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inmyloveworld · 5 months

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in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.5k

synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.

warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)

a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.

bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops

The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.

Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.

There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.

Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.

Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo

Pathetic. Delete.

Me: Is this just a sex thing?

Abrasive. Delete.

You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.

Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?

Here we go.

You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?

Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.

Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?

Oh god.

You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.

His car always felt musty anyway.

You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!

It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.

A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.

Flyboy: Here!

You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.

All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.

"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.

"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.

There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.

Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.

But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.

Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own.

You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.

Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing in yourself?

"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"

You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.

Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.

The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.

He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.

Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"

What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-

"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."

What?

Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.

He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."

A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted a silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a resolution.

You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear still held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"

Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you eased his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. He now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person needing to hear it most.

So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."

tags: @avengersfan25

#bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #top gun x reader #top gun rooster #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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thiswaytwoinfinity · 4 days

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it’s a bad idea, right? - part 1: can’t two people reconnect

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader • inspired by sleeping with other people

Warnings: no use of y/n or physical description of reader except they have hair that can be tucked behind their ears, implied smut, this chapter is fine but future installments will be 18+

It’s finally here! Thank you to everyone for being so supportive and patient about this fic; I was dealing with some rough personal stuff and lost all my inspiration but it’s back now and I’m happy to be writing about everyone’s favorite cocky flyboy.

There’s something about a sticky summer night when you’re 22 that makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been.

It’s the third bar that your new roommates have dragged you to tonight, there’s a cocktail sweating in your hand and the bass from the stereo thudding through your head. You’re not sure if the grin on your face is from the watching all of the wannabe cowboys go flying off the mechanical bull in mere milliseconds or from the possibilities of newfound adulthood laid out in front of you. In this moment, it’s hard to imagine that you were ever scared about moving halfway across the country — away from your family, your hometown and your high school sweetheart who always thought you’d move home after college — to Austin.

In this moment, you feel free. You feel invincible. You feel like this is a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

“Okay, the bar is a madhouse but I managed to get another round!” Anna shouts as she makes her way back to the table, tossing her long dark hair behind her before plopping the tray of shots down in front of you and your new friends. “And there’s a new rule!”

Everyone groans in unison; Anna loves to make up drinking games, handing out shots and beers with a new rule or bet that is guaranteed to leave someone embarrassed before the night’s over.

“Oh, stop. Shit like this is how we become lifelong best friends, trust me, I read about it online,” she fires back, rolling her eyes and handing shots to you and the three other girls at the table before taking one in hand. “It’s simple. Last one to finish their shot has to ride the mechanical bull.”

“Bitch, are you trying to kill us?” Erin asks, shooting a sideways glance at Katie, who’s eyeing up her shot glass like she’s trying to strategize the best way to drink it. The two of them are sisters — “Irish twins, it’s a whole thing,” Erin explained when you first moved in — are hyper-competitive and curse like sailors. You loved them instantly.

Your tiny hope of not being the one to end up on the bull dies when you look over at Taylor, who managed to throw back her tequila when nobody was watching. “What?!” she asks, curls bobbing in the bun on top of her head as she takes in everyone’s looks of confusion and frustration. “Anna never said we had to start at the same time.”

It’s like a starting pistol went off at the end of her sentence because before you know it, Erin and Katie are both biting into limes while Anna is swallowing down the liquor with a grimace. Shit.

You do your best to catch up but it’s too late. You, the girl who grew up nowhere near Texas and have never actually seen a bull in real life, are going to have to ride one in front of this entire bar.

Years later you won’t remember the details of the bet, how your friends whooped and hollered as you made your way over to the bull with shaky knees or how the operator took pity on you when you immediately slid off and offered you a second try. The song that was playing is lost to time, as is the actual feeling of riding the bull for a whole half second.

What you will remember, though, is sliding across the tarp to rest right by a group of athletic looking guys and the strong, tan hand that reached down to help you stand up.

You’ll remember the backwards Longhorns cap on his head, the way his green eyes flashed with amusement and the blinding white of his smile as he helped you to your feet, hand lingering just a moment too long in yours. You’ll remember the way it felt like someone had set off fireworks inside of you, fingers tingling where they touched his skin and your stomach swooping like you were on a roller coaster.

You’ll remember exactly what he said to you: “Well, that was definitely the most entertaining attempt of the night.”

You giggled, a little dazed by his chiseled features, by the way he seemed to only see you in that moment, by the force of his charisma.

“I’m Jake. What’s your name, beautiful?”

For a Thursday night, the Hard Deck was surprisingly packed.

The Daggers had managed to claim their usual spot by the pool table, but despite their cramped quarters they practically had to shout over the sounds of drunken sailors and the oldies blasting out of the jukebox to be heard. The table next to Bob was crowded with beer bottles, the bespectacled WSO having waved off Penny when she stopped by to clear them, promising the group would clean up after themselves. Natasha and Bradley were in the middle of some kind of dumb darts competition, being heckled by Bob and a tipsy Rueben, who had his arm slung around the former’s shoulders for balance.

Jake took in the scenery, smug grin on his face, before sinking his final pool ball with a flourish.

“And that’s game, gentlemen,” he said, turning to Javy and Mickey, who were shaking their heads with frustration.

“Can’t believe I let you talk me into betting against him,” Mickey sighed, shuffling through his wallet for a $20 bill. Javy just shrugged and threw a playful punch against his friend’s shoulder, before asking for a rematch.

“Let that be a lesson, Fanboy,” Jake chuckled, making a big show of examining the bill before pocketing it. “Never bet against Jake Seresin. They call me a golden boy for a reason.”

“Who’s ‘they?’ Everyone we know just calls you a dick,” Nat called out, making her way back to the table for her drink. Taking a look at the chaos on the table, she rolled her eyes before starting to gather up a handful of empty bottles. “C’mon, Fanboy. Help me clear some of these and I’ll buy you a beer to drown your sorrows in.”

He ran over to help, allowing Javy to slide over to Jake and elbow his buddy in the side.

“10 o’clock, there’s a whole table of pretty ladies. The blonde’s had her eye on you all night and her friend with the locs is crazy hot,” he murmured, as Jake took a subtle look over at the table in question. 5 or 6 women were crammed into a booth, and judging by the tiara on one of their heads, they were out celebrating a birthday. “Wingman?” the younger aviator asked, holding out his fist for Jake to bump it.

For a half second, he contemplated turning his best friend down.

It wasn’t like Jake wasn’t attracted to the blonde, who was, indeed making eyes at him from across the room. She was exactly his type, all bright smiles and smokey bedroom eyes, her curves and long legs poured into tight jeans. She had an air of confidence that made it clear she knew just how hot she was.

He knew that if he strolled over and gave her his best All-American smile and some of that Southern charm, he could probably win her over. They’d flirt and dance a bit and then he’d drive them back to one of their places, have some decent-to-excellent sex and he’d be asleep shortly after midnight.

It seemed fun. It seemed obvious. It seemed, quite honestly, a little boring to him.

Maybe it was because he turned 35 a few months ago and the idea of going home to his own bed after a night out was starting to seem more and more appealing to him. Maybe it was because he spent so much time trying to convince his fellow Daggers that he wasn’t a complete asshole that he didn’t want to risk them changing their minds again.

Or maybe he was just a little jealous.

Jake would see the way Rueben’s face lit up when he talked about his wife, how he would brag about every milestone his 3-year-old daughter was reaching. He felt awkward about his lack of wedding knowledge when a pink-eared Bob would ask the squad for their opinion on something for his upcoming nuptials. He’d try to ignore the weird sinking feeling in his stomach when he’d overhead Nat and Mickey picking out a restaurant for their weekly brunch double date with their respective girlfriends.

And despite the fact that he had spent most of his adult life doing whatever he could to avoid those kinds of situations, now he was starting to wonder if maybe … maybe he’d be a little happier if he had been able to settle down with someone of his own.

Oof. That thought made Jake’s chest tighten uncomfortably. So he pushed it down, smiled as wide as he could and first bumped Javy. “Wingmen for life, Coyote. Lead the way.”

If you had to spend one more minute squeezed up against this bar, wedged between a couple aggressively making out and a trio of rowdy Navy men who were trying to sing along to Queen, you were going to scream.

