

You got on your knees, bending to show him the nice curve of your backside, face now inches away from his cock. He lets go as you place a hand on his jean pocket and steady yourself, and then he plunges into your mouth.

Joel’s hands snaked through your hair and latched onto the backside of your head, pumping his cock into the back of your throat in five relentless thrusts. You choked from the sudden penetration and he quickly pulled out, his head sliding out of your lips with a “pop.”

“Too much?”

“No.” You wiped the string of saliva that connected you to him. “I like it.” And you liked that as cold and mean as he played off, he cared about whether or not he was hurting you.

His eyes went dark and there was a ghost of a smile pulled at his lips in satisfaction. And then his cock was sliding past your lips again and gliding against your tongue. You rolled your tongue around and suck him in as far as you could. He groaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Ain’t gonna last long. Got me… all wound up.”

You moaned affectionately as he picked up the pace, thrusting and groaning, mumbling profanities. You even swore he said your name as his hot cream pumped into your mouth.

Hands now pressed to his lower back for support, he was so deep that his balls were pressed to your chin and you felt him straining to release every drop. You realize that his gun, and yours, are tucked into his belt right by your hands. When he settled, you leaned back, swallowed, and licked your finger.

“You look so sexy right now,” he said, voice deep and gravelly, thick with the aftermath of sex.

You’d never felt this sexy before. Hair disheveled, naked ass resting on the back of your ankles, T-shirt barely covering your womanhood but leaving just enough to the imagination, and your breasts peeking out of the V.

Joel bent down until his body was completely imposing yours, caging you in. Your brows caved inward, looking up at him doe-eyed and uncertain of what he planned to do next. He wrapped one around your waist, pulling you into his embrace while his other hand creeps across your neck.

He surprised you with an intimate kiss. It was romantic, demanding, and dangerous. Joel commanded your tongue to dance with his, exploring your mouth with fervor like he belonged there.

“Turn around. Face down. Ass up,” he says in a husky whisper. You look up at him wide-eyed. “Now.” He commanded.

“Yes, daddy.”

Ass up, just like he asked, he slapped your asscheek. You felt his chest against your back and his breath on the shell of your ear.

“This might hurt a little, just be a good girl for me, okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded eagerly.

“What was that? ” He said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Atta girl.”

He slapped your ass again. The head of his cock was jabbing at your entrance, pulsing with desire. He bucked it in his hand and lined it up to your slit and pressed in. Hard.

“Fuuuuuck.” He groaned and you screamed in an odd mixture of pain and pleasure.

He was so big he nearly ripped you in two, yet the way you wrapped tightly around him, sucking him in felt so right. The wetness of his tongue glided up your back and along the side of your neck.

There was a little bit of relief as he pulled his cock out, but then he thrust back in, his balls slapping against your lips so deep it had you seeing stars. Rinse and repeat. In and out, in and out.

His thrusts were angry and unrelenting.

The way he twisted your nipple and squeezed your tit was downright cruel.

You were putty in Joel’s hands and he fucking knew it.

“Please. More. Please, please, please.” The voice that left your lips was hoarse and desperate but you needed it. You needed him.

At the back of your neck, you felt the weight of his calloused palm pinning you down.

“Such a tight little thing. Fuckin’ mine.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eye. “You got that? Say it.”

“I’m yours, Joel.”

Somehow, his cock pulsed and stretched you even more to the brim. The feel of your slick mixed with his juice was oozing out of you, trickling down your leg.

One hand still pinning you down, Joel’s other hand was now petting your swollen heat.

“Fuck, baby, I ain’t gonna hold out much longer. You’re so good to me. So tight. ‘m gonna cum in this wet pussy.”

“Joel, I’m gonna cum…” You trailed off, but you were already on the edge. His fingers were rubbing you at just the right speed, and his dirty sweet nothings were setting you ablaze.

He continued to rub and thrust at just the right angle, the squelching sound of his cock pumping in and out of your sex only further heightened your arousal.

In the heat of the moment, you didn’t even care that Joel was on the brink of filling you with his seed. You were dazed, delirious, and desperate. The three dangerous Ds, because condoms and birth control were a thing of the past. The apocalypse was a gamble for those who wanted to partake in life’s good old-fashioned pleasures.

You were ready to take that risk for the brief moment of pleasure because Joel had you wrapped around his finger and you were ready to swallow his seed. Hell, your unhinged state didn’t even care if you got pregnant with his baby as he sloppily slammed his cock into you, groaning and threatening to cum inside you.

He didn’t seem to care either.

“H-Harder.” You beg, and that was it. That’s what set him over the edge, pouring into you like an explosion of white-hot milk and screaming profanities. He rubbed your clit while he rode his high, and then you came together, jaws slack, eyes rolled.

Two people who, for a brief moment in time, could indulge in the comfort of each other’s bodies and forget that the world had gone to shit.

Joel flipped you over, his cock still buried inside of you, and leaned down to kiss you. It was a gentle kiss this time. The kiss of a lover.

There was an undeniable spark between you that transcended beyond a mere one-night stand. Neither of you spoke a word of it. Instead, you fell asleep in his arms, and with his cock going limp inside you.

—------------

“Good morning, Joel.” You pointed two guns at the man as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

When he made sense of the situation, he chuckled darkly, wiping his face with his hands.

“Oh, darlin’, you are full of surprises ain’t ya?” His chocolate-brown eyes landed on yours and you felt your heart skip a beat, your grip on both guns loosened in a moment of weakness.

“Told ya I know how to take care of myself.”

“I can see that.” He put his arms behind his head, looking far too relaxed for a man who had two bullets aimed at him. “Did your daddy send you out to do this?”

You smirked, eyes flicking over to the old map that you made sure to leave on the table.

“I’m not gonna shoot you. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

He licked his teeth and nodded.

“See ya, cowboy.”

And then you left him there and something tugged at you to stay but you didn’t, because you knew that it would be the death of you if you did.

“You want to tell me why the fuck you have Joel Miller’s gun?” your dad asked when you made it back to the base.

Dad had found out you left and had his guys check you for bites. When they did, they found the gun marked with an ‘M’, which was something Joel did to all of his weapons. Weapons that he stole.

“I was just helping us out a little, Dad.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #smut #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #dark fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #dads enemy!joel

113 notes · View notes

coff33andb00ks · 4 months ago

Text

where i come from - LS

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!reader (lilli. it's lilli) summary: hitch a ride to the end of the highway where the neons turn to wood word count: 1.2k a.n.: the first of three small fics for my beloved Lilli @maxlarens Happy birthday my darling!! I hope you enjoy this little love letter to you (and to american road trips). inspo: all the road trip songs my family blasted during my childhood, compiled here warnings: it's not a waffle house it's a waffle home, author is in love with american south almost as much as Lilli's in love with Logan

"Logan, you can't be serious."

He laughs, parking the car next to a slightly bent light pole. "What? You want to see America, right?"

You press your lips together, staring at the small, flat building that looks as though it's been in that spot since the 1960s and hasn't been refurbished once. "This is America?"

"One of the best parts," he promises, climbing out. The balmy air of Florida immediately makes the car's cold air disappear and you sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt as he walks around to open the door for you.

"A Waffle House is America?"

"Trust me," he says. "You'll understand."

You do trust him, so you let him take your hand, sweat beading before you've taken two steps across the parking lot. There's a crowd of people near the door and you feel their eyes on you and Logan as you approach, the air thick with humidity and weed and tobacco smoke.

The interior is worse than the exterior. Your sandals slide with each step on the ancient tile floor and you can feel the grease in the restaurant. A bored server is leaning against a booth and hands you and Logan menus as you walk by, telling you to sit wherever. You want to turn around and go sit in the car, but…

Logan looks so fucking happy.

