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greenorangevioletgrass · 3 months

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fever pitch (b.b.) - part three

previous part | series masterlist

soundtrack: don't blame me - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: you and bradley spend the night, but the road to heaven is full of obstacles; some are external, others are self-inflicted. warnings: language, public scrutiny (will be a recurring theme in this fic ha!), bradley is a stand-up guy all round, fluff, smut (d/s elements, praise kink, bit of a bratty side?, fingering, oral [f receiving], dirty talk, size kink, bradley is PACKING, protected sex) notes: i'm back! life has been crazy since i posted the previous chapter, but i just wanna say thank you so so much for your patience and your kind words about the fic so far! big shoutout to @gretagerwigsmuse and @teacupsandtopgun for being absolutely GEMS in brainstorming ideas-- this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for y'all <3 happy reading!

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The Langham, Sterling Suite. Ask for Holly Golightly ;)

Bradley smiles at your text, and the cheeky “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” reference. He shoots up a quick reply as he makes his way out to the lobby, fighting hard not to be grinning like an idiot to any unassuming passersby, until—

Click-click-click-click! FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!

“Hey, it’s Bradley Bradshaw!”

“Oi, Bradley! Give us a smile, mate!”

“Bradley, did you get to meet Y/N inside?”

“Did the boss let you out on a school night, Bradley?”

”How are you feeling about the Sunderland game this weekend?”

It’s a meager distance from the steps of Annabel’s to the curb where the valet has brought out his car, but holy shit. It doesn’t usually get nearly as crazy as this. He’s partied here with Harry Styles, and nobody bat an eye when the guy stumbled out drunk with his left tit out. But maybe it’s because Harry lives in London sometimes, or maybe because he was on a break… unlike Miss Americana on her world tour right now. It makes him pause and rethink how careful he needs to be.

Bradley gets into his car and drives off, trying to tread between the fine line of quick and careful. He can’t help but look over the rearview mirror more often than normal. Fuck, is this how you feel like all the time? He’s no stranger to the spotlight, but rather than the occasional run-ins, nobody has ever been interested in where he went to dinner on a random Tuesday night.

The Langham is barely a mile away, but Bradley sees photographers parked across the hotel with their long-lens cameras and disgusting disposition, and he keeps on driving. Thinking. Restrategizing. Hoping that his vintage aubergine Ferrari isn’t causing suspicion for driving by the second and third time.

He finds a basement parking lot behind the building and pulls up, hoping it’s the right entrance to the hotel. The attendant looks starstruck as he nods and points the way, sending him off with an eager ‘Come on you Gunners!’. And just like that, he makes it into the lobby out of the pap’s sight.

Be cool, he reminds himself, you’re only as suspicious as you seem to be. He comes up to the reception desk, and the girl behind it greets him warmly.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Langham. How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Ms. Golightly at the Sterling Suite,” Bradley says smoothly. “Holly Golightly.”

“And who am I speaking with, sir?” The girl looks at him like he seems familiar, but can’t quite place him.

“...Paul Varjak,” he states, unable to bite back the smile. Oh, the thrill of giving out a fake name with the very real possibility of getting called out on his shit.

But she nods and grabs the telephone, dialing into your room. Blissfully ignorant of the pseudonym he just gave her.

Good.

Let this inside joke be the two of yours alone.

The elevator ride up is peaceful—too peaceful that he can hear his heart beating and his palms sweating. Even the carpet mutes his footsteps towards the double door. Before he even presses the bell, a bodyguard opens the door for him.

“Mr. Bradshaw,” he nods curtly. It’s one of the guys from the restaurant earlier. Middle-aged, stout and rather short, sporting a permanent scowl and a vibe that indicates he’s seen some shit.

“Hi. Sorry, I haven’t got your name…?”

“Guy,” he deadpans.

Bradley wonders if that’s his real name or he’s just saying it so Bradley would get off his case, but smiles anyway. “Nice to meet you, Guy.”

Guy hums gruffly and ushers him into the foyer, an identical hallway of the hotel, with a room on each side. “Through here,” he leads him towards another set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

Meanwhile, you are full-on freaking out in your living room. Should you get changed? You’ve taken off your heels, but getting everything off feels so premeditated… You don’t even know if he wants things to go that far. Maybe you can break your little rule and bring out the wine for liquid courage? Gosh, nothing feels right. And it’s been so long since you’ve last done this that you’ve actually gone rusty.

And before you get to decide—in the long, wasteful twenty minutes or so you’ve been pacing, you hear a knock on your door.

“Coming!”

You rush over to get the door and there he is, coming out victorious through the hurdles, smiling at you.

“Thanks, Guy. I’ll take it from here,” you dismiss your security a little too quickly, nodding over Bradley’s shoulder. You’re sure Guy is rolling his eyes all the way back to his room over your lovestruck teenager behavior.

But it hardly matters when this man before you is looking at you like the sun.

“Hey, you.” Bradley beams at you from his spot. As if afraid to invade your space somehow.

And so are you. This feels like that night in the garden all over again. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t some pocket of a park you stumbled into; this is your hotel room.

Quiet.

Private.

Safe.

“Come on in.” You let him cross the threshold, closing the door behind him the warm foyer light cast golden upon his face. You’re not sure if it’s the fact that you’ve ditched your six-inch heels, or that there’s no one else, but Bradley looks even taller than you remember him. Broader. More… imposing.

“I’m sorry for taking so long. There’s cameras everywhere and I had to—”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him. It feels rude to ask if he got caught on camera, but at this point, you had to ask. “Did you… Did they…?”

Bradley quickly shakes his head. “No, I took the basement entrance, out of sight. We’re good.”

”I’m, uh… sorry for the fuss.”

”Hey, it’s no trouble at all… Ms. Golightly,” he tilts his head, grinning at your chosen pseudonym.

”Yeah, it changes every time. My last stop in Tennessee, I was Clarice Starling,” you admit, making him laugh. “Although I’m glad you got the reference… Mr. Varjak.”

He simpers, very proud of himself. And with that, he takes a step closer to you. Towering over you. Crowding you with his smile, his scent, his body heat… and neither of you makes the first touch. You’re painfully aware of how his gaze keeps dropping to your lips. Bodies drawn towards each other but tied in place for some reason. It seems like despite all the flirting you did at the restaurant, everything goes out the window once you’re alone.

You’re just two strangers, caught in a thrilling game of push and pull. Too scared to tip over and just… fall.

“Can I kiss you…?” Bradley breathes out. He feels foolish for asking, but it’s the only way to make sure he’s not ruining the entire evening.

But you sigh in relief and nod your head yes, and it gives you the push you need to close the distance from him. You don’t know which one happened first; touching his lips with yours, grasping his arms for balance, or standing on your tiptoes on his shoes. He keeps you there, his strong hands securing your waist.

“You’re making me feel like a kid…” It makes you giggle into the kiss, and he can’t not possibly fall in love with the sound of that—with the feel of your lips pulled up right against his.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing…” Bradley runs his hands down your sides gently. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“All night? You mean you’ve been thinking about making out with me while I tell you my life story?” you gasp, feigning shock and offense.

He laughs again. “Maybe for a moment or two there, I’ll admit.”

“I thought you were a gentleman!” you give him a playful smack on his behind, and there’s a flash of… something in his eyes. A spark, or a darkening. You’re not sure what it is yet, but it sends butterflies into your stomach yet again.

Bradley tucks some loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’m still a gentleman.”

“Really? I don’t believe that…” you sway his hips lightly, “I think you’re very… very bad,” you purr out, your lips barely touching.

He meets you halfway, and it feels like less of a shock this time. You gladly lose yourself in him, knowing you’ve crossed the line now. You finally notice how his mustache scratches your skin in a nice way, how he holds you flush against him, how he just melts into you in the kiss… enshrouding you in his warmth and lighting you on fire at the same time.

Bradley pulls away, barely just. His forehead is still pressed against yours, your noses are bumping, and his breath melding with yours. He licks his lips and you swear you can almost taste it. “You’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman, kid…”

You can’t help but chuckle at the nickname. It’s not one you expect, but it sounds right somehow. “I didn’t invite you all the way here to be a gentleman.”

The twinkle in his eyes darken. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. “Is that right?” Bradley’s hands slide down your hips, finding the swell of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

The air catches in your throat, and you swallow lightly. “Mm-hm.”

Instead, you lead him into the bedroom. Bradley is right behind you, barely a step behind. His hands have found a home on your hips and he seems adamant to stay there for a moment. Insisting to hold onto you because he worries he’ll get ahead of himself before you’re ready. But gosh, you’ve been ready all night and you’re practically twisting your arms around trying to reach the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Come here, I got you,” he rasps, his heart skipping as he drags the zipper down your back. He’s not sure which one he loves more; the dip of your spine that he wants to trace with your tongue, or the way the dress falls to the floor and reveals what’s underneath that prim and proper pink dress.

A tiny scrap of lace held by a black strap on either side of your hips, framing the swell of your ass perfectly.

And he swears, for a split second, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck…” he breathes out.

You can’t turn around fast enough. It might be a good ‘fuck’, but what if it’s a bad one? “What’s wrong?”

Bradley just blinks at you, for no other reason than how your nipples are poking out the side of the skimpy triangle of your bra. And that your lipstick is smeared on the edges from kissing him.

But of course, your mind is already racing from the lack of response and you’re already thinking, oh no this was a bad idea I shouldn’t have worn this—

“Hey, hey…” he sees your face fall and your arms come up to cover your chest and he immediately steps in. Holding you close, hoping to give you comfort. “Is this all for me?”

Oh, shit. Maybe if you close your eyes tight enough, you would melt to the floor. “I know, it’s a little much—”

“No, that’s not what I asked…” Bradley tilts your chin up, making you look him in the eye. “I said… Did you put these on for me?”

Your breath comes up short, and you nod ever so slightly. You don’t even trust your own voice not to betray how much you want him to like it. How much you want him.

“It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.” He smiles into your lips, kissing you there. Spelling out how he feels with his hands on your ass, his mouth on yours. “Such a good girl…”

That flips a switch in your brain and he can see it. Your eyes go wide, your posture changes, and all of a sudden, you look so… small in his arms. So vulnerable, so beautiful. So perfect.

Suddenly, he’s holding the world in his arms. The sexy little thing you call panties is a pesky little nuisance now, and he can’t wait to get it off of you. His broad shoulders are keeping your legs open, his nose nuzzling your pubic bone as he looks up at you.

Bradley lowers you down on the side of the bed, settling on his knees before you. Committing every inch to memory by touch, from your ankle to your knee, up the inside of your thighs. When he reaches the scrap of fabric at your core, he feels it slick. He smirks. “What do we have here?”