“Just come for a drink or two. This place is super chill for a Navy bar, I promise,” you muttered darkly under your breath, repeating the words your friend and new coworker had used to convince you to come out tonight.

Between a frantic weekend spent unpacking all of your belongings into your new studio apartment and a very long first week at your new job, all you had wanted to do was bury yourself under a blanket and watch Real Housewives until your brain melted out of your ears.

But you were trying to be more social. You wanted to focus more on your friendships. Do things that were good for you. That was the whole point of this move.

So instead, you were leaning so far over the bar top that you could feel the edge digging into your ribs, shouting a drink order at the (admittedly, very sweet and slightly overwhelmed) bartender. She had just placed the two beers and margarita you had asked for down in front of you when another hand appeared and tried to snatch them up.

“Hey!” you yelled, tossing the bills in your hand onto the bar as you reached up to catch the offender by the wrist before they made off with your hard-won drinks. “Asshole! Drop them, those are my beers! What the fuck?”

You swiped up the cocktail with your free hand, lest it meet the same fate and turned around to see what kind of absolute monster thought they had the right to steal drinks.

Annoyingly, he was beautiful.

Tall and broad, with sun-kissed skin and a blindingly-white smile, which held a hint of sheepishness as he realized that he had been caught red handed. There was something familiar about the way he ducked his head a little, before peering at you from beneath his eyelashes.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. I thought those were mine. Didn’t mean to steal from you,” his low, twangy drawl went right through you, settling warm and comfortingly in your stomach. “I’d offer to buy you a drink to make it up to you, but, well …”

Texas. That’s where that accent is from, you thought, instantly being transported back to your nursing school program in Austin. How many wannabe cowboys had spoken with that same drawl, trying to charm you and your friends during a night out? Not too many of them had succeeded with you, especially not after —

“Jake? Jake Seresin!?”

It had to be him. You’d know that smile anywhere, had seen those green eyes in your dreams for far too long after you both had moved on. He was bigger now, muscles more pronounced and jaw more defined, more of those cheeky smile lines creasing around his eyes. His voice was deeper too, some of his accent smoothed out after years in the military, but it had to be.

He swore under his breath, eyes widening as he made the connection as well. He practically whispered your name, as if it felt a bit rusty on his tongue, but the second you nodded, he repeated it louder, warmer, like he was slipping back into his favorite jacket.

“Shit, how long’s it been?” Jake wondered aloud, looking you up and down as if to make a note of every infinitesimal change that had occurred since you last saw each other. “You look amazing, darling. Beautiful as ever.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks heating up at his compliment. Jake always had a way of making you feel like the most special person in the room — but then again, he made everyone feel that way, as you later found out. “You look good too, Seresin. Like a proper, respectable Navy man,” you concede, though the words don’t sound nearly as begrudging as you hoped.

You’re rewarded with one of those thousand-watt grins and for a second, you’re back in a Texas dive bar, flirting with the most handsome man you’ve ever seen to the tune of some cheesy country-rap remix.

“I am good,” Jake promises, eyes locked on yours, and you think he might be back there with you, leaning up against the jukebox, the floors sticky under your feet. “I don’t know how respectable I am, but I am definitely good.”

His voice drags out that sentence, low and flirtatious, and butterflies fill your stomach the same way they did all those years ago. You can practically feel the ghost of his big hands on your hips, your lower back, caressing your cheek as the world disappeared around you that night, just the two of you creating your own little world in the corner of that dingy bar. Your lips part — to say what, exactly, you’re not sure — and you see his eyes drop to them for just a moment before —

The woman behind the bar calls out “Hangman!” with a tone of voice that makes it clear that it’s not the first time she’s said it and you both startle and turn to see her holding four bottles of beer out towards Jake, a look of exhaustion on her face. He jumps forward to take them, apologies pouring from his lips and he pointedly shoves several bills into the tip jar in order to earn an eye roll and a small smile from her. Two sweating bottles in each hand, he turns back to you and almost seems a bit relieved that you’re still standing there. (As if you’ve ever been able to walk away from him.)

“I have to drop these off with my friends,” Jake says, nodding to a table somewhere behind you, “And you should probably get those drinks to the people who sent you over here. But do — do you wanna catch up? There’s a deck out back with some tables, it’s usually pretty quiet this time of night.” He waits for you to nod, before pressing a quick kiss to your cheekbone. “I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

With one more charming smile, he’s off into the crowd and — not for the first time in your life — you’re left speechless and a little stunned, staring after Jake Seresin.

You’re not sure if the goosebumps on your arms are from the chill of the California evening or the way that Jake hasn’t stopped staring at you since he joined you outside on the deck. You shift slightly against the wooden bench of the picnic table, overwhelmed by the intensity of having all of the blonde’s attention on you again for the first time in a decade.

“So …” you begin, and your voice seems to startle Jake out of his thoughts slightly. “You’re a California boy now? I never thought you’d ever leave Texas.”

He grins and shakes his head slightly. “Well, when Top Gun calls and offers you a permanent station, you’d be a fool not to accept. And not to brag, but they do only offer that to the best of the best.”

“Please, Seresin. You love to brag,” you fire back, watching those green eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Well, it’s not bragging if it’s the truth. And the truth is, darling, that I am one hell of a pilot.” Jake takes a swig from his beer, before leaning a bit closer into you, like he wants to study your reactions. “What about you? What brings you out to sunny San Diego?”

“New job,” you say shortly, shrugging your shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. “Moved from the ICU to the ED, so I figured a change of location would go well with a change of pace.”

Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes and you hope he can’t tell. There’s no reason to tell your ex — boyfriend? Fling? — whatever that you followed a guy out here, especially since that whole — relationship? Affair? Complete and utter heartbreaking disaster? — situation crashed and burned almost immediately.

“Mmhmm,” Jake says, as if he can tell that’s not the whole story, and he takes another sip before seemingly deciding to let you off the hook. “And what did you boyfriend have to say about moving halfway across the country? Or did someone manage to finally lock you down after all these years?”

There’s a small, sinking feeling in your stomach as you think about the real reason you moved here for a brief, heartbreaking second.

“No boyfriend. No husband, either,” you say, wiggling your left hand at him in order to illustrate your point, and clock the way his eyes almost look relieved by the sight of your empty finger. “What about you, Seresin? Where’s your sweet, Southern wife?”

He laughs, a little cocky but a little hollow at the same time. “You know I don’t really do commitment, darlin’,” he jokes and, boy, do you, nights of watching him flirt with other girls while you pouted in the corner of the bar flashing in your brain. You take a long swallow of your beer — just like you used to swallow down your pride back then — and roll your eyes at him.

“I swear, you look exactly the same when you roll your eyes like that,” Jake says, his smile softening around the edges. “Nobody ever managed to make it quite as cutting as you.”

“Nobody’s ever been quite as annoying as you,” you fire back, but there’s no real heat behind it. Jake’s eye light up like you just gave him a compliment rather than pointing out that he knew exactly how to press your buttons when you were younger.

“I seem to remember you used to like it when I was able to make your eyes roll. Or, at least, when I could make them roll back into your head …”

You sigh, doing your best not to let on how much that comment made your face heat with decade-old memories of you two tangled up in your sheets. “There it is …” you begin, but he just leans into you a little more, those green eyes traveling all over your face as he speaks.

“I’m just reminiscing, that’s all. Can ya blame me? You’re still so beautiful …” Jake responds, one hand reaching out to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear. His fingers brush against your cheek as he pulls away and you hope you can explain away the goosebumps that erupt on your skin as a product of the ocean breeze. “And I spent a lot of time trying to get you all worked up back then. Force of habit.”

You could give into it.

Allow the sheer force of Jake’s charisma and good looks to carry you away on a wave of old memories. The chemistry that always fizzled between you is clearly still there, the butterflies that have laid dormant in your stomach all this time just waiting for an excuse to be let free once again. It would be easy.

And it would be good — you two had always been good at the physical stuff. He was so gorgeous in so many ways and surprisingly generous when you were in bed. (Jake always took pride in being the best of the best, after all).