So you sit in a booth with him, ignoring the sticky spot on the bench that catches the material of your shorts. You ignore the faint aroma of tobacco smoke that lingers in the dining area. You ignore the yelling from the kitchen staff and the argument starting up between a couple at the counter.

The food is pure American stereotype. Sweet, greasy, and the portions enormous. But your first bite of the burger has you smiling. Because—

"Oh my god," you practically moan.

Across from you, Logan's grinning.

The server is pure southern charm as soon as she hears your accent, and you relax as you enjoy a meal big enough to last you an entire day. It's not great but it's good, and the atmosphere seems to shift.

He buys you a mug, telling you under his breath about a time his brother stole one because apparently everyone does that. Once outside in the sweltering heat, he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. "Welcome to America."

The road trip was his idea. It's the best way to see this land he loves so much and because you love him so much you agreed, and after a week with his family you're driving out of the Florida panhandle, the windows down and the music blasting, both of you singing Sweet Home Alabama at the top of your lungs.

He takes an exit off the interstate and you're already lost but he's content, speeding along unmarked country roads, past lush forests and rolling fields. He has to slow to a crawl for tractors, and every time a car passes he waves like the other person is an old friend.

Left or right? at every stop sign. No map, no GPS, just a whim.

A tiny shop – gas station, babe, not a shop – in the middle of nowhere is selling fresh peaches and the woman is so sweet and talkative you want to stay and talk all day. Her great aunt makes those crochet blankets you're admiring and before you know it you've got three draped over your arms.

"Where y'all headed?" she's asking as Logan pays.

He shrugs, smiling that bashful smile that made you fall in love with him. "Nowhere, really."

She gives the vaguest yet most detailed directions to a motel – you're gonna wanna drive thataway til you see the old rusted school bus? Then take a left and keep driving til you pass the turnoff for the highway. It's down on the right. If you get to the stoplight you done went too far – and Logan gives you a look as you bite into a fresh Georgia peach.

You smile.

More rolling fields and woods. Farms and family homes and kids on swings. He gets to the stoplight and you both laugh all the way back to the motel.

It's tiny and has almost zero amenities but it's clean and the window overlooks a small field of wildflowers. You take a shower and when you come out there's a jar with a bunch of wildflowers in it and you smile at him. You've been smiling so much the past couple days that your cheeks ache.

He finds a place to get dinner and you feast on what he says is pretty okay bbq but you think is the best you've ever tasted.

The next day you're better prepared, and you fully enjoy the rambling tour of the countryside, relaxing with each passing mile. Feet on the dash, singing along to Fleetwood Mac and Tom Petty and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Songs that are familiar and songs that he knows every word to and you are still learning.

Lunch is a picnic, thrown together with gas station sandwiches and bags of chips, sitting on one of the blankets you bought yesterday by a river. You want to enjoy the scenery, because it is as beautiful as he always told you it was, but all you can focus on is him.

He looks so happy. You've seen him happy, of course, but lately he's been downtrodden. Anxious. And you sit there, watching him as he talks about maybe making it up into North Carolina by sundown, seeing how relaxed he is.

And you fall a little in love with this spot of the world that heals him.

"You love it here," you say softly after a bit of silence.

Logan nods, looking out to the river where it disappears into the trees. "I do."

"I'm—"

"I love sharing it with you more."

Oh. Oh. Your eyes are burning and it's not fair that he can drop the sweetest lines when you least expect them even though by now you should expect them because he always does and—

"Lilli?"

You blink and he's moved to sit right in front of you. "Logan?"

Why does he look worried? Your mind scrambles, thinking something must be wrong. He feels ill, or he just spotted some venomous snake slithering nearby or—

He shifts and you glance down, seeing the ring sparkling in his hand.

Later you'll remember every word he says. How his hand shakes and his voice wavers while he tells you how much he loves you and how happy you make him. But for now all you hear is the river splashing over rocks and birds twittering and the breeze ruffling the leaves of the oak tree. And all you can see his eyes, shining and bright and beautiful.

There's hot sauce on his fingers and yours are gritty with salt. His lips taste of salt and vinegar and there's an ant crawling on your leg, and he's apologizing for not giving you some grand proposal, but you don't care. You're glad he asked you here.

"I love you," he whispers, forehead resting against yours and you feel the sigh that exhales his worries.

He worried that you'd say no. As if yes wasn't on your lips before he said the words.

"I love you, Logie."

#f1 #logan sargeant #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #logan sargeant x reader #my writings > ls

150 notes · View notes

christinesficrecs · 1 year ago

Text

Happy Saturday! Enjoy these brilliant fics. 🩷

I don’t know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 17.8K

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?”

He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur.

His Only Defense by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 78.7K

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha.

Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Laying Groundwork by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where Scott and Stiles go clubbing and there’s this broody Bouncer out to get Stiles-

Or get into his pants. Thank God it’s the latter.

Give you that thing you can’t even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he’s about to find out he’s very, very wrong.

Shot Through The Heart by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 64.8K

The one when Stiles and Derek work for rival assassin companies and are sent to kill each other. It definitely doesn’t go as planned.

Foolish devouring things, build your castle in me by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 23.1K

“I will marry you,” he declares. “But should any more harm come to my father or my people, I will raze the earth itself until I feel the lifeblood drain from your corpse and paint my skin with it.”

It is not an idle warning, but from the princeling it has none of the desired effect. Derek feels no fear, but in this instance at least diplomacy triumphed over the spilling of more blood. It is all the same to him anyway. But Regent Peter was most insistent they avoid a drawn-out, gruelling war.

“Then we have reached an accord.”

Oh baby give me one more chance (to show you that I love you) by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 54.7K

“You like Derek,” he says slowly. “Derek Hale.”

His father grimaces at the accusation there. “Look, Stiles it’s complicated-“

“So when I was married to him,” he continues, voice rising. “He wasn’t good enough. He was taking advantage of me. ‘He’ll never be able to love you like you want, Stiles’. That’s what you said-“

Or the Sweet Home Alabama AU that nobody asked for.

I'm at one, and I've been quiet for too long by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 11.4K

“All in favour of Derek not dating for a full year so he can get his shit together and stop romancing people who want to kill us?”

Everyone raises their hands. Every single pack member.

Or the one where the pack insists Derek can't date anybody for a year but he ends up finding romance much closer to home anyway.

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 135.5K

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

When sparks fly by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 87.5K | Abandoned

“Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek’s head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

I'll wrap up my bones, And leave them by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 65.1K

The sign on the cage actually reads Beware: The Beast! in that crappy horror movie red paint that trickles down the paper in a failed attempt to appear like dripping blood.

And it would seem stupid if not for the living supernatural creature currently trapped behind its bars. Little hard to dismiss the big, hulking werewolf as a poorly constructed horror movie prop.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

How long have I been on the hunt for you? by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 20.3K

“Well I guess accidental kidnapping is not so bad then,” Scott decided brightly after the others had finished describing their ordeals. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

“HAHA,” Stiles practically shouted, loud and unsettling enough that everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, yep. For. Sure.”

