#Jake Seresin AU

[thewulf]

Easy Skies || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Feeling cuddly so you end up cuddling Jake for the first time in the early stages of your relationships. How this would lead to them napping together? Nothing but praises and love affirmations between them. Soft kisses. Readers first kiss with Jake.

A/N: Ahhh sorry I've been gone! Been enjoying summer :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.7k +

T/W : None just fluff

It’s been several weeks since you and Jake officially started seeing each other. You met at a community event honoring local heroes where Jake shared stories of his missions and the places his career had taken him. Your own interest in aerial photography sparked a quick and deep conversation between the two of you leading to an instant connection.

It was going really well. The two of you taking your time with everything. He shared stories of how we was reckless in the past and you were already very cautionary with types like his. So, you tested him a bit. Only kisses on the cheek, nothing more. And he did passed with flying colors. He never pressured you, never pushed for more. But now you were ready for something more. You're spending a lazy Sunday at Jake’s apartment for the first time. His place reflects his life as a pilot. It was decorated with navigational charts. With different models of aircraft he’s flown and photographs from around the world. The walls hold framed maps marked with the various places he's visited, each one holding a story he's eager to share with you.

As the afternoon fades into evening, you both settle into the comfortable couch in his living room. The soft music playing in the background mixes with the mellow golden light streaming through the windows creating a serene atmosphere. It's a rare and quiet moment for Jake who is usually caught up in the demanding schedule of a Navy pilot. You cherish the peaceful intimacy that has formed between you. Today’s simplicity is a precious contrast to the complexities of your usual routines.

As you both relax into the couch Jake recounts a comical error from his last training exercise. He'd accidentally swapped his day’s checklist with another pilot’s which led to some light-hearted confusion and teasing from his crew.

“You seriously went through half the pre-flight with the wrong list?” you laugh while shaking your head in amusement.

“Yep,” Jake admits with a grin. “It was only when I called out the wrong coordinates that someone caught on. We all had a good laugh about it later.” The conversation winds down as you both sink into the rhythm of each other’s presence, comfortable and at ease. There’s a genuine simplicity in the way you interact, no need for constant chatter. Jake’s job as a pilot often surrounds him with high stakes and rigor making these peaceful moments particularly valuable.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Just being able to sit and talk without rushing anywhere,” Jake comments. His tone relaxed.

“It really is,” you agree as you smiled over at him. “Especially with good company.”

He returns your smile with a warm, appreciative one of his own. As the room fills with the soft hum of a new song the day closes around you both, cozy and familiar. Like a well-loved jacket that’s been washed a hundred times. It’s easy, it’s comfortable. And right now, it’s exactly what you both need.

As the afternoon shadows stretch across the room a yawn escapes you, shifting the comfortable silence. Jake catches it and chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Tired?” he teases before nudging you gently with his elbow.

“Maybe a little,” you admit while stretching your arms above your head. “It’s been a long week.”

Jake nods understandingly. His gaze softening. “How about we take a little nap then? Recharge a bit?”

You playfully raise an eyebrow. A smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you’re joining. I hear you’re the best pillow around here.”

Jake’s laughter fills the room, warm and infectious. “Is that so? Well, I can’t let you down then.” He shifts himself making room on the couch and pats the spot next to him "Come here," he says softly. His voice blending with the low melody. With a contented smile you slide closer until you're nestled against him. Your head resting comfortably on his broad chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart through the soft fabric of his shirt. A reassuring rhythm that echoes quietly in your ear. Jake's arm wraps securely around you with his hand resting gently on your back. The warmth of his touch and the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes bring an overwhelming sense of peace and safety.

For a few moments you simply listen, taking in the sound of his heartbeat and the soft, steady breaths he draws. It's a new level of intimacy of sharing this quiet closeness without the need for words. Jake's hand moves in slow, soothing strokes across your back further relaxing you. With each passing second the world beyond the walls of Jake’s apartment seems to drift further away. You're drawn into this serene bubble where the only things that matter are the soft fabric of the couch, the gentle caress of Jake's hand, and the comforting rhythm of his heart.

Jake breaks the silence with a whisper that's barely audible over the music. "This is nice," he murmurs. His breath tickling your ear. You hum in agreement as you were too content and relaxed to form words. The trust and affection in this simple act of cuddling deepen, marking a beautiful, quiet milestone in your growing relationship.

As the soft jazz continues to play creating a soothing backdrop, the room grows quieter still. The comfort of Jake’s embrace coupled with the warm, gentle atmosphere lulls you deeper into relaxation. His breathing becomes slower, more rhythmic, signaling his own descent into sleep. You feel his grip tighten just a bit. A subconscious affirmation of his presence and protection. Gradually, the space between wakefulness and sleep blurs. Your thoughts drift away, anchored only by the steady heartbeat beneath your ear. In the safety of Jake’s arms sleep seems like the most natural progression. Without planning it you both drift off. The world narrowing down to the couch where you lie together.

The nap isn't long but it’s restorative. Exactly what you needed. As you both sleep there’s an unspoken exchange of trust and comfort. It’s one thing to share conversations and activities but another to share such vulnerability as sleep in each other’s presence. This mutual comfort speaks volumes about the trust and closeness developing between you.

Time slips by quietly and when you eventually stir it’s to the feeling of Jake’s fingers lightly brushing through your hair. His movements are soft and careful, designed not to wake you but to reassure himself you’re still there. You open your eyes slowly meeting his gaze which is filled with a quiet joy.

“Hey,” he whispers. As if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the peaceful moment you've shared.

“Hey,” you respond with your voice just as soft. The simple exchange feels like a gentle reconnection to the world affirming the comfort and affection that wrapped around you both as you slept. The nap together was simple yet intimate. It deepens the connection between you. Each quiet breath shared adding another layer to your growing relationship.

The afternoon light has softened into a cozy twilight by the time you both stir from your nap. You’re still wrapped in Jake’s arms and as your eyes meet there’s a playful spark between you that feels both exciting and comforting. “Welcome back,” Jake murmurs. His voice low and slightly husky from sleep. He leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then one on the tip of your nose, which makes you giggle.

“Is that how you wake up all your guests?” you tease. Your voice light and tinged with laughter.

“Only the special ones,” he replies with a grin with his eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn’t stop there though. His kisses wander from your cheek to your jawline, each peck light and teasing, drawing more giggles from you. The laughter that fills the room is warm, echoing the affectionate mood.

Jake’s playful kisses continue by tracing a path down the side of your neck, sending a shiver of delight through you. You can’t help but catch him by the collar before pulling him back up to meet your eyes. “You’re going to make it impossible to leave this couch,” you laugh while still holding onto his shirt.

“That’s the plan,” he whispers back. His voice playful yet sincere. Then in a swift, fluid motion he captures your lips with his in a kiss that’s deeper and more intentional than the playful ones before. This kiss feels like a culmination of all the gentle pecks, each one adding a layer to the profound connection you’re building together.

As you break away there’s a shared smile. A mutual understanding of the affection and joy weaving through each interaction, each touch, each kiss. The playfulness adds a lightness to your relationship. He made moments like these not just romantic but genuinely fun, enriching the bond you share with laughter and love. After the laughter subsides and the atmosphere settles into a comfortable quiet, Jake looks at you with a contented smile. His eyes reflecting a gentle appreciation. "These moments with you. They're the highlight of my week," he says quietly. His voice carrying a note of sincerity.

Feeling a warm glow from his words you nod and smile softly. Your response understated but genuine. "It always feels different when I'm with you. It's easy, you know?" Your words are simple, echoing the straightforwardness of your time together.

Jake's response is a nod, his smile lingering. "Let's keep it that way," he replies. His agreement simple yet full of promise. The conversation feels natural, reflecting the comfort and understated affection that characterizes your relationship. As twilight transitions into the deep blue of night neither of you feels ready to break the comfortable cocoon you've formed on the couch. Jake glances at the clock, then back at you with a playful challenge in his eyes.

"How about we order some dinner?" he suggests. His tone casual but hopeful. "I'm not quite ready for this day to end. But I don’t think I can get up quite yet."

You laugh while agreeing instantly. "Sounds perfect. What are you in the mood for?"

"Pizza okay with you?" Jake asks already reaching for his phone to place the order.

"Always a good choice," you reply settling back against his chest while feeling utterly at ease.

The wait for the food is filled with more soft conversations. Each shared thought strengthening the bond between you. As the evening unfolds it becomes clear that days like these are just the beginning of what you both hope will be many more shared experiences.

When the food arrives, you set up a makeshift dining area on the coffee table, continuing the easy flow of the day into the evening. Each slice of pizza comes with stories you share. Each laugh making the room warmer. As the evening winds down, you find yourselves eagerly talking about other things you could do together, from movie nights to hiking trips. The night ends not just with satisfied appetites but with the excitement of planning future outings. It's clear that your relationship is blossoming. Full of promise for more beautiful days and nights shared in each other’s company.

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[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 4

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Did I write an angstier version of this chapter and then rewrite the last half entirely because y'all deserve a fluffy read? Yes, yes I did. Thank you for all your wonderful ideas! I've got them all lined up for future chapters hehehe So don't be blaming me for the heartache you're inflicting upon yourselves XD Muah!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Swearing, suggestive language, protective Jake

WC: 2000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist

“You have a what?” Jake exclaims, nearly choking on his coffee.

“A date,” you repeat, smiling giddily at both him and Bradley. “We met at pub night last week and we’ve been texting.”

“Texting?” Jake raises his eyebrows skeptically. He looks over at Bradley as though he expects him to express an opinion, but Bradley just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Be careful,” your brother says, returning his attention to the plate of scrambled eggs before him.

You snort. “In what way?”

“In all ways,” Jake chimes in, clearly annoyed that Bradley has nothing else to add. “Guys are dicks so keep your guard up.”

You give Jake a humorous look. “Not all guys,” you say.

Jake nods at you. “All guys.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “This isn’t my first date, Jake.”

“Just work under the assumption that all guys are dicks, alright?” he says. “That way, when he turns out to be a dick, you won’t be shocked.”

You set down the jar of jam you’re holding and let out a sigh. Since the incident with couch girl, Jake has gone out with three different women, which, to be fair, is normal for him. Still, you’re just about done pining over your brother’s best friend, whose signals you’ve clearly misread. If guys are dicks, then Jake Seresin is exhibit A. “He’s actually super sweet,” you say, taking your toast out of the toaster.

“Don’t be fooled,” Jake mutters.

Bradley grimaces as he looks up at you. “He’s not wrong.”

“I have dated plenty of nice guys,” you say. “Just because the two of you are assholes to women, doesn’t mean all men are.”

Bradley claps a hand to his chest. “Me?” he cries in disbelief.

Jake puckers his lips and gives you a sheepish grin without disputing your claim.

“I’m not going into this with your negative energy,” you say, waving your arms at the two of them. “Because maybe he’s nothing like you.”

“One could hope.” Jake shrugs.

Bradley eyes him dubiously. “Just be careful,” he repeats.

“Don’t worry, it’s just dinner and a movie,” you say, bringing your breakfast to the table.

“What movie are you going to go see?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “We’re going back to his place so probably something on Netflix.”

Jake sets down his fork and knife and stares at you. “You’re going where?”

You ignore Jake’s outburst and take a bite out of your toast. “I’ll be home late,” you say, mostly to Bradley. “So, don’t wait up.”

Jake stares at you. “You can’t just go to some random dude’s home,” he says.

You cock your head at him inquisitively. “Interesting advice coming from someone who brings home random girls almost daily.”

Jake presses his lips together and exhales moodily. “That’s different.”

Bradley smirks, eyeing him expectantly.

“How?” you ask.

Jake rises from his seat and lifts his coffee cup. “Do whatever you want,” he says. “Bradshaw, let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”

Bradley gives you a resigned sort of look and shoves one last piece of toast into his mouth. “I’m driving,” he says with his mouth full.

“You better not be blocking me in!” you yell at their backs as they head for the front door.

…

That night, your date drops you off at the end of your driveway, leaning in for a kiss before you exit his car. You give him a quick peck and a tight smile before stepping out of the vehicle, knowing that, despite the evening having been pleasant enough, you’re probably not going to pursue the relationship further.

He asks about seeing you later in the week and you peek back through his car window and respond with a polite maybe because perhaps the guy deserves another chance. You walk up to the porch as he drives away, and then try the door before searching for your keys in the dark.

The door is unlocked, so you walk in, flicking on the light, and the first thing you see is Jake as he steps away from the window facing the driveway and places his hands on his hips.

“He didn’t want to walk you to the door?” he asks sternly.

You grimace at him. “Why are you here?”

“Bradley had to stay late tonight so I came to make sure you got home alright.”

You blink at him coolly. “And that involves spying on me?”

“If I were spying on you, you wouldn’t know about it,” Jake retorts, starting for the kitchen. “You hungry?”

“I just came from dinner,” you remind him, taking off your heels.

You follow him into the kitchen, dropping your purse on the floor as you go. You’re suddenly feeling extremely tired. Jake opens the refrigerator and starts taking out ingredients for a meal while you walk past him and land on the couch in the living room. Jake cranes his neck to look at you over the island. “I’m making spaghetti,” he calls.

“Knock yourself out,” you reply, closing your eyes.

You hear Jake step around the island and enter the living room, and then you feel the depression of the couch as he plants himself down by your feet. You open your eyes again. “Yes?” you say.

Jake watches you blankly for a second before finally blurting out, “How’d it go?”

You furrow your eyebrows, still confused by his interest in your dating life. You pull your knees up so that your feet don’t keep sliding into him and pretend like you aren’t at all intrigued by his question. “Fine,” you respond nonchalantly.

Jake nods although he doesn’t look entirely satisfied with your answer. “Still think he’s nice?”

You eye him wryly. “Very.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Too nice?”

You make a face at him. “What’s too nice?”

Jake shrugs. “Boring.”

You give him a flat look. “This perspective explains so much,” you say, pointing at him reproachfully.