But once you woke up tomorrow morning, after all of the awkward goodbyes and the promises to call, then what? Jake Seresin doesn’t commit; he made that clear.

And you were still bruised from your last mess of a relationship, your heart feeling tender and aching in your chest most days. There’s no way that this doesn’t end the same way it did a decade ago, with you sobbing uncontrollably and Jake moving on to the next beautiful girl who manages to hold his attention.

So, with a self-control you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull yourself out of Jake’s undertow.

“Seresin, I … that’s probably a bad idea,” you say softly, eyes dropping down to the tabletop in between you. “I just got out of a relationship and I’m not in a place —”

He cuts you off by tilting your chin up to look at him and then making a point to pull his hands back and keep them to himself.

“Hey, hey, I get it. No worries. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, darlin’” Jake explains in a rush. “I’m sorry about that. Like I said, force of habit.”

You huff out a laugh and another eye roll and you can see him fight a grin at your reaction. “Only you would describe flirting with someone as a habit, Jake.”

“Well, I’m one of a kind.”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you giggle, glad to be back on solid, friendly ground with him.

Two hours later, Jake sent you off with a hug and his phone number as you and your friend climbed into an Uber and set off for home. She had a few questions about the “dreamboat” of a Naval aviator that you had apparently dated back in school, but was a little too excited about recounting her own evening to push you for details. It wasn’t until you arrived back at your apartment and collapsed on your couch that you realized Jake had been texting you the whole time you were in the car.

Unknown: It’s Jake 🫡😜🤠⭐️🍻🏈😉

Unknown: Hope you get home safe, beautiful. It was great to catch up with you.

Unknown: And I would be an embarrassment to the U.S. Navy if I didn’t at least offer to be your tour guide around San Diego

Unknown: I know all the best spots after all

Unknown: So text me if you want to grab lunch or something

Unknown: Or if you finally want to learn how to surf

Unknown: But give me fair warning beforehand, I remember how bad your balance is lol

You: lol I forgot you text every single thought in your brain

You: but having a tour guide sounds nice

You: we could get brunch this weekend and you can give me the highlights?

You had only just begun to take your shoes off, resigned to finally get off the couch, when your phone pinged.

Jake 🤠 🧡: I know just the place

You gave his text a quick thumbs up and got ready for bed smiling the whole time.

-—-—-—-—-—

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! I don’t know if I’m going to have a regular schedule with this or anything, but I will do my best! Thank you for reading about the absolute menace that is Jake Seresin

Tagging some people who asked:

@tvshowgirl81 @redbarn1995 @stoneyggirl @keepingitlokiii @averyhotchner @dizzybee03 @olliepig @lynnevanss @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem @mamaskillerqueen @kmc1989 @hookslove1592

#top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman x reader #my fic #jake hangman x you #fic: it's a bad idea right?

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kryptonitejelly · 1 year

Note

one of jake’s ex gfs noticing how protective he is with you and it causes an argument because he’s never that way with her😭

am i right to assume you were thinking of Flyboy Jake (because this was sent around the time of some protective flyboy Jake content and has languished in my drafts ever since; if it is not i apologise!) also, as I have said before - Flyboy Jake is definitely a bit of an ass, pining for someone while dating another girl. so don’t tell me and don’t read on if you don’t like it!

anyway, college flyboy!

“You are so protective of her,” the accusation makes Jake look up at his girlfriend who is seated beside him. He takes in the daggers in her eyes, lips pulled into a thin, grim line, and arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“I am not,” Jake mumbles, his hand reaching out for his pint of beer, taking a swig, his eyes floating across the bar towards you. He sees you laugh, throwing your head back, shoulders shaking with glee as you and a two of his team mates wait around for service at the bar counter.

“Your eyes have followed her since she left the table,” Jake’s girlfriend accuses again, and Jake places the pint back down on the table. He forces himself to tear his gaze away from you, to refocus back in his girlfriend.

“She’s been my best friend forever,” he says simply, the explanation saying it all, while managing to be slightly weak.

“Yeah, friend,”his girlfriend says again, emphasising the word, “try not to forget that?” She all but snaps, and Jake feels his brow begin to furrow. He opens his mouth to shoot out a retort when he hears raised voices from the direction of the bar counter, your direction.

He closes his mouth, head snapping towards you; only to find two of his teammates stacked up in front of you, staring down a drunk looking guy who is sneering at them both.

“What the fuck?” Jake mutters under his breath, as he pushes himself to a stand. A quick assessment of the situation tells him that it was probably a case of unwanted attention.

“Are you really going to her?” His girlfriend says, and Jake turns his head to look at her, the annoyance now written clearly over his features.

“Yes,” he says simply, tone cool and emotionless, eyes darting back to you as he sees you rub the side of your arm, while shrinking back against the bar counter, “you can either wait here, or, if you decide you are still going to have a problem with it, leave.”

Jake’s words are ruthless, but all he can think about in that moment is you. The legs of his chair scrape back against the floor, as he begins his stride over to you.

“Do we have a problem here?” His voice, hard, angry, breaks through, and his teammates shift in unison, maintaining their human barricade between you and the drunk, all while allowing Jake to step in, placing himself closest to you,m.

“He tried to get handsy with her,” one of his teammates supplies, the three men now staring down the drunk who is growing less aggressive and more hesitant as the second past.

“Apologise,” Jake demands, arms crossing over his puffed chest.

The drunk opens his mouth, as if to protest, when the other of Jake’s teammate sighs loudly, before speaking in a bored tone, “if you knew better you would listen to the man.”

“I- I’m sorry,” the words rush out of the drunk’s mouth, his Adams apple bobbing along the column of his throat as he gulps in a display of clear distress.

“Leave,” Jake orders cooly, as he takes a step forward; the drunk doesn’t need to be told twice.

“You ok?” Jake watches him scurry out of sight before he turns to look at you, gaze running down from head to toe, examining you for any signs of hurt.

“I’m okay,” you say, eyes locking onto his. You see the anger walled behind his eyes, so you offer a small smile, reaching out with a hand to gently brush your fingers against an elbow. Jake loosens the cross his arms have across his chest as he feels your touch against his skin.

His teammates grab their drinks, and yours, which have now been slid across the counter by the bartender. It allows Jake the freedom to slide his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as the three men guide you back to your table. It must, you find yourself musing to yourself, be quite the sight.

“Where is-” you begin to ask only for Jake to cut you off with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders that you feel because of your proximity to him.

“She had some friends to meet.”

“Oh,” you say, brow raising slightly in confusion, but let yourself be steered into your chair by Jake, who makes it a point to slide into the chair beside your, his knee bumping into yours, his jean covered leg pressing lightly against your own for the rest of the evening, arm slung casually across the back of your chair, a brand of casual dominance, Jake Seresin’s own brand of protection for you - something he always best achieved by letting the world know just whose girl you were.

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jaidens · 10 months

Text

You Made A Rebel Of A Careless Man's Careful Daughter — Jake Seresin

pairing [s] : jake seresin x mitchell!reader

warning [s] : petey doesn't like jakey dating his baby | jake is so baby girl.

a/n [s] : this trope has been used so many times, but I wanted my own take on it! [ my requests are open!! ]

Jake knew in the back of his mind, it was a horrible and disgusting idea to fall in love with his Top Gun instructor's daughter. How could he not? Your smile that captivated him and made him almost lose in a game of Aviator Football. Your voice that made him visibly soften when you would walk into The Hard Deck with your father. He would try his hardest to get your attention.

Who knew he already had it?

You had approached him after your father left with Penny. His soft green eyes watched you closely as you messed with his cotton shirt. You had told him, “We can go out. However, we have to hide it from Daddy. He's already complained about you..”. Jake took that to heart. He didn't speak to you much whenever Pete was around, but when he left, it was all conversation and love.

Currently, you were sitting close to Jake, it wasn't on purpose or anything. Your dad wanted to scoot in which ending up sending everyone down a seat making you and Jake right next to each other. Your dad smiled at the table before ordering drinks and holding conversation with Payback.

You turned your head to find Jake staring at you. He gave you a small smile, putting his foot over yours under the table. You smiled back at him. The atmosphere was thick and your dad stared at Jake like he knew something was up. Jake tried to hold a conversation with Pete before it fell apart because your dad was annoyed.