Your face heats up. How the fuck are you supposed to answer that? No words are coming to your head—not when he’s drawing patterns over your pussy, making the lace glisten all over. And when your panties are positively ruined, he draws his hand back and licks the offending fingers in earnest.

And all it takes is a taste to send him into a frenzy.

“Fuck honey, need to taste you…” he murmurs between feverish kisses all over your legs. “Can I?”

You nod fervently, feeling like he’s got you under a spell.

“Use your words, kid.” He grins, playfully biting the inside of your thigh.

The sharp sensation makes you yelp, and you grip his hair in reflex. “Yes, want your mouth on me, please…”

“Good girl, asking so nicely…” he chuckles, satisfied with your response. Then, he pulls you to the edge of the bed. That dainty scrap of lace you call panties is a pesky nuisance now, and he couldn’t wait any longer to get it off of you. With your legs hiked up on his broad shoulders, he dives into you.

A taste, as it turns out, is an understatement because what Bradley does is devour.

“Oh, fuck…” you gasp sharply at the contact.

With one hand pinning your thigh open, he laps you up in earnest, figuring out the many ways he can make you squirm. Time ceases to exist because it feels like he makes you come in no time, but also he’s been down there forever. But he goes on and on and on until his name comes out in a desperate chant of lust and need.

“Bradley Bradley Bradley…” she grinds shamelessly into his mustache now, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome sensation on your part. “Please, I’m gonna…”

“I know, honey. I got you. It’s okay.” It’s an oddly wholesome thing to say in a moment like this, but maybe you’re a hopeless romantic at heart, because sweet nothings get you off.

Your orgasm strikes like a thunderbolt, and you find yourself arching into his mouth. The more you take, the more he gives—or is it the other way around?— It seems like he takes as much pleasure in it as you do. Maybe even more, as he holds onto you as you squirm away overstimulated.

“Bradley… wait.” You grab a handful of his hair, trembling breathlessly.

His mustache glistens when he comes up for air, and he finally (finally!) takes off his suit jacket as he stands up. He eases up on the throttle and lets you breathe for a second. He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, watching you spread out like a feast for him. Legs open, bra askew, hair fanned out on the pillow… God, he’s so lucky.

When he returns on top of you, you’re eager to pull him by his belt buckle, but he brushes your hand away. You frown in protest. “But I wanna touch you—”

“It’s not your turn yet, honey,” he chides you teasingly.

“You just had your turn!”

He shrugs, nosing your cheek. “Well, it’s still my turn, so…” Bradley closes the gap again and kisses you openly.

The taste of your arousal on his tongue makes you dizzy, but it can’t distract you from the buzz of his fingers rubbing your devoured pussy, sending shivers down your spine. It’s entirely too much, and you keel over from the contact.

“Somebody’s a little sensitive, huh?” He grins, easing the throttle a little.

“Fuck you…”

“Well, if you say so.” He slides his middle finger in.

“Ohhh… Bradley…” you buck up your hips and moan. But in comes another finger, and you swear it feels like all of him.

He’s wound differently this time, like a man on a mission. With his fingers crooking and stroking your silky walls, beckoning you to come closer, while you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to hold on. But his teeth yanks the edge of your bra to set your nipple free, and his sly tongue finally gets a taste… all resolve goes out the window.

“Come on, honey. I know you got another one in you…” he breathes out, undoing the front clasp of your bra so he can suck your tits with all his might, willing you to come.

And frankly, who are you to say no?

The burst of pleasure hits you from your core to your fingertips. If he wasn’t pinning you down on top of you, you would have probably floated away. But you’re firmly laid on the mattress and feeling everything. Your eyes blink back into focus as you come down from your high.

You pant, staring at him in disbelief. Nobody has ever put that much attention on you in bed before even taking off his clothes. “You got a baseball bat in there or something?”

“Something like that.” He rolls his eyes playfully. Jokingly, you assume.

You take his arm, kissing his wrist, “Can I touch you now?” sticking your tongue out to lick his digits clean of you. Putting on a show as you suck his fingers. “Please?”

He throws his head back and groans. “Fuck.” He can’t resist that doe-eyed look you’re putting on, nor can he resist you undoing his shirt buttons. He can play dominant all he wants, but he knows that the truth of the matter is, he’s all wrapped up around your little finger. “Okay, okay. You win.”

It’s a mess of unbuckling pants, kicking off shoes, and tossing clothes to the floor. Your hand reaches out to trace his gleaming skin, every ridge of his abdomen. You’ve seen the Calvin Klein campaigns and the Men’s Health covers— and gosh, he looks like a dream. But when that thing just springs up to his stomach when he pushes his boxers down…

You didn’t expect him to manifest straight out of your wet dream.

“Holy fuck, you weren’t kidding about your baseball bat,” you breathe out, head tilted as you stare at his thick cock. The vein that runs along the side, the way it curves slightly to the right, the length that makes you clench at the mere thought of it… Fuck, it’s pretty.

Bradley chuckles sheepishly. He knows how big it is, he’s heard all the jokes in the locker room, but hearing it from you hits different. “You scared?”

You should be, a little. But without flinching, you bite your lip and look him in the eye. “Nah, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

Gosh, he loves you. He’ll have to remember not to blurt that out too early. “Okay, big girl,” he chuckles, kissing you one last time before rolling off of the bed.

His sudden disappearance out of sight makes you frown. “Where are you—” you prop yourself up on your elbow, seeing him fish out a packet of condom from his trousers pocket, “Right. Safety first.”

Bradley nods, tearing the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on. There’s something so hot about how a man looks just before he fucks someone. “Mm-hm. Gotta make sure we’re both covered.”

“Do I need goggles and a helmet, too?”

He pauses as he straddles your hips. “Maybe next round,” he cheekily quips back. The idea of you wearing nothing but a helmet and safety goggles weirdly makes his cock stir, too. But you’re already lying naked under him, and he doubts that much will deter his hard-on.

Bradley pushes himself into you a little, and your eyes water as you whimper out in a blur of pain and pleasure. And here you thought two of his fingers felt full…

He stops in his tracks, trying to gauge your reaction. He nearly lost his mind over how tightly you’re clenched around him, but he doesn’t want to presume. “Too much?” He asks softly, stroking your cheek.

Your breaths run ragged as you look up at him, almost in awe. “You’re just… so big…”

He laughs breathlessly. He hates to brag, but it’s true. And as much as he’s enjoying the way you flutter under him, he has to ask, “Want me to pull out?” Please say no, please say no, I don’t think I can handle it…

“N-no…” you wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging to him for dear life. “But I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

Bradley smiles at what has to be the most adorable look he’s ever seen from you. He kisses your forehead in reassurance. “I’ll go nice and slow, okay? I promise.”

Feeling this small and vulnerable so soon after meeting someone would usually set all kinds of alarms in your head. You never know how a guy would take it. But in this moment, nestled in the crook of his neck, among the mix of his perfume and aftershave and his natural musk… all you want to do is stay. “Okay,” you nod softly.

“Let’s try again then, hm?” He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear, “Open up, love.”

With a deep breath, you bite back a whimper as you take him deeper, still not quite all the way in. “Hurts…”

Bradley stops again, his concern fully taking over now. “You sure you want me to keep going…?”

“Yes!” You surprise yourself with how quick and desperate you answered him. Your eyes shut, trying to offset the warmth setting over your cheeks, as you make the dirty admission, “I… I like it when it hurts.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Bradley has to remind himself not to come on the spot, because holy shit. He wouldn’t go this hard on a woman so early in the game, but… his head is dizzy from how innocently you said it. He takes a breath to pull himself together. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

The air is heavy. The room is silent. You can hear the shift in the tension as you smirk, “Yessir.”

There you are, you little devil. Bradley simply grabs you by the hips and bottoms out inside you. Your face goes slack while your cunt tightens around his cock, and it blows his mind.

He starts out slow, torturously so. Stuffing himself inside your crevice and dragging himself out, willing you to feel every inch. Every ridge. Until your body loosens up and twists around in the throes of passion. Your mouth falls open, your little gasps and moans coming and going as he pleases.

The unhurried pace is nice for a few minutes, when you’re still adjusting to his size. But now that he’s snug inside you, you’re simply aching for more. Your hips arch up into him halfway, a little more urgent, disrupting the rhythm with a pleasant stutter.

He notices this and smiles. “So eager… what’s the rush, hm?”

You answer with a groan. He has a penchant for asking you questions you can’t answer, this man. “You feel so good, baby…” you murmur headily, hands desperately grasping on him—his arms, his shoulders, his back…

”You feel even better.” He nips at your pert nipple, relishing in your angelic little filthy cry. Fuck, he can feel the exact motion of your pussy tightening for him. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that…”

”Then don’t.”

His eyes flicker onto yours immediately. You’re gonna be the death of him, he swears…

You grab his hair by the fistful, keeping his gaze. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

”Oh fuck—” he doesn’t stand a chance. His body reacts faster than his brain could compute, and he holds your hips flush against his as he buries himself as deep as he can. Every twitch of his cock sends you reeling, and your pussy clenches and unwinds in your climax, following him down from his high to yours.

Free falling, hand in hand.

Bradley rolls off of you and you would complain, if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you into his chest. Thank fuck. You’re not quite ready to untangle from him yet. Not when your breaths still run a bit ragged, as if accidentally catching each other’s. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and it feels unlike your regular out-of-town hookup. No, this one’s different. But not a word is said between you on that for different reasons— each of you holding your cards close to your chest, as close as you’re holding each other.

#nowhere to go but up from here on out folks!!#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #footballer!bradley #footballer!bradley x popstar!reader #top gun imagine #top gun au #ava writes #fever pitch

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sailor-aviator · 7 months

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Sailor-Aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge

Hello, hello! I wanted to try something a little fun for the holidays, so I figured why not host a little writing challenge! I've never hosted one of these, so this should be fun for all of us! Let's get started!

The Concept

I will have a list of holiday buzzwords with three slots available! Once all three slots are taken, then that's it! No more entries will be allowed for that word/phrase! As much as I love the holidays, I don't want to read twenty fics about the first snow. Just send me a DM/Ask letting me know that you want to participate and which word/phrase you'll be using and with which TGM character!

The Rules

You may sign up for more than one slot as long as there are slots available. However, you can not take up two slots for the same word/phrase.

Tag your fics appropriately! (Angst, smut, fluff, warnings, etc.)

18+ ONLY!

This can be a series, a one-shot, moodboards, or even a collection of drabbles! Just have fun with it!