Jake laughs. “Girls don’t like nice guys.”

“I like nice guys!” you exclaim, sitting up with renewed energy.

Jake eyes you skeptically. “Sure, you do.” His gaze sweeps over your face in a slightly provocative manner and you get the sense again that he might be into you. And this possibility sends a rush through your body that makes your head spin. However, you remind yourself that, if this were, in fact, the case, Jake wouldn’t be going out and sleeping with a new woman every other night, because that would be counterintuitive. Besides, you are getting over him, anyway. You are well on your way to recovery.

You shake your head at him and lean your back into the armrest of the couch.

“You dressed up for him,” he notes, meeting your gaze as you glance up at him.

“Would you rather I undressed for him?” you ask pointedly.

Jake blinks at you uncomfortably. He looks like he might be sick. “Don’t joke about that,” he says, rubbing his forehead anxiously.

“You started it.”

“I just meant ” – he sighs without looking at you – “I just meant, you look good.”

“Then just say that,” you retort. “Without being a dick about it.”

He turns to look at you with an apologetic sort of cringe contorting his features. “Guess I’m not a ‘nice’ guy,” he mutters, complete with air quotes.

You stare at him, wondering if he’s hinting at something. You kick him in the leg with your foot. “Don’t be weird.”

He chuckles. “Come on,” he says, rising from the couch. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But I want company,” he says with a slight whine, bending forward to grab your wrists and pull you up off the couch.

You let him lift you to your feet, your body crashing briefly into his while you find your balance. Jake releases you instantly and takes a step back, holding his hands up as though he doesn’t want to be held responsible for initiating the contact.

“Sorry,” he mutters quickly.

You give him a look. “I said, don't be weird, Jake.”

…

Three weeks later, you’re sitting with Jake on a patio, waiting for Bradley to bring the three of you drinks from the bar.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say tentatively, making sure that Bradley is still inside the pub.

“Shoot,” Jake responds, downing the last of his beer.

“It’s about my boyfriend,” you say.

Jake cringes. “He’s your boyfriend now?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess. We haven’t really formally established our relationship status.”

Jake nods. “And you want out?”

“What? No!”

“What’s the question, then?” Jake raises his eyebrows.

“It’s about the sex,” you say, stirring your drink with your straw to avoid looking at him.

“The what?” Jake exclaims, reaching for his empty glass of beer and bringing it to his mouth before realizing there is nothing left.

You clear your throat and glance up at him, slightly mortified. “It’s… it’s good, it’s just” –

“Woah, woah, woah!” he shouts, leaping up from his seat as though your words have burned him. “I don’t want to hear about that!”

You give him a flat look. “Jake, I literally found you naked on my couch last month. The least you could do is give me some guidance.”

Jake squirms. “I’m not – I can’t,” he stammers. “I don’t think I can listen to this.”

“Why not?!”

Jake lets out a dramatic moan. “Why don’t you ask your brother?”

“For advice on my sex life?” you hiss.

“Don’t you have friends?” Jake asks, dropping back into his seat.

“I need a guy’s opinion.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and gives his head a slight shake to indicate that he’s still not on board with this turn of events. “Don’t you have guy friends?”

You nod. “I do. And you’re one of them. Are you not?”

Jake stares at you defeatedly. “How detailed is this going to get?”

You glance over your shoulder to check on the crowd of people waiting for drinks at the bar, looking for your brother. You spot him nowhere near the counter, chatting up a stunning brunette, and resolve that you have at least fifteen minutes alone with Jake. You turn back to him and say, “That depends on how helpful you want to be.”

Jake whimpers. “I have no alcohol left.”

You roll your eyes. “Have mine,” you say, sliding your cocktail across the bistro table.

Jake takes the glass from you, his hand wrapping momentarily around yours before you let go. “Okay,” he says, taking a big gulp. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” you say with a hesitant sigh. “So, the thing is, he really wants to try” –

“Nope, no, nuh-uh,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.” He buries his face in his hands.

“Dude, I need your help!”

“You want my advice? Here it is,” he says, leaning into the table so suddenly that you jerk backward just to prevent a collision between your two faces. “Doesn’t matter what he wants to try if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“But it’s” –

Jake holds up a hand. “I don’t care what it is. If you’re sittin’ here talkin’ to me about it, it means you don’t want to do it.”

You stare at him, wondering when Jake Seresin had the opportunity to amass such profound wisdom. You furrow your eyebrows. “Even if it’s, like, supposedly a normal thing people do?”

Jake hooks his eyebrow; you’ve piqued his interest. “That’s what he told you?”

You nod slowly.

Jake lets out a long, heavy breath through his nose, his lips pressed tightly together as his jaw clenches. He studies your face with a look of concern. “You tell that asshole that the next time he pressures you into doing anything, he’s going to have to deal with me.” Jake takes another swig of your cocktail and then adds, “And your brother, of course.”

You grimace. “He’s not pressuring me. It just… was brought to my attention that there is a particular thing that we could be doing – that many people do – that we’re not currently doing – that… ugh, it would be so much easier if you just let me tell you what the thing is!”

Jake places a hand on your knee. “If you tell me what the thing is, I might hurl.” You groan in frustration while Jake pats your leg sympathetically. He shakes his head. “I knew this guy was gonna be a dick.”

Read Part 5

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[vivwritesfics]

Smooth Seas Don't Make Good Sailors

Summary: Mermaids. They're not real. At least Jake Seresin, future advisor to the future king, doesn't think so. But then two girls wash up on the beach and change his life (well, one changes his life, one changes Bradleys)

Jake Seresin X Reader - Little Mermaid AU

9.6K

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral (fem!receiving)

(banner by @nurse-floyd)

Jake Seresin stood on the balcony. The view of the sun setting over the ocean was always incredible at this time of day. The clouds were that mesmerising shade of orange and the horizon was lit up like a beacon. He had dreams, fantastic dreams of man one day being able to chase the sunset. 

From behind him, Pete cleared his throat. Pete Mitchell, advisor and closest confident to the king. Well, that was before the king had met his untimely end, sailing through that storm. The queen had taken up the mantle, but a heart can only survive so long without its other half. It was sickness that had claimed her, leaving behind the teenaged prince. 

Bradley wasn't yet king, couldn't be king until he was married. He was still the ruler of the kingdom, but all decisions were made between him and Pete. It wasn't always that way, though. There was a time where Pete had gone gallivanting across the continent, bedding a new girl in every kingdom. Tom Kazansky, another advisor and old friend of the kings, had been by Bradley's side at that time. The kingdom had flourished with the two of them working together. But then Tom had caught the sickness that had taken the queen, and it had taken him, too. 

Pete had returned to the kingdom the moment the news of Tom Kazansky had reached him. After his disappearance, it had taken Bradley a long while to begin trusting his fathers oldest friend again. They still weren't all the way there, but had some to some sort of truce. Bradley didn't fight him on every decision, like he had when Pete had first returned. Once again, the kingdom was beginning to thrive. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Pete said as he stepped up beside Jake. Jake, who would one day be in Pete's position when Bradley became king. He was dreading the day. If it was up to Jake, Bradley would have been a perpetual bachelor, never marrying, never forcing Jake to grow up with him. 

That was the way it was supposed to be, the two of them having fun and doing whatever the fuck they'd wanted, forever. Before Tom had died, he'd tried his best to introduce Bradley to several lovely young ladies. Princesses, the daughters of Lords and Dukes. Bradley had danced with each of them once, but it had never gone much further than that. 

Most prince's were married by the time they were Bradley's age. Most of them were kings, with families already. But not Bradley. 

"Yeah," Jake said, leaning forward. "It's really somethin'." 

His eyes moved to the docks, to Bradley's ship. It had been King Nicholas's before, the construction on it not yet finished before he died. That was how they were spending Bradley's birthday. 

"I need you to warn him of something," Pete said, his voice low. Jake let his eyes move to the side, but he kept his gaze pointed forward. "Bradley is getting too old to remain Prince," he said, leaning forward against the balcony railings. "The other advisors have suggested giving until the week after his birthday before they arrange a marriage."

The alarm bells immediately sounded in Jake's mind. Bradley getting married. That would mean Jake settling down, too. Because, really, what fun was he to have on his own? He'd be an advisor, too. There'd certainly be no time for fun. No, he'd have to follow in Bradley's footsteps, settle down and start a family. 

He swallowed, his mouth dry. "I'll warn him," he said and pushed away from the balcony. No more words were exchanged between them as Jake headed to his quarters. 

In just a few hours, the party would begin. The celebration to kick off Bradley's thirty-sixth birthday. Everybody was going to be there, everybody that Bradley cared about. Well, that was a very select group of people. Jake took a swig of the whisky he kept in his desk drawer, grabbed the gift he had gotten for Bradley, and headed out. 

The rest of their friends were waiting in the kitchen. "Does he have any idea what's going on?" Mickey asked as one of the cooks placed a plate in front of him. He immediately dug in. 

Robert, or Bob, as everybody called him, shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how he couldn't," he answered from his place leaning against the wall. He was dreading this party. Not because he didn't love his friends, not because he didn't want to celebrate with Bradley, but because he knew that the moment they began drinking, he'd be the one responsible for all of them. 

Jake's chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it away from the grubby kitchen table. It wasn't the table for royalty, but the kitchens had become something of a safe haven for Bradley and his friends. "Nat's been keeping him busy," he said as he sat down and leaned back, boots hitting the table as he put his feet up. He looked at the clock on the wall. Any minute now and Natasha and Bradley would be walking through the door. 

Natasha was nothing if not punctual. The minute the clock struck six, Natasha dragged Bradley through the swinging kitchen doors. She clapped her hands together as she looked at the boys before her. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" Asked Bradley.

Bob couldn't help but laugh. He pushed away from the wall as Mickey and Jake stood up. Natasha strode forward, leading Bradley, Jake, Mickey, Rueben, Bob, and Javy out of the kitchens. They went out the back door and down the steps that led to the beach.

The sky was still lit up with the setting sun as the seven of them boarded the Queen Carole, the ship King Nicholas had made in honour of his wife. Bradley touched the railings as he boarded, following Natasha towards the captain. 

They set sail with no real destination in mind. The moment they set sail, Natasha was handing out the alcohol, filling the tankards with ale and passing them to her friends, to all of them but Bob.

The band started playing as soon as they were far enough away from the land that it was just a speck in the distance. Almost immediately, the dancing began. Javy twirled Natasha and Mickey moved his body without a care in the world. It really was a sight to behold, but Jake and Bradley weren't watching. 

"I don't imagine you'll get to sail much when you're king," Jake said as he sipped his drink. He looked down at the waves as they crashed against the hull of the Queen Carole. The ocean held so many mysteries, mysteries he'd tried to uncover with Bradley. There would be no time for that when he was married.

Bradley let out a scoff and wiped the traces of ale from his moustache. "Who says I'm going to become king?" He asked and drained his tankard. 

The breath Jake sucked in was so sharp, it had Bradley staring at him over the top of his empty tankard. "Your advisors," he began and moved his attention to the amber liquid in his own tankard. It was cowardly, the way he couldn't look at Bradley as he spoke. "In a week your advisors are going to arrange a marriage for you. Pete wanted me to warn you; I think he wants you to have a chance to find someone."

The scowl Bradley wore was vicious as he turned away from the waves. "So I'm just to find the love of my life in a week?" He muttered something under his breath, something Jake couldn't hear from the noise of the music and the waves, and strode off

***

It was fascinating, the way ships cut through the water. Even from beneath the waves, it was fascinating. 

The two mermaids watched from underneath as the ship moved above them. It was big, bigger than anything the two of them had ever seen before. 

"Shall we get a closer look?" Asked the youngest of the two. 

Her older sister shook her head. "No way," she said and turned to swim away. "You know what's going to be on that ship? Humans. They'd spot us and capture us in their fish nets and do who knows what with us."

Before she could swim away, the youngest mermaid grabbed her arm. "C'mon. It's dark enough that they won't see us if we remain beneath the waves," she reasoned. 

"No." But she didn't much fight when her sister began to pull her towards the grand ship. 

They'd played this game before, knew how the story ended. They'd get close enough to spark both of their curiosities and then they'd be unable to stop themselves from trying to gaze at the faces of the sailors. The youngest mermaid had always had a soft spot for humans. Her sister, though, just wanted to keep her safe. 

The lanterns illuminating the ship showed the mermaids little of the revelry taking place. Six of the many humans on the ship were dancing to the music, the vibrations of which could be heard beneath the waves. There was one, though, his face forlorn as he stared down at the waves. 

The younger of the two mermaids gasped as she looked at him. "Have you ever seen something so..." 

Her sister stared at the human. He was handsome, that wasn't up for debate. But he was human. If he knew the nature of the creatures currently watching him, he would have been brandishing the fishing nets and trying to catch them. 

She hated that she found humans so damn fascinating. But they were. The way they walked on two legs, the way they didn't need to be in water so sustain themselves. Air, it was a necessity for humans. She looked at the other humans, the ones dancing on the deck. Whatever was going on, it seemed to be a joyous celebration for everybody but the man with the moustache. 

Another man came to join him. Now this one the older mermaid could appreciate as beautiful. His hair was shorter, lighter, than the man with the moustache and his green eyes sparkled, even in the dark of the night. 

Any closer and they'd surely be seen. But the older mermaid didn't seem to care as she swam. Not very far, just enough to get a better look. She suddenly understood what her sister saw in humans. 

The mermaids watched as the men spoke. It had seemed light at first, some smiles, some small laughs. But it hadn't taken long for it to turn sour. The smiles faded from their faces, brows furrowed and gestures angry until they were brawling. 

It wasn't clear what either man wanted the outcome of this brawl to be. Not to the others on the ship of the mermaids in the ocean. What the outcome would be, was clear to all. 

The moustached man gave the green eyed one a particularly hard shove. Before he could go tumbling overboard, he grabbed the shirts of the moustached man, pulling him into the waves with him. 