Your dad didn't enjoy his presence very much. Ever since the Bradley incident, he had been almost avoiding the Texan. You tried to defend Jake to your dad, but he would immediately shut you down. He told you how careless Jake was and how he didn't care about anyone else other than himself.

You knew that was completely wrong. Jake had so much care for everyone. He had told you how he took care of his elderly grandma for a summer whenever she was sick. How he loved and babysat his nephews and nieces for his sister’s all the time. Most importantly, he cared and loved you so much.

After an hour of hanging out with the team, your dad told everyone he was leaving and how “it was getting late for him.” Bradley laughed and told him it was only 2200! You laughed along with everyone else before standing up and giving your good byes to your dad. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and a strong hug.

“Bye Daddy.. I'll be home at 12.” You told him as he said goodbye and gave you some cash for drinks. You didn't have the heart to tell him that your tab was on Jake's. You smiled as he walked out of the door. You did a small dance before quickly sitting down and letting Jake wrap his arm around your shoulders.

The atmosphere immediately lifted, giving everyone full reign to start talking and laughing loudly. It was obviously uncomfortable to have your instructor at your table while you were all drinking. You laid your head on Jake's shoulder as you took the last sips of your drink. “Your dad really doesn't like me, does he?”

You frowned at Jake before nodding. “Yeah.. ever since you yelled at Brad. Well, I think he also despises your flyboy attitude acting like he doesn't have it too.” You told him as Jake rubbed your shoulder with his hand. It was upsetting to know that your father didn't know the sweet and kind man Jake was to you. Your dad only knew the dangerous pilot who put himself before people. The one who yelled at his dead best-friends kid. That was the only person Pete knew.

After a while, your table had gotten less crowded. Bob and Fanboy going to go play on the arcade machines, Payback and Brad were going at it on the darts. Natasha had gone home and you were officially alone with Jake. You heard him quietly singing along to a song that played on the jukebox. “I wish we could tell my Dad.” You admitted while you stared up at the small TV that was playing Dirty Dancing.

“What did you say baby?” Jake asks gently, leaning further up on the padded bench to give you more room to lay. “I said,” You say, lying further onto his chest, “I wish we could tell my Dad we’re dating. I mean, it's been five months and it's surprising he still hasn't caught on.” A laugh falls from your lips.

“For how he acts.. I'm actually surprised too. However, I'm pretty sure if we told him, he would kill me personally.”

It's a warm day on the beach, the warm salty air falls through Penny’s hair as she's talking to you about your dad. You're smiling at her as you watch the young pilots battle it out over a beach football. Jake stands there with all of his glory, wrestling Bradley. You're practically drooling whenever Penny snaps you back. “You’re drooling, girl.”

You swiftly turn your head back to Penny. You shake your mind with any dirty thoughts you had about Jacob. “No I wasn't!” You defend yourself quickly, as Penny cocks her eyebrow. “Honey, I'm dating your dad. You two are not that different.” She says, her hand on your shoulder as she gives you a small smile.

“I wish I could tell dad about him. I was talking to—” You're cut off whenever your dad walks next to the picnic table you and Penny are sitting at. “Tell me what?” You swing your head around and you're in full eye contact with your dad as he kisses Penny's forehead and hands her a strawberry ice cream.

“Oh nothing. Just about a video I saw of a puppy.” You say as your dad walks around and kisses you too, pinching your shoulder gently. “How was getting yelled at by another Admiral?” You joke with him as you watch him stick his tongue out. You see Jake staring at you and you know what to do.

“Hey Dad,” You say, “My purse is in the bar.. do you think you could go find it?” He nods and goes to find it. You give Jake a thumbs up and he runs over to you. “Hey baby..how are you doing?” You laugh at him and peck his lips. “Im good baby. Bradshaw giving you a hard time?” Your arms wrap around his neck as you smile at him. “We gotta hang out quick, my dad will somehow notice that my purse is on the table.”

Your finger slips down his abs. You were completely and utterly obsessed with how he looked, how he carried himself, and everything. That was until...

“You dirty bastard! Get your hands off my daughter!” Your father, in all of his 5'7 glory begins chasing after the man who was five inches taller than him. It's embarrassing, you have to admit, watching them chase each other. Eventually, it comes in a full circle ending up with your dad huffing as Jake runs to stand next to you.

“Really honey? Him? The one guy I told you not to date?” Pete says while Penny is trying to grab her breath after laughing at his idiotic behavior. “Dad, I'm 32. Why are you chasing after Jake?” You're almost crying too as you try and catch your breath with your hand on Jake's shoulder. Penny finally catches her breath and calls Pete up to the deck. Whenever he comes up to her, she smacks the side of his head.

“I apologize Jake. Apparently some fifty-seven year olds don't understand that they're not 27 anymore.” Penny says, rubbing Pete's back as he tries to pretend he isn't still struggling to catch his breath. Jake gives her a click with his tongue and says, “It’s all fine. Don't you worry.”

Your hand finds Jake’s chest as you tell him to sit down with you. “I’m sorry Jake. I just.. never really trusted you very well. However, if you hurt her, you won't be trusting anyone.” Your dad threatens and you watch Penny roll her eyes. “Oh, I'm sure Mr. Mitchell. I won't ever hurt her. She's a love bomb.”

You smile at Jake as he interlocks your hand with his. Penny asks him about what he does back in Texas. He holds a surprisingly well conversation with her, mentioning how his aunt was a bartender as well and taught him some tricks. Penny loves him, you can tell. Pete stares at him with a furrowed eyebrow.

The warm sun begins to fall to the horizon. You grab Jake's hands and pull him to the sand. You sit down on it, you're watching the sunset slowly fall. “It’s so beautiful isn't it?” You said, under your breath. Jake sits his head on your shoulder, giving a small kiss to your cheek. “Oh definitely. Just like this beautiful girl I know. Her dad is crazy, but she's the love of my life.”

You turn your head and you see his dumb smile that makes your heart race. You feel like you're back at high school with your first “real” boyfriend. You push him into the sand and crawl on top of him. You kiss him slowly, his hands falling to your back and holding you. After pulling away, he smiles at you. “Thank you, Jake. For everything. I guess you're gonna have to deal with my Dad for a little longer.” You say in his chest as the sea waves softly. The sky is dark and peaceful. Crowds of stars fill the sky.

Jake's arm goes up, his finger pointing at two constellations. “That one,” He begins, “Is Cepheus; The King. And the one right next to it is The Queen, Cassiopeia.” You stare at the two constellations that sit together. You almost imagine that would be you and Jake whenever you've grown older together.

“Wow...” This is the only word you can let out. It's absolutely eye-catching. The stars twinkle softly, no clouds. It seems fake, as Jake begins explaining more about different constellations. He told you how his Grandmother always loved telling him about them whenever he was in high school.

“C’mon, we gotta get home. I have school in seven hours.” Jake says, standing up and holding out his hand for you. He gives you his keys and tells you to go and he would get your stuff. You're absolutely giddy. You can believe he has you smiling so hard and making your body shiver. Jake is an entirely new feeling. You unlock his huge truck and climb into it. You turn the car on and the radio lets out a soft tune of Randy Travis.

Jake comes a few seconds later, your purse in his collection. He pulls open the door and jumps in. “It’s our song.” You mention, watching the way he turns it up. “I know baby. It always reminds me of my grandparents. They always told me, “Jacob, if your wife doesn't like this song, I don't think I'd fancy her very much,” Gosh, he had the thickest accent in Texan history, swearing on my life.” You let out a laugh and pat his hand. He puts the windows down and his hand pulls the shift back and begins to drive out of the bar. Jake's hand falls to your thigh, slowly rubbing his thumb up and down it.

You watch the way he slowly sings along with the song. He's the greatest thing that's ever been yours. “I love you.” Is all he says, taking his eyes off the road for a second to stare at you. “So much. And I'm hoping your dad will understand that some day. All he knows me as is the dickhead pilot.” Jake confesses to you, giving the road a small frown. You can't believe that Jake would ever think of himself like that. “But you aren't, baby. You're the guy who babysits his nephews and nieces. You're the guy that baby talks to any animal he sees.”