You MUST use your word/phrase in some way in the fic. For example, if your word is reindeer, you could write about going to feed reindeer, or you could write about dressing up as a reindeer, or you could write about a reindeer sweater, etc.

HAVE FUN!!!

Your fics (with the exception of series) are due by the end of the day on December 25th!! When you are finished (or started the series/collection), you can shoot me the link so I can tag it below. Also, please tag me in the fic and tag the challenge! The more the merrier!

Tagging who I think might be interested: @goldenseresinretriever @bobgasm @hangmansgbaby @jupitercomet @mamachasesmayhem @seresinhangmanjake @blue-aconite @rosedurin but obviously anyone is free to join!

Word/Phrases below the cut!

Santa Claus

@number-0-iz w/ Jake Seresin

Reindeer

@garfield-mug w/ Jake Seresin

Sleigh

seresinsbrat w/ Bradley Bradshaw

Cookies - Closed

@seresinhangmanjake w/ Bradley Bradshaw

@shinycupcakebaker w/ The Dagger Squad

@the-aspiring-fanfic-writer w/ Jake Seresin

Presents

@sweetwhispersofchaos w/ Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin

Merry Christmas, Dad by @seresinsbrat w/ Bradley Bradshaw

Holly

Wreath

Christmas Lights

@goldenseresinretriever w/ Bradley Bradshaw

garfield-mug w/ Bob Floyd

Candle

the-aspiring-fanfic-writer w/ The Daggers

@bluezraven w/ Jake Seresin

Bow

@mamachasesmayhem w/ Jake Seresin

Jack Frost

Til the Summer Comes Again by @sailor-aviator w/ Bob Floyd

12 Days of Ficmas by @callsign-phoenix w/ Jake Seresin

Christmas Eve

@nicestgirlonline w/ Jake Seresin

Firefigher!Bradley by @jupitercomet w/ Bradley Bradshaw

Christmas Morning

Merry Christmas, Darlin by seresinsbrat w/ Bob Floyd

Mistletoe - Closed

goldenseresinretriever w/ Jake Seresin

number-0-iz w/ Bradley Bradshaw

@aworldinsideaperson w/ Bob Floyd

Caroling

Scrooge - Closed

Have a Cup of Cheer by @dingochef w/ Jake Seresin

jupitercomet w/ Jake Seresin

number-0-iz w/ Bob Floyd

Elves

callsign-phoenix w/ Bob Floyd

Ornaments

callsign-phoenix w/ Jake Seresin

@myfaveficrecs w/ Bob Floyd

Bells

Jingle of the Bells by seresinhangmanjake w/ Jake Seresin

Stocking

@mikpieboo w/ Bob Floyd

Snowball

@a-reader-and-a-writer w/ The Dagger Squad

Chimney

a-reader-and-a-writer w/ Bradley Bradshaw

Eggnog

Baby, It's Cold Outside by @killthewhisperingart w/ Bradley Bradshaw

Candy Cane - Closed

@blackwidownat2814 w/ Jake Seresin

Candy Cane Kisses by aworldinsideaperson w/ Jake Seresin

Oh Baby, Baby Merry Christmas @callsigns-haze w/ Jake Seresin

Nutcracker

sailor-aviator w/ Bradley Bradshaw

@sweetwhispersofchaos w/ Natasha Trace and Bob Floyd

Gingerbread

the-aspiring-fanfic-writer w/ Bob Floyd

bluezraven w/ Bob Floyd

Snow

@alegendoftomorrow w/ Natasha Trace

Hot Chocolate

@devil-angel-winchester w/ Jake Seresin

@shinycupcakebaker w/ Bob Floyd

Snowman

@its-the-pilot w/ Bradley Bradshaw

Nativity

Silent Night, Joyful Hearts by seresinsbrat w/ Jake Seresin

@saltsicklover w/ Bob Floyd

Christmas Tree

sailor-aviator w/ Jake Seresin

Oh Christmas Tree by @rockstxr-x w/ Jake Seresin

Fireplace

saltsicklover w/ Jake Seresin

Delightful by @roosteraloha w/ Bradley Bradshaw

Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer

Coal

Midnight Mass

If December Never Ends by its-the-pilot w/ Bradley Bradshaw

Advent Calendar

Grinch

Ice Skating - Closed

alegendoftomorrow w/ the Dagger Squad

@goldenseresinretriever w/ Bradley Bradshaw

seresinsbrat w/ Jake Seresin

Pointsettia

Ribbon

Shephard

Sweater

goldenseresinretriever w/ Jake Seresin

Toys

seresinsbrat w/ Jake Seresin

Wrapping Paper

Chestnuts

"'Tis the Season"

"Merry Christmas"

alegendoftomorrow w/ Bradley Bradshaw

"Bah, humbug!"

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sunlightmurdock · 3 days

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AETERNA | Three

TWO | MASTERLIST

SYNOPSIS: Jake and Bradley start to settle into their new home — you’re back.

WARNINGS : smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff; nudity; making out. word count: 6k

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Orange tinged, the sunlight streams in through the window of his trailer, baking his bedsheets in the perfect kind of warm right before it gets to be too hot. That means it’s still early. Too early.

Hair tousled, shoulders relaxed, Jake sighs a little, his breath fanning out against his checkered pillow case as he shifts to stick a hand between his hips and the sheets, adjusting himself. His dick hasn’t even gotten the memo that it’s morning yet

And still, Rooster’s singing the whole camp awake. That’s what they call their little pitched set-up on borrowed land. ‘Camp’ comes across better after Manson tainted the word commune. Commune would also imply that they’re here for free.

Either way, it’s Sunday fucking morning. That time used to be sacred. As it turns out, no day is safe from Rooster, and there ain’t much left around here that’s sacred either.

It’s a far-away memory, the days that Jake would wake up to the smell of cooking bacon and magnolias. It feels much closer than it was. He was smaller then, he’d been tucked in the nights before, he had matching pyjamas with footballs on them.

Now, his feet push past the edge of the bed as he stretches, nuzzling his cheek into his pillow and remembering what it was like to savour those last moments before his mother called him to start getting ready for church.

His mother isn’t coming for him now; just the mother-hen that has been up since the crack of dawn. Here he comes, singing some Buddy-fucking-Holly.

Jeans clinging to almost-dry thighs, his shirt slung over his shoulder, his feet bare in the grass. He’s coming straight from the showers, before that he had been up by the farmhouse. He trails between trailers and tents and caravans, making a beeline for the one person he knows damn well doesn’t want to be disturbed.

The grass bristles underfoot, the Redbirds join Rooster in his morning fanfare and Jake’s day is already headed south.

“Day of rest my fuckin’ ass…” He mutters out, shifting on his stomach and planting his face into the cloud-like softness of his slept-in bed. It’s only a couple of hours since he tumbled into it, last night’s clothes discarded on the floor with the crisp bills tucked neatly into his wallet.

Rooster cocks his head. With confirmation of Jake’s consciousness, the handle twists and even more sunlight streams in. Rooster ducks to dodge the short, curved doorway and peers around as he steps in.

It’s clean in here. Aside from Jake’s clothes, stepped out of and discarded in place, the place is spotless. Jake’s trailer smells of pine and sugar, the curtains all drawn back and capturing the morning glow.

At the far end, Jake’s laying on his front. Tangled in sheets, naked as the day he was born, now holding his pillow over his ears. Rooster considers finishing his song, making Jake really squirm. Jake’s not much of a morning person. He’s not much of a Rooster person, either.

Rooster only comes knocking this early in the morning when he wants something.

“Hey, Hangman,” Rooster says, his tone mighty calm for someone who just uttered a cuss word like that. Jake lifts his head and turns to look over his shoulder, stone-faced and arming his sharp tongue for an early-morning argument. Rooster’s face slips into something friendly, a cool smile tugging at his lips. “Feel like makin’ some money?”

Disarmed, Jake doesn’t say what he was thinking. He doesn’t stoop to Rooster’s level. Instead, he huffs out a full-chested sigh and rolls onto his back.

The covers spill back and twist with his body, freeing his legs and catching a bit on his hips. The sun smothers his naked form eagerly, bathing him in morning light.

Rooster looks swiftly away, at the chunk missing in the ceiling, shaped around the spray of buckshot that had hit it years before.

Jake rubs childishly at his sleep-weighted eyes. Then, he tucks one taughtly-muscled arm behind his head and studies Rooster with pursed lips. The morning tobacco craving starts to itch at him, before he even thinks of breakfast. That’s something new too. “Doin’ what?”

“Mending fences.”

The farm-boy Jake once was shrinks away from the idea. He’s got vivid, wide-stretching, muscle-aching memories of spending summers in sprawling fields, wrapping barbed wire around raw planks of hardwood.

He wets his lips with his tongue and sighs, scratching at his bare chest. It’s his turn to take a shot at Rooster now.

“Little early for you to be shacking up with the farmer’s wife, isn’t it?” He teases, peering at Rooster through heavy-lidded eyes.

Spring green gaze, there’s always something taunting in the way Jake watches people. Doesn’t matter what comes out of his mouth when he looks at people the way he does. Usually, it’s just that what comes out of his mouth makes that look a whole lot more grating.

Rooster spoke with the wife for a short time yesterday. Leaning up against the green pickup, she’d been practically drooling on him. Rooster doesn’t play around much these days, but when he does it’s with women with more to risk than he has.

Rooster digs a hand into the pocket of his jeans and retrieves a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes, then checks to see if it’s empty. He rolls his eyes at the insinuation that he’d go for Mrs. O’Malley, but doesn’t shy from it. He lights up and sets his lighter down on the workbench. Silver, engraved with his initials.

He braces a palm beside it and finally looks back to Jake, keeping his eyes strictly above Jake’s shoulders. “Y’think I’d ask you along if that’s what this was?”

No, Rooster doesn’t like to share.

Jake shifts his hips and half pulls the sheets across his waist, the temptation to slip back into the dream he’d just been broken out of starting to gnaw at him. “How much?”

“Two-fifty an hour, bonus if we get it done before lunch.”

Jake groans. Extra couple of bucks would get him out of here for a night — even in the middle of nowhere, there’s got to be somewhere with live music and beer.

“Alright,” He rubs his palms along his face, scratching at the growing stubble on his jaw. Finally, he pushes himself up and nods his head. “Fuck it, fine. Let’s go.”

Rooster could have taken on the trouble for himself. Taken the payout for himself, too. Would’ve been quieter, but as much as he begrudges the work, Jake knows a thing or two about cattle. He steps outside to finish his cigarette while Jake gets dressed.