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lunacanislupus22 #author appreciation

387 notes · View notes

sgt-tombstone · 4 months ago

Text

If Graves hadn’t betrayed the 141, he and Simon “I love Kentucky” Riley would get along really well

And now I want a roadtrip fic where Soap, Ghost, and Graves go on a month-long quest to find the best Bourbon in America

Graves drives, because it’s his classic rust red Ford Bronco and because both Soap and Ghost refuse to drive on the right side of the road

Ghost gets passenger seat and tortures them all with the aux, playing nothing but country and rock music. He plays Sweet Home Alabama so many times that even Graves threatens to run over his phone

Soap has a blast in the backseat, complaining about the lack of quality Scotch, perfecting the fine art of road rage, and sticking his head out the window like a dog

The two UK boys pick up Graves’ opinions on most things they encounter, including the best barbecue, his thoughts on drivers from other states, and what artists are considered “real” country

For maximum fun and shenanigans, throw Alex in the car and watch it explode. I originally headcanoned Alex being from upstate New York like his voice actor, but then I found out that his VA spent a lot of time in Hollywood and now I can’t get the idea of Californian Alex Keller out of my head. Graves’ VA is from San Antonio and while he spent most of his childhood in Washington DC, Graves is a Texan through and through and no one can convince me otherwise. I love the idea of both of them trapped in the same car, opining about all things America, and disagreeing about absolutely everything because there’s nothing a Californian hates more than a Texan and nothing a Texan hates more than a Californian

Meanwhile, Price, Gaz, and Farah spend the month at a fishing cabin, having father/daughter/son bonding time and attempting not to think about what the boys are getting up to. Price watches the news every night just in case. He doesn’t care if the boys make the local news wherever they are, but as soon as he catches a single glimpse of them on national news, he’s going to slap with a disciplinary write-up so fast it’ll make their heads spin

#call of duty #cod #philip graves #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #farah karim #alex keller #crack treated seriously #idk how to tag this lmao #nobody take this seriously #141 shenanigans #not tagging any ships so people can ship at will #tombstone's epitaphs

100 notes · View notes

buddierecs · 2 months ago

Text

break up/make up buddie fics

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating (no explicit tho) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

let the golden hour wash through the room by: hattalove "in which there is a breakup, a doorway, and four years of building a life." word count: 2k rating: teen and up audiences important tags: post-break up, getting back together, ex-lovers after the fire, after all the rain by: wenttoafortuneteller "two weeks after eddie breaks up with buck, a storm traps the two of them together." word count: 5.6k rating: teen and up important tags: post-break up, angst, the mortifying ordeal of being known, getting back together i'll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe

by: turningthepages

"just another hollywood amnesia story the fandom probably didn't need but lived in my head rent free for too long." word count: 128k rating: mature important tags: married!buddie, car accidents, hurt/comfort, family feels, insecure!evan buckley, future fic in the cracks of lights (i dreamed of you) by: cuddlyobrien "a month after buck breaks up with eddie, he’s trapped underneath rubble with a life threatening injury and asking to speak to eddie over the radio." word count: 4k rating: mature important tags: near death experiences, post-break up, dispatcher!eddie diaz when it comes back to you by: giselleslash "the one where eddie and buck meet when they work together on eddie’s uncle’s ranch, and again when eddie walks into the 118 eight years later." word count: 21k rating: mature important tags: different first meeting au, first love, internalised homophobia, emotional hurt/comfort, soft!buddie, boys in love, past and present timelines all these broken hearts, but mine's the one bleeding by: smilingbuckley "buck figures out a new step-parent struggle when he has to discipline christopher, and the boy tells him buck isn't his father. this causes buck to spiral, thinking christopher disagrees with buck being his step-parent, so he breaks up with eddie even though he's madly in love with him. what he doesn't realize is that chris is becoming a teenager, and teenagers say stupid shit like that when they're angry at their parents." word count: 5k rating: mature important tags: miscommunication, emotional hurt/comfort, fighting, step parenting freedom ain't nothing but missing you by: justhockey "it was a gentle love, so warm that buck couldn’t ever fully believe that he deserved it. so he had to go and ruin it, because that’s all buck is good for, all he knows how to do." word count: 4.7k rating: not rated important tags: insecure!evan buckley, protective!eddie diaz, emotional hurt/comfort, idiots in love i was getting kinda used to being someone you loved by: zashizawa "eddie and buck break up and find their way back to each other." word count: 2.7k rating: not rated important tags: angst, hurt/comfort, hurt!eddie diaz, crying, getting back together my words are paper tigers by: hattalove "buck breaks up with eddie, even if it means losing a part of himself, because it's the right thing to do. the universe decides to test that conviction." word count: 19k rating: teen and up important tags: time loop, pining, angst, temporary character death, emotional hurt/comfort, happy ending home by: bccalling "nine weeks after he and eddie ended things, buck finds the ring. post break-up au." word count: 2.8k rating: teen and up important tags: post-break up, angst with happy ending, TW: suicidal thoughts, self-hatred

waiting room (two part fic) by: goforeddie "buck and eddie break up, buck and eddie make up" word count: 2.8k rating: general audiences important tags: emotional hurt, boys in love, angst, pining, getting back together without you by: orphan_account "a buddie sweet home alabama au" word count: 43k rating: mature important tags: exes to lovers, married buddie, falling in love again, jealous!evan buckley, hurt/comfort, getting back together

#buck x eddie fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie #buddie fics #eddie diaz #buddie fic rec #evan buckley #911 abc #911 show #911 fandom #buddie 911 #buddie fanfic #buddie recommendations #buddie recs #buck x eddie fanfics

130 notes · View notes

bradshawssugarbaby · 11 months ago

Text

Home For Christmas - Jake Seresin x OC

A/N: This is my entry for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge, with the trope childhood friends. I was watching a lot of romcoms last night and felt inspired, it's definitely heavily influenced by 13 Going on 30, Just Friends + Sweet Home Alabama. (I realize only one of those is set in the winter, but I digress). I'm debating a part two/epilogue as well, if anyone is interested! Also super proud of this one, because it's the longest fic I've ever written.

pairing: Jake Seresin x OC

warnings/content: none, lots of fluff and pining. Jake's been promoted to Captain. Probably a lot of inaccuracies.

word count: 7.7k (literally my longest one yet, I'm sorry)

tagging anyone who might be interested: @littleenglishfangirl, @floydsmuse, @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem 🤍

December, 1999

“Jake! Jake, wait up!”

“Run faster then, I gotta get home before the street lights come on or my mama’s gonna be so mad she won’t let you come over tomorrow!”

“Jake, your mama’s not gonna say no to me comin’ over and you know it.”

“Jenna, how you ever gonna keep up with me when I join the navy and start having to run a few miles every day?”

Jake turned around to face you for a moment, running backwards with a grin plastered on his face, his baby-faced cheeks red from the cold, his green eyes full of mischief as he watched you try and keep up with him. His sandy blonde hair stuck out slightly from underneath his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap, a handmedown from his older brother that he rarely left home without since Matt had given it to him. He stopped running, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, the cold air stinging his throat as he panted. You finally managed to close the distance between the two of you, raising an eyebrow as you panted, your own cheeks ruddy from the combination of cold winter air and physical activity.

You and Jake had been best friends as long as you could remember. In eleven years, you couldn’t name a single time where the two of you had as much as had a disagreement, or went more than a few hours without talking to one another. Your mothers had been best friends in high school, and you two were destined to be best friends since birth - born four days apart in the same hospital, living on the same street and having your first play date at 10 and 7 days old. Jake was four days older than you, and he never let you forget it when it came to matters where age or maturity played a role. However, where Jake had four days more experience in the world, you had multitudes more experience in dealing with hardship than any eleven-year-old child should have.

Where Jake had the picture-perfect family - a mom, a dad, an older sister, an older brother and him, all living in perfect harmonious happiness, never as much as a doubt as to whether or not there was love in his household, you had the opposite. An absent father, an only child, and a mother who worked two jobs to try and make life better for the two of you, you spent almost every waking minute with Jake and his family, not only as an escape to experience the happy, blissfully carefree life he lived, but also, as a favour to your mother, with Mrs. Seresin often volunteering to care for you when your mother had to work late or work on weekends.