You notice the way his cheeks turn a dusty pink. “That’s the guy I fell in love with. That whole dickhead pilot is a thing you cover yourself with. You have to show people what you truly are.” He stares at you with his lips pushed together in a thin line. His eyes have a glassy shine against the waterline of his eyes. “That means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“I love you, Jacob. I hope you truly know that.”

#jake seresin #jake seresin top gun #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x mitchell!reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin oneshot #jake seresin fluff #danielarussoowrites #im obsessed with him and his abs

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topgun-imagines · 11 months

Text

What Can I Say?

Requested: yes

Summary: Jake gives you news that you never would have expected.

Word count: 0.7k

Warnings: none

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

“Please, say something, Sweets,” Jake pleaded with you. “Anything, please.” The two of you had been standing in silence for the past five minutes. There was a stunned look on your face as you stared at his anxious expression. You honestly had no idea what to say to your friend's shocking news.

The constant ringing of your doorbell drew you up from your couch with a groan. “For God's sake, I’m coming!” You called before you ripped your door open, almost hard enough to pull it off the hinges. Just as you were about to rip the person a new one, your face softened at the sight of Jake. The pilot was standing on your front porch with an anxious smile. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey, darlin,’” He grinned slightly. The nickname almost made you blush. Jake had been calling you nicknames like that ever since the two of you became friends. “Can I come in?” With a nod, you stepped aside and allowed Jake into your home.

Making his way to your living room, Jake stopped in his tracks before turning to face you. Your eyebrows furrowed at his nervous state. “Everything alright, Flyboy?” That put a small smile on his face.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes drifted downward. You waited patiently for him to being speaking. “I just,” He started, nerves shining through his voice more prominent than the sun. “I really needed to talk to you.” Now his words were scaring you. Throughout your friendship, the two of you hardly fought. Sure, there were a few occasions when you would have disagreements, but you could always push through them easily. Now, you had no idea what to expect.

You stepped forward, setting a hand on his exposed forearm. The muscle flexed under your touch. “Jake? What’s going on?” Watching him with worried eyes, you waited for the pilot to explain himself.

When his hands grasped yours, you sensed the severity of the matter even more than before. His eyes were wide as he decided on his words. As he squeezed your hands, you began to prepare for the worst.

“Well Sweets,” He started, a soft but dazzling smile taking over his face. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Laughing quietly to himself, Jake’s eyes lock with yours. There was a look in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. One that almost looked like… love? His hands squeezed yours. “I’m so in love with you.” He softly exhaled, almost breathlessly. It was so quiet that you could hardly hear him. But you knew what he said.

Over the ringing in your ears, it was hard to tell what he said next.

That brought you to where you were now. Jake’s hands were still holding yours, only now, there was a look of terror on his face, as if he had just made the worst mistake possible. Your wide eyes were fixed on his nervous expression as you processed the information.

Your best friend was in love with you. You never would have guessed that that’s what he had to tell you. Here you were, prepared for the worst, and Jake tells you something that you had been waiting for him to say for years.

When you and Jake first became friends, you found it hard to not fall for the cocky pilot. You had tried, no matter how much crap Nat gave you, you had tried. And yet, you couldn’t help but fall for the man. Without noticing, you began to loosen your hold on Jake’s hands. His face fell. He should have known that this would only make things complicated between you two. The pilot expected you to pull away and distance yourself from him.

What he didn’t expect was for you to launch yourself into his arms and curl around his torso. You ginned into the soft fabric of his T-shirt. Slowly, Jake’s arms wound around your smaller frame. His chin rested on the top of your head. This may not have been what he was expecting, but he sure wasn’t complaining.

You tilted your head up, eyes locking with his with a wide smile. Jake returned your smile, the weight on his shoulders lifting as you squeezed your arms around his waist. “I love you, too, Flyboy.” His arms tightened around you, chin dropping to rest on your head with a loving smile. He loved you so, so much.

a/n: Thank you all for reading! Requests are open.

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @supercatgirl006 @blueoorchid @dempy @dreamgirl3300 @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @randomfangirl97 @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @genius2050 @ice-doc-val @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @natt-67 @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

hellooo!

i have a request - i’m obsessed with your writings (truly a god’s gift to this fandom) 🥹 i’m thinking grey’s anatomy inspired jake x (aviator)reader them having a conversation along the lines of ”stop looking at me like that” ”like what?” ”like you’ve seen me naked” after they hooked up and see each other at work or something ughh 🥵

hope all is well and that u have an amazing day <3

𝟖 𝐎'𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

"If you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to read you the entirety of Title IX on our lunch break."

"That sounds like more work for you," Jake says with a chuckle. He lets all his weight rest on his cocked hip, tutting. He's chewing on a tooth pick, watching your nose scrunch as you squint at the sun to watch them work on your jet. "Besides--what's the harm in me getting a good look at you?"

The sun beats down on your face as you stand on the tarmac before Jake. You're watching your jet get inspected, your helmet tucked under your arm, and Jake won't leave you alone. You can't say that you mind it all that much--but there are appearances to keep up around here, especially around the other flyboys that are horsing around further down the tarmac. You're not supposed to get along with Jake--no one is, really--and the way he's making googely-eyes at you is surely going to give everyone the opposite idea.

But you can't help the certain elation that captures your chest when you feel his aspen-colored eyes outline your form from the point of your jaw to the lift in your boots. Usually, it would be easier for you to effectively tell him to fuck off. After last night, though--things feel a bit muddled.

"The harm is that everyone's gonna know we fucked if you keep looking at me like that," you say curtly, taking a shuddering breath.

Jake barks out a laugh.

"Look at you like what?" He challenges.

You finally turn towards him, trying to maintain that sour look on your face.

Fuck, if he isn't a beautiful creature. He looks even more beautiful than he usually does, entirely sun kissed and proud as he stretches to his full height beside you. The tooth pick he's chewing is making his jaw flex so deliciously, the way you know it had when he was sucking mercilessly on your clit last night in the darkness of your bedroom.

And he is looking at your eyes, the way they dazzle in the unforgiving sunlight, the way you're frowning up at him even though he knows you don't want to. He's thinking about last night, too--of course he is. God, he doesn't know if he'll ever stop thinking about last night. The way your hips felt when they were flush against his, the way your warm walls squeezed him. He filled you up just right--both of you knew it.

The two of you even woke up together this morning--on accident, of course. You pretended not to be embarrassed as you hastily got dressed, but he couldn't help the ease and contentment he felt just from being in your presence so early in the morning. He loved how flustered you were as you tried to roll your eyes and groan through the whole morning-after thing. And he loved that you had little bits of mascara under your eyes and what your hair looked like in the morning--soft, very soft.

Your eyes widen and you poke him in the chest with an indignant pointer finger.

"Like that!" You hiss, locking your jaw. "Like you've seen me naked!"

Jake just grins--something in your chest softens. You fall back on your heels and think fuck. Last night definitely wasn't the last time despite what you told him when you woke up this morning.

"But, honey!" Jake says, stroking your cheek before you can dodge his touch. "I have seen you naked."

You all but growl--he keeps grinning, even pinching your cheek.

"I'm gonna shoot you down myself," you tell him. You turn, determined to have the last word. But then something--you're not sure if it's lust or affection or pity or insecurity or all of the above--stops you. You turn and look at him over your shoulder and he's still watching you, grinning. "Eight o'clock."

He salutes.

"Idiot," you call.

But as soon as your cheek is turned, you're smiling.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞!! 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭!! 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬!!

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im-poe-dameron · 2 years

Note

you're upset one night, and you don't know where to go, so you end up at your enemy's house, and as they open the door, you stay silent for a second, before saying (with tears in your eyes) ''i don't know where else to go.'' your enemy doesn't say anything. instead they pull you into their arms, giving you a shoulder to cry on.

- back at it again with another prompt! could i possibly get this one with my other favorite flyboy, poe dameron?