Jake’s front stoop faces the hill that the farmhouse sits on. Rooster watches Maggie O’Malley stroll through the grass in nothing but her robe, taking note of the fact that Gus’ truck is still missing. Must get pretty lonely sitting on all these acres with a husband who spends more time at the bar than at home.

Their lease stretches into September. Jake’s right, it is a little soon to get tangled up in something like this.

Still, Rooster greets her with a nod as she gets close enough.

“So? — You boys up to the job or do I need to call my nephew?” She hugs the robe closer to her body, chilled by the breeze, regretting her decision. Rooster takes the shirt from over his shoulder and holds his cigarette in one hand as he slips it on.

There’s a stumbling sound and a thud from behind him as Jake struggles into his jeans.

“Jake’s just getting himself decent,” Rooster explains, stretching his shirt down over his stomach, tucking it neatly into his jeans. She looks him over, already thinking to herself that there’s not one thing halfway decent about these boys. “We’ll have it done by this afternoon.”

“The deal was noon.” She reminds him.

He squints one eye at her through the morning sun, his lips tugging at a soft smile. “Was it?”

She looks him over, playing unimpressed while she studies the trail of hair from his bellybutton to the leather of his belt. “Don’t go helping yourself to nothin’ in the shed, alright? — You take what’s on that list and nothin’ else.”

Rooster smoothes his shirt down and she looks him in the eye again.

“Sure thing, Mrs. O’Malley.” Like I’ve been itching to dig through your rusty saw blades and prehistoric shotgun shells anyways. He says it with a cool smile, polite in a way that’s reminiscent of who he was before. She’s not buying it for one minute; she knows troublesome boys when she sees them. Her problem is that she likes them, too.

The door to the trailer swings open and Jake steps down. Maggie catches the way he does a double-take at her spilling out of her robe, and tightens the belt a smidge. He looks across at Rooster and raises his eyebrows. Rooster’s cooler about it.

They watch her as she dips her red, manicured nails into the pocket of the silk robe, daring the clumsily tied belt to break free. Rooster stubs his cigarette out on the tin shell of Jake’s trailer and rests the butt of it on the flower box by the window. He’s polite enough not to flick the butt into her grass in front of her.

She holds her hand out towards him — it would seem that Jake is suddenly invisible. “Here’s the key.”

The fences in the West pasture are in a sorry state, almost as neglected as Mrs. O’Malley herself. Still, for two guys with nothing better to do and a stretching scheme of experience, it’s not hard work. It’s a mild morning, blue-skied and clear. It’d be nicer if they were further out from the cow shit, and if Rooster didn’t keep catching himself on the barbs, but beggars can’t be choosers and such.

Doesn’t help that the O’Malley tool collection is rust-littered and worn smooth from years of use.

Conversation stunted, they work on opposite sides of the barbed wire divide, faces etched with determination, ticking down the time until noon hits. A stretch of old, sagging fence sits to their left — shoddy looking in comparison to their new work.

With all the time they spend together, there isn’t much left to gossip about. Jake has heard all the stories that Rooster has been willing to tell already. The rhythmic thud of the hammer fills the sound just fine, better than listening to Rooster’s sighs of exertion as he rips the nails from the old fence posts, anyway.

Just as Jake is starting to think about spending today’s extra funds on a transistor radio, he glances up. Something tells him that Maggie will have himself and Rooster doing plenty of odd jobs around here this summer. She watches them from her porch, sipping on a mug of coffee. It’s a perfect view from where that house on the hill sits, she can keep an eye on them from all angles.

Rooster’s nose wrinkles at the echoing sound as he hammers a nail into the post they had just replaced. Thud, thud, thud. It’s sadistic, to be making such a racket this early in the morning. Jake’s head turns, twisting towards the main road over his right shoulder.

“Stop,” Jake breathes out, sitting back on his ankles, loosening his hold on the fence post. The thudding slows to a stop. “You hear that?”

Cruel joke, Rooster thinks to himself. He hears it. Worn down wheels on hastily patched up country road. Dusty Springfield warbling through old radio speakers.

His gaze flickers up to Jake’s face with a beat. Jake looks back at him with that taunting, spring-green gaze and raises his eyebrows.

With the windows on the old station wagon rolled all the way down, he can smell you too. Skin salted but not yet dampened with sweat like theirs is, a fresh soap smell tinged with girly daisy-like perfume. The wind catches at your neck and bristles your hair back, and he can really smell every drop.

It sits just above your pulse points, the spray fanned out and dusting your surrounding skin.

Your fingers support Dusty through the bridge of the song, drumming into the faded leather of the steering wheel. Rooster curls his hands around the wood post and looks past Jake, down the hill and toward the driveway.

Camp is slow to rise on Sundays. Other people get the luxury of sleeping in when Rooster doesn’t need them for something. Or when Maverick lets them. You’ll probably struggle to find someone awake. They have the thought at the same time, and drop their positions.

Jake shakes his gloves off and leaves them in the dirt. He wipes the sweat from his palms onto his jeans, and the sweat from his forehead onto the back of his forearm.

“The hell does she want?”

“You.” Jake answers with a chuckle, leaving his shirt strewn against the fence as he turns away, heading right for you. “For now.”

If there’s one way to ruffle that guy’s feathers, it’s to challenge him. Jake knows it well. Like the gloves, he leaves Rooster there in the dirt and heads for the sound of Dusty Springfield spilling into a Cass Elliott track.

Call it a moral compass; call it having a stick in your ass. Jake finds little distinction between the two when it comes to the way Rooster thinks. Jake plays the hand he’s dealt — and Rooster, well, Rooster doesn’t play anymore.

Rooster grabs onto the wooden support beam and hauls his legs over, landing steadily on Jake’s side. He’s not just going to let Jake smooth-talk you, and he’s not going to run the risk of someone else around here finding you first.

The grounds are practically unrecognizable in the daytime. It’s stark, dry grass and dirt ground, stiffened and still fairground rides and deserted posts. This is the closest you’ve ever gotten to wandering through a ghost town.

The station wagon’s still cooling off in the same place you had parked it the night before, while you’re wandering cautiously through the dead-empty open space. It’s almost polite, the way you’re so reluctant to just walk right in and take what you’re here for. Jake thinks so anyway.

Your fingers brush at the weathered canvas of the big tent, glancing around you before you take the dive and peer toward the darkness inside.

“You look lost.” His voice carries. As intended, it spooks you. You jump in your boots and whip around to face him, eyes wide and stricken with fear.

Jake. He looks different in the daylight too.

Jake’s coming from the West, around the abandoned Hall of Mirrors and smiling at you. You have yet to see him wearing a shirt, as he strolls towards you in stiff denim and brown leather Wrangler boots.

The fear dissipates, you become glad to see him. Practically pinching yourself at your luck, like that’s got anything to do with you seeing him on three occasions now.

“Oh. Hi!” Your heartbeat picks up, kicking like a snare drum as you turn and hit him with that megawatt smile he’d seen back on the road. It tugs at your lips and spreads across your face like fever — your nerves do too. “Sorry, I was just looking—“

“Mornin’,” Jake leans his shoulders back and juts his hips out when he walks, sauntering over there like he’s John Wayne. Rooster rolls his eyes as he walks behind. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“I left my bag.” You tell him, jutting a thumb towards the tent behind you. He cocks his head. You don’t dare take a second look into the empty, dark space over your shoulder. Maybe it isn’t just Georgie who is a little afraid. “Think it ought to be in there.”

Jake’s grin stretches wide and dimples. There’s that look Rooster hates so much too, that bright green glint in his eyes. He shakes his head, still headed right for you.

“Can’t have that, can we?” He’s close enough now that he doesn’t have to talk loud, and close enough that you finally notice who is trailing him. Your smile falters a bit as you spot Rooster, frowning at you as he follows behind. “Sit tight, I’ll get the lights.”

Even with the early morning sun, the canvas is thick and the space inside just seems all consuming — like it swallows the sunlight right up.

Jake pulls back the canvas and ducks inside, headed right for the back. Wearing a ringer tee and looser jeans than Jake, Rooster keeps walking towards you.

“Good morning,” You try, cocking your head and crossing your ankles, shifting sheepishly on your weight. “Sorry if I woke you, or… whatever.”

“You didn’t,” His voice is softer than it was last night. Maybe he’s not in such a bad mood today. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans, pausing by the entrance. Thirty yards between the two of you, Mrs. O’Malley watching from her perch on the hill. “Long way to come for a purse, isn’t it?”

You purse your lips and shrug, that feverish smile spreading across your cheeks once again. “My mom’s. Didn’t want her to know I’d lost it.”

His brows draw together, offering you a sympathetic nod. The generators kick in, whirring to life. The lights come with soft thuds, illuminating the tent. Rooster listens for the sounds of stirring. Hushed conversations and doors starting to open, showers beginning or radio playing. Camp starts to come to life, too.

“I don’t see any bag in here,” Jake’s voice snaps him out of it and he finally stops looking through you. Rooster blinks a few times and reminds himself to move, his shoes kicking through the dirt as he walks into the tent. You assume that you’re supposed to follow. “You were sitting around here, right?”

If you thought outside was unrecognizable in the daylight, the Big Top really takes the cake. Dirt dusting the floor, the arena looks smaller when it’s not circled by a packed out crowd. The stalls look smaller when they’re all empty.

Sure enough, Jake’s facing the right section, bent at the knees to peer under the benches.

“Fuck me.” You groan, walking ahead to join Jake in his search. Rooster hangs back and finds a spot to rest up against one of the support beams. As he watches you lean forwards and bend at the waist in your Daisy Dukes — he considers checking if that was a legitimate offer.

The second that the thought crosses his mind, Jake’s looking at him again. Green eyes flicker between Rooster and your ass, a grin stretching across his pink lips.

“Man alive, she’s going to serve me for dinner.”

Wouldn’t that be something. Jake turns his head and smiles at you, then peers back over his shoulder at Rooster.

“Well, hang on. We’ve kinda got a lost n’ found.” Kinda, because it’s all stuff that just hasn’t been claimed yet. If you hadn’t come by so early, it would’ve been someone else’s pretty fast.

Jake straightens up and turns around, slow, jutting his hips out as he reaches into his pocket for the bait tin he keeps his roll ups in. “Rooster, you don’t mind, do you?”

Rooster. It’s the first time you’re hearing any kind of name for him. Mr. Movie Star. Peace-Sign guy. Smart-mouth who completely blew you off the night before. Rooster. Like the bird?

Whoever he is, he smiles like he knows what Jake’s up to. You’re privy to that much too. Jake’s trying to get you alone, and he’s not exactly shy about the way he’s drawing your attention to the big ol’ belt buckle sitting low on his hips.