You were at the Seresin home almost every night, with Jake’s mother fussing over her best friend’s daughter, helping her lifelong friend however she could in guiding her little girl, you acting as the surrogate daughter that part of her had always wanted. Jake’s father trying to fill in the blanks where your father had lacked - offering to coach sports teams and including you in games of catch with Jake and his brother, taking you and the boys to get new baseball gloves or soccer cleats when needed, taking the three of you for ice cream after a big achievement in life. Jake’s 16 year old sister, Bethany, would take time to do your hair in the mornings before school whenever she had a chance, offering to do it in all the fun styles she and her friends wore, the kind you were often envious of, passing you old tubes of lip gloss she had lingering around in her backpack on your way to school, encouraging you to use them to your hearts content. Even Matt, who at 14, thought his brother and his brother’s friends were the most irritating beings in existence, had offered you old sports jerseys of his that no longer fit, teasing you the same way he’d tease Jake, treating you like the little sister he never had.

Until this past summer, you found yourself wishing most days that Jake’s family would just adopt you, let your mother move in with them and the two of you could just officially be a part of their fun, bustling family that served as your cheerful escape from life. However, when elementary school ended in June with middle school looming around the corner, Bethany had pulled you aside to talk to you about the transition between schools.

“You know, middle school is…different. It’s not bad. It’s just…things change sometimes. You and Jake might start going on dates with people from school, and it might change your relationship. It happens,” She’d said matter of factly, not mincing words as she shrugged her shoulders, fixing her frosted eyeshadow in the mirror before turning to face you again.

“You might even develop feelings for each other.”

At the time, her words didn’t hold meaning for you. You and Jake had been best friends since Jake was four days old. Your moms were best friends. You practically lived in their home. There was no way things could change between you. You could never have a crush on Jake. He was Jake, the boy who would hide under his mama’s kitchen table with you and a flashlight, swapping baseball cards with one another, the boy who, when you were six-years-old, you’d witnessed eat an entire package of Oreos, then laughed at as he proceeded to throw up an hour later from the sheer volume of chocolate-vanilla sandwich cookies he’d consumed that day. Jake could never be someone you’d have a crush on. He was your best friend. That would never change.

It was two weeks later when Jake had been on the baseball diamond, pitching an inning of Little League with you in the stands watching on. His baseball cap had been flipped backwards to mimic one of his favourite major league players, his green eyes narrowing in concentration with every pitch he threw out. His golden blonde hair poked out the front of his baseball cap, much like it was doing today, on this cold January evening. His focus was on nothing but baseball, while yours was on everything but when it came to him. When he happened to look your way during the game, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach - a bubbling sensation, like nerves that couldn’t be settled. Your cheeks flushed, turning a pale pink as they became warm to the touch, reddening slightly as you felt Bethany’s gaze fall on you, a grin forming on her face as you proved her right about how your feelings were evolving for Jake.

Since that day, you’d found yourself continuing to crush on him, each day your feelings grew deeper and more intense than the day before. At this point, you almost swore you could see yourself marrying him one day. You had to admit, you knew everything there was to know about him, you always had fun with him, and he was always happy to see you - you were convinced you two could be as happy and as in love as his parents were someday when you and Jake got older. You’d never tell Jake, you just hoped and prayed that he’d realize one day that he felt the same way about you as you felt about him. You knew there was always the chance that it might not happen, but you didn’t want to think about that. In fact, as far as you were concerned, you hoped that there was never a day where Jake didn’t love you as wholeheartedly as your little eleven year old self loved him.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

Present Day

“Jake, please, come back. I miss you,”

“I miss you too, Jenna, I’m coming home to you. It’s always been you.”

The ear-piercing screech of your phone’s alarm blared from your nightstand, interrupting your dream as it screamed at you. You rolled over in bed, groaning as you clumsily stuck your hand out, feeling around on the wooden side table for your phone to silence it and allow yourself a few more moments of peace and quiet before you had to start your day. The last think you wanted right now was to let this dream slip away on you - it was the closest you’d ever find yourself to Jake professing his love for you after all these years, and you clung to it whenever it cropped up in your mind as you slept.

Jake had always been the one-who-got-away for you. You spent your entire middle school years trying to hide your feelings for him, refusing to break until he said how he felt first. You were 13 when he got his first girlfriend, Tiffany Donaldson, a girl in your class. Tiffany was pretty and popular, something that you couldn’t claim for yourself in either case - growing up with Jake, you were seen as more of a teammate or a sister-figure than anything else, despite his sister’s best efforts to help you shake that connection somewhat. After Tiffany, you two had begun high school, and Jake made the football team, and the baseball team. As the school’s star runningback and starting pitcher for the varsity team, Jake was popular beyond words. No one could hold a candle to him, and as his popularity soared because of his athletic prowess in school, you faded further and further back into obscurity, the limelight falling from you and onto someone new each time Jake began dating another girl. Eventually, by the time graduation rolled around, you and Jake had all but fallen out of touch with each other outside of family get-togethers shared between your mothers.

You had just worked up the courage to tell him your feelings at the graduation party Jake’s parents had thrown for you both, convincing yourself that it was perfect timing - Jake had accepted an offer at the University of Texas at Austin, keeping close to home as he planned to study finance, his secret talent having always been math. You’d accepted an offer to study communications at the same school, and with both of you remaining local, it would be the perfect time to tell him how you felt and attempt a relationship with him, or so you thought.

Before the words could even leave your mouth, Jake was excitedly pulling you aside at the party, stopping outside of his childhood bedroom, the place where the two of you had often played as kids. His green eyes were full of excitement as he looked at you, causing your heart to race as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, making it hard to concentrate on his words. You almost didn’t hear him when he spoke, you were so transfixed on him. If the news had been anything else, you probably wouldn’t have even registered what he’d said the first time. You could still hear the excitement in his voice as he told you his news, and still feel the ache in the pit of your stomach as his words fell on your ears.

“I got accepted! I’m going to the Naval Academy, Jenna, can you believe it? I’m going to serve in the Navy, just like I always wanted. I’m going to be the best aviator they’ve ever seen. Just you watch.”

Jake’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement as he’d told you his news, and it took everything you had in you to not fall apart as he spoke. While you knew he’d always dreamed of being a naval aviator, as long as you could remember, the news hit you like a ton of bricks, unexpected and hard as it rendered you speechless, leaving you nodding your head and smiling like an idiot while inside you wanted nothing more than to scream out how you felt. You knew this could never work out between you now. Your chance was gone, moving away to Maryland and joining the Navy before you’d even had a second to realize what was happening when he spoke.

That was 17 years ago, and the moment still haunted you from time to time, more than you’d like to admit to anyone. At first, you’d kept in touch with Jake and his family, seeing Jake when he came home for holidays and such at first, but then, as you and Jake began entering your first romantic relationships as adults, you found yourselves including each other less and less in your lives. With each boyfriend you had, you realized more and more that you could never love them the way you loved Jake -he’d always be your first love, regardless of how he felt in return. When Jake graduated, he’d been stationed at NAS Lemoore, swapping Maryland for California. You’d still hear the odd update from your mother, who remained in touch with Jake’s parents, but otherwise, you didn’t ask much about Jake’s adult life. You knew he’d never married, that he’d become a Top Gun graduate, and held true to his word about becoming one of the greatest fighter pilots in the United States Navy, but other than that, you knew little about his life now. Last you had heard, last Christmas, he’d been stationed in San Diego.

You sat up in bed, yawning and stretching your body out before heaving a heavy sigh and shaking your head to rid yourself of thoughts of Jake. You were preparing for a trip back home to Texas for the holidays, spending three weeks back with your mother, part of you wishing and longing for Jake to be visiting his family at the same time, while the other part of you prayed he was staying in California or serving a tour so he wouldn’t be able to be there while you were. It had been close to 15 years since you’d seen him, and the last thing you needed was to be reminded of how you strongly you felt. You didn’t need the help from seeing him. The memories of him were more than enough to keep you clinging on.

Your phone rang and with bleary eyes, you picked it up, pressing the green button to answer the call.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Your mother practically sang out in a voice that was far too cheerful for anyone to have at this hour.

“Hi mama, what’s up? My flight doesn’t land until this evening.”