IT'S ALWAYS BELONGED TO YOU

a/n: okay so this has been in my inbox for SO LONG, but i got a huge spark of inspiration and was in the mood to write for poe. so out came whatever this fic is of enemies to lovers meets heated arguments meets well...........the good stuff. i finished this tipsy and half asleep so i don't even know if it makes sense but enjoy my darling!! (yes the title is from will turner). unedited and not beta read so there is most likely mistakes.

summary: injured from a fight at the cantina you seek out someone unexpected.

pairing: poe dameron x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k+ (i guess?!)

warnings: explicit so minors BEGONE, cussing, so much angst, bacta shot (aka involving a needle), pain, arguing, mentions of death, fingering, cum eating, overstimulation (blink and you'll miss it), fluff.

The frigid feeling of the night on your bare skin kept you from staying still and debating on whether or not this was a good idea. Somewhere in the brawl you forgot your jacket hanging on the back of your chair. The same jacket that once belonged to your father. You wanted to go back for it, but you’d been tossed out of the cantina for a reason and re-entering didn’t seem like a feasible option.

With reluctance filling every bone of your body, you made your way through the rain and back towards the camp you’d been tasked with protecting. You weren’t sure why you were put in the same group of people as the man who hated you so thoroughly is hurt at times–but there you were. A part of you wanted to fall into your slightly uncomfortable cot for the night; giving up without another thought.

Only you knew that if you showed up with a split lip and cuts on your knuckles, you’d be reprimanded to Corellia and back. Which left you with only one other option.

Sighing, you tightened your still bleeding hands into fists, trying to ignore the chills that spread rapidly down your spine.

His door looked more threatening than a whole horde of stormtroopers. It was a ridiculous notion to come to, but there you were–unable to simply knock and ask for help. You were hopeless when it came to admitting that you needed it in the first place. Asking someone–let alone the man who loathed your very being–made you realize that you’d rather face those stormtroopers.

What were twenty men with blasters compared to this situation?

A cough wracked your body, sending a searing pain down your side as you practically shivered. It was then you realized the bastard from earlier has most likely snapped a rib or two.

How would you explain this? How could you come back from this?

Nothing was worse than asking someone you considered an enemy for help.

Fighting the urge to tuck your tail between your legs and run, you raised your arm–knocking assuredly on the door. There was absolutely no turning back now. Which is what you were afraid of.

The echo of rain hitting against metal rang in the clearing behind you–reminding you of what you’d have to walk through in order to get home. If he said no, laughed in your face and refused to help, you’d be horrified but you would go. After all, the both of you had treated one another with enough cruelty to make even Leia herself shocked. You weren’t even sure what caused this whole situation in the first place.

Why did you hate each other?

Why did you want to see him hurt and why did he want to do the same to you?

For months you could barely be in the same room together for more than five minutes before you were going at each other’s throats. Yet you were pretty sure if someone asked you what started it all–neither of you would have an answer. It just seemed to materialize out of thin air. The hatred seeping so far into your hearts, you couldn’t find a good enough reason to let go of it.

You vaguely heard him shuffling towards the door, a thump of him hitting something filtering through the metal.

There was still time. You could sprint the other way and forget this whole night ever happened. You’d patched yourself up numerous times before. Why did you need him to do it this time?

You were five seconds away from turning tail and running when the door slid open to reveal a shirtless and sleep deprived Poe Dameron. The slight shock on his face at seeing you was almost laughable. Except you then realized–you couldn’t laugh without doubling over in pain. The surprise quickly slipped from his face, being replaced by a sour look you would recognize anywhere.

“Hi,” you said softly, tucking your hands behind your back to hide the sight of your split open skin. That however didn’t stop his eyes from falling to your bleeding lip. “I know I have no right to ask this–”

“Who did that to you?”

The small tendrils of heat you’d been reaching for began to curl around your chest. Squeezing tightly until you had no choice but to acknowledge that they were there in the first place. Your rib still hurt like hell, yet hearing the slight worry in his voice counteracted that pain.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said quickly.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said–eyes hardening as they fell to the way you were leaning against the wall, placing more weight on your left side than your right.

You’d only ever seen him look this way during the heat of battle. When he was determined to come out victorious–the rage shining through the dark brown of his iris, nearly burning a hole through your chest. He was angry you were hurt. It was a surprise to come to that realization and yet it wasn’t an unwelcome one at that. Shifting your body, you tried to alleviate some of the pain that shot down to your leg–feeling like you might pass out from hypothermia the longer you stood there.

“Some guys in the cantina didn’t want to believe I was with the Resistance,” you huffed, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They are worse off than I am. Trust me.”

“Where are they?”

A flutter tore through your heart. You’d never felt this way in his presence before. Some part of you knew that you were supposed to have these emotions when it came to Poe, but that was just it. The knowledge that this felt wrong–made it feel so right.

Maybe that’s where the hatred came from. The incessant understanding that this–whatever it was–should not happen. Poe was going to one day be a general and you would remain just the way you were. An engineer who knew their way around a blaster in the midst of battle, but nothing more. So, you shoved down the emotions you were feeling until they settled at the bottom of your stomach–turning your body bitter.

Poe Dameron, no matter how appealing he was to you in this moment, would only ever be the asshole who called you names like slip and rookie.

“Why come here?” he asked, still taking up space in his doorway–keeping you outside.

He wanted an answer and just like when you were asked why you hated him–you couldn’t come up with a good one. Why were you there? Why did you feel the need to come to him? For all you knew he would do a shitty job in patching you up, but that didn’t seem to matter. You knew the answer and you also knew…you didn’t want to say the answer.

“I–I didn’t know where else to go,” you replied, lying through your clenched teeth.

Waiting for him to laugh–tell you to go back to your, too small, cot was worse than the pain now spreading like a fire through your chest. Except he merely stepped to the side, giving you enough space to hobble inside–tears building up in your eyes at the small act of kindness. His hand landed on your arm, dragging it up until your knuckles were directly in his line of sight.

“It’s not that bad,” you blurted out, forcing yourself not to wince when he led you to the small stool placed near what you assumed to be a kitchen.

“Bullshit,” he muttered.

Just that one simple word brought a smile to your face, but you promptly wiped it away as he returned with a bacta kit and a wrap from your waist. You hadn’t even told him that you suspected your ribs were broken. He could simply tell by the way you were holding yourself. Once again that sickeningly sweet warmth shoved its way to the center of your chest, spreading up towards your neck.

He didn’t speak as he cleaned your knuckles. Simply kept his head ducked down–his curls falling against his forehead as he tried to pull out whatever glass might have been there. The alcohol in your veins was gone the second his hand touched yours. The feeling sobering you up quicker than you would have liked. Which meant you now had to sit and try not to stare at his still half bare form; or the way the muscles on his back tightened as he hunched over slightly to get a closer look.

“How many were there?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Again you winced, averting your eyes when he lifted his head. “Four.” The word was mumbled under your breath, and it wasn’t until you felt his hand tighten around your own, did your gaze snap back to his.

“What the fuck slip,” he breathed.

“Look they weren’t–”

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” he snapped.

Rearing back, you tried not to flinch from the pain in your side. “I was perfectly fine on my own.”

“Perfectly fine huh?” He stood when you nodded defiantly. “Then explain why you came to me bleeding.”

“I told you I had nowhere else to go,” you said.

He scoffed, shoving the opposite stool he was on closer to you, and sitting down. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Why?” Now it was his turn to back away. “Why shouldn’t I lie to you? If you haven’t noticed Dameron–we hate each other. I can’t remember a single time you were ever nice to me willingly so give me one good reason why I should even consider telling you the truth.”

“Because–”

“Because why?” you shouted, no longer in control of the emotions that unraveled your very being.

This was inevitable in the end. A fight between foes–when the meaning was far more than either of you could comprehend at a time like this. If you weren’t injured, you’d have tried to shove him away from you. Put as much distance between the both of you as possible, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, let alone shift your body away far enough to clear your head.

“Because it’s us!” Dropping his head into his hands he rubbed at his eyes, oblivious to the way your mouth dropped open slightly. “It’s us. And yeah we fight, and we try to kill each other, but it’s us. I’d take a fucking bolt from a blaster for you.”