Rooster turns dutifully, and heads back out into the open. Jake’s got you all alone.

“So, were you ever gonna tell me your name?” Jake asks, popping open the tin. He takes out one of the carefully rolled tobacco mixes and sets it between his lips. You narrowly miss out on being caught checking him out, covering yourself with a shrug.

“You didn’t ask me.”

“Bossy thing like you, didn’t think I’d have to.”

“You don’t know if I’m bossy.” You tell him. Hands sitting on your hips, face creased into a soft frown. Jake’s far more shameless in the way he looks you over.

“Just a hunch I’ve got.” Jake answers. He cocks a brow. “So, you have a name?”

His lighter clicks and ignites, he puffs at the cigarette. Even with your hands on your hips like you’re about to tell him where to shove it, all you tell him is the truth. He hums around it.

“Cute,” Jake approves. “You smoke?”

Sometimes. Menthols, though. Greener things, too. Not whatever’s wrapped up in those papers. Olive would say yes. She’d stand here and smoke with him — and maybe blow him behind the bleachers.

“Menthols, now and again.”

His lips stretch around it, dimpling slightly. “Cute.” He repeats.

“This is what we’ve got from last night.” Rooster is back, holding a wooden apple crate. His arms flex against the t-shirt as he hoists it up and leans down to set it at your feet.

There’s a jacket on top, a rogue shoe in there, couple of bracelets and an earring. You crouch down to peel the jacket back. Rooster watches your eyes go round as your fingers curl around the leather strap, and you spring back up like a little rabbit.

“Yes! This is it!”

Rooster smiles. Exactly like he had back on the road, a just-can’t-help-it kind of grin that makes you start to think he might actually like you. You look up at him, glowing with eyes full of mischief. You lick your lips and look between the two of them.

“Thanks, guys,” you huff out a breathless giggle, so calm in these foreign surroundings. Like a little bunny, for sure. Couldn’t spot trouble for the life of you. “You just really saved my skin.”

“No sweat.” Rooster answers coolly. “We’ve got some work to get back to -- you get home safe, kid.”

Your mouth flattens. There’s a sizeable difference in the years you were born, you’d guess. Rooster’s bigger, and wiser if you ask him, with crinkles around his mouth and a tan-line between his perpetually furrowed brows. But you’re all grown, and you have been for a while now. ‘Kid’ isn’t exactly what you had in mind when it came to what you had wanted him to call you.

“Hey, honey,” That tracks better. Your full attention is Jake’s, and Rooster doesn’t like that. Jake flicks ash from his cigarette onto the dirt floor, cocking his head at you. “Don’t suppose you’d know of a good place to get a drink around here?”

There we go. That’s what you’ve been waiting for. It’s as close as you’re going to get to an invitation, and it’s good enough for now. Your excitement is palpable, it buzzes around you like the morning breeze.

“There’s a bar by the firehouse that’s okay,” you tell him. Jake nods with you, quirking an eyebrow, leaving you to fill the silence with more information. “Music and pool. Cheap beer.”

Jake looks at Rooster. He isn’t asking for permission, there’s something more daring in his look. He puffs at his cigarette, then looks at you. It’s unspoken between them — Jake’s only finishing those fences if they go to this bar.

“And you’ll be there, right?” He prompts you.

Rooster looks at Jake. The camp is really starting to move now. He shifts on his feet as tin trailer doors rattle and creak. You should really get going.

You look between them. “Tonight?”

You’re due back at the Pines first thing in the morning, but it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve turned up a little ‘under the weather’. Conrad tends to take pity on you if you look really sad.

Though, if tonight goes the way you’re planning, it’s going to be pretty hard to keep that smile off of your face tomorrow morning.

“Sure. I could stop by.”

And just like that, it’s settled. Jake gets what he wants in the form of you, him and some cheap beer. Rooster gets what he wants in the form of your car finally pulling off of the grounds and back onto the main road.

Jake heads back up to the West pasture to get Rooster his bonus. Rooster watches until that station wagon is back on the road before he turns to join him. Camp livens, the bustle growing, almost everyone awake. The smell of burning pancakes fills his nose as he crosses the fields. That means Natasha’s up.

Olive doesn’t believe you. One minute you’re grinning as you’re telling her, twisting the phone cord around your finger from your perch on the window in your room, and the next she’s picking you up in her white ‘71 Firebird. Her eighteenth birthday present was a hell of a lot cooler than yours.

“So, which one is yours?” She asks, smacking her lips in the rearview mirror as you zip up your boots in the passenger seat. Warm-skinned and dark-haired, Olive knows that yellow is her colour and she glows in it.

“Haven’t decided yet,” you tell her. It’s your secret that one of them has barely shot a nice look in your direction since you first saw him on the road — she’s like a shark in the water when it comes to screwing guys you could have liked. It’s a small pond; half the fish didn’t come back from the wrong side of the Pacific.

“Roger that,” she answers, her headlights illuminating the dark stretch behind Church Street. No streetlights this way, even this close to town. “Both it is.”

Your mouth stretches, silent appreciation coating your face as she turns right and Dutch’s — Atwood’s answer to dive bars — comes in to view. Olive’s the one who introduced you to this place. She’s well-known here.

They’re here. The faded green pick-up that Jake had rolled into town in the bed of is parked at the far end of the lot. It could be just Jake, he could’ve come alone, but you know he didn’t. There’s just a feeling you have that both of them are here, together.

It’s something between triumph and turned-on, buzzing and fluttery in your stomach. This feels kinda like a date. That feeling is kind of like butterflies in your tummy, but better.

Dutch’s is always filled with a cloud of smoke and gas station men’s cologne, bathed in the glow of the neon signs. It’s gritty, and fun — certainly no place for two young ladies, which is why the patrons like it so much when you two show up. Cheap beer and old wood, raucous sounds of laughter and pool balls clacking into one another. That’s where you find them.

Jake, for once, is dressed. He’s wearing a pale blue button-up and a less faded pair of jeans, leaning against his pool cue, watching the door close behind the two of you.

Your heeled boots are lost in the sound, tapping across the sticky, scuffed-wood floor. Olive is welcomed loudly from all angles, guys calling her name and reaching for her hand. She squeezes your fingers and keeps with you, her giggle music to your ears. The weathered regulars aren’t what she’s here for tonight.

The ivory balls clack together and rattle, one goes flying into the far right stomach that now sits right in front of your thighs. Rooster admires his successful shot, his gaze darting up to meet yours before he stands up straight again.

There’s no point in pretending you aren’t nice to look at. His eyes trail your middle. Real slow, taking his time. Dimly lit, smoke-hazed, neon-flushed room, his cheeks are reddish and tanned, his eyes are dark. He has shaved since this morning, so he can’t pretend he didn’t make the effort for you. His jaw is bare, and above his lip is a neatly-trimmed brown ‘stache. Shoulders wide and squared, his worn hands wrapped around the cue.

He examines you like you’re a centrefold — except one that he wouldn’t be embarrassed to be looking at in public — searching your skin, from where those tight jeans sit just below your navel to where the blouse is tied between your tits. He finds freckles, and gold rings on your fingers, smooth skin on your stomach. The softest curve to your breasts, sitting free under the cover of that thin red fabric.

Then, Rooster smiles, almost polite, as he finally finds your face, knowing damn well you saw him looking. More than looking. Studying.

He reaches wordlessly for his Coors, and takes a drink. Shameless.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jake catches your attention. His broad shoulders stretch at the blue of that shirt as he rounds the table towards you. “Must be my lucky day, huh?”

“Sure looks like it.” With Olive here, your confidence surges. She always knows what to say and when she’s around, you do too. “Almost didn’t recognise you with your clothes on, you know.”

His gaze lingers, smirk toying at his lips. Just watching. Then, he looks towards Olive. Passing his cue into his other hand, he extends his right towards her. “Jake, that’s Rooster.”

“Rooster?” She challenges, her hand shaking limply at Jake’s as she turns to stare at the quiet guy behind the table. “Like the bird?”

“Uh-huh. Government official, and everything.” He answers her, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he gulps back another mouthful and sets the empty bottle down against the wood. Olive doesn’t like that. They aren’t going to get along.

“This is Olive.” You try to leave the bird comment behind.

“Like the fruit?” Rooster intercepts.

She quirks an eyebrow at him, that was a point in his favour.

You don’t even realise she isn’t shaking Jake’s hand anymore until his thumb strokes at your knuckles. He’s up close, and he smells like a man. He raises his eyebrows at your, linking his index finger around yours.

“What are you girls drinking?”

“Beer’s fine.” Olive answers for you. In a place like Dutch’s, you don’t really sip on Cosmos or Martinis.

As she reaches for it, Jake passes his pool cue compliantly into her hand without once taking his eyes off of your face. There’s something mesmerizing about the way he tracks you.

You glance downward at his finger linked against yours, resting against the denim of his thigh.

“Beer it is. Lead the way, Bunny.” His thumb trails the bumps in your knuckles once again, he lifts his arm and turns you the other way like you’re dancing. With him following close behind, you happily lead him to the bar with the barely-there grip you’ve got on him.

Your front presses to the bar, Jake presses against your backside. He smells like pine, but sweeter. His hand comes to rest on your middle, halfway curved around your hip.

“So, you’re local?” Jake asks.

“Mhm, my parents have a place just a little ways past the laundromat.”

Jake leans past you and flashes four of his fingers to Jimmy, the bartender that you made out with last New Years’. You wince a bit, then shake it off. Jimmy sleeps with almost every girl that enters this place, and you had narrowly dodged that bullet. That’s a feat in itself.

“And you’re what— in college?” He asks.

“Oh, no. I work at the old folks’ home. We both do.” You gesture back across the bar to Olive. Both of you catch the moment she glares at the back of Rooster’s head as he sinks another ball.

Old folks. That’s new.

“… On purpose?” He asks.

Your mouth gapes dramatically, elbow pushing back into his ribs as Jimmy sets down four cold beers in front of you. No, not on purpose. It’s not like the Pines had ever been in your plan.

“Says the Carnie?”

“Oh, ouch,” Jake chuckles, grabbing three of the bottles in one hand. He holds a hand over his heart with the one that he’s got free. “Brutal, baby.”

So, neither of you are here by choice. Jake finds that less funny than his casual grin would have you believe.

Once reunited, Olive takes her beer from your hand and leans in to tell you exactly what she thinks of Jake’s friend. Leaning against his pool cue, Rooster listens as the expletives roll off of her tongue, unfazed. He doesn’t like her much either. He’s not as good at making friends as he used to be.