“Well, I was talking to Mrs. Seresin about Jake, Matt and Bethany…” Your mother’s voice trailed off as she spoke, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mention of Jake.

“Mhmm?” You responded as you stood up, balancing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you folded a sweatshirt and set it down neatly on the bed, waiting to be packed.

“It turns out both of us are having our kids home for Christmas! Bethany’s coming down from Dallas with her husband and their little ones, and Matt’s coming from Oklahoma City with his fiancee, and Jake’s flying in on leave from California. He’s made his way up to Captain now, you know, Jenna. He’s made quite the career for himself.”

“Mama, I don’t need a sales pitch on why Jake Seresin is the perfect man for me, ok? He hasn’t seen me in years. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me.”

“You never know. But I expect you to dress nicely for their Christmas party. You and I have been invited to join them, and I already said you would gladly be attending.”

“Of course you did. So Jake will be there, then?”

“I think his flight lands just before yours does today, actually. His mama and I were actually discussing if we should just carpool together to pick you both up like back when you two were in school together. Remember that? We used to take turns carting you kids back and forth from home to school.”

“I remember, mama. Don’t worry.”

“Anyway…we were talking and it turns out, Jake happens to be single.”

“Mama, why would I care that Jake’s single?” You replied, trying to sound as level-headed as possible.

“Please, Jenna. You really think I don’t know about this crush of yours you’ve been harbourin’ for years?” You could hear the laughter in your mother’s tone as she spoke, and it stung, almost as though your feelings had betrayed you.

“Mama! I haven’t had a crush on Jake in years. Not since he left for the Navy.”

“Of course not…just, do me a favour? Wear something nice for that Christmas party, ok?”

“Sure, Mama, whatever you say.”

You finished the conversation with your mother and let out an exasperated sigh as you tossed your phone onto your bed beside you. You had to be at the airport in three hours, leaving you little time to completely reconfigure your wardrobe for the next few weeks at home in Austin. Peering into your closet, scanning the items as they sat on wire hangers in the tiny space, you frowned, realizing that nothing was worthy of a reunion with Jake after all these years. At the back of the closet, you found a black, form-fitting sweater dress that you hadn’t worn in years, but, as you held it up to yourself in the mirror, you figured it could work. Part of you hoped this reunion could be the thing that’d remind Jake of what he was missing out on for the last 17 years.

As you finished packing your suitcase, you zipped it closed with a sigh, shaking your head as you tried to calm your nerves before getting yourself ready for your flight. There was a chance you could see Jake at the airport, and you knew you had to look your best, just in case.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

The flight from Chicago to Austin was the most painful three hours of your life. You tried to focus your attention on anything but Jake, but every movie saved on your phone, every book on your tablet, and every thought that crossed your mind was filled with him. You tried reminding yourself that he could be a totally different person from who he was when you were 18. That he could look completely different, act completely different - that he may not even know who you are anymore. The thought of Jake forgetting you was suffocating, closing in on you a little bit more every time it creeped into your mind. You took a deep breath as you departed the plane, your eyes scanning the crowd for your mother as you gripped your carry-on. Your face went white as a sheet as you saw her standing with Mrs. Serensin, both of whom waved frantically with excitement as they saw you.

“Jenna! It’s been so long, darlin’, how have you been? Your mama’s told me lots, but I feel like it’s no substitute for getting to see you in person!”

“Hi, Mrs. Serensin! I’ve been ok, how have you guys been? Haven’t seen you in about, 15 years? I think I saw y’all the one visit after Jake shipped out, but I haven’t been home much for the holidays, Mama’s usually up in Chicago visiting me.”

“We’ve been good, Bethany has two boys now, Easton and Dylan, and Matt’s met this girl, Alexis, she’s wonderful, a real sweetheart. He’s gettin’ married next summer. “

“Oh, that’s great news!” You replied cheerfully, fighting the instinct to bite your lip as she failed to mention where Jake was at in life.

“We better get going, Julie, Jake’s plane’s about to land,” Your mother said as she grabbed Mrs. Seresin’s arm excitedly, nodding her head.

“Oh, I thought Jake landed earlier?”

“He was meant to, but his flight got delayed, he’s landing in a few minutes now, I think.”

You nodded your head slowly, reluctantly following behind as your mom and Mrs. Serensin led the way to Jake’s terminal, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes followed the signage as you walked past. You tried your best to focus on something, anything, but your nerves but so far, your nerves were winning. You were terrified. What if Jake hated you for not staying in touch? What if he forgot all about you? What if you were the last person he wanted to see? What he if came through those doors with a surprise girlfriend on his arm?

“Ma!” You heard a voice call out. You looked up to see a tall, handsome man with neatly combed blonde hair, piercing green eyes and sunkissed skin. His naval uniform was still perfectly pressed without a crease on it somehow after his flight, and he looked perfect. You knew in an instant that it was him.

“Ms. T?” He chuckled as he shook his head, pulling back from his mother’s embrace as he gave your mother a heartfelt hug, before pausing as he looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head, his blonde eyebrow cocked upwards in surprise.

“Jenna?”

“The one and only,” You shrugged with a smile as you tried your best to play it cool, forgetting for a moment that at 35 years old, you shouldn’t be getting tongue-tied and start giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush. The mere fact that you still had a crush on Jake was enough to make you feel like a fool.

“It’s nice to see ya, Jenna,” Jake nodded as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you into his embrace. You breathed in the scent of his cologne, notes of whiskey and cedarwood encircling you as his grip remained tight, yet comfortable around you, as if he was hugging his long lost friend, which, he was in a sense.

“Nice to see you too, Jake,” You nodded once as he pulled away, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him, trying to commit this moment to memory before it drifted away on you.

You swore out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mothers exchange a look with one another, a secret signal to one another, as if a master plan of theirs was underway, and everything was beginning to come together before their eyes.

As the four of you headed out to the car together, you caught yourself repeatedly stealing glances at Jake. He hadn’t changed hardly at all since you saw him last, apart from gaining some muscle, and his cheekbones and jawline becoming a bit more defined as he’d aged. He looked incredible for 35, if you didn’t know him, you likely would have guessed he was barely 30, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fall deeper with each stolen look at him.

“So, you’re Captain Seresin now then?” You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him, hoping to break the silence brewing between the two of you.

“Yeah, this past April! I didn’t expect to get it, to be honest.”

Jake’s cheeks reddened as he smiled at you, trying to appear modest as he spoke of his accomplishments in the Navy since you’d last seen him. He had always used to have an ego so big that it’d rival some of the aircraft around in size, especially as a teenager - he was good and he knew he was good when it came to sports. It was part of what drove the two of you apart, but around you? He was modest like he always had been before, acting embarrassed by the achievements he’d otherwise never shut up about. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jake was nervous around you. Jake Seresin, the only service member on active duty with multiple confirmed kills, the US Naval Air Force Captain who’s served for the last 17 years without as much as a scratch on him, the man who graduated top of his class from the Top Gun program, where only the best of the best are selected to participate. Jake Seresin had no need to be nervous about impressing you. He could have impressed you by simply looking your way - but for some reason, he was nervous around you, reduced to a blushing, modest mess.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

“Jake’s such a lovely boy,” Your mother said as she sipped her morning coffee, eyes fixated on the news program on her television set.

“He’s 35, mama, he’s hardly a boy now.”

“Fine, Jake’s a lovely man, he’s still just as sweet as I remember him being when he was young. He comes back to visit whenever he gets a leave and stays for a few days, and he always stops by to say hello - he even asks about you sometimes.”

“He asks about me?”

“He sure does, he asked Julie about you the other day, in fact. He was asking if you’d be home this time at Christmas. Seems you two always come back to visit on opposite schedules and never run into each other. He was saying he’d like to see you again, Jenna.”