As soon as the men hit the water, the two mermaids vanished, the only evidence that they were ever their being the few bubbles created when they swam for it. But they didn't go very far, just down to where it was darker. The two men couldn't see them, but they could see the two men. 

“Coral,” the older mermaid whispered, using the nickname she'd given her sister as children. “Look.” She pointed up, pointed at the men. 

With the way they were moving their limbs, they should have easily been swimming for the surface. But something was dragging them down, pulling them further away from the air they so desperately needed. It didn't make any sense. Their clothes weren't heavy and there didn't seem to be anything on their person to weigh them down. 

The mermaids watched as the ship dropped two much smaller rowing boats. Good, somebody was coming back for the men. They'd jump in and pull them to the surface, taking them back to the ship to dry off. 

But the rowing boat went right past them. It was in that moment that the mermaids realised the men were too far away. The other humans would never find them at this rate and… 

Their oxygen supply had to be running low. The mermaids sprang into action. Coral grabbed the moustached man while her sister grabbed the man with the green eyes. They brought them up, up, up out of the dark depths of the water, towards the rowing boats. Close enough for sets of hands to reach out and pull them onboard. 

“Do you think they're okay, Pearl?” Asked Coral, using her sisters nickname since childhood as the boat took the men back to the ship. 

Pearl couldn't look away. Even when they got the men up onto the ship and they headed home, she couldn't look away. 

Coral had a new obsession. That night, her sister had no doubt that Coral went to bed dreaming of the man with the moustache. But she couldn't say much, not when she couldn't stop thinking about the man with the green eyes? What had happened between him and the moustached man that had them tumbling into the ocean? Why weren't they able to swim to the surface?

It was these questions that had Pearl following her sister to the surface. They weren't supposed to get this close to the surface. If the humans saw them, they weren't making it out alive. 

Hidden behind rocks, Coral let her eyes scan across the big building, searching for the man with the moustache. "There!" She said suddenly, grabbing her sisters hand. "There he is!"

There he was, with the man with the green eyes. 

That evening, the Pearl couldn't find Coral. She searched where she could, in the old wrecks further out in the ocean, between the rocks that they used to keep themselves sheilded from the humans on the surface. But Coral was nowhere to be seen. 

But then she saw her, sitting on the beach, eyes closed, content. 

But that wasn't right. It wasn't possible for her to be sitting on the beach, legs stretched out in front of her. Human legs stretched out in front of her. She hummed to herself as the water splashed over her brand new toes. 

"Coral!" She gasped and readied herself to swim forward. 

Suddenly, fingers wrapped around her arms, stilling her. "Gorgeous, isn't she?" Came a terrifyingly beautiful voice. Black nails dug into her skin, hard enough to pull a whimper from Pearl's lips. Or, it would have if she wasn't so damn scared. "Darling little thing came to me just a few hours ago, just begging me to turn her into a human."

With a gasp, she turned to face the creature that had a hold of her. The Sea Witch was so damn beautiful, but there was something about her. Smile too wide, skin too pale, eyes too vibrant. It was so unnerving, but Pearl couldn't pull away. "I've watched you both," the Sea Witch confessed to her. "I watched when the two of you saved those humans, I watched  the two of you swim to the surface to try and see them again. It isn't just your sister." She tightened her grip on her arm. "It's you too, isn't it?"

A bubble appeared, showing the face of the green eyed man. But Pearl waved it away. "No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I don't want you to turn me human! I just want my sister back!" She cried, finally trying to pull away from the Sea Witch.

A cackle erupted from the Sea Witch's lips. “There is one way to get your sister back now!” She shouted and snapped her fingers. The pain began almost immediately. “She has thirty days to convince a man to fall in love with her or she's mine.”

The water was suddenly suffocating and her tail split in two. No, not tail. Legs. Feet, toes and ankles were all forming. Blue scales were shedding, giving way for skin. She tried to breath, but water flooded into her legs. Panic seized her as her new limbs 

Something pulled her to the surface. Strong arms grabbed her own and pulled her out of the water. The moment the fresh air kissed her skin, she breathed in deep before coughing up what water she had swallowed. 

“Holy shit.”

***

Jake stared down at the girl in the rowboat. Naked as the day she was born and coughing up enough sea water to sink the boat. She was gorgeous, but that wasn't what he cared about at that moment. 

Immediately, Jake shrugged off the coat around his shoulders. Thank God the day was overcast, he thought as he placed the coat around her. “Are you okay?” He asked as he helped her to sit up. “Were you shipwrecked, too?”

But she was just starting at him, her expression so damn fearful. Jake ran a hand over his face. Just the day before something unexplainable had saved him from the water, and he'd repaid the favour. “Let me get you back to shore.”

While he rowed, she stared at him, one hand keeping his coat closed around her body and the other feeling her legs. “There's another girl at the beach,” he said, never keeping his green eyes on her for longer than a few seconds. “Her ship went down and she swam to the shore,” he mumbled. 

She didn't say anything. “Can you tell me your name?” Asked Jake. Once the rowboat touched the surf, he climbed out, grabbed the rope and pulled it up onto the sand. 

For whatever reason, she stayed sitting in the rowboat. “You coming?” He asked, gesturing with a nod of his head. 

Gripping the sides of the rowboat, she tried to push herself up, tried to get to her feet. But her legs wobbled like a newborn fawn and she went tumbling, straight into Jake's chest. 

A gasp sounded from her lips when he wrapped his arms around her. “It's okay,” he said gently, green eyes searching her face for any sign of discomfort. But it wasn't there. “I've got you,” he said and pulled her away from the boat. 

There was no doubt in his mind that she had been shipwrecked, just like the girl standing with Bradley.

“I'm gonna take you to my friend,” he said and took a step. She tried to do the same, feet dragging only slightly. “He should be able to help.” He didn't say that Bradley was the Prince. No, that only would have freaked her out more. 

"Thank you," she finally said, struggling to find her footing. "I'm-"

"Pearl!" 

She whipped her head around, staring across the beach at the girl standing beside Bradley. "Pearl?" Jake asked, watching her expression go from surprised to sour. "Is that your name?"

"No," she said quickly and took a step. Jake got the hint and walked her towards Bradley and the girl who had told them to call her Coral. She gave him her real name, but Jake shook his head. 

"Pearl," he said again. "It's real pretty darlin'." He grinned, pretty much keeping her held up as they finally made it to Bradley and Coral.

The two girls stared at each other. Coral couldn't help but look shy as Pearl stared down at her. She sucked in a breath, expression furious. "What the hell were you thinking, C? Swimming off like that, you had me so worried!"

Jake and Bradley looked at each other over the girls heads. "Were you shipwrecked together?" Bradley asked, his hand still on Coral's back. She turned to him, eyes shining as she nodded. "She's my sister," she said and Pearl raised her chin, standing as tall and proud as she possibly could. 

Before Pearl could start again, Jake spoke up. "We'll take you guys back to the castle," he said and Bradley nodded in agreement. "Get you some clothes and something to eat."

***

Clothes were terribly uncomfortable. Big skirts, heavy skirts and corsets that were far too tight. 

There the mermaids sat, plates of food in front of them. For just a moment they studied Jake and Bradley as they ate, watched the way they did things, the way they used their forks and things like that. And then the girls tried it for themselves. 

Using a fork for the first time wasn't the easiest thing in the world. But one taste of the food and they were digging in like animals. Jake and Bradley watched on with wide eyes as they ate with little decorum. But that shouldn't have been a surprise.

Jake cleared his throat. "Where did your ship leave from?" He asked as he sat back in his seat and looked at them.

The girls looked at each other. Coral fiddled with her thick skirts, leaving her sister to answer everything. Which would have been fine, if she knew the names of any of the surrounding kingdoms. Swallowing thickly, she looked between Jake and Bradley. "Uh, we've been on the water for so long that I don't remember." Please, please, please let them believe that. 

From the looks on their faces, it was unclear whether they believed her story or not. She heard a thud as Jake crossed one boot over the other and laced his fingers together, placing them on his stomach. "You girls should come to Bradley's ball," he said, making it sound like it was nothing more than a passing comment.

It was not a passing comment, not with the way Bradley was looking at him. But he simply grinned and turned his attention back to the girls before him. 

"Ball?" Coral asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. If Jake's mother was there, she would have been chiding Coral, but just stayed quiet. 

"Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "This guy needs to look for a wife before he has one picked for him."

But still, the two girls looked confused. 

The light hearted demeanour left Jake. He didn't mean for it to, but he couldn't help it. Something was just so off; it had him slightly uneasy. He sat up a little straighter, but he tried to keep his smile on his face. "You know, a ball. Dancing and bubbly drinks and god awful music."

The girls looked at each other again. Pearl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What's dancing?"

***

Jake couldn't sleep. He laid awake, staring at his ceiling. His sword rested against his bedpost. It was beautiful, and had yet to be used. Jake just hoped he could keep it that way; it was simply too pretty to be used.

It had been a whirlwind of a day and he hadn't yet been able to sort his thoughts. Two girls washing up on the beach. It was something Bradley had been hoping for since his father died, for him to either wash up on the beach or appear on another ship, looking haggard but still alive. Jake remembered being a kid, watching the beach with him, riding down to the docks with him.

And now people had washed up. It didn't feel real, but it had happened and they were here in the castle. Pearl and Coral. Those weren't their real names, he knew, but they suited them. They were pretty, and Coral was pretty much putty in his and Bradley's hands. But not Pearl. She hadn't melted into anything he said, and it damn near had Jake trailing after her like a puppy.

Footsteps. Just outside of his door. Jake sat up and threw his blankets away from him. He grabbed his sword and headed towards the door.

The hall was dark, lit by nothing than a lonely candle. Keeping his sword held out in front of him, Jake looked around.

"Gahh!"

"Pearl!" The pointed tip of his sword was against her chest. Swallowing, Jake lowered his sword and rubbed at his eyes. "What're you doing out of bed?"

She wore nothing but a nightdress. Jake sucked in a breath but tried to keep his composure as he took in the long skirts, falling to her bare feet, and the long sleeves that would have stretched past her fingers if she hadn't rolled them back.

"I..." She looked at him, looked at the sword he held down by his side. If she'd been standing any closer to him, she would have been dead. "I just wanted something to drink."

Releasing a breath, Jake quickly placed his sword back into his bedroom and turned to Pearl. "Come on," he said and hooked his fingers around her sleeve. She didn't fight as he pulled her down the hall. Maybe she was too tired to pull against him.

The halls were empty, aside from a few silent guards posted in alcoves. Jake took things slowly, his touch sometimes keeping her upright as she willed her unsteady legs to cooperate. 

That was what happened when you spent most of your life on the sea, he supposed. He'd never been on a ship for more than a few weeks at a time. All he could do was remain patient with her. But he was more than happy to do so. 

The kitchens were the emptiest part of the castle. He let his eyes move to the back door. Key twisted in the lock and the two bolts securely shut. "Right," he said, hands on his hips as he looked at the cupboards in front of him. "Let's get you some water."

Jake looked at the cupboards and the counters. The kitchen wasn't his area of expertise. "Uhm," he said, pulling open the first cupboard. It was stacked high with bowls and chipped searching dishes, but there were no glasses in sight. He moved onto the next. And then the next, until he found what he was looking for. A rather triumphant Aha! left his lips as he grabbed the glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. "One glass of water, coming right up."

He passed her the glass and she quietly thanked him. 

Jake's hand was on her back, leading her out of the kitchen. "So, did you and your sister never leave the ship when you docked?" He asked as he steered her back in the direction of her bedroom. 

"No," she answered, both hands holding her glass. "Never."

He made a noise, a quiet laugh that wasn't really a laugh. "I'm gonna have to teach you to dance before Bradley's ball," he said when they got to her door. Jake pushed the door open and she stepped inside. "Wanna give it a go?"

She placed her water down on the vanity to the right of her door. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" She asked, returning to the door to lean against it. But she held it open, waited for Jake's response.

Shrugging his shoulders, he took a step inside of the room. "I'm not sleeping," he said and reached for her hand. 

Placing her hand into his, she let the door fall closed. "When I step back, you step forward. When I step forward, you step back," he said and pulled her into the middle of the room. 

His green eyes stared into hers. He squeezed her hand and placed her free one on his shoulder. The hand that wasn't in hers settled on her waist and he moved his left leg forward. She moved her right one back. Letting her gaze drop to her feet, she tried to copy his every move. It didn't go very well, but she was trying her best. "This would probably be better with music," he said with a little chuckle.

"Yeah?" She asked, nearly stumbling. But Jake stopped moving, and she stopped, too. He raised the hand he was holding up, holding it above her head. Using the hand on her waist, he slowly spun her. Thank God it was slow, or she would have been stumbling into him. 

"There ya go, sweets," he said, hand returning to her waist. "You're getting it now."

Heat warmed her cheeks as she let go of Jake and stepped away from him. "I should get some sleep," she mumbled and turned around to grab a hold of her water. 

"Oh," Jake said. For just a second he watched her, watched as she took large gulps of her water. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and walked out of her bedroom.

*** 

She sat opposite her sister in the carriage, the both of them unable to look away from the windows as the scenery in the kingdom went by. "It's beautiful," gasped Coral as she turned back to Bradley. "And it's all yours?"

Sitting back in her seat, Pearl watched as Bradley nodded. "All of it," he said, arm stretching across the back of the seat. 

Jake leaned forward, his attention on the landscape just a little ways past the road. "Except this," he said, pointing at a large manor house just past the wheat fields. "That is my parent's place. Lord and Lady Seresin," he said and sat back, his smile smug. 

"Wanna stop in and say hello?" Bradley offered. He had always been a fan of Lord and Lady Seresin. They acted as stand-in parents for him when his parents had died. Even before that, Lady Seresin had been a friend to Queen Carole, had desperately tried to pull her out of depression. It hadn't worked, but Lady Seresin had still been there for her. 

Jake shook his head. "Later," he said and they passed the turning for the Seresin estate. "I'll speak to them later, after the ball."

"When is the ball?" Pearl asked, sparing a look at Jake. The way she was looking at him, there was something more she wanted to say, something she wasn't saying. 

"Three days time," Bradley answered, but his gaze was fully fixed on Coral.

Three days. That ate into the time they had on land. the fact that she didn't know the ins and outs of her sisters deal with the sea witch was so damn terrifying. 

The carriage kept moving, the sounds of the metal horse shoes hitting the road oddly melodic. Jake's fingers tapped her shoulder and gestured for her to lean across him and look at the view. "Oh, wow," she whispered as she looked at the sea, the reflexion of the sun making it sparkle. Beneath the waves, she'd never seen her true home look so pretty.

The carriage took them into a built up area of the kingdom. Houses and shops crowded the streets. Market stalls were set up around a pristine, well cared for fountain. On top of the fountain was a stone statue, the late king and queen standing together. 

The carriage stopped, and Bradley pushed open the door. He stepped out, and offered his hand to Coral. With a beaming smile, she took it and used Bradley's help to step down onto solid ground. Bradley stayed where he was, ready to help Pearl step out of the carriage, but Jake grabbed his hand. 

"Thank's, dear," he said and stepped down from the carriage in much the same Coral had just done. 

Bradley pulled a face and quickly pulled his hand away from Jake. It had the other man laughing as he walked around to the horses that had pulled them from the castle to the town. As he did, Bradley held out his hand again and helped Pearl to step down.

"Come on, sweets," said Jake, throwing his arm around her and pulling her after Coral and Bradley. 

He could see it, cold see how hard Coral was working for Bradley's attention. Poor girl, she didn't stand a chance. If they'd washed up a year earlier, Bradley would have been all over her, no questions asked. But now he had to seriously look for a wife; he had no time for flirting or flings. 

Pearl pushed Jake's arm from around her shoulders. "Where to first?" She asked as she looked around. There was so much going on that she didn't know where to look first. Sights and sounds and smells assulted her senses, but she loved all of it. 

Jake and Bradley showed the girls everything the little town had to offer. They discovered everything, the fine silk dresses in shop windows, sweet treats from the bakery. Some people bowed to Bradley, and several girls batted their eyelashes at Jake. But the men ignored it, pulling Pearl and Coral along to see something new. 

There was music playing in the town. It was soft and melodic, and had Pearl searching for the source. It went unnoticed by Coral and Bradley, but not by Jake. "C'mon," he said and offered her his hand. "Let's put these new dancing skills to good use."

She looked into his eyes for only a minute before allowing herself to be pulled into the square. There were other couples dancing, moving to the beat of the music. 

The dancing they'd done the night before was slower than what Jake had taught her the night before. "Just go with it," he said and stepped. Pearl sucked in a breath and moved with him. It wasn't a choreographed dance, not by any means. It was fun, it had her grinning from ear to ear. Just like the night before, Jake lifted her hand and spun her, just a little faster than last night. 

"You're gonna be a natural by the time the ball starts," he said and stepped again. She stepped with him, growing more and more enthusiastic by the minute. 

"You think so?" She replied. She'd been stumbling the entire time, but Jake's body was so solid against her own that he made it all look like a dance. She didn't look ready to topple over at any minute, not with how Jake was leading her. 

He grinned, green eyes seeming to sparkle in the midday sun. He really did have a pretty face, but she'd known that the moment she'd laid her eyes on him. "I know so," he answered. "All you need now is a pretty dress to match."

When a whistle cut across the square, Jake stopped moving, halting her against him. Their faces were so close, all she had to do was lean her face up. But Jake turned away from her, looking across the square. "What?" He called to the future king. Nobody else could be this familiar with him, a privilege reserved for Jake and Jake alone.

"We're going to get something to eat in Penny's!" 

His hand fell away from her hips and she tried not to let disappointment show on her face. "You hungry?" He asked as he pulled her out of the square.

***

The next two days were incredibly busy for Jake and Bradley. Pete gave them no reprieve from their duties. Jake was the unlucky chump who got saddled with making arrangements for the ball. He didn't know what he was doing, not in the slightest, but (with help from Javy and logistical help from Bob) he was going to throw the best damned ball for miles. 

It was his idea to get the seamstress to tailor a dress for Pearl and her sister. The clothes they'd been wearing since they arrived was borrowed. From where, Jake didn't know, but he wanted them to have something of their own for the ball. 

A day went by and the girls only saw Jake and Bradley during dinner. But it was short lived before they had to rush off again to get their work done. 

On the second day, the seamstress brought in two plain dress. They fit Pearl and Coral, but they weren't tailored, hanging off their bodies like rags. But that was what the seamstress was there to fix. 

In the afternoon, Pearl lost her sister. She'd gone for a walk through the castle, gone to get herself a glass of water. By the time she'd returned, Coral had disappeared. 

With her eyebrows furrowed, she walked through the castle, searching for her sister. She searched, called her name, but Coral was nowhere to be seen. She looked in the library one last time, called her sister's name one last time, and made her way back to her bedroom.

The halls were so damn empty. She knew there were more people in the castle, foreign dignitaries there for the ball. But still, it was empty, quiet. The only noise was her shoes against the floor as she walked.

But she didn't make it back to her room. She only glanced outside, towards the balcony. Stopping, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the cool afternoon air. 

Jake didn't notice her as she stepped towards him. She placed her hands on the balcony railing and tried to see what he was looking at. Two people on the beach, chasing each other into the ocean. She couldn't see who they were, but they were having fun. That much was clear.

His hand was on top of hers. "You okay? She asked, stepping closer to him.

Jake didn't answer. He turned away from the couple on the beach, insteading choosing to look at her. "Pearl," he whispered, giving his hand up her arm and onto her shoulder. "Bradley is going to be king soon," he said, still staring into her eyes. It was so damn intense, but she couldn't look away. "He's going to be king and I'm going to be stuck being his advisor."

"And you don't want that."

His smile was kinder than she'd ever seen it. "That's right," he said and took a step closer to her. The space between them was so damn small, but it was still too much for the two of them.

She swallowed. "What do you want?"

His hand lifted from her shoulder, finger brushing over her cheek. He pushed her hair behind her ear and closed the gap between them, but he wasn't yet kissing her. "I don't know, Pearl," he whispered and held her chin. "Right now, I want you."

He leaned forward and kissed her. She was frozen against him, unable to move her lips with his. She watched as his eyes closed, but he started to furrow his brow and pull away. 

The moment she felt him pull away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back. She kissed him back with just as much hunger as him. It was a mess of clashing teeth and tongues, stealing the air from their lungs. Jake pushed her back against the balcony, hands on her hips. Seeming not to think, he lifted her up and sat her on the balcony railings. "Fuck, Pearl," he hissed against her hips as he tried to step between her legs. 

But her skirts got in his way, stopping him in his tracks. Still holding her, he pulled his lips away from her own and pressed his forehead to hers. "Come with me to the ball," he whispered and leaned in to peck her again. 

She made a noise, as if she was going to respond to him. But, before she could say anything, Jake pecked her lips again, effectively cutting her off. She wore a glare as she pulled him in once more. Jake pushed her back more, tried to push her against something solid. 

Except there was nothing solid behind her. Nothing but air. 

He realised it just in time. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her off of the balcony railings and held her close. "Oops," he said and she smacked his chest.

"I'll do it," she said, still against him. Jake went to release her from his hold, but she grabbed his arms, stopping him. "I'll go to the ball with you."

Jake kissed her again. 

***

The day of the ball was utter chaos. The seamstress dropped off their dresses and the castle staff spent the day getting them ready. 

Coral allowed Queen Caroles old lady's maid to pull her towards the tub. 

The staff member assigned to Pearl sat her in the scented bath, full of bubbled and flower petals. She massaged the shampoo into her scalp with such determination that it had her moaning. It really was quite pleasant. 

Being in the water like this was something she hadn't gotten used to since taking her first steps on land. Every time she touched the water, she was taken back to when the Sea Witch transformed her, leaving her unable to breathe underwater for the first time in her life. 

Water was thrown over her head, washing out the bubbles. Her body was thoroughly scrubbed and more water was thrown over her. 

At last, she was pulled from the tub and a towel was wrapped around her body. It was a little forceful, how she was pulled about the room and sat at the vanity. The maid grabbed another towel and moved it through her hair. 

This wasn't nearly as relaxing as the bath and been. But she didn't complain as the maid got her ready, styling her hair once it was dry and decorating her face with makeup. 

She looked a little like a party clown when she looked at herself in the vanity mirror. But if this was how the other women at the ball were going to look, so be it. 

But the maid frowned. “This just won’t do,” she said and scrubbed her face clean. She tried again, something a little cleaner, a little more natural. The makeup was still there, but it was there to enhance her natural features more than cover them up. 

With just enough time to spare, she was helped into the dress. “That Lord Seresin had this designed for you, you know,” said the maid as she pulled it up over her hips. “Spoke to the seamstress and told him exactly what he wanted.”

When she looked at the dress she let out a panicked gasp. He had to know what she was, this dress told her so. 

The bodice was where the scale design started, where her belly button would be. It moved down, over the skirt, parting in the middle. Where the scales weren't the fabric became white, the change soft and subtle. The sleeves were more soft, mesh fabric that wrapped around her arms than anything else. 

It truly was gorgeous, and it terrified her. 

“Shoes, girl,” said the maid, pulling her over to the slippers. She broke herself out of her stupor and stepped into her shoes. 

The maid stepped back to admire her handiwork. She'd done an incredible job, the woman stood before her a far cry from the woman that had appeared on the beach just days before. 

Jake was going to lose his mind, that was for sure. 

A knock sounded at the door, and the maid pulled it open. “Ingrid,” Jake said, greeting her by placing a kiss on the back of her hand. He was always sweet and kind to the women that worked in the castle. 

But he looked past Ingrid, and his breath caught in his throat. Yeah, the dress had been his idea, but he didn't expect it to come out this beautiful. “Holy shit,” he gasped and Ingrid tutted him. 

He stepped around her and walked into the room. “You look…” But he couldn't find the words. Why couldn't he just tell her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on?

“D'you like it?” She asked, picking up the skirts. 

He swallowed, mouth dry as he nodded. But then he let a small frown cross his face. “There's just one thing I want to change.”

When he began pulling the pins from her hair, Ingrid protested. But he didn't much care as he watched her hair fall from the too tight, too neat updo. 

“Jake!” She cried and tried to save her hair. 

But he grabbed her hands and held them, letting him get a proper look at her. “You're gorgeous, sweets,” he said and leaned in to kiss her. 

But Ingrid was still there, still watching them. She cleared her throat, making her presence known.

Standing up straighter, Jake cleared his throat and offered her his arm. “M'lady, will you allow me the honour of escorting you to Prince Bradley's ball?” He asked, waiting for Ingrid to give an approving nod. 

As soon as she did, Jake was leading her out of the bedroom. He kept his arm looped through hers until they were well past Ingrid. Only then did he loop his arm around her waist and press a kiss to the side of her head. 

“Do you like the dress?” He asked sincerely as they followed the sound of music. 

She looked down at herself. It really was beautiful. “I love it,” she said and pulled him to a stop. The kiss they shared was just quick, the two of them walking towards the ballroom far too soon. 

That was fine, Jake would have her in his arms soon enough. Holding her close as they danced around the room. 

The moment they entered the ballroom, she looked for her sister. There was Coral, stood beside Bradley as he tried to decide which eligible young lady to dance with. 

As soon as Jake began moving her on the dance floor, she lost sight of her sister. But that was okay, because there was something much more important to concentrate on. The man in front of her moved her slowly and gently, caging her between his arms. His every move led her in time to the music. 

“You and Coral should stay here,” he said, thumb stroking over her waist as he gently moved her. 

Panic overtook her features, but she tried to school it. “I-”

“I know you guys probably have to find your home, have to find your family. But I'd really love it if you guys stayed. I know Bradley would, too.” 

She sucked in a breath and rested her head against his chest. “I want to stay,” she confessed, reaching up to run her hands through his hair. “Here, with you, Jake. But I don't know what the future is going to hold.”

His touch was so damn comforting. “I know that,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I just want you to know you have the option of staying, and you have somebody who wants you here.”

He wore a barely there grin as he spun her around. But her body collided with another and she went tumbling back into Jake. 

His hands steadied her and he looked at the person that had knocked into her. Bradley and Coral. Together on the dance floor. They looked good together, Jake could admit. Maybe he'd  convince the council to let him court her before he became king. 

Through the night, Bradley danced with almost everybody. He danced with Natasha once and Coral several times. But Jake stayed dancing with Pearl. God, she looked so right, with his hands on her hips. He wanted to get her out of the ballroom, wanted to get her back to his bed. 

Soon, not right now.

He left her standing with his sister while he got them something to drink. “You two look good together,” Coral said to her, her fingers continuously moving over the bodice of her dress. 

“Thanks,” she replied, heat rising to her cheeks. “You've danced with Bradley more than any other girl in the room,” she said and Coral beamed. 

But then Jake was back, handing her something to drink and pulling her onto the dance floor. 

One more dance. His grip was so tight, lips constantly on her. Nobody cared about what they were doing, not when Prince Bradley was supposed to be choosing a wife. Nobody cared that she and Jake exchanged the sweetest kisses as he moved her. 

They kept it sweet, though, didn't push it any further. That was for the end of this dance. 

When the dance ended, Jake grabbed her hands. “Let me take you back to my room,” he whispered in her ear. 

She had no concept of what Jake wanted to happen in his room. Just the thought of being alone with him had her nodding her head and followed him through the group of people. He took her out into the halls. 

“Fuck,” he whispered and pushed her against the wall once they'd escaped any prying eyes. “I've wanted to do this since I first saw you in that dress.” His knee was between her legs, lips trailing down her neck. 

The breath she released was a gasp and then a moan. Taking her hand once again, Jake pulled her through the halls until they got to his bedroom. He rather unceremoniously threw open the door and led her inside. 

He was so damn gentle as he sat her down onto the bed and got to his knees in front of her. He pulled off her shoes and pushed her back until she was laying down. With his body on top of hers, he kissed her. It was just as sweet as it had been in the ballroom. 

But then he was moving his lips across her cheek and down to her neck. “Is this okay?” He mumbled against her lips. When her only response was a desperate moan, he pulled away to stare at her with those gorgeous green eyes. “Talk to me, sweets.”

“Yes,” she gasped out, fingers pulling at his hair. Grinning, Jake returned to his assault on her neck. He kissed and sucked and nibbled before he moved onto her chest. 

All the while his fingers worked to pull up the delicate skirt of her dress. His lips kissed every exposed inch of her skin as he did so. She'd never felt something like this before, never felt anything from between her legs. Well, she had, and it was always because of Jake. 

He grabbed the straps of her underwear and slowly pulled them down, watching for her reaction the entire time. She watched him, too, watched exactly what he was doing. 

“God,” he said when he got a glimpse beneath her skirt. “You're gorgeous.” His hands were on her, touching her thighs, touching just where she needed him, even if she didn't know it. 

His fingers ghosted over her folds and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “Jake,” she tried as he moved his fingers again. He parted her folds and touched her clit. 

Her entire body jolted. “Like that, sweets?” He asked and pressed a kiss to her chest. 

Her noises were so damn desperate as she nodded. “Yes, Jake,” she cried, tugging on his hair. “Yes!” 

One finger dipped into her hole. She gasped, entire body shaking. Jake used just one finger to fuck her on his hand, thumb pressed against her clit. 

She came so quickly, she would have been embarrassed. But Jake gave her no reason to feel embarrassed as he sucked his fingers between his lips, licking off everything she gave to him. “Shit, sweets,” he moaned as he withdrew his fingers. 

He leaned down to kiss her, his tongue exploring her mouth. Her fingers explored his chest, fiddling with the buttons. 

With a laugh, Jake pulled away. “I got you,” he said and started to unbutton his shirt. He opened his shirt and she blatantly admired his chest. 

But then a pained cry left her lips. Head thrown back she let out a gut wrenching scream. “Sweets,” Jake cried as he rushed back towards her. “What's wrong? Tell me!” 

He tried to look at her, tried to look for the source of her pain, but she kept a hold of his face. “Don't,” she said between her screams. “Don't look.” 

But whatever had her in so much pain was taking it out of her. Her grip on his face, on his shirt was so weak. Jake couldn't stop himself from looking towards her legs. 

Her legs weren't there. 

In their place was a tail. A blue, scaled tail. It was beautiful, but it didn't belong on his bed. Jake wanted to touch it, he wanted to reach out and feel her scales, but he couldn't. 

His hand held her against his chest. “Talk to me, sweets,” he said, concentrating on her face. “What do you need?”

“Get me to the water,” she whispered. 

Jake kissed her. He pressed his lips to her own as he slipped his arms beneath her tail and beneath her back, lifting her into his arms. The fact that he was still kissing her, even seeing what she was, had tears in her eyes as he carried her. 

He practically ran through the halls of the castle with her into his arms, avoiding other people at any cost. He burst into the empty kitchen and took out of the back door, down the steps and out to the beach. 

Her breath had become wheezy as he ran across the sand. Even running, he was slow, being so careful not to drop her on the sand. Even when he reached the water, he walked into it, ignoring the cold as he hit his skin. 

He still held her, even when the water hit his chest, splashing over her. Her arms were still around his neck. “Pearl,” he whispered as her tail flexed in his hold. “Pearl, you're a-”

“I know.” She dropped her forehead against her own, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Trust me, Jake, I know.” 

He let go of her tail in favour of holding her waist. “You're beautiful,” he whispered, desperate to keep her against him. 

She kissed him. Just as sweetly as before. If not, moreso. She kissed him like she was never going to see him again. It was the kind of kiss that had Jake panicking. 

But then she pulled away. “I need to go, Jake,” she whispered. 

He tightened his grip on her, a No leaving his lips. 

“You need to let me go.” 

Reluctantly, Jake released her. He stood in the water and watched as she swam away, dress still on her body, tail moving oh so elegantly as she swam away from him. 

The rain started to fall as Jake stood there, eyes searching the water for any sign of the girl he loved. 

***

Pearl swam like hell until she reached her sister. Coral had already shed her own dress, letting it disappear beneath the waves. 

“What happened?” Pearl asked, taking her sister into her arms. “Why… why aren't we human anymore?” She'd tried to be gentle with her words, but heartbreak laced her voice. 

Coral turned away from her, arms crossed over her chest. “He kissed someone. At the ball, he kissed a daughter of a Lord.” 

Was that really all it took for the spell to be broken? 

“Coral-” 

“The Sea Witch warned me. She warned me the risks of falling for a human. She told me if he did anything with anybody else, if he wasn't in love with me, if he broke my heart, we'd become mermaids again.” 

Furiously, Coral swam away. She hated him, she hated Bradley. He'd broken her heart, she was going to hate him. But Pearl had never seen her sister so bitter before. 

She might have loved Bradley, but she didn't have what she had with Jake. He loved her too, wanted her to stay with him. Sobs left her lips as she pulled off her dress. 

Holding it in her arms, she took a slow swim back towards the kingdom. Her eyes were trained on the surface, looking for any sign of Jake. 

There he still stood, in the water. She could see as his eyes searched for her and, as much as she wanted to reveal himself, she couldn't. 

Letting go of her dress, she let it float towards him and swam away. 

Hiding herself behind a rock, she watched as Jake grabbed the dress from the water. He held it up and let his eyes search the water. “PEARL!” He shouted, desperation marring his voice. “Pearl.” 

And then he broke down. 

That wasn't the last time she saw Jake. No, she saw him often. Every time he was on the beach, she was watching. She watched on the days he came back to search for her, watched as he took a ship out to look for her. 

Years went by, and she still saw him. There wasn't a moment she didn't think of him. She watched as he got older, as he took on his role as advisor. Watched as he fell in love, watched as he got married, watched as he had children. 

Each and every day, Jake Seresin looked towards the sea. He told his children stories of a gorgeous mermaid who had turned human. The king's advisor fell in love with the gorgeous mermaid in these stories. Sometimes, it ended happily. Sometimes it ended with the mermaid remaining human and marrying the advisor. 

But that was a rarity. The end of his stories to his children usually had the mermaid returning to the sea, leaving the advisor heartbroken. 

[ereardon]

Homecoming [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: Returning home to California after six years abroad in England, you found everything has changed. Jake Seresin, your father's former college roommate and lifelong best friend, is now a widower and has purchased a new vineyard in Montecito, only a few miles from your childhood home. Your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, your brother is struggling with what to do with his life, and you’ve grown up and are starting your own counseling practice. So what happens when you find yourself falling for the man your father calls his best friend? And worse, what happens when your parents find out he’s falling for you, too? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Age gap, eventual smut, cursing, alcohol

Word count: 2.1K

Author's note: This fic references a significant age gap, as reader is the child of Jake's best friend. However, she's in her mid-twenties, and he's been only a small part of her life to this point as he spent the majority of his time traveling with his late wife. This fic does not depict grooming, but if you are concerned with any of the themes please read at your own risk.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. 

A part of you had forgotten what it smelled like, to breathe fresh ocean air instead of stuffy city smog. Six years in London had warped your senses. It had worn its way into your everyday life, from the coffee you drank (flat whites) to the way you asked for random items (bits and bobs) to the foods you now craved (sausage rolls and chips with mayonnaise). 

You looked down at your ratty pajama bottoms and sighed. Even though you had spent the better part of a decade abroad, living a sparkling social life in one of the world’s greatest cities, you were still the simple girl next door from Montecito. You still lived with your parents, a fact that you were very well aware of as you stood at the french doors of your childhood bedroom, staring out across the backyard. 

Below, you could smell the charcoal grill and your mother’s famous peach cobbler. 

“Y/N!” Your father’s voice was nearly crushed by the sound of a car zipping up the circular driveway. You leaned out further against the Juliette balcony, trying to spy the car, the green back end of a shiny Jaguar coming into view. “Come downstairs for cocktails!” 

“Five minutes!” you called back. 

Ten minutes later, who was counting, you stepped barefoot down the spiral staircase, landing silently on the marble foyer floor. Voices carried across the expansive hallway through to the back of the house where the large iron doors leading out to the patio were propped open, a light early fall breeze wafting in. 

Before you could make it halfway across the room, a ball of fur caught your eye and you were almost toppled by a shaggy golden retriever as he jumped on your legs. 

“Hugo!” You bent down, rubbing your hands along the dog’s spine, over his head, ruffling his ears. “You’ve gotten old, buddy.” 

“He’s aged like fine wine, just like his dad.” 

You looked up. Jake Seresin was headed straight for you, a grin practically splitting his face, his favorite cowboy hat resting on his head. You gave Hugo one last pat on the head before standing up, flinging your arms open wide, letting Jake pull you tightly into a hug. He smelled familiar, like dirt and ripe stone fruit, and as you pulled away you noted that his left hand, typically adorned with a gold wedding band, was bare. 

“Good to have you back, Sparky,” he said, stepping toward the back of the house, Hugo following on his footsteps. 

“God, been ages since someone’s called me that,” you replied. “In London they just called me that California girl.” 

He laughed. Jake’s laugh was always something you had admired. Deep, and whole. It practically had its own seat at the long wooden table that your mother had piled high with bowls of colorful salads and plates of dip. 

“Y/N, can you pour the wine Jake brought?” 

“Sure.” You grabbed the bottle. It didn’t have a label, just a simple green bottle with a red wax drip over the cork. You sliced it off carefully, sinking a corkscrew into the soft cork with ease. Jake watched with hawk eyes as you yanked the handle up seamlessly, pulling out the cork and sniffing it. A warm pinot noir. You poured yourself a fingertip in a glass and took a sip. “Damn that’s good.” 

Your mother frowned. “Manners, missy.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Mother, I’m twenty five.” 

“You’re never too old to be reminded that it’s nice to have manners.” 

“She’s not wrong, Marla,” Jake said, his fingertips folding over yours as he took the wine bottle, filling everyone’s glass. “It is damn good.” 

“You’re biased,” your father said, leaning back against his wooden chair. “It’s the best vintage you’ve had since you bought the place.” 

“Good rain last year,” Jake replied, sliding the glass back over toward you. “And no fires.” 

“Thank God,” your father replied.

“Where’s Colin?” You turned left and right, your older brother nowhere to be seen. 

An uncomfortable silence settled over the outdoor table. You frowned. Colin had always been the wild card of the family, but you had complete faith in him. The two of you were Irish twins, born only a year apart, and he was the one you spoke to almost daily while you lived abroad. Colin was the one who called you when cousin Jackie ditched her fiancé two days before the wedding, and Colin was the one who tapped on your door late at night to sneak out and go swimming on balmy summer nights. It was Colin who you could depend on, even when no one else could depend on him. 

“He’s out,” your father said finally, folding his hands on the table. “Shall we get started?” 

“Yes, please, I’m starving,” you replied, leaning forward and taking a heaping serving of your mother’s famous quinoa salad. 

“So Sparky, how’s it going, being back?” Jake leaned forward in his iron chair, picking at a piece of garlic bread. 

“Well, the food isn’t all brown,” you replied, biting into a ripe tomato, letting the flavor burst along your tongue, “so that’s a plus.” 

“I quite liked those potato triangle things they had in Scotland,” your dad replied. 

You rolled your eyes. “Potato tatties dad. And yes, those are good. But so are vegetables.” You paused. “I have to say, the wine here is way too expensive though.” 

“Ouch.” Jake smirked. “Speaking of wine, your mom said you’re looking for a job for a few months, while you get everything for your clinic organized?” You nodded. You had signed the lease for the clinic over Zoom while still packing up your flat in London, excitement worming its way through your limbs. It was becoming real. Six years of school and finally you were opening your own counseling practice in California. “Contractor said we’re about four months from finishing.” 

“Come work for me.” You looked up, surprised. Jake had his hand dangling over the side of his chair, petting Hugo’s fluffy head. “I need a new manager. Someone with people skills and a head for numbers. You can work whatever hours you need, if you need to start late or end early to check in on the clinic.” 

“That’s a really nice offer.” 

“I sense a but coming.” 

You nodded. “But I don’t know anything about business.” 

Jake waved a hand in the air. There was a nonchalance about him. There always had been. He was the polar opposite of your father – a hard exterior corporate lawyer. No nonsense. Jake and your father had been friends for as long as you could remember. But he and his late wife Jenny were the complete opposite of your parents. They traveled the world. They hiked in Peru and ate at tiny sidewalk cafes in Vietnam. For the majority of your life, they had lived in the Bay area, and you would see them a few times a year, the two of them dropping by on the tail end of a trip or at the start of another. 

It wasn’t until Jenny passed away that Jake decided to put down roots. He packed up the Marin house, settled into a beautiful ranch-style home on the edge of the new vineyard he purchased. 

“Neither did I,” he said. “You’ll make it work. You’re a smart girl. Besides, there’s free wine in the deal.” 

You raised your glass. “Well, who could say no to that?” 

***

You slid your sunglasses to the top of your head, locking the car door and staring out at the vineyards stretched in front of you. 

Jake had bought the vineyard, Carrboro Estates, three years before, right after Jenny died. In that time, you had only been home once, and even that was just a quick four days during Christmas break. This was the first time you were seeing the vineyard in person. 

It was a Monday, the vineyard was closed to the public. As you walked down the stone path toward the Tuscan-style doors, you couldn’t help but see the resemblance between your parents' cliff-side house and the structure in front of you. 

“Hello?” The entry was large, with swirled marble slabs on the floor, a two-storey tall wall of wine bottles to your left, a round table in the center of the entry area with a few sample bottles of wine. You stepped closer. A picture of Jake sat in the very center of the table, grinning and holding up a glass of wine, the sun setting behind him over the grapes. 

He looked handsome. It wasn’t the first time you had recognized your father’s friend was attractive. But it was the first time as an adult you realized just how much of a commodity Jake must be, now that he was single. 

“Sparky? I’m down here, staircase on your right.” 

You followed Jake’s voice, down a hallway that opened up into a large staircase. Quietly, sneakers slapping against the broad steps, you made your way to the lower level, which opened up to an entire wall of glass doors, a patio sitting right outside. 

“Pretty nice view, right?” You swiveled around. Jake was holding a glass in one hand, cleaning it with a white cloth. 

You grinned. “Nice is an understatement.” 

“Welcome to Carrboro Estates.” 

“Fancy.” 

Jake chuckled. “Come on, let’s do the tour and then have a drink.” 

Jake walked you through the lower level, which held the outdoor patio as well as the kitchen. Upstairs, there was a private events and tasting room, as well as a bar. One half of the building had floor to ceiling windows with views over the vineyard, which cascaded down the hillside. 

“I can’t believe you built this all.” 

“Most of it was done by the time I bought the property,” Jake said as the two of you settled into a table at the edge of the patio. He uncorked a bottle seamlessly, tipping it into a wide mouthed glass, the red liquid dripping down the side leaving thin streaks. “I just made some changes, and then added on the house.” 

“Where is it?” You looked around. 

“About half a mile that way,” Jake replied, stretching one finger to your right. “Just below that hill.” 

“Bet it’s lovely.” 

“I’ll have you over some time for dinner. Hugo would like it.” You grinned. Jake set his wine glass down. “So the job. I’m looking for someone to be here when I’m not, essentially. You’d be front of house and back of house, which means helping with tastings, ordering supplies for the food menu, overseeing staff and helping me with some of the books. A little bit of everything.” 

“I’ve never had a real job,” you confessed. “I mean, I was a TA at Uni, and a lifeguard that one summer before senior year, but that’s about it.” 

“I’m looking for someone smart, that people like and want to listen to. You’re perfect for the job.” 

You cocked your head to one side. “That’s it? That’s the interview?” 

“I trust you,” Jake said and you looked up, surprised. His eyes were locked on yours. “What I don’t get is why you think you can’t do this.” 

His words cut, but not because they were harsh. You found yourself shocked that Jake Seresin of all people could read you like an open book. 

“What if I fail?” you asked quietly.

“At what, pouring wine?” Jake shrugged. “Open a new bottle. I don’t care if you break a hundred, fuck, a thousand bottles. Doesn’t matter to me, Sparky.” 

“Not the wine,” you whispered. “My clinic.” 

Jake nodded. “So that’s what you’re afraid of.” 

“Terrified,” you admitted. “Excited. Every feeling in the book.” 

“I was so worried the night before we opened that I accidentally got rip roaring drunk in the kitchen,” Jake said and you laughed. “Woke up the next morning at five a.m. on the floor in just my jeans and boots, no shirt. And had to open and welcome all the employees.” 

“Does it get better?” 

“Starting your own business is terrifying,” Jake said. “And it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. You’re going to be great.” 

You smiled. “I’ll take the job.” 

Jake tipped more wine into your glass. “Honey, your name’s already on the books. You’re working your first shift on Wednesday.” You blinked and Jake shrugged. “I said I needed help, didn’t I? Besides, this place needs some warmth in it. I think you’re exactly what we’ve been missing.” 

Tag list:

@lyn-js @seresinhangmanjake @bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @dempy @allbark-no-bite @teacupsandtopgun @na-ta-sh-aa @katiedid-3 @bradshawburner @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @rosiahills22 @emo @horseshoegirl @eminyourjeans

[of-many-aus]

Why Jake calls you ‘Angel’

Summary: there’s always an origin story to a nickname, this one is yours

Warnings: none

A/N: let me know what you think of this series so far :)

Take Me Out to the Ball Game Masterlist

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

This was stupid. You had no idea why you had even let Natasha talk you into this, she knew this wasn’t your thing.

The noise was deafening with everyone screaming at the top of their lungs. Cheers and boos for this team or that.

Bodies rammed into one another as they jumped up and down, supporting their respective teams that were made up of either a sky blue, or a crimson red.

“You have to get to know him,” Nat chatted your ear off above all the yells, keeping your arms linked tightly as you wove back and forth in the crowd, “He’s your roommate, and you hardly know a thing about him.”

“Yeah,” You snapped back, shooting her a small glare, “Maybe he’s a serial killer. How does that feel, Nat? You could very well be the person who pressured me into accepting a living situation with a murderer.”

She rolled her eyes, long since used to your dramatic antics, “A cute murderer.” Your best friend flashed you a grin.

You rolled your eyes sarcastically, “Well, what he lacks in personality, I suppose he makes up for in looks.”

“Exactly!” She cheered, finally pushing through a clearing and towards seemingly the only two empty seats in the whole stadium, not giving you the chance to open your mouth and snap back about being sarcastic. She knew very well that you were.

It had been about two weeks since you and the star of your college's baseball team, Jake Seresin, had made a temporary arrangement of moving into an apartment together. And the two of you had been walking on eggshells around each other, which Natasha Trace never failed to throw in your face.

Honestly, you were more than fine keeping it that way. The less you were forced to talk to the cocky, ego driven athlete, the better.

Your best friend, on the other hand, seemed to think that it was fate that the two of you were thrown into the same living establishment. And apparently, it was an opportunity not to be passed up. Now, you had been dragged to his team's second game of the season. Evidently, missing his first one was some sort of crime in Natasha’s eyes and you now had to make up for it.

What did it matter anyway? He didn’t even know that you were here, and honestly, you hoped that it stayed that way. You didn’t need him thinking something other than the simple fact that you were dragged here, fighting tooth and nail to get away. But it was useless, Nat was impossible to stop when she put her mind to something.

Of course, the only seats available had to be in the very front row, just to the right of home plate.

The game had already started by the time you two sat down, and Jake's team was getting absolutely demolished.

No wonder all the other spectators were getting rowdy so quickly. Your school was trying to urge the team into coming back, and the other school was trying to keep their team up. The score was 1-6 and it was only the second inning.

Jakes team was up at bat, more specifically, a man you recognized to be Reuben Fitch, who was in your science class, at the plate, bat up and at the ready. According to the scoreboard, there was already one out, two pitches thrown, and nobody on the bases.

The pitcher from the other team glared against the sun as he wound his arm back, ready to release the ball. And when he so, it hooked in such a way that poor Reuben didn’t stand a chance of hitting it.

You felt a pang of pity in your heart for him, he had always been friendly to you, and watching his lips move in the shape of a curse and shaking his head in disappointment at himself made you sad to see. He made his way back to the dug out with a head hung low, not even reacting when Pete Mitchell, the coach, clapped him on the back in reassurance when he shuffled past him.

A frown pulled at your lips, “This is just sad,” You commented, “You picked the absolute worst day to force me to come and see a game.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to rebuttal, only to snap it shut when her eyes locked onto something behind you. A smirk slowly made its way onto her face, “Or maybe not.”

With furrowed eyebrows, you turned in your seat to see what she was looking at, only to lock eyes on a jersey you had grown accustomed to seeing thrown lazily around your apartment- along with other pieces of gear he never bothered to pick up- making it’s way towards you.

Jake was up at bat.

There was a determined aura about him, you could tell from the way his eyes stayed trained on the pitchers mound and from the way his jaw was set and shoulders were in a ridged square.

High pitched squeals erupted from behind you in a way that made you cringe at the sudden noise.

“It’s Jake!”

“He looks so hot.”

“He was totally checking me out earlier.”

You rolled your eyes at the group of girls behind you, babbling like a bunch of teenagers at the mall, and crossed your arms over your chest.

Natasha was looking over at you with a smirk that had morphed into a knowing one.

“What?” You snapped.

Her grin only widened, “Nothing, nothing.” She murmured, turning her attention back to the game.

After allowing your eyes to linger suspiciously on her for another moment, you tore them away from her and too looked to where Jake was now winding up to bat.

The pitcher threw the next one faster than he had moments ago, and it headed straight for the blond man.

Your heart jumped to your throat and your arms unconsciously loosened, falling to your sides as you leaned forward.

Jake jumped backwards out of the way just in time, the ball narrowly missing his stomach in the process.

Shouts of protest came from all over the stadium, cursing out the pitcher for trying to take out the star player.

A breath slipped through your lips and you felt the muscles in your shoulders loosen. Why they were even tense in the first place, you didn’t know.

Seresin let out a huff, taking a step back from the plate to give himself a moment to collect himself, and his gaze unconsciously swept over the crowd.

Bright green eyes locked onto yours before you could even think about looking away and trying to hide yourself.

Jake stilled.

All of the sounds seemed to drown out around you. Neither of you let up your stares, no matter how much as you knew you should.

Then, the corner of his lips quirked up the tiniest bit, and he threw a wink in your direction before turning back to the plate and stepping up once more.

One of the girls squealed from behind you, “Did you see that? Did you? Did you? He winked at me!”

You barely even heard her, eyes still yet to leave Jakes tall form.

“What was that all about?” You could hear the grin in her voice as Natasha whispered to you.

Not an answer came out of you though. You were too transfixed in the game.

When the ball came at him again, he was ready, and he hit it out of the park. Literally.

Again, it seemed like almost every person in the stadium began screaming at the top of their lungs. Whether it was from anger or pure joy at the home run the man had just hit.

Somehow, you had joined in with them, clapping as loudly as you could and cheering.

Jake threw one glance to you over his shoulder before taking a jog around the bases, a grin of victory playing on his lips.

It only went uphill from there.

Somehow, when put in the outfield, every single ball went Jake's way, and he caught each and every one of them. Then each time he came up to bat, he would get at least one other person home.

There was a reason he was the star player.

By the end, the score was 12-6, and your throat was raw from all the screaming you had done, as well as most likely every other person in the audience.

“Well?” You finally tore your eyes away from the field at your best friend's voice, “Worth coming?”

You hid a grin and tried to shrug nonchalantly, “I suppose.”

She laughed loudly, linking your arms together and beginning to lead you into the slowly dispersing crowd.

The two of you chatted all the way back to the row of cars, when a voice calling out your name made you both stop and turn.

Jake jogged after the two of you, baseball gear bag slung over one shoulder.

The group of girls that had been obnoxious behind you for the entire game now stood a few yards away with dropped jaws that soon turned into sneers.

Your roommate paid them no mind though, as he came to a stop in front of you, slightly breathless as if he had run all the way from the dugout to catch up with you.

“Hi,” You breathed out in surprise, eyebrows raised.

He grinned that blinding, award winning smile of his, “You came to my game.”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha piped up, nodding excitedly from beside you, “She practically dragged me here.”

Your head snapped into her direction and your eyes widened for a brief second before you began glaring daggers at her, “I did not-“

“I’m glad you came.”

The gentleness of his tone made your mouth snap shut and your attention turn to him once more.

“We were losing, bad, but then you showed up, and we suddenly won again.” He was yet to drop his grin.

You shook your head, “That wasn’t me-“

“Sure it was,” He laughed lightly, “You’re like my own guardian angel.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

If it was even possible, his grin seemed to widen, “Why not? I think it’s fitting.”

A scoff left your lips, and whatever weird haze you had been in during the game finally shook off, “Don’t you dare.” You warned.

“Hangman!” Bradley Bradshaw called from a couple paces away, waving the man down, “Come on! The boys are going out to celebrate!”

“Be right there!” The blond called back before winking at you once more, “See you at home, Angel.”

With that, he jogged off, leaving you in a speechless state that was so unlike you.

Nat moved to stand in front of you, wiggling her eyebrows.

You hesitated before softly shoving her, “Shut up.” You mumbled, turning to make your way to the car.

Taglist: none yet

[sunlightmurdock]

Like This Forever | J. Seresin

“She’s gonna marry that boy someday.” Mary-Lynn Seresin had huffed with a wistful smile, watching the mud-caked children tear off through the field once again. This time, with sticks in hands and violent intent plastered across their dirty faces.

Being Jake’s tour manager had been a dream come true. Your childhood best friend, the first boy you ever loved — seeing his own dreams come true, the crowds screaming his name. It had all been so perfect.

Until those faint pink lines had shown up right before Jake’s six month long North American tour had kicked off. Those nights sneaking around are long gone. Now, Jake’s singing about you to a packed stadium, while you stand off-stage with tear-stained cheeks.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, childhood friends to lovers, country singer!Jake, smut, pining, blissful ignorance, other warnings to follow. (18+ minors do not interact)

| Jake’s Family

Taglist Form

One — Introducing the small town of Driftwood, TX, on a Sunday morning in 1974. Spilling into that important evening in February 1991. Driftwood, Texas.

Two — The start of it all. That night. Six weeks later, the first night of Jake’s tour. Driftwood, TX / New Mexico.

Three — Pregnancy isn’t at all what you had thought it would be. New Mexico / Colorado.

Four — Your mind is made up. Jake has a lot of thoughts about that. Colorado.

*More to follow*

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel

Demon!Jake Seresin x Reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he's a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Descriptions of blood and pain. Obsessive behavior. Eventual fluff and smut. I'm sure there are typos. This is part 1 of a mini-series. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it's fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1600

Part 2, Part 3

You didn’t believe in fate. You didn’t believe your life was predestined or anyone else’s to play with. It was yours alone. Yours to lead, to control, to make choices, good or bad. Only you decided when you did things and where you did them, and no one could have convinced you otherwise. But then you met him. He who showed you how wrong you were. 

When you think of the moment you saw him enter the club where you worked, remembering the way your eyes met the minute his body was clear of the door, you could laugh at everything you once believed about controlling your own destiny. The building would’ve been pitch black if not for the blue and purple strobe lights; you could hardly see the patrons in front of you as they shouted their drink orders, and yet, from the opposite side of the massive room, he was in clear view. Your lips had parted to suck in a breath when he smirked, and it was that slight quirk of his lips that had you forgetting yourself. You were instantly drawn to him as if there was a string tied between you that slowly shortened as the night went on. 

In hindsight, it should have been so damn obvious, or would have been had you known it was possible for someone to control you the way he did. You weren’t yourself when he approached you. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him without having spoken a single word to him. You took him home without knowing his name. But now that whatever power he had over you has worn off, you see that night for what it really was. A trick. A manipulated encounter. He had his sights set on you, and a one-night stand was never going to be a one-night stand. What it was, was an animal finally claiming the prey he’d been stalking for god knows how long. 

—

It’s the third day. Third of eight. 

Jake promised the pain would subside as the days passed—that you’ll get used to it; adapt—but to your great and utter shock, he has once again proven to be a liar. Every few hours, the wings rip your skin wider to accommodate their size as they grow and push for freedom from your body. At three days, they’re the span of a couple of feet, a few feathers shining opalescent in a slim ray of the sun. 

As you lay on your stomach, your body is still except for the shallow breaths that occasionally cause you to quiver. With the bloodied wings draped over your back, you try to understand the depth of the pain; how it is able to hurt the way it does. The feeling doesn’t compare to anything you’ve experienced. So different, so unnatural and indescribably excruciating. It’s a merciless pain. All-consuming. It swallows you rather than localize where the skin of your back is shredding open. 

“Just a few more days,” Jake says. 

You flinch at his voice. Each time he speaks you’re shocked he has remained at your side, his massive black wings hanging over the back of the chair he sits in as he watches you. Those monstrosities weren’t attached to his muscled back when you met him; nowhere in sight when he was in your bed.

With a cool cloth, Jake dabs at your broken and bleeding skin, eliciting little whimpers from your chapped lips. “I know it hurts, Angel,” he says. 

“Don’t–” you force out despite the fire in your throat and the wave of nausea that follows. “Don’t c-call me that.”

He sighs and continues to wipe the bloody flesh of your naked form. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. When it’s over, you will feel so much better about all of this, and about me. You’re gorgeous already, and the wings will only add to your beauty. You’ll thank me.”

“I di-didn’t want–”

“Don’t talk, Angel,” he tells you. His tone is gentle, but there’s an underlying command to his words. “I know it’s confusing, but anyone who crosses into my world has to grow wings. This has to happen so you can be with me.”

You let out a sudden scream as the wings tear you open a few more centimeters. Jake quickly scoots his chair closer to the bed to brush the damp hair from your face. He softly shushes you before leaning down and placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. You would slap him, push him away if you had the strength, but you can’t move. Your lungs are tightening, body burning as if licked by the sun. 

At first, you didn't understand what was happening to you, but now you know exactly what this is. You’re dying, morphing into a horrid creature from fantasies and leaving behind all traces of humanity. In your veins, you feel something foreign coursing and altering your DNA. You’re pretty sure you still look like you, for the most part, but you aren’t you. Not anymore. This man—practically a stranger—is turning you into a beast.

—

It’s five more nights of torture before you’re able to properly inhale and exhale, but even so, the air around you is just as foreign as the pain you had trudged through. It tastes…off, and you find little comfort in it being your source of oxygen. 

“You’re awake.”

His smooth voice draws your eyes away from the scenery outside of the one window in the room. Your first true glimpse of this world since he brought you here, and it’s a stunning sight of lush rolling hills and fields of blooming flowers under a plane of blue sky. It reminds you of home before you moved to the city. So much so that you’re convinced it’s an illusion crafted by devilish fingers for your comfort, not unlike his beauty. 

You hate how he looks. Golden hair, mossy eyes, and those black-as-night wings that you saw for the first time when they’d suddenly appeared after you’d slept together. Right before he drugged and stole you. 

“And you’re standing already,” he continues. “I hoped to come help you, but you’re clearly much stronger than I was after I grew my wings.” 

Your irises flash with a burst of anger before you tear them away from his, back to the hills whose grass sways in the breeze. You unintentionally let that breeze, along with the chirp of a bird and the glisten of the sun off of a small lake, distract you from Jake’s approach. You freeze at his breath brushing your ear, and when he slips his rough fingers through the layers of your shimmering feathers, you struggle to contain the shiver that shoots down your spine. You hear the ruffling of his own feathers as he touches his creation. 

“So beautiful,” he whispers. 

You scoff. “I’m glad you’re proud of your work.”

Jake lets out a puff of air, a weak laugh. “My work? Angel, this was all you. I knew they would be beautiful simply because they are a part of you, but you far surpassed my expectations. You should be proud.”

Whipping around, you meet him chest to chest, eyes burning with an intensity that crashes into his. “I should be proud?” you growl. “You forced this on me.”

“And you survived. Not many can say the same. You’ve come out stronger.” His hand trails through your feathers again. This time, you fight off the tingles.

“I’ve come out of this wanting to kill you even more,” you say, tucking the wing behind you so it’s out of his reach. 

If he heard you, it doesn’t show. Or maybe he refuses to acknowledge what he doesn’t want to hear. Either way, he doesn't respond. Instead, his gaze falls to your lips and he carefully cups your chin between his fingers. His face inches closer and closer, but before his lips can meet yours, you plant your hands firmly on his chest and shove hard. 

Jake stumbles back with a chuckle. “Definitely stronger.”

“I’m not going to let you kiss me,” you snap. 

“Not today, it would seem.”

“Not ever again!” 

Though you’re seething with hatred, those words taste sour on your tongue, each one more so than the last. They feel wrong, like some part of your mind is disappointed in you for speaking them, for denying his kiss and pushing him away, but you tamp it down. You’re just overwhelmed as your brain struggles to adjust to the situation. That explains it. 

“You will come around, Angel,” he says, crossing his arms. “You and I have eternity. One day you will wake up and realize that I am all you have. I will be all that you want, and this memory of pain will be long lost. All you will know is me and my touch and our world. We will be happy, I promise.”

As he speaks his eyes hold a delicate sincerity that you wish wasn’t there. You wish the green of them wasn’t so powerfully conveying his feelings. 

You shake your head. “You’re a monster.”

Jake calmly steps back into your space, catching you off guard as he looms over you. You keep his stare, even with your back pressed into the wall, wings spread against the stone. 

“You may breathe your sweet words all you like, Angel. It changes nothing,” he says, running a knuckle down your cheek. “If I am a monster, I am your monster, and I am not going anywhere.” His lips peel back in a smile. “Luckily for me, neither are you.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw

[topguncortez]

Slap Shot || Chapter 1

A Jake Seresin Hockey AU

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: You arrive at your new job in North Island, and are hit with memories that you'd much rather leave behind. Jake faces the repercussions of his fight on the ice with his teammate

word count: 2.9k

warnings: grief, mentions of sexism, injuries, losing a parent, locker room talk, hockey inaccuracies, mentions of cheating, workplace harassment, mentions of sex

When you were about five years old, your kindergarten teacher asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up. Most of your classmates gave answers such as “teacher” or “doctor” or “superman”. You, on the other hand, stood in front of the packed gym on the night of your kindergarten graduation, your head held high as you gave your answer. 

“A Stanley Cup Winner.” 

Of course at the time, you didn’t understand that women could not win the Stanley Cup (you figured that out at age 8 and it caused the meltdown of all epic meltdowns). The closest thing women could get to the Stanley Cup was a gold medal at the Olympics. You worked your ass off from the time you could successfully skate without falling, to your senior year of highschool. Every waking moment you had was spent at the rink, running drills from sunup to sun down. You lived and breathed hockey, and as the daughter of the late great Michael L/N, you had big shoes to fill. 

You just never imagined the moment it would all come crashing down. 

It was a dumb idea, in hindsight. It was a really dumb idea. Weeks from the US Olympic team tryouts, you agreed to joining your friends at the lake. A place you liked to avoid like the plague. It wasn’t that your parents and coach kept you away from having any fun in your life, you simply chose to ignore the dangerous stunts your friends like to partake in. But for some reason, you decided to take a chance and take a break from the grueling training schedule your coach had created. It was a hot summer day in the middle of July, and a day out on the boat sounded like heaven. 

You should’ve said no to trying to wakeboard. You should’ve just stayed on the boat, watching the epic wipeouts by your friends. It would’ve been the smart choice to make. . . but you never were that smart. One bad landing into the wake created by the boat, had you breaking the surface with a horrible scream. Your friends reacted quickly, jumping into the water to help you stay afloat as you screamed in pain, your collar bone protruding awkwardly under your skin. They got you to the hospital quickly where you were told you had broken your collarbone and torn your ACL in your knee. The physical pain wasn’t even as bad as the emotional pain that came a few weeks later. 

“I’m sorry, but you will never play hockey at the level you are playing it now. I suggest. . . quitting altogether if you want to avoid having a shoulder replacement before you’re 30.” 

A bullet to the chest would’ve hurt less. 

At first, you laughed at the doctor’s suggestion, all but telling him to fuck off and asking to see his credentials. Your parents had tried to talk some sense into you, telling you that maybe heeding the doctor’s advice could be beneficial. Your dad knew guys from the league who had shoulder or knee injuries, and it never ended up in their favor. Years of pain and suffering, turning to questionable methods of dealing with the pain, missing out on crucial time with their families or significant others. But you were stubborn, and didn’t want to quit playing when you were about to try-out for the biggest moment of your life. 

But you never made it that far. In fact, you never finished your senior season. From the first puck drop, everything was shit. You weren’t as strong as you had been, having lost muscle in both your arms and legs. You felt off balance, and were cautious of every move you made on the ice. You knew the statistics, you were at a higher risk of tearing another ligament in your knee after tearing the first one. Your collar bone, even though it had healed without having to have surgery, clicked and popped anytime you tried to make a slapshot. You were making mistakes you hadn’t made since peewee hockey. Your teammates were growing increasingly annoyed, your coaches were becoming exasperated, and your dreams of making it on the US Olympic team had slowly drifted away. It was a hard choice, but in the middle of your senior year, you decided to hang up your skates for the last time. 

Even though you weren’t actively playing, your love for the sport didn’t die along with your Olympic dream. In fact, you found a new way to get involved with the sport, deciding that you were going to major in public relations and team management. Your goal had shifted, and now you wanted to be the first female Hockey manager. 

But like most goals, that was easier said than done. 

It was 2024, and even with the establishment of the Profession Women’s Hockey League and the US Women’s Hockey team winning numerous gold medals on the world stage, women in the league still weren’t taken seriously. You were told all through college, as you sat in your team management class to choose a different sport like swimming or volleyball or gymnastics. More “women friendly sports”. You weren’t going to throw in the towel and give up on your dream, no matter how many teams had denied you. 

When you were hired by the North Island Daggers, you weren’t sure what to expect. They were known as the joke team of the NHL. Always finishing last every season, being most teams shoe-in win when they played against one another. Having gone from working as a PR rep for the Dallas Stars, you felt as though this was a demotion, a punishment for a freelance article you had written about how women were being treated in the NHL. You knew the article was going to be risky when you sat down and wrote it. You just didn’t expect to get a call an hour after the article was published telling you that you were being sent to work with the Daggers. 

“We’re happy to have you here,” Beau Simpson, spoke as your heels clicked down the long hallway behind him, “As you can see, we need a little PR help.” 

“Yeah, I saw that fight between Holloway and Seresin the other night.” The whole NHL fan base saw the fight, but you weren’t about to tell Simpson something he was probably painfully aware of, “Interesting decision to bench him before going against Endmonton though. He’s your strongest player.” 

“Can’t let him get away with bad behavior,” Simpson shrugged, stopping outside a large conference room with glass walls and a large oval table in the middle, “Hey, I’m sorry about your dad. I got the honor of playing against him my rookie year. Hell of a player. Terrible thing, cancer is.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” It had been months since your dad died from cancer, shocking the world of hockey. You thought by now you would have been used to hearing condolences from strangers, but they still made your ears burn and your face flush. 

Simpson nodded courtly, opening the door to the conference room where two sharply dressed men and a woman sat. 

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N L/N, the new PR rep for the North Island Daggers,” Simpson introduced you as the two men stood up, and you immediately knew who they were. 

“Pete Mitchell and Tom Kazansky, co-owners of the North Island Daggers,” You answered, shaking both of their hands, “An honor to meet you, both.” 

“The honor is all ours, Miss Hamilton,” Pete smiled at you as he sat down. 

You wanted to correct him, but decided not to. Sometimes, it was easier to let people call you by your father’s last name, than try and explain why you dropped it and took up your mother’s maiden name. The world of sports was a game of who you know and who you belong to. If your last name was that of a hall of famer, you were almost guaranteed anything and everything you wanted, and you hated that. When you were vying for the spot on Team USA, you wanted it because you were skilled, not because of who your dad was. The same stood now, as you were trying to work your way up in the hockey world. You wanted this job because you were good at it, not because your dad was hockey royalty. 

“I’m Mrs. Wright, the executive public relations and human resource officer,” The woman, who’s blonde hair was slicked back in an impressive bun, held her hand out to you. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wright,” You smiled at her, trying hard to not gawk at the huge diamond ring that sat on her finger. 

“We’re glad you could join us on such short notice,” Tom spoke, “We know that you just got let go from the Stars for a shit reason if you ask me.”

“Thanks,” You muttered, clasping your hands on the conference table in front of you, “I am happy to be picked up by the Daggers though. My dad really enjoyed his time here as a rookie.” 

“Damn, we missed him when he left,” Pete shook his head, as if he were remembering the “good ol’ days” as your father referred to him during his rookie season. 

“The reason we hired you, Miss Hamilton,” Mrs. Wright spoke up, breaking up the reminiscing, “Is because we are in the middle of a PR storm. We have a player who has caused quite the controversy lately and is in danger of losing his sponsors. From our research, we know that you do fantastic work with building player profiles, turning rookies into known players, making the bad guys look like the good boys. We need you to do that.” 

“Okay,” You nodded, “So am I taking over the social media accounts like I did in Dallas, or-” 

Mrs. Wright looked apprehensively at Pete and Tom, who sat up a bit in their seats. 

“Not necessarily,” Pete cleared his throat, “You will be paired one on one with one of our problematic players.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, before realization struck you, “Wait. . .” You held your finger up, “You hired me to be a glorified babysitter?” 

— — — 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Jake grunted as he set the barbell back on the rack above him. His gray workout t-shirt was drenched in sweat as he sat up, looking both his agent and trainer in the eye, “I’m fine on my own.” 

“You got in a fight,” His agent, Steven, deadpanned. 

“Everyone gets in fights, its hockey,” Jake shrugged as Javy handed him his water bottle. 

“With your own teammate.” 

Jake glanced over to the other side of the workout room, where Wren Holloway was working out with Bradley Bradshaw, still supporting a black eye from the fight that broke out a couple of days ago on the ice. The fight, which was being dubbed “The Dagger Civil War,” was definitely not a highlight Jake liked to have hanging over him. But in the game of hockey, sometimes the tension runs high, and in that particular game, Jake had gone out looking for a fight from the moment the puck first dropped. It was just unfortunate that his opponent was his teammate. 

“Look,” Steven shifted on his feet, crossing his arms across his chest, “The fight is the least of our issues right now. We have sponsorships ready to pull out on you because you’ve been labeled the “hot head” and the “problematic child”. And what is this that I hear about an affair with the coach’s wife?” 

Jake groaned, standing up from the workout bench, and taking the sweat towel from Javy’s hand. Both of them followed Jake through the weight room. The Daggers might’ve been the worst team in the NHL, having a history of one play-off appearance in the 70 years since they’ve been a team, they sure did have one of the nicest facilities Jake had ever been in. State of the art work-out and physical therapy rooms. Rehabilitation pools, and an indoor track. In-house chefs that served breakfast, lunch and dinner, plus tons of snack shops throughout the building. And the best part, two full sized practice rinks. 

Jake walked over to the smoothie shack, where a bright-eyed hopeful girl sat down his regular smoothie order, his name with a heart around it. 

“Here you go, Jake,” She batted her eyes as Jake took the smoothie, making a clear display of taking off the sticky note with her number on it and setting it back on the counter.  

“Not interested, but thanks,” He nodded, turning back to Javy and Steven, who glared at him, “What?” 

“You sleep with her too?” Steven asked and Javy snickered. Jake was going to shake his head no, but had to double check who it was behind the counter, before shaking his head. Steven rolled his eyes as Jake walked towards one of the rehab rooms. 

The moment Jake laid down on the exam table, Javy got right to work. Javy and Jake were like a well oiled machine, they knew one another since they were kids, growing up next door to one another. They played on the same youth hockey team, until it became too expensive for Javy’s family to afford. It broke the young boy’s heart to have to give up the sport he loved, and Jake had begged his parents to help Javy be able to play. Even though the Seresins insisted on paying for Javy’s fees and equipment, the boy didn’t have the same passion for the sport as Jake did, and he thought it would be a waste. Instead, Javy found another way to be on the bench next to Jake, working as the team equipment manager, to athletic training assistant, to athletic trainer for the Daggers. 

“Shoulder still bothering you?” Javy asked, grabbing Jake’s arm and moving it in a variety of ways. 

“Yeah,” Jake grimaced, “Still has that whole clicking thing going on. Guess that hit from Svec was harder than I thought.” 

Javy snickered, remembering the hit Jake suffered a few weeks ago, “He laid you out flat, man.” 

“Shut up,” Jake grumbled. 

“Mhm,” Steven cleared his throat, directing Jake’s attention back to him, “We weren’t done talking yet.” Jake rolled his eyes, which only seemed to infuriate his manager, “This is serious, Jake,” Steven sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Simpson wants you out, wants you so far gone from the Daggers, hell, probably even the National Hockey League.” 

Jake scoffed, “I’m the best on the team."

“You haven’t been for weeks.” 

Jake huffed again, knowing that Steven was right. He has been off his game for the past couple of weeks. Missing key plays and open teammates. Almost all his shots were deflected or totally missing the net. Not to mention, he felt like his skating had modeled that of a newborn calf, shaky and off balance. The hit from Svec several weeks ago, was just the tip of the iceberg of the list of injuries Jake seemed to have racked up in the past couple of weeks. 

“Look, your spot is in danger.” 

That got Jake’s attention, making him sit up from his laid back position, “What are you talking about?” 

“There’s a kid down on the juniors that is amazing. He’s either been breaking or matching all your records. They are calling him the next you.” 

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t really pay attention to any other league but the one he was currently in. Of course, he kept his eye out for any information about the national team. It had been his dream since he got to the NHL to play for Team USA and make it to the olympics. Playing on the junior team had been one of his greatest memories, and when he felt for the first time, he could actually make it in this sport. 

How could he have ignored that there was someone breaking all his records? 

“Who is this kid?” Jake asked. 

“Drake Silvia. He’s signed to UMich, but also a projected first round draft pick,” Steven clenched his jaw, “They want him. And they will have him. . . at your expense.” 

Jake felt like his heart dropped to his ass. He had never felt the feeling of fear for his spot on a team before. He’s always been the best. Always been the hot commodity that every team wants, that every coach would roll out the red carpet to get him to visit their team. Before he decided to go straight to the drafts, he had nearly every single college in the country and some in Canada, begging for an ounce of his attention. 

“However,” Steven looked around the empty rehab room before leaning in close, “Henderson signed his retirement forms this morning.” 

“What?!” Jake spat out, “He’s retiring?” 

“No announcement will be made until the season is over,” Steven nodded, “But Henderson is done after this year. . . and the captain spot will be open. It could be yours.” 

Besides making Team USA, being named captain has also been on the list of dreams for Jake. All the hockey greats have been captains. Gretzky, Crosby, Hamilton. Jake’s childhood bedroom had their jerseys hanging up in frames. To Jake, no one remembered you unless you were the captain, or won a Stanley Cup. And Jake wanted both. He wanted both as badly as he needed oxygen to live. 

Jake sighed, knowing what the answer to his question was going to be, “So what do I have to do?”

A smirk arose on Steven’s cheeks, “If you want to stay on this team, and make captain, you need to abide by the rules. And that means having a babysit-” He shook his head correcting himself, “A personal PR rep.” 

“Fine, I’ll take the babysitter.”

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[roosterbruiser]

hi! could i request something where jake secretly has an older daughter that he had with his high school sweetheart during their senior year and the squad finds out? i just love the idea of jake and his high school girlfriend being married and just as in love now as they were back then

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

Things hadn't always been easy with Jake--God, no.

Well, really, things had been downright blissful in the beginning. What were teenagers going to fight about anyway? You two just clicked--you knew you were right for each other.

Then you got pregnant. And for a while, actually, things had been really hard.

Between the fateful night of your graduation when your pregnancy test came back positive and the next eight months of your pregnancy, the two of you fought more than you ever had before. It wasn't just because he was trying to do the responsible thing by asking you to marry him--which, let's be honest; he had planned on doing that long before the positive pregnancy test--and the stress of planning the shotgun wedding you were trying really hard not to call a shotgun wedding. It was the hormones and the academy and the moving cross-country in the middle of a difficult pregnancy and all the growing up the two of you had to do so hastily.

The two of you had bickered here and there--which was bound to happen when you are devoted to someone from the seventh grade forward--but had never fought as passionately as you were while you were pregnant. It was senseless arguments, ones sprinkled in between trainings and morning sickness and job searches and taping boxes.

It wasn't even that the two of you didn't love each other. That's what the most frustrating part of it all was, really; the two of you were stupidly in love. Like the kind of love people really only see on screens, which you would never say out loud (even though you know it's true), and wish for but usually never get.

Everything changed the day Charlotte was born. You went into labor in the middle of an impassioned argument--one that was going precisely nowhere, not that either of you would admit it--and made it to the hospital to settle in comfortably for a very uncomfortable seventeen hours of labor.

Young as you both were, scared (terrified, really) as you both were, exhausted as you both were--everything else in the world melted away when you held that little pink, squirming baby against your chest.

Jake had been a wreck, suddenly realizing how absolutely out of his element he was as a measly 19-year-old with a wife and baby on the way, but had not left your side for even a moment. And when Charlotte, that sweet and loud little thing, finally settled with her chubby cheek against the red skin of your chest--something changed in his body. Already he knew that he loved you--God, he loved you so much. But seeing you there on the hospital bed with your hair plastered to your sweaty head and your cheeks flushed and your eyes swollen from crying, that love suddenly expanded and overwhelmed him. He felt like he was going to positively drown in all that love.

As if you sensed it, you looked up at him with an exhausted sort of awe-struck look. Your eyebrows were raised, your dry lips parted, your cheeks flushed, your eyelashes clumped with tears.

"She's got your big mouth," you had said to him, laughing breathily, cradling her against you.

You were shaking--not just from the sheer effort of pushing that baby into this world, but from the overwhelming amount of love coursing through your veins for that little stranger in your arms.

It had made all the nurses and doctors laugh as they still hustled and bustled around your open legs, but neither you or Jake even noticed them. You were looking up at your husband--who was suddenly not that flirty boy with the sweeping blonde hair that let you put your books in his locker, but a man with tears of pride streaming down his face as he looked down at his newly-expanded family for the first time.

He thought he was going to explode--but instead he just sobbed out a laugh. Then he leaned forward and pressed your damp hair out of your face, bringing his salty lips down on your forehead again and again. His quivering hand pressed against Charlotte's back and God, he loved her so much already. He hadn't even really seen her face for the first time, but he knew she was fucking perfect. He could feel it just under the pads of his fingers, could feel your laughter and your tears beneath his trembling lips.

"No more fightin', angel. I promise. I'm sorry," he whispered against your skin, resting his nose against your temple, sniffing hard. "Don't ever wanna fight with you ever again, okay? Love you too damn much to be arguin' all the time."

"I love you so much," you whispered to him, lips trembling as they pressed against his wet ones, bones aching with tired. "I don't ever wanna fight with you again."

But as he cupped your cheek and nuzzled his nose against yours, peppering kisses all along your tears and flushed skin, you knew that he meant it. No more arguing. You knew something was bound to change, knew it would probably change once Charlotte was born, but you hadn't expected it to be so immediate. But you were radiating love now--so happy you felt like your heart was gonna fall out of your chest.

And the two of you, as devoted to each other and your daughter as you are, kept the promise with a fierceness. No more fighting--you meant it and so did he.

Now that you're used to deployments and special detachments and moving and all the rare beauty that is attached to life as a Naval aviator's wife, everything runs smoothly.

He loves that you still send him a picture of Charlotte every single day while he's not home--something you'd done since his very first deployment when she was a few months old. You never missed a day--like ever, which he still didn't understand the logistics of--and always wrote a paragraph about yours and Charlotte's day.

When she was little, it had been something like:

Today Charlotte and I went to the park. It was that cute little one by our house, the one with all the dogs and food trucks. She's getting really good at holding her head up on her own! And she's not so fussy anymore about tummy time, which is a relief. I got to read a little bit of my book while she napped on the picnic blanket. She wore that sunhat your mama got her (as seen in the attached photo) and laughed at a dog that came to investigate her. She's a big fan of animals--might be something to consider, huh? Right now, she is talking my ear off about you, telling me all about those bedtime stories you read and how your voices are so much better than mine. I get it--I'm obsessed with you, too. We miss you. Gonna go pray at the shrine we made for you, I guess. Get home safe, okay? We love you.

But right now, as Jake sits in The Hard Deck only a few days after the successful Uranium Mission, he's smiling as he scrolls through the emails you'd sent him that he's only just now able to read.

He's nursing a beer, shoulders slumped and lips pulled faintly upwards as he basks in the warm evening sun filtering in through the window. It's noisy as ever all around him--Rooster pounding away on the piano with Maverick right there next to him, Coyote and Fanboy shooting the shit as they play a truly pathetic game of pool, someone being thrown overboard--but everything's white noise when he reads your emails.

Your emails are a little bit different now--especially now that Charlotte is twelve. She's less apt to let you take pictures of her now, going through the make-a-face-at-the-camera phase or just running away at the first sign of your lens facing her. You managed to snap a good one the other day, one where her green eyes are glimmering in the sun as she sips on a lemonade. Jake looks closely at the picture and decides that the two of you are at that little bistro by your house that you like to walk to.

Your daughter's glossy hair is longer than it was when he left and God, if she isn't growing more and more beautiful everyday. She looks just like you. She's got your exuberance and even though he would never say it to you or Charlotte, she's even got the little crinkle between her brows that seems to just pulse when she's frustrated.

He rereads your paragraph again.

Well, good morning to you, Lieutenant Husband. I woke up this morning to your daughter's dog peeing on the rug outside the bathroom. And your daughter thought that was the funniest thing in the world until I made her clean it up! I'm a mean mom, I guess. But I made up for it because we walked down to Frankie's and I let her get the bottomless lemonade. Currently writing this during her fourth bathroom trip. Think we're gonna catch a movie in a little bit and then maybe get some ice cream after. We miss you, baby. Can't wait to hear your voice again. And even though she won't say it, I know Charlotte can't wait to take you up on that beach day you promised her. Be good, stay safe, stay alive, okay? We love you more than anything in the world and you're definitely gonna have to re-potty train Sandy when you come home!

He missed you two more than anything in the world. But what he missed the most was just the domesticity the two of you had blissfully settled into. What he wouldn't give to wake up to Sandy peeing on the rug outside the bathroom, to back you up when Charlotte groaned about having to clean it up, to walk down to Frankie's with the two of you and tease Charlotte for using the bathroom so many times, to go see whatever stupid Kristen Stewart movie is playing, to eat a cone of mint chip ice cream and take the long way home. He ached for it, really--even if he knew there was only a few more days until he'd be back in it.

He could hardly wait.

"Who's the teeny-bopper?"

Jake nearly jumps out of his skin, jerking back against the wooden booth and snapping up to look up at the squadron that has suddenly gathered all around him. It's Payback that's asked, his eyebrow perched as he leans in to