You get familiar with the worn felt and chipped edges of the table, giggling beer after beer with your newfound friend. Jake, not Rooster, who seems to prefer to just look.

Occasionally, the conversation will be broken by the thunderous clap of Rooster splitting the balls in a fresh game. His competitive streak is not a hit with Olive; you seem to have already made up your mind about fucking Jake.

Now, it’s out of his hands.

Amidst not-so-good-natured taunts and jibes, Olive introduces a round of tequila shots.

Jake complies, so you comply. Rooster has decided by this point to pick his battles, and doesn’t argue as Jake passes him and overfilled shot glass. Without salt or a lime, Rooster sinks the liquid and picks up the chalk to dust off his pool cue.

Salt on your tongue, perched on the edge of the pool table, Jake’s green eyes glisten with oppportunity as you swallow back the warm drink, your nose wrinkling at the taste. Jake lifts the lime wedge, pleased as you open your mouth. You meet his gaze and suddenly all the patrons start to fall quiet at once.

It’s headache-inducing for Rooster, listening to all those butterflies in your stomach. You sink your teeth into the fruit and the burning sensation from the shot starts to subside, leaving you just with the same feeling but this time from Jake.

It isn’t really quiet. Really, Olive swears at Rooster again, a glass smashes somewhere to your left and the band starts to play an original song.

But it all feels quiet.

It feels all-encompassing, and intimate, and hot.

Jake takes the lime away from your mouth, the corner of his mouth twitching. Rooster was right about you. His eyes glint in the neon as your tongue swipes a droplet of stray lime juice from your bottom lip.

“You wanna get some fresh air?” he whispers, dropping the lime onto the window ledge beside him so that he can grab two handfuls of your hips.

Rooster watches you nod giddily at Jake. A pang of jealousy plucks at him; he feels green all over, sick with envy as the two of you slip out of the side exit.

If he’d smiled at you the night before or even if he had just been half as friendly as Jake had, he knows it would be him. He would happily take Jake’s spot, in another life. Not this one.

Instead, he pockets the final ball of the game and stands up straight. Sinking the shot that Rooster had declined, she takes one look at the guy she has now been left alone with and shakes her head.

The premise of fresh air was gone as soon as it was promised. The two of you had knowingly beelined it for his truck before the back door to Dutch’s had even closed behind you.

It’s no surprise to either one of you when you’re huddling into the cab of Jake’s truck at the far end of the lot. He’s kissing you. He has been kissing you the entire time he was backing you over, his hands in your hair and on your waist and squeezing at your ass— everywhere. You gasp as he falls forwards, both of you spilling across the leather seats.

He’s between your legs, pawing at your ass and grinding his belt buckle into your stomach, his hips spreading your thighs wide.

There’s nothing new about this — about a quick fuck in a truck, or about not really knowing the guy you’re kissing all too well, but this isn’t a guy you kind of know. It’s a stranger. A complete stranger, with no last name and no home and no real job. You don’t even know enough about him to ward off the questions your parents would ask.

But you moan against his mouth when he kisses you. You welcome him hungrily, twisting your fingers in his soft, sandy hair and reveling in the feeling of his rough hands exploring your skin.

You’re warm all over, hugged by this new tequila-fuelled confidence. His mouth is a welcome heat, all over and feeling so good. Somewhere between rushed, panting kisses, your shirt goes flying and his goes falling and your bare chest is smushed flat against his. His hips roll languidly into yours, denim on denim and excitement pooling in your panties.

His cool breath makes you squirm against the brown leather of the seat, lips parted and panting. Jake licks a hot stripe along the column of your neck, the tip of his nose bristling against the gold of your hoop earring. He inhales slowly, savouring the daisies and the sweat, the humanity of this closeness. Your heart thuds in your chest. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, hard.

Rooster grimaces from inside, and not just because by this point Olive has ditched him to joke around with some guys beside the bar.

Jake sits back for a moment. Heat flushed through your skin, your teeth pressed into the pillow of your bottom lip, your legs spread for him to fit between. Your shirt sits in the footwell and Jake, for the first time, gets unadulterated access to the beauty of your naked chest.

He blinks, feeling you reach for him. Your fingers follow the trail of soft, blond hair, all the way down the taut planes of his stomach. Your touch is gentle, slowly headed right for his belt buckle. Your eyes catch on a glint of gold.

His cross necklace sparkles under the glow of the streetlight behind the truck. You study the tattoo under it, the crucifix shape hidden by the necklace, right between his collarbones. There’s something off about it. Not just the morals of it. You know plenty of god-fearing boys that would be pretty willing to fuck you in this truck without knowing so much as your last name.

The skin is raised and unsteady. At first you think that maybe it’s a war tat; tons of guys got bad ink while they were overseas. But you haven’t seen it like this.

It’s jagged and scarred, the ink bleeds out over where the tissue is raised. Your first-aid knowledge is limited despite the nurses uniform you spend most of your days in, but you recognise this. The crucifix is a scar, it’s burned into his skin, like a brand.

Your gaze shifts back up to his with a beat, he’s already watching your face. The look on his face is different, suddenly calm and eerily still. He tips his head just slightly to the right, the movement jerky and stiff.

His palms weigh your hips down into the worn leather, feeling heavier than they had before. The back lot of Dutch’s feels darker than it ever has before. You feel a lot further from the safety of its smoky embrace, and a lot further from the one person who knows where you are tonight.

Rooster sinks his beer and watches Olive giggling, obliviously, by the bar.

He can hear you panicking. The sudden spike in your heartbeat and the shallow sound of your soft breaths. Maybe you’re smarter than he gave you credit for.

He thinks that Jake’s going to give you the same line he gives all the girls he fucks who are smart enough to notice the scar. Lost a bet, baby, don’t you worry about it.

Jake, instead, studies the look on your face. He looks down at your fingers still resting on his belt buckle, frozen stiff. His lips quirk at the corners. Your move.

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer-blog1 @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @hersuitisbanana @one-sweet-gubler @atarmychick007 @ximehs @nnatel @topherwrites @seitmai @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #jake hangman seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake hangman Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin au #bradley bradshaw au #Aeterna

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best-childhood-book · 10 months

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#best childhood book #poll #preliminary round #amulet #the war that saved my life #ascendance #the girl who drank the moon #the spiderwick chronicles #dragon rider #wings #the immortals quartet #chronicles of prydain

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ufonaut · 1 year

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Look, last month it looked like I’d lost her, okay? I thought she’d been killed, an’ it shook me up. I mean, the last thing I’d said to her was to get lost. But she showed up last night, an’ she’s okay. Still, it made me think about stuff... an’ I just-- I don’t know... I couldn’t live with it if... you know, if--

Slam Bradley in Catwoman (2002) #32

(Ed Brubaker, Sean Phillips, Stefano Gaudiano)

#catwoman 2002 #slam bradley #sam bradley jr #holly robinson #ed brubaker #sean phillips #stefano gaudiano #dc #dc comics #dcedit #comicedit #comicsedit #u can reblog #the way slam's so completely in love with selina.........im gonna jump out the window #god this is breaking my heart over here

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thewulf · 11 months

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Strongly Dislike You || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Here is what I’m thinking and it was a dream so bare with me. but a little ways in the future two OC characters have a kid together.The reader is friends with one and jake/bradley are friends with the other. Unfortunately tragedy strikes and both ocs pass away... Read Rest Here

A/N: The three times your grew to love Jake Seresin and the one time you fell in love. LOVED writing this one! Hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 5.4k +

Slamming down the legal document you turned toward the lawyer who was divvying up your best friends assets with bulging eyes, “What the fuck?”

Before he could continue you turned towards Jake sitting in the seat across from you with downturned eyes. He’d been different since the accident. Since your best friend Holly and her husband Jared were snatched right from the world. Taken far too soon. Stripped from the pleasure of raising their daughter.

You’d been in a state of nothingness for the last week as you really processed what the hell happened. It honestly didn’t feel real. If felt like they just moved away. Like you could still call or text her when you needed to cry. When you needed to feel any emotion. She had been with you through life. Fast friends when you moved next to her family in the sixth grade. Two girls tied at the hip.

Holly had fallen in love with the local pilot boy five years ago. The two of you lived perhaps the most opposite lives than Jared did. He flew jets on a daily basis. The two of you worked as accountants at the same firm. You went to the same middle school, high school, college and now accounting firm. She was more of a sister to you. A sister that was killed. Killed senselessly. Who would’ve thought your friends would’ve been murdered in a bank robbery. It almost made you laugh when you were out of tears. Didn’t that shit only happened in movies? They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

And sweet Rosie. Rosie girl. Their beautiful two-year-old girl that had you wrapped around her little finger had lost her world. She was ripped of the opportunity to be raised by the two best people you knew.

“Did you know about this?” You asked Jake. He was so quiet, too quiet. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like the asshole you hated.

You’d met Jake when Holly had taken you to the Hard Deck to meet Derek. It was a trick double-date. It didn’t go that great. Even Jared had to admit that as he was driving you home. It frustrated you beyond belief. You usually found it pretty easy to get along with new people. Jake was an exception. He was cocky. Arrogant beyond belief. He reminded you of your local frat boys.

He shook his head slowly letting out a low sigh, “No. Not a clue.”

Your head slowly turned back to the bored looking lawyer sitting between the two of you, “So, we live together and take care of Rosie?” Your eyes closed not really believing the words you just spoke. Your mind was exploding with a thousand thoughts in a million different directions. Why wouldn’t Holly have told you about this? Were they planning to? Did you have to do this?

“If you wish to inherit all of Jared and Holly’s assets, yes.” He confirmed with a faint nod of his head not giving you an ounce of emotion.

A deep sigh ripped from your mouth, “But living together? That’s…”

He, rather rudely, cut you off before you could continue, “A clause.”

Jake eyed you. A small smile toying at the end of his lips. He knew you weren’t his biggest fan. You had to assume the feeling was mutual. It’s not like you treated him kindly over the last few years of having the pleasure of knowing him.

You shook your head, “Why?” You couldn’t get passed the whole ‘you must live in the same home’ statement.

The lawyer let out an anguished sigh letting you very clearly know you were wasting his time. He shuffled through the papers finding the line he needed. An almost impish look of self-satisfaction washed over him when he did before looking up at you with a stoic face, “In the event that I, Jared Wittaker, and my wife Holly Wittaker both pass away we leave everything with the Godparents, Jake Seresin and Y/N Y/L/N, should they reside in the Wittaker residence for the betterment of our daughter Rosie and her stability. Should they disagree all assets are forfeited.”

An incredulously dazed look sprang on your face as you realized, “Wait, we have to live in their home?”