Your mother’s words hung in the air for a moment. You took a sip from your coffee mug and furrowed your brow as you thought it over. You dismissed your mother’s words as nothing more than an attempt to set you and Jake up on a date, one that you figured Jake wasn’t going to be a willing participant of.

“Oh Mama, hush, he probably just said that to be polite because he figured I’d be coming home for the holidays anyway.”

“Jenna, why are you always so stubborn?” Your mother frowned, shaking her head as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m just…practical. I’m the only one who seems to realize the fact that Jake and I haven’t seen each other in 17 years, Mama. We’re not the same people we were when we were 18. He could be a serial womanizer with a series of broken hearts left behind waiting for him in California for all I know. He could have 17 kids by different women, or be a serial killer, Mama. I literally know nothing about him anymore.”

“Jenna Elizabeth Taylor, you’re just being ridiculous now,” Your mother frowned as she shook her head, sighing, “I think Julie would have mentioned it if Jake was a father, and do you really think he’s the type to go around breaking hearts for fun? Besides, how could he be a serial killer if he’s busy flying around on missions all the time?”

“You’re missing my point, Ma.”

“No, Jenna, I think you’re missing mine,” She sighed, setting her mug down on the table as she pursed her lips, “My point is, I know you’ve been holding out for him for years. He’s asked his mama about you, he’s been asking if you were coming home, he stops in to see me whenever he comes home - do you really think he’d do all that if he didn’t still feel something for you?”

“Mama, I’m not going to make a fool of myself and throw myself at him, contrary to what you think would work.”

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and when you turned on your heel, you stood face to face with Jake, now sporting a fitted pair of acid-washed light denim jeans and a burnt orange Texas Longhorns football jersey and a brown corduroy bomber jacket shrugged on over top. His blonde hair peaked out from behind his beloved baseball cap, you’d swear it was the same one he’d been wearing since he was 15 if you didn’t know any better, this hat looked like it had been through hell and back.

He’d let himself in through the unlocked front door, almost certainly at your mother’s previous insistence or invitation. His cheeks were blushing again, his green eyes darting between the two of you, a blonde eyebrow cocked upwards as his gaze landed on you.

“Throw yourself at who?” He chuckled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth your way as gave you that same grin that he always did when you were kids. It was the kind of smile that always got him out of trouble, and sometimes, into trouble, depending on the situation.

“No one,” You said quickly, shooting your mother a warning glance as you shook your head, a few strands of light brown hair falling free from your half-assed ponytail that you’d thrown it up into the night before for bed. You realized that Jake was now standing in your mother’s living room while you were sporting an oversized old Texas Longhorns tee and a pair of sweatpants - not ideal attire for seeing a man you were attracted to in, regardless of your protests about your feelings to your mother.

“Right,” Jake nodded his head, but the tone in his voice told you he didn’t quite believe a word you were saying, “I know this isn’t a great time, but Ma wanted me to check and see if you and Ms. T were still able to make it tonight, she wanted me to ask in person, and she wanted me to see if you needed my help bringing anything over, she said you were bringing your famous taco dip, Ms. T? I can bring the dish over now for you if you’d like, Ma’s cleared out the fridge of anything that isn’t a necessity for the party so there’s tons of room.”

“Sure, Jake, honey, it’s in the fridge, Jenna can show you where, I just have to run upstairs and grab something to send to your mama’s with you,” Your mother said as she stood up, heading off up the stairs quicker than you could say a word, leaving you and Jake alone in an awkward stance, nothing but the sound of the morning news to fill the silent void between you, until Jake cleared his throat again before pointing his index finger towards the kitchen.

“In here? I’m sure I can find it if you need to go upstairs and get changed.”

“I’m fine, not like you haven’t seen me in pajamas before, Jake.”

“Well, in my defense, last time we were like, 12.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a woman in an oversized tee and sweatpants before,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to be completely unbothered by the fact you felt like you were dressed like an absolute slob right now.

“Alright, lead the way then,” Jake nodded as he followed behind you.

You felt his eyes make their way down your body, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath as he sauntered into the kitchen after you. You couldn’t make out what he had said, but it sounded almost like a “Jesus Christ” before he coughed and averted his gaze as you turned to face him. You opened the fridge and grabbed the dish containing your mom’s taco dip before setting it on the counter for Jake to take home. You raised an eyebrow at Jake as you caught him staring in your direction, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“You good, Hangman?”

“Hmm?” Jake said as he shook his head, an awkward laugh escaping his lips as he raised an eyebrow at you, “How did you know my callsign?”

“Because it’s on the back of your jersey, genius.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he looked down, as if he’d forgotten what shirt he was wearing today. He nodded his head and laughed as he ran a hand through the back of his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back up at you.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just, uh, jet-lagged, I think.”

“Jet-lagged? Isn’t only two hours behind us in San Diego?”

“You can still feel jet-lag with a two hour difference, Jenna.”

“I’m not stupid, Jake, I know that, but you seem…distracted? Not tired.”

“I’m fine, honest,” He nodded as he shoved his hands into his front pockets, looking around the kitchen as you checked the fridge for the extra shredded cheese and green onions your mother had prepared the night before to top the dip she’d made.

“Suit yourself, Jake,” You laughed as you set everything out on the counter for him and nodded, “If you give me five minutes to get dressed, I’ll help you bring it over.”

“Five minutes? God, I remember you taking 30 minutes to get ready when we were kids.”

“I was 12, it was 2000, I needed more time to perfect my lip gloss routine. Now I just have to put something warmer and nicer on than a t-shirt and sweatpants.”

“Fair enough, I can wait here. Your mama said she’d back down in a minute with something for Ma anyways.”

“Right, I’ll be back down in five.”

You turned around and headed back up the stairs, sighing softly to yourself as you entered your childhood bedroom, opening your suitcase as you grabbed out a pair of jeans and a vintage crewneck sweatshirt. You tidied your hair up into a neat ponytail before heading back down the stairs to meet Jake, who was currently talking to your mother in the kitchen, his body leaning against the counter as he spoke. Jake looked up at you, straightening his posture as he saw you. He picked the taco dip up from the counter, along with the reusable shopping bag your mother had packed up of the extra ingredients. Sitting on the counter next to the food was a gift, perfectly wrapped with a gold bow and a tag written out in your mother’s sleek handwriting. Jake’s mother and yours had always exchanged gifts with one another, and it warmed your heart in a sense to see the tradition still carrying on for them.

“So, you enjoy living in Chicago?” Jake asked, watching you as the two of you headed back from your childhood home, Jake having insisted on walking you back so you could spend some time catching up, even if just for a few minutes. .

“Yeah, it’s a change of scenery. It’s different from Austin for sure. How’s San Diego treating you?”

“It’s pretty good, I like being on the beach. I do miss home sometimes though,” He laughed softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shrug as he looked around at the street you grew up on, just a couple of blocks away from his own childhood home.

“I mean, yeah, I miss my mom sometimes when I’m in Chicago, but, I know it’s easier for me to come home and see her than for you to come home and see your family.”

“Jenna? Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you…do you regret leaving for Chicago?”

“No, I wouldn’t be where I’m at now if I hadn’t left. I have a really good career in public relations, and I’m happy with where I’m at professionally. I wouldn’t have gotten that if I stayed in Austin, just like you wouldn’t have gotten as far in the Navy if you hadn’t gone to Annapolis.”

Jake stayed silent for a minute, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You could sense tension between the two of you. The Jake you knew growing up was never awkward, and never stopped talking - had he really changed that much since he’d left? You couldn’t see the Navy taming him to the point where he became reserved, Jake had always been so outgoing, so full of self-pride that it often came off as cocksure arrogance, but most of the time, it was out of sheer disbelief that he’d made it that far. You looked to him, his hands firmly in his pockets as he let out a huff, his breath turning to vapor in the cool December air.

“I should really get going,” Jake nodded slowly, checking his watch as he looked back towards the street, “I promised Ma I’d help her set up.”