Your breath hitched, eyes watering at the sight of him tearing his own walls down for you. The same person he made everyone think he hated. You must have been stuck in a dream that found its fun in making something like this feel so real. It was twisted how much you longed for it to be real–how you wished you could break down your own walls just as he did.

“Poe–”

“If you don’t think that’s true then you obviously don’t know who pushed you out of the way in the last battle.”

You remember that day. A stormtrooper had gotten the upper hand, and while you were attempting to leap for an abandoned blaster on the floor, he had fired the shot. Someone shoved you of the way, effectively knocking your head against a rock and knocking you out. Except they had saved you from dying. Now–as you watched him run his hands through his hair to appease some of the stress building in his body, you realized how wrong you’d read every situation since then.

The walls holding in every built in emotion you had felt in the last year cracked. Severing your armor in two–allowing him to see a part of you that you closed off to everyone else.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed, eyes still wide.

He shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell me you took down the TIE fighter that nearly blew me to pieces?”

Freezing in place, you watched his lips tug upwards in a small grin as the truth finally spilled free. You weren’t even supposed to be in an X-Wing, but then you heard the panicked transmission call. They were out-manned, outgunned, and on the verge of being wiped out. So you did the smart thing. You jumped in a ship and attempted to help–saving Dameron halfway through the battle from the very brink of death.

“How did you–”

He leaned closer, invading whatever personal space you had left. “Rose can’t keep a secret to save her life after four glasses of Jet juice.”

“You knew this whole time that I saved you?” Exhaling a shaky breath, you tried to stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I figured you hated me, but not enough to watch me die.”

“Poe Dameron you’re an asshole.” It was said through a weak laugh, the tears spilling down your cheek as you realized how stupid the both of you were.

He smiled, cupping your face and wiping them away with a soft brush of his thumbs. “Right back at you slip.”

Shifting, you managed to lean your forehead against his, eyes shutting for a moment of peace. “Hey, why do you call me that?”

His huff of laughter washed across your face–his thumbs still stroking your cheeks. “Cause you slipped through my fingers when we first met and have been ever since.”

If you didn’t feel the absolute ache in your chest before that moment, you did now. Somehow he’d taken every time you’d burned with anger towards him and flipped it–causing you to burn, ache, long for him the longer you sat there. He was the reason you were still alive; the true reason why you came here for help instead of anywhere else. You wanted to see him–to know that the loathing he felt was just a cover for something he couldn't quite yet describe.

“Poe,” you whispered, placing your hands on his shoulder in order to keep him from moving. “I–” The breath in your lungs stuttered as you tried to get out words that you never realized you felt until tonight.

They were stuck, lodged in your throat as you realized what it would mean for you to finally admit that this was real. You’d have to open up to him–show him all the ugly bits you did your best to ignore, because they were far from perfect. You were far from perfect. Except he didn’t seem to care.

“I know,” he said. “Me too.”

Gripping lightly on his hair you dragged him closer until his lips sealed over yours, effectively stopping your heart. You were nearly positive that he’d stolen every breath you had ever taken and would take in the course of your life, with this one single kiss. Which only made you press against him harder, lips moving in a more swift manner to forget the pain you both put each other through to get here. How stupid were you to think you could make an enemy out of a fated lover.

Licking against his bottom lip, you felt his hand slide from your cheeks down to your waist. Gentle enough to avoid the wounded areas, but firm in the decision he was making. He chose you. He’d always choose you.

The taste of him would leave you inebriated for days to come. Peppermint and something so purely him that you wouldn’t have been able to put into words even if you tried. Somehow that left you wanton, desperate for more. It stuck to your taste buds, shooting lust through your veins. Curling your fingers even further into his hair, you tentatively opened your mouth to him, shivering when he took the initiative to lick slowly–hotly–against your tongue.

You could stay there for hours just doing this. Tasting him for as long as time allotted you to do so. However, fate had a slight difference in opinion, because as you moaned into his mouth, he gripped your side–sending a jarring pain down to the very tips of your toes. Crying out, you yanked him back by his hair; an audible groan tearing from his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you said, letting go instantly. “I just–”

“Where does it hurt?” He bypassed your apology, choosing instead to run his hands lightly over your side until he caught you noticeably flinching.

“It’s–fuck–I swear it’s fine.”

He shook his head, biting back his smile as you attempted to play off the pain that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor. Picking up the bacta kit he began to put it together. Really it would take a few seconds and it would be over with, but the way he glanced at you for permission before lifting the side of your shirt, felt like the act took longer than that. Biting down on your split lip, you ignored the way your body tensed when his warm calloused hands touched your side.

“This might hurt,” he mumbled, still so close that you could feel his breath against your arm.

“I can take it.”

Seeing him attempt to swallow down his smirk had your thighs clenching together. While you certainly hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, you weren’t upset when his mind fell to that conclusion. If you weren’t stuck in one spot, you’d have asked him to do far more than simply kiss you. Which made the entire situation that much more aggravating.

You could only kiss him.

Tensing as the needle punctured your skin, you forced yourself to think of anything other than the situation you were in. You couldn’t look at him–not when he was leaning forward like this, his lips inches away from your arm. Not when you could feel your control wavering, on the verge of snapping in two. Fuck your injuries, you’d heal eventually, but knowing Poe he’d demand that before either of you two did anything–you’d have to heal first.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, pressing down on your side to keep you from pulling away.

“Just hurry up.”

“I’d be able to if you sat still.”

Grumbling under your breath, you felt him pull away, the clink of the needle hitting the counter coming from behind you. “Is that it?”

“I’m going to have to bandage your waist until we can get you to the medic tomorrow.”

“The bacta won’t…heal my ribs?”

He chuckled, grabbing the bandages he had pulled out from the closet you all had in case of emergency. “No it won’t. Bones are a little more complicated.”

“Well fuck–” Wincing when you shifted back, you saw him pause a foot away from you. “What’s wrong? Not enough bandages?”

Poe stumbled over his words, his eyes dropping to your body before dragging back to your eyes. You felt the tug in your stomach at the sight of him openly admiring you, but you shoved it down. Too prideful to admit that you liked the look on his face and wanted to see it again and again.

“No–uh–I’m going to need you to–well–”

“Spit it out Dameron,” you said, a teasing smile spreading across your lips. “It can’t be that hard.”

The words had their intended effect. His eyes narrowed, hands gripping the bandages tighter as he stared at you without any embarrassment in his eyes. Something shifted in the air around you–nearly sparking a fire that slowly inched its way through your body.

“Take off your shirt.” His clipped tone caused your body to react in such a visceral way you nearly let an incoherent whine slip free.

“What?”

Stepping closer, he began to unravel the bandages. “Unless you want the bandages on top of the fabric.”

“No–I–” If you weren't being watched by him–stuttering underneath his gaze–you would have made a sly comment. No doubt causing yet another argument, but the look in his eyes quickened your pace.

It took you painfully shifting and him helping you–his hands dragging up your sides slow enough to have you shutting your eyes for some reprieve–for you to finally get the shirt off. You were better off simply sitting here rather than feeling him handle you as if you’d break any minute. It was maddening. Yet each time he wound his arms around you to keep the bandage straight, each brush of his hands along your bare skin, sent shivers down your spine.

“Almost done,” he said.

You opened your eyes, peeking at his face and felt your stomach bottom out. His jaw was clenched, eyes staring directly at his hands that didn’t stray from his task. What you thought was merely you overreacting at the loss of touch you’d experienced, was something else entirely. Poe had always been the man to keep perfect control over everything he worked on–a spitting image of the leader he was meant to be. At times you found it annoying, except you never realized how far his need for control went.

“Poe,” you murmured, breaking through his tightly locked mindset and allowing him a moment to pull away.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Shaking your head, you ran your fingers through his curls, pushing them away from his forehead. You never understood the fascination with a man’s hair until this moment. Until he titled his head back–leaning into your touch–as his eyes fluttered shut. The look on his face nearly brought you down to your knees and even as he opened his eyes, you saw the brown nearly swallowed whole by his pupil. He wanted more.

You both did.

“Poe–”

He pulled away, returning to his spot on the stool and tying off the bandage. “You’re injured,” he said. In all honesty you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. “I’m not going to be the reason you hurt even more.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

The words felt strange coming from you, knowing everything you went through to get to this point. It was ironic in a way. Except you couldn’t focus on the past–you didn’t want to. Knowing that the thoughts you had weren’t just fickle emotions, brought out new sensations you knew only he could make you feel. Poe Dameron was an addiction you didn’t want to kick. He was the poison in your veins and the antidote on your tongue.

Wincing, you leaned forward to bring his gaze back to you. “You can still kiss me…”

The worry on his face gave way to a smile you’d only seen directed at you a few times. Well–the times you’d actually been looking at him. You didn’t know it yet, but you were the cause of nearly all his smiles; the reason he found himself in a daze–lost in thoughts of you. Without hesitation, he captured your lips with his. The tang of him, already something you missed, once again filled your senses. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to drag him closer or pull away for air, but you decided on the former.

Gasping as one of his hands hesitantly brushed against your bare breast, you nearly fell into his lap. If you weren’t careful the both of you would end up on the floor and that would cause more harm than good. Poe knew that, which is why it only took him a few seconds to switch places with you. Shifting your body until your legs were over his thighs–the heat of his body now pressing firmly against yours.

“Fuck–” you breathed; practically shaking as your nipples brushed against his bare chest.

“My beautiful girl,” he mumbled against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your jaw–nipping lightly at the skin there. “Saved my life.”

The words you intended to say came out as a whine of his name instead when he pressed your hips down against his own. Effectively grinding his cock right against your clothed cunt. Sparks trailed up your spine, giving kindling to the fire that now streaked its way through your veins–causing you to press even closer to him.

Thankfully the bacta shot numbed the pain you were in, but you knew things wouldn’t get farther than this tonight. If there’s one thing you understood–Poe never backed out on his word. He’d kiss you until your head went fuzzy and your heart nearly gave out, but he wouldn’t press you into something that would cause your body pain. Somehow that only made you want him more. Until you were practically dragging yourself against his lap and sucking his tongue into your mouth.

He groaned, his hand grasping at your ass to still your movements. “We can’t–”

“Please,” you breathed; the beg was clear in your voice. “I’ll be good.”

“Fuck baby you’re going to kill me.”

Giggling, you scraped your teeth along his jaw. “You and I both know it takes a lot more than me begging for your cock to kill you.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” he grunted, his hand reaching for the button of your pants.

The first touch of his fingers sliding through your slick nearly caused you to lose all sense of yourself. A heady moan ripped its way out of your throat as you tucked your face into his neck. Without meaning to, you began to grind against his fingers–positive that you wouldn’t last more than a few minutes from just him exploring. You were desperate for him; aching to feel him fill you entirely.

“Is this cause of me?” he asked, his eyes wide at the feeling of you practically dripping onto his palm.

You nodded, pressing your lips against his. “Yes. Now can you please–please touch me.”

Your heart nearly shattered when he shook his head, pulling his hand from you. This was the sensible thing to do. Wait until you are completely healed to move any further. Only you couldn’t stop the cry of desperation from leaving you. Steadying your breath, you began to shift away from him; certain that the both of you would simply head to bed now.

His hand grasping onto yours is what stopped you from moving.

“What–”

“Show me,” he breathed, dragging your bottom lip into his mouth and letting it go.

“Huh?” Your brain had turned to mush at the idea he was suggesting.

It wasn’t until he clasped your hand over his, having you guide him towards your cunt did you realize exactly what he wanted. Show me. He wanted to know what you wanted. How you liked to be touched; what exactly would get you there to the very edge of climaxing. His eyes were clouded with lust, mouth swollen and spit slicked as he watched the realization dawn on your face.

“Show me,” he urged a second time, biting down on his bottom lip when you finally took the initiative.

A ragged gasp left you when you pressed his fingers lightly to your clit, teaching him the pace that made your toes curl. Already you could feel your orgasm building, the tightening in your stomach growing with every swipe of his calloused fingers against you. Pushing his hand down further, you guided him, moaning when his fingers caught on your entrance. It wouldn’t take you long to hit that peak, his name already a pleaded out moan on your lips, but you needed more than what you could show him.

“I need–” You tilted your head back when he pressed the first finger into you.

“What do you need?” he asked, his other hand cupping the back of your neck to bring your lips back to his. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I–” He slid another finger into you, smiling briefly as you choked on your words. “I need more. Oh fuck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, digging your nails into his shoulder. If you thought you were guiding him on how to give you an orgasm, you were sorely mistaken. Within seconds, you were a mess on his lap as he sped up the pace of his fingers, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. Feeling his eyes on you as your mouth dropped open and your eyes fell shut was almost too much.

“Poe!” you cried out when he found the spot along your walls, rubbing his fingers over it with every thrust. “I’m gonna–ah fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“C’mon baby,” he murmured. “Cum on my fingers.”

You didn’t hear the rest of his words, because the coil in your body finally snapped. Shattering your very being in two as he pushed you even higher with his fingers. Above the sounds of your breathing was the audible echo of his fingers plunging in and out of your cunt. The wet squelch enough to have your orgasm prolonging to a point of near pain.

Sobbing out his name, your legs shook as he gradually slowed the pace of his hand until you were reaching down to stop it altogether. Sparks spread up and down your spine, rendering you immobile as you gasped for a full lungful of air.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Laughing softly, you pressed your lips against his. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Good kind or…”

“Definitely the good kind.”

You watched as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. The sight of his eyes shutting in bliss made your clit throb and you nearly asked him to do it again. Instead, you opted for kissing him–tasting yourself on his tongue–while you waited for the feeling in your legs to return.

Which they did a few minutes later.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, glancing at the digital clock he had attached to the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Sighing, you attempted to get up from his lap only to have him stop you. “What happened?”

“I forgot my jacket at the cantina,” you said.

“You can wear mine.”

The ease in which he said those words reminded you of your feelings. You would choose him again and again, no matter the consequences in the end.

“I’d love to,” you replied, wincing as you stood up. “But it was my dad’s jacket. I can’t lose it.”

Poe got to his feet–his hands settling on your hips to keep you steady. “Wasn’t he a pilot?”

“In the Rebellion. Yeah. I didn’t know you knew that.”

“I always paid attention when you thought I didn’t.”

Smiling, you felt heat begin to creep up the back of your neck, warming your face. “Thanks…for paying attention.”

“Don’t thank me yet slip,” he said, leading you through a few stumbling steps till your legs hit the edge of his bed. “I’ve still got to make you see the Maker once you’re fully healed.”

He laughed when you smacked him on the arm, your body finding the thought incredibly appealing. There was something dangerous about being this in tune with someone you thought you hated once. You weren’t sure it was a good thing or a bad thing yet, but you knew he’d help you find out eventually. So, rather than fight against the feelings that begged to be bricked up and hidden, you gave into something greater.

It took three more sexual jokes, a kiss or two, but soon you were lying together in the bed, his chest pressed against yours. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you drifted off. Happy for once in a very long time.

Feeling the uncomfortable ache return to your side woke you up from your relaxing sleep–causing irritation to rise in your body. Poe slept soundly beside you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist and head pressed into your neck. Which is why you tried to stay as still as possible. Except you could feel the burn start to come back with full force.

You had to see a medic today. The sooner the better.

Shifting slowly, you managed to turn to your other side–relieving some of the pain. Only to freeze as you caught sight of the brown leather pilot’s jacket hanging off the back of a chair. Blinking, you cleared the sleep from your eyes to make sure you were seeing what you actually thought you were seeing. The same jacket you’d left behind–the very last piece of your father you had–was directly in front of you.

Your breath caught in your throat–the tears welling up in your eyes. Poe had ventured out into the pouring rain in the late hours of the night, all to retrieve your jacket. He knew how important it was to you; understood the significance of the garment you wore proudly each and every day.

Blinking back the tears you felt the last of your walls crumble into pieces around you. Finally exposing your heart to the world that had turned it cold in the first place. Only now, as you felt Poe stir behind you–your eyes still stuck on your jacket–did you know that your heart was eternally protected. Just as he saved your life and healed your wounds, he’d do the same for your heart.

For as long as time allowed.

#poe dameron x fem!reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron smut #my writing

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