“Yes.” The lawyer set the papers down holding his hands in a fist atop the shiny wooded table that sat in his office.

Giving yourself whiplash you turned back to Jake who just sat there smiling now. Looking right at you, “You’re being awfully quiet Seresin.” Eyes narrowed in on his, he couldn’t really be thinking about doing this, right?

He shrugged finding your mini-breakdown amusing, “I’m in.”

Playing with the hem of your shirt in your hands your nerves were starting to get the better of you, “What?”

Looking ever so nonchalant he kept smiling right at you, “I’m in if you are.”

“This isn’t a joke Jake. This is a baby. Rosie’s life.” If looks could kill, Jake would be slain on the floor right now. But alas, they could not.

His smile only seemed to flourish as he watched you squirm. Bastard. He got off on this kind of stuff, you’d convinced yourself of that.

“Oh darlin’. You don’t think I know that?” He leaned forward egging you on with that damn smile, “Look. It’s what they wanted. The home was paid off by his family years ago. It’s been in Jared’s family for forever. That means you get a free place to stay. I get a free place to stay. Rosie gets two people who love her to death taking care of her. I know you don’t like me Y/N, but the house is big enough

Cheeks flushed red with embarrassment you sat back in your seat. You’d normally been the rational one. Why was he being it today? Why were you so emotionally drained from the man already?

You hated caving into this deal, but he was right. It’s clearly what they wanted. Chewing on your bottom lip thinking of all the options you finally gave in, “Alright then.

The lawyer tossed you and Jake both a set of house keys unamused by the dialogue going on between the two of you. He looked tired. Probably dealt with this shit all day.

“Just like that?”

He nodded, “Just like that.”

Your hand hesitantly grabbed the key in front of you. Grabbing the cool metal, you twisted it under the light wondering. Wondering what this life could have been for that family. Rosie was horrifically lucky really. She’d never have to know the despair of losing her parents. The same despair you were fighting at that present moment.

“Are you sure?” Jake asked crossing his arms over his chest with a countenance of devilish delight dancing across his features.

Nodding quickly, you added the key to your key ring, signifying it’s permanence in your life, “Yes Jake. I’m positive. I’ll be the

Leaning forward even further so that his hands were touching yours he gave you a quick shake of his head, “Can’t be darlin’. I’ll be there too.” He tossed a wink in your direction before thanking the lawyer. He waltzed out that door with so much confidence you were sure you’d just dreamed the whole thing up. Except you didn’t. Your new reality began when you stepped through that front door once more.

Dislike

It was quarter end at work which meant you were pulling doubles trying to get all your work done. Accounting was fun all up until quarter end. Then it was your hellish nightmare as you switched between coffees and caffeine drinks to keep you going. It was only a few weeks out of the year, but it felt like a million years when you were in the thick of it.

Not only was it quarter end but you were catching up on all the work you missed. It’d been a month since you and Jake moved in together with Rosie as your almost adopted daughter. Your boss had been kind enough to get you some time off but not enough so to help with the work you’d missed. The month had been interesting, to say the least. Jake was not as bad as you made him out to be in your mind, but he still pissed you off to nearly no end. He was never wrong. Jake would quite literally argue until his face was blue. It was something you were just going to have to deal with now. You’d agree to it. You’d learn how to live with him.

You’d pulled into the driveway a little after six with your phone buzzing in your hand. Looking down you frowned seeing Rosie’s Daycare calling. That was odd.

“Hello, is this Y/N?” A female voice rung from the other end of the line.

“Yes. This is her.” You turned off your car juggling your phone, keys and bag while trying to make sure you hear her.

“Hi. We close in 15 minutes, and I just wanted to make sure somebody is coming to pick up Rosie?” She sounded nervous, like you’d explode on her or something. Quite the opposite. You sat there in silence as your heart dropped down to your ass.

Your eyes scrunched together. Today was Jake’s day to grab Rosie. You’d gone over it with him nearly a hundred times this weekend making sure he was on the same page as you. Spinning around on your heals you stopped when you spotted his car parked on the street. He was home and Rosie was not. He fucking forgot her.

“Oh, yes. I’m so sorry. Time just got away from me.” You gave her a breathy laugh trying to play it cool, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“No problem at all miss. Thank you.” She hung the phone up quickly. Daycare was only five minutes away. That gave you approximately three minutes to go yell at him and chew his forgetful ass out before you needed to get to Rosie.

Storming into the house you slammed the door open. Even you cringed a little when the door hit the wall. That wall would need a little love later.

“Jake Seresin!” You screeched like a banshee beside yourself. Your hands were shaking so bad your phone was at risk from flying right out of your hand.

“Would you cool it?” He gave you a sly smile while sauntering out of his bedroom. He leaned on the wall at the end of the hallway giving you a humorous look, “Broke the damn wall darlin’.” Normally you’d find his slow southern drawl at the end of the day semi-relaxing. Slowly growing used to this new lifestyle. But now? Now it sounded like nails on a chalk board.

Shaking your head, you were trying to reign the anger in, “Where the fuck is Rosie, Jake?” Biting your cheek from saying something overly nasty you simply flared your nostrils in rage. Rage that’d he forget the most important part of the plan. The toddler who was probably wondering where in the hell her sub parents are. She too was slowly getting used to it. She refused to call either you or Jake ‘mom’ or ‘dad’ but it didn’t bother you. You were new to her developing brain. She had to relearn everything. Her routines were shaken in an instant. How jarring that must be for such a little one you thought.

He looked at you, then the wall, then the floor, then back at you with wide eyes finally processing your words, “I’m on my way.” He knew he’d fucked up. You’d even reminded him that morning. That was strike number 89 against him. He only seemed to be fumbling this more and more. He was trying. He really was. It was just hard. Harder than he’d ever expected. Jared made it seem so easy. He has to take it up another level. Right now. For you and Rosie.

You’d never seen him move so fast almost flying out of the house. The bitter look on your face didn’t stop you from high tailing it right behind him throwing yourself in the passenger’s seat before he raced off.

“How could you forget?” The adrenaline had worn down now and you just felt depleted. Depleted and scared.

“I…” He looked over at you before quickly shifting his eyes on the road, “I don’t know. I don’t have an answer. It was a busy day at work and I… I let it get it me.”

You kept your stare straight forward willing the truck to get there a little bit faster.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. It won’t happen again. This is all so new. I’m trying here.”

Your eyes peaked over at him as your head turned slowly, “Try harder.” It was a little brutal. You knew it. But he also couldn’t forget your child at daycare. She was your child now. Your responsibly. And if anything happened to Holly’s daughter, to sweet little Rosie, you’d thought you just might end up with Holly up in heaven.

“Fuck.” He groaned gunning it through a nearly red light before sliding the truck into the parking spot in the front. You took a quick peak noticing the lack of cars in the parking lot before jumping out of the vehicle. You ran inside muttering a quick apology to the girl at the front. Scanning for Rosie you spotted her coloring in the corner.

Jake stayed back apologizing to the last employee there. You’d heard bits of the conversation before fully focusing your attention on the small girl, “Rosie, baby.” You squatted down opening your arms up for her, giving her a choice.

She looked up giving you a sweet smile, golden curls bouncing as she turned her head, “Hi Y/N.” She put the Crayon down before running over to hug you.

Squeezing her in your arms you picked her up giving her a soft kiss on the crown of her head, “How was your day cutie?” You placed her on your hip letting her get acclimated. She recently exploded in speech chatting you and Jake up constantly. It was adorable.

She nodded before yawning, “Good! Played Barbie.” She grinned pointing to the doll house in the corner with all sorts of different Barbie’s and dolls stacked inside.

“Did you? Was it fun?” You asked walking over to get her shoes on. Little did you know Jake was watching the entire interaction close to swooning at how gentle you were with her. How you were treating her like a human, a real person and not some little nuisance that didn’t have feelings. Your maternal instincts kicked in quick, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jake. That was partially why he’d felt so damn bad about failing left and right. Because you weren’t. It seemed to come so naturally to you it made him feel almost inadequate. You knew what to do in every situation.

You didn’t feel that way of course. And Jake wasn’t really as bad as he thought he was. This was his first big fuck up and you just wanted him to really feel it. When you turned around seeing the look of love written all over his face it sent a pang of guilt right to your heart. You offered him a small genuine smile before turning back to Rosie, tying up her little laces coated in rainbows and unicorns together. It was a gift from your mom after she’d learned of your new fate. She vehemently disagreed with your decision to do this. But you couldn’t let go of Rosie. She was too much like Holly to give her up. The colorful shoes were a peace offering you gladly accepted.

She giggled, “Fun!” Clapping her petite hands together her joy brought a bright smile upon your own face.

“That makes me so happy!” You gave her leg a light squeeze, “Are you ready to go home Rosie girl?”

She nodded, “Hungry.” Patting her belly, she kicked her legs into yours softly.

You let off a soft laugh. That never ceased to get rise out of you. It’ll be a sad day when she grows out of those gestures.

“Jake is going to make us dinner. Isn’t that right Jake?” You looked up seeing he moved closer not dropping that look. The look you’d literally only seen tonight from him. It felt foreign.

“That’s right. For my favorite girls.” He nodded softly.

“Alright. Let’s get going so we can eat.” You bent down to pick up the overtired toddler. A fun day of play for sure. She held onto you with all the strength she had left. Jake led the way opening the door and car door for you. You buckled her into the car seat with ease. Finally getting comfortable with the thing after a few weeks of triple checking your work.

You hopped in the passenger’s seat after Jake gave her a quick kiss giving her a quick hello. You thought about him for a second. His favorite girls? Was he just putting on a show or telling the truth? After a few moments of silent driving, he spoke up again.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I will try harder. I promise.” He sounded sincere. Your panic must’ve gotten through to him only twenty minutes prior.

You nodded accepting his words, “I believe you.”

A genuine smile crossed his face taking in your words. Satisfied.

Partial Dislike

Her crying woke you with a startle. Being woken up in the middle of deep dreamless sleep was shocking. It took you longer than normal to hobble on over to the baby girls room.

“Sweet girl.” You cooed before seeing Jake sitting there in the rocker holding her with a bottle of something. He cradled her head in between his bicep and chest as she sprawled across his lap. Tired and ornery, a dangerous combo. The terrible twos were striking hard for the little one. His other handheld the bottle steady to her chest so she could sip it out. Her eyes were already drooping by the time you’d walked into the room.

A wave of relief rushed over your own chest as you witnessed the sweet moment before you. You took a mental snapshot of the precious moment. A beautiful moment between the two newly found humans.