“Right, right, I’ll see you in a couple hours? Mama and I’ll be there.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” Jake nodded, a warm smile on his features as he turned to start heading back.

You let out a heavy sigh, mentally kicking yourself as you realized you’d just let another opportunity to tell Jake how you felt slip away from you. As you headed up to your bedroom to get ready, moving quickly to dodge any questions from your mother, who was probably desperate to hear how your alone time with Jake had gone.

You shut the door behind you, sighing again as you sat at your old vanity table, brushing through your hair and sectioning it with a claw clip as you began straightening it, trying your best to calm your nerves and make a decision on how you were going to approach Jake. You wanted to tell him, desperately, how you felt, but, part of you couldn’t help but cling to the fact you might regret it. That you might be disappointed and find out that Jake never felt the same about you, and that he never would. Or that he’d be in a relationship with someone else back in San Diego, someone prettier, younger, smarter, better.

On the other hand, did you really want to commit yourself to never telling him how you felt? Letting the door shut on the one man you’d loved the longest, the most, and the hardest in your lifetime? Could you really be happy with anyone else? What if something happened to Jake while he was serving and you never got the chance to share how you felt? What if, somehow, there was the off chance he felt the same way about you?

As you finished your makeup, taking a deep breath as you looked yourself over in the mirror, you nodded your head. You had to tell him. There was no way you could let him go back to San Diego without knowing. You couldn’t let this go unsaid any longer, if for no other reason than to give yourself closure. If he rejected you, you could move on - or at least, try to. You could finally let go of your feelings and meet someone, and try your hardest to love them with the same enthusiastic, all-consuming love you felt for Jake. If he felt the same way, you’d apply for a job transfer to Los Angeles as soon as possible, because a three-hour drive was much more manageable of a commute to see him than a flight from Chicago to San Diego.

This was it, you were going to finally do it. You just needed to get Jake alone.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

“Oh, Jenna! It’s been so long, how are you?”

Bethany’s voice was sweet as honey as she spoke, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace, as if she’d been missing you for years and the sight of you reminded her of just how much.

“I’m great thanks, Beth, how are you? Your mama said you have two boys now? Easton and Dylan?”

“Yeah, they’re 6 and 4, they’re little handfuls like their uncles, but I guess that’s to be expected when you’ve got Jake and Matt as influences for you. My husband’s not much better.”

Bethany laughed as she gestured towards Jake playing with Easton? Or was it Dylan? Jake’s unmistakeable toothy grin plastered on his face, his green eyes alight with joy as he lifted his young nephew up, tickling him, the young boy’s laughter filling the air as Jake continued to make him laugh. Jake looked up to see you with his sister, smiling as he set the boy down on the floor, ruffling his hair with his fingers before making his way over to you.

“Jenna! Hey, I’m glad you came.”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” You laughed, shrugging your shoulders as effortlessly as possible as you tried to play it cool, praying no one saw through the front you were putting up.

“Hey, Jenna, can I…can I talk to you for a sec?” Jake asked sheepishly.

You couldn’t mistake the look on Bethany’s face, biting her lip to hold back a grin. You caught Jake giving her a stare that could make any person stop dead in their tracks, his green eyes practically piercing through his older sister as she tried not to laugh. As you nodded your head, raising your eyebrow at the scene unfolding before you. You followed behind Jake as he led you upstairs to his old childhood bedroom. When he opened the door, you were confronted with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Old pictures adorned the wall, some including you and Jake as children, with ice cream covered smiles and skinned knees, baseball uniforms and halloween costumes, missing teeth and messy curls.

“Ma hasn’t changed anything since I left home, I don’t even think she’s bought new bedding for this room.” He chuckled as he looked around the room, his large hands placed firmly on his hips as he stood in the doorway.

“Still sleeping with those baseball player sheets you had as a kid?” You teased, eyeing the comforter on the bed, neatly made and pulled together, a sign of Jake’s time in the navy.

“You know it, I’m still a big kid, really,” He laughed, nodding his head as he pointed to a picture on the wall before looking over at you, “Remember this one? Your 7th birthday party, I think I snuck an extra little bit of frosting off your birthday cake and my mama almost killed me. She told me I had the table manners of a barn animal.”

“You did, you used to chew with your mouth full too.”

“I grew out of it at least. I’m a little more civilized now.” Jake replied with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to face you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath before exhaling sharply. You could see Jake chewing at the inside of his cheek, nodding his head as his eyes met yours.

“I have to tell you something, ok?” He finally said, sighing heavily.

“I’m listening, Jake.”

“I should have told you this a long time ago, but…I love you.”

You sputtered for a moment, eyes wide in shock as he spoke. He frowned, clearly expecting a better reaction than what you’d given him. Jake shook his head and took your hand in his, stroking the back of your hand gently with his fingers, which were almost surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch.

“I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t care if you just wanna be friends after hearing this, because even though the truth is, I'm scared to be your friend, I would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. The last 17 years have been spent missing you and wishing I’d said something before I left. That I’d kissed you or held you, or said something, anything to you.” He frowned, nodding his head as he looked to the ground before continuing to speak, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion.

“I was stupid to just go and leave things there, but I’ve been paying for it ever since. No other woman has ever compared to you.”

Without another word, you gripped the front of Jake’s football jersey, using it to give you leverage to pull him in closer, your lips crashing into his just as he looked up at you to see what you were doing. Any initial hesitation either of you felt melted away into the kiss, your lips moving together passionately, Jake’s hands trailing their way down your sides to rest on your hips, pulling your body in closer to his. When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he maintained a small distance between the two of you, speaking in a low whisper as he watched you bite your now puffy, kiss-bitten bottom lip.

“Is that your way of telling me you feel the same way? Because if you do, I want to take you on a date. And I don't care if it's in the day, or at night, or whenever, as long as it's a real date. And I wanna sit there and tell you how beautiful I think you are, Inside and out. How you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world to me, without a doubt. And I wanna have babies with you, and I wanna marry you, and I wanna tell you every day that I love you and I always have." Jake nodded, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck again, waiting for your response to his rambling feelings.

“Jake, I’ve spent the last 17 years of my life waiting to hear you say that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m so sorry I made you wait.”

“Promise me something, Jake?”

“Anything you want, pretty girl.”

“Promise me you won’t make me wait that long again? I’m not sure I can wait another 17 years for you to ask me to marry you.”

“Jenna, I swear to you, I’m not making you wait for anything ever again. I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t think my mama would have me committed for running off to get married three days after our reunion.”

“You’d marry me tomorrow?”

“With bells on, babe. With bells on. I’d marry you right here, right now, in my beat up Longhorns jersey, and drive off into the sunset with you in my truck if you wanted.”

“I don’t know about that, Captain Seresin,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt his hands caress your sides, “As tempting as that sounds, we do have 17 years of lost time to make up for.”

“And I intend to make up for every single second of that with you, Jenna. Here, Chicago, San Diego, I don’t care. I just want you. All of you, completely and totally.”

231 notes · View notes

trickphotography2 · 1 year ago

Text

First and Goal

Hangman hosts a college football day for the Daggers, only to have Payback bring a history making Angel. (Hangman x female Reader fluff, no use of 'you')

Completely self-indulgant college football fic after seeing Glen and Danny at the Texas and Miami games last week. Fic contains some trash talking of Miami and Alabama. No physical description of the reader, callsign is Syla (pronounced like Cilla) and she's a Florida State fan.

Word count: 1.5K

-------------------------------------------------------

Jake tore his eyes away from the television when the doorbell rang, huffing as the Game Day announcers stalled on making their prediction of who would win the Texas vs. Alabama game. Phoenix pushed away from the kitchen island where she and Coyote were grazing on the snacks he’d set out.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he grumbled as two hosts picked Bama. Planting his hands on his hips, he pressed his lips into a thin line when Lee Corso called for the fight song to play, and the twang of Sweet Home Alabama started.

“Roll Tide, I guess,” came a sigh beside him. Jake’s gaze snapped to the woman, taking in her crimson shirt, Navy regulation bun, and furrowed brow as she watched the antics.

“Hey, hey, hey! Oh no, wait a minute, wait a minute. That’s not the right song - play Texas’ song!”

“Yes!” He pumped his fist as Corso put on the Hook’em head.

“Thank Christ.”

“Not rooting for your team?” he asked, facing her. She rolled her eyes, pointing towards the logo on her chest - a Seminole head.

“Might wanna get your eyes checked - garnet, not crimson.” A slight southern accent colored her words. “While I appreciate Bama for making Tim Tebow cry, their fans are insufferable. I’m ready for them to get taken down a peg. If the Longhorns are the ones to do it, I guess I’ll put up with more of the Gig ‘em nonsense.”

“Hook ‘em,” Jake corrected, and the smirk curving her lips made him think she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Giving Hangman shit already, Syla?” Payback asked, tossing an arm over the woman’s shoulder. The woman grinned up at the pilot and raised an eyebrow.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she laughed. Jake felt a shot of disappointment at the fond look that passed between the two. “But if you’re Hangman,” she added, turning her attention back towards Jake, “this is for you. Thanks for letting me crash.” She extended a bottle towards him - Wolcott bourbon, bottled in the bond.

“Thanks. Syla your name or callsign?”

“Callsign.”

“You stationed here?”

“Soon, but I’m in town for the show.”

“The…” he frowned, then nodded. “You’re a Blue Angel?”

“That I am.” The Blue Angels were the Navy’s flight demonstration team. Stationed at NAS Pensacola, they were the most high-profile squad that toured across the US. It’d made the news that they finally had their first female aviator on the team two years ago. “At least until the end of the tour, then I’m headed back to TOPGUN.”

“Oh, come on,” Fanboy grumbled, watching as the University of Miami quarterback was sacked. Across the kitchen, Syla pumped her fist and silently cheered while nursing her water bottle. Jake smirked into his beer. Fanboy and Syla had exchanged some good-natured shit-talking since Florida State and Miami were in the same conference and would be playing against one another later in the season.

When she’d shared the story behind her callsign - Syla, short for See Ya Later Alligator - Fanboy had gone red in the face laughing as Jake chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Bob asked.

Heaving a sigh, Syla explained, “My team is FSU Seminoles. We hate the Florida Gators, and there was a Gators fan in FRS with me. Our COs got tired of us shit-talking the whole season and decided to punish us by making our callsigns have to do with our rivalry. So I’m Syla, and he’s Renegade after our mascot.”

“At least it’s not Swamp,” Jake offered, thinking of how Gainesville, where the University of Florida was located, was nicknamed ‘The Swamp.’

“Yeah, that cost me 150 pushups.”

“Run, run, run, run, run!” Syla screamed, jumping off the couch with Jake beside her.

“Come on!” he yelled. When the player was tackled after a 40-yard run, he whooped and held a hand to Syla, who laughed and slapped his palm before leaning around him to high-five Fanboy.

“Fuck. There’s three of them,” Phoenix grumbled.

The afternoon passed into shouts of “He was wide fucking open!”, “No! Sit his ass down!”, “Where’s the damn flag?”, “Pass interference!” and “Find it! Find it!” During commercials, they quickly learned about one another - Syla was a Florida girl born and raised in Tallahassee. She’d graduated from FSU and attended as many games as possible during the last three years she’d been stationed in Pensacola. Touring with the Angels made it hard since she was on the road from March to November, but the constant travel was worth it to be the first female Blue Angel. She was looking forward to the stability of being an instructor at TOPGUN and not living out of her duffle bag.

Syla retrieved her uniform from Payback’s car at halftime and disappeared into the bathroom. “She’s nice,” Coyote told Payback as Jake stepped into his backyard.

“She’s great. Pain in the ass perfectionist, but that’s what got her on the Angels.”

“She’ll be a good trainer,” Phoenix added. “Have you seen that diamond maneuver they pull?”

“So, how do you know each other?” Jake asked, glancing at Payback.

“We met in flight school and kept in touch from there.”

“You guys…” Rooster cocked an eyebrow.

“Nooo,” Payback quickly replied, then shuddered. “She’s like a sister. A sister,” he repeated, pinning the other men with a stern, warning look.

A while later, the door opened, and Syla peeked out, her eyes meeting Jake’s. “They’re about to kick off.”

“Be right in,” he smiled back. After collecting the empty beer bottles from his friends, he jogged back inside. Syla had swapped out her jean shorts and t-shirt for her dress white skirt, and white tank top. She declined another drink - she’d sipped a glass of bourbon earlier before switching to water, saying that she needed to be sharp for work later - but accepted a soda.

The Daggers drifted in and out of the house, Payback sometimes joining them in the cheering squad, but Syla and Jake were glued to the game. When Texas threw a 39-yard touchdown to pull further ahead, Jake screamed and jumped around his living room, much to the amusement of his friends. Syla whooped and clapped, raising her hand for a high five. Their palms slapped, and his fingers curled around hers, giving a quick shake before collapsing beside her. His shoulders brushed against her as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped and covering his mouth.

“We gotta head out soon if you’re gonna make the dinner,” Payback said as the game clock wound down.

“Shit,” Syla groaned, glancing at her watch. Between plays, she quickly slipped on her blouse, lower lip between her teeth as she watched the action and did up the buttons. Jake couldn’t help but glance at her legs as she swayed beside him, their knees touching as she tucked in her shirt.

When the quarterback took a snap and dropped to his knee, Jake exploded off the couch, whooping as Texas won. Without thinking, his arms wrapped around a laughing Syla, lifting her off her feet as he celebrated his team beating the Crimson Tide on their home field.

“Syla, we really gotta go,” Payback said.

“Fuck, okay, uh,” she said, stepping out of Jake’s reach and patting his shoulder. “Congrats on the win. It was nice meeting all of you. I’ll hopefully see you in a couple months if I don’t get reprimanded for being late for dinner with the top brass. Oh, and Fanboy - I’ll think of you when I’m in Doak for the game in November.”

Smirking, Fanboy held up his hands, his thumbs touching to make the Miami ‘U’ signal. She gave him a saccharine smile and did the same; all her fingers were down except her middle ones, so she flipped him off. “I’ll walk you out,” Jake offered, grabbing Syla’s bag from the dining room table. Payback narrowed his eyes at the other man. “It sucks you can’t watch your team play tonight.”

“It’s fine,” she shrugged, “we played our hard game against LSU last week, and it’s an easy match-up this week. I’ll just duck into the bathroom and check the score every once in a while.”

“What time do you fly tomorrow?”

“Gates open at 0800, and we’re the closer at 1520. Why, gonna come to the show, Hangman?”

“You never know,” he winked. “Heard the Angels do a pretty impressive diamond formation.”

“18-inch clearance, wingtip to canopy,” she smirked. “If you come, I’ll be in the blue and yellow flight suit.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” Chuckling, she took her bag, their fingers brushing and sending a pleasant tingling sensation up his spine. “Good to meet you, Syla.”

“You too, Hangman.”

Payback paused beside Jake when she walked away and hissed, “No.”

---------------------------------------------------

Notes: The Blue Angels are based out of Pensacola and just welcomed their first female pilot in 2023 - callsign Stalin. I miss seeing them buzz the beaches and hear them practice in the afternoons. They tour the US and Canada, and the clips I've seen are phenomenal. If you haven't seen the pilot perspective of the tight diamond formation, I highly recommend it.

The 0800 and 1520 are military time, so it's 1520 is 3:20PM.

Read part 2, Overtime.

#hangman fic #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #Jake Seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x female reader

349 notes · View notes