Jake looked up at you with a faint smile gracing his lips, “Got her.” He whispered stoking a gentle thumb down her arm. She was fading fast not even acknowledging your presence. You’d usually been the first one there, but it took an act of God himself to wake you tonight. But Jake was on it. He had been on it for a little while now. Another month had passed, and you hadn’t been on his throat for almost all of it. What a strange feeling. You’d been merely tolerating him, but Rosie had been bringing you closer unknowingly. She demanded both of you pay attention to her when you were both home… or else. Whatever that threat meant from a toddler.

You sent him a soft nod as you kept observing the precious scene before you. He took your statement to heart. He was trying harder. Stepping up in a way you’d never expected.

“Thank you.” You whispered taking a step closer to the duo, “I was knocked out.”

He nodded continuing to rock her, “Go back to sleep darlin’. I’ve got her. It’s been nice spending some time with her.” He urged you out of the room with a sweep of his head towards the door.

“You sure?” You took a step closer brushing a stray curl out of her face.

“Positive. She’d knocked out anyway. But I want to hold her for a little more. It’s nice” He looked down sheepishly at the small child cuddled right in his arms.

The moment was beyond anything you’d experienced in this lifetime. Who would’ve thought it’d come at 3 AM on a random Wednesday morning. Oh, how fascinating life was.

“She’s so beautiful isn’t she?” The sleeping girl had let go of the bottle as her head turned into Jake’s shoulder, nuzzling right up on him. She felt so comfortable in his arms. She was adapting quickly. Soon her parents would be a distant memory in that ever-expanding brain. It broke your heart. Holly didn’t get a chance to raise her. As much as you cherished the precious girl it still hurt knowing the consequence of it.

“She’s the most beautiful little girl in the world.” He continued brushing her arms whispering quietly careful not to wake the sleeping baby.

Your heart did a weird flutter at those words. He was growing on you, quickly. Scarily quickly. He’d morphed into a new man in front of yours eyes over the last two months. One that took words to heart and picked it up.

“She is.” You gave him a full-on smile as you took your last mental snapshot, “Night Jake. Sleep well.”

“You too, Y/N.” He gave you a gentle nod careful not to disturb her.

Kinda Liking Him

It wasn’t a bad day. It just sucked that you had to go in today, a Saturday. But your boss needed some extra work done and you were next up on the overtime docket. Jake was off taking Rosie for the day.

Things were going well. Almost too well. You were waiting on the shoe to drop but it was month four and the two of you were molding together quicker than ever. Finding an easy routine between the two of you. Rosie adapted better than you’d ever dreamed of. She blossomed after month three. Her short questions and answers were turning into full blown conversations.

You’d called out once you’d entered the house hearing it weirdly quiet. There was definitely no toddler in here. Your nerves began to bubble until you found yourself at your backdoor peeking out into the backyard.

The nerves died down when you saw Jake chasing Rosie around the small playground Jared had built for Rosie a year ago, even though she was still far too small to use it. He was just so excited he got a mega head start. Lucky for her it’d be here when she wanted it. Her daddy built it for her. Just for her.

You stood and watched her screaming laughter as Jake sped up and slow down. He’d tickle her for a second and she sprint off in laughter once more. Jake let her speed off before he slowly started chasing her once again.

All was good and well right up until she slipped on some wet grass and fell on the bricks that lined the garden bed skinning her knee. You winced as the sudden silence was met with a screaming crying toddler suddenly. Blood tricked down from the small cut.

Jake scooped her up in a hurry rocking her in his arms. When that was only left with more wails he hightailed it for the house knowing he needed to distract the weepy toddler before he’d be able to clean up the wound.

You opened the door for him as he got closer not wanting him to slow down trying to wrangle it open with a squirmy toddler in his hands.

He hopped through with a smile waving at you with his free hand, “Your home.” The harsh glares turned to softer looks as you got to know the real him more. You’d really never given him a chance to before and you were slowly starting to regret your actions. Brushed off the man for years based on a snap judgment made all those years ago. Oh well, at least you were learning the real him now.

“I am.” You smiled, “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

He nodded, “I’ll distract her in the meantime.”

You’d handed him the kit after retrieving it from the bathroom. Taking a step back you watched him take over the situation. He’d gotten her a lollipop, her favorite. The tears almost instantly stopped once she spotted the sucker in his hand.

You watched as he cleaned it off with water in the sink before dabbing it dry and disinfecting it. He told her it would sting, and she needed to be a big girl.

You grinned in amazement as she clutched onto Jakes hand as he dabbed the wound clean with the alcohol making sure it wouldn’t get infected with her falling all the time still. She let out a soft sigh when he said, “All done, you’re so brave Rosie.”

She nodded along with him, “I am brave.”

“So strong too.” He smiled continuing to clean the wound with Neosporin before finishing off with a Barbie Band-Aid. Her favorite thing in the world.

“Strong?”

Jake grabbed her arm squeezing it softly, “So strong! You fall down sometimes but you get back up. We’re so proud of you for that.”

“I am strong.” She smiled agreeing with him. Giving him a flex of her bicep mimicking his action of ‘strong’. Your smile grew and grew as you watched him reinforce this into the girl. She was growing so quickly. She had to remember how strong she really was. Growing and adapting in the world and with new people at the same time.

“All done.” Jake tapped her nose.

She looked down squealing almost instantly, “It’s Barbie!” The cut hadn’t even phased the girl any longer. She was so excited to have Barbie on her leg it didn’t seem to matter anymore. You watched as he set her down on the floor. She took off going to go play with her toys in the room adjacent.

Jake turned to you, “Thank you.”

“No need. You did great there Jake. Looked like a natural.”

He raised a brow, “A rare compliment? What a day!”

“Oh, shove it up your ass Jake.” You rolled your eyes playfully beginning to walk to the room over wanting to play with Rosie.

“Only if you do it for me darlin’!” He grinned knowing that’d get a rise out of you.

You stifled a giggle not wanting to give him satisfaction, “Pig.”

“You love it.” His was grinning ear to ear. Happier than ever. He’d seemingly figured it out. Gotten into the routine of it. Gotten you to finally warm up to him. He’d never felt like this before. So whole. So, himself. He could only thank the two of you for completing him.

“Maybe I do.” You whispered before vanishing off leaving him to his thoughts.

Oh Shit, I Love Him

You walked downstairs finding Jake sitting at the kitchen table eating some eggs, “Rosie’s sick.” You sighed. You were surprised it hadn’t happened sooner honestly. Day care could be a brutal place.

He nodded, “Thought so, she seemed warm when I kissed her forehead this morning.”

“I’ll call in.” You sat down feeling the sleepiness take over secretly happy to take the day off.

He shook his head, “I don’t mind. I haven’t used a sick day yet this year.”

You shrugged, “Let’s both call off. There’s a bad flu going around anyway.”

He gave you a gorgeous shit eating grin. It’s been six months now and it was almost perfect. Your like for him was bubbling into love. He’d not only tried harder but kicked it into high gear. He’d taken on the role of father to the next level. He was her everything and she was his everything. Your love grew for him as you watched his bond with Rosie blossom into the most gorgeous relationship you’d ever seen. Seeing an almost three your old bring a grown man to his knees always brought a chuckle out of you.

“That’s a great idea darlin’.” He’d never dropped the term of endearment with you. However, it didn’t sound so condescending. It oozed honey as he filled it out with his southern drawl over time. He just knew how to suck you right on in.

The two of you sat there chatting casually while watching the discovery channel in the background. Things had gotten so easy with him. They’d gotten so natural between the two of you.

When the monitor started humming with her cries he was the first one up rushing to her crib before pulling her out gently, “It’s okay Rosie.” He held her in his arms.

You watched in awe as he cooled her down with a cold washcloth and some milk. She drunk it slowly unsure if it’d hurt her stomach or not. He didn’t ask for a lick of help as he poured the children’s Tylenol into syringe. He effortlessly gave her the medicine even getting a small smile from the sleepy sick girl.

It was at that moment you knew you loved him. You had love for him for a while now but seeing him so gentle with her sent you into orbit. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched him lay her down telling her a story until her heard her breathe even out.

Oh shit, you loved the damn man you swore you hated only six months ago. He’d weaseled his way in and carved and carved and he didn’t need to carve anymore. He had it. He had your heart wholly.

“What?” He asked as the two of you settled back on the couch ready to return back to conversation.

You shook your head suspiciously quick, “Nothing.”

“Bullshit darlin’. Can’t bullshit a bullshitter.” He winked at you while biting his damn lip on the side revealing a set of gorgeously white teeth. He has to know what he was doing to you.

You laughed, “It’s sweet. Watching the two of you.”

“There’s more.” He pressed scooting a touch closer to you.

“You’re so good with her.” You whispered eyes looking anywhere but at his.

“Darlin’, look at me.” He wanted to touch your cheek, but he didn’t want to fuck it up already. He had an inkling you grew to like him as much as he’d always liked you. He’d of course grown to love you over the same amount of time. As much as he’d grown he’d watched as you blossomed and matured into a new woman. You’d become a mom over the last six months. Vowing to protect her over anything. You were beyond fierce and crazy loyal. He’d always known you were something special. Something different.

You’d listened. You’d always listen to him now. God damn, he had you wrapped around his finger. He’d admit to the same though. He’d do anything you ask. Anything in the world.

“I like you.” There it was. He’d put it out into the universe for you to take or reject. It was all up to you.

You turned your head. The last thing you were expecting from him, “You do?”

“A lot. I like you a lot.” He confirmed aching to touch you anywhere. But not until you confirmed. Not until he knew for sure.

Your smile brightened tenfold as you processed his words, “I like you too. A lot. I like you a lot Jake Seresin.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He cupped your face gently settling the urge down gently.

“Who would’ve thought.” You laughed softly putting a little pressure on his hand. Letting him know you really did like it, his touch.

He chucked scooting close to you now, “Certainly not me. I thought you hated me.”

You nodded considering your words, “I wouldn’t say hated. I’d say… strongly disliked.”

He threw his head back full of laughter bubbling out of his mouth. When he caught his breath he continued, “Strongly disliked it is. Look where we are now though.” He’s place a gentle hand on your thigh rubbing soft circles with his thumb. He’d enjoyed the goosebumps that erupted from your skin with his gentle touch.

You’d nodded your head looking into his eyes, “To liked. Strongly disliked to really strongly liked.” You’d confirmed once again.

He beamed, “I’m going to kiss you now.” He placed his other hand on your cheek holding your head in his hands.

You nodded eagerly feeling every emotion as he brought his hands to your face, holding you like you were made of glass, “Please do.” You whispered before his lips touched yours for the first of many times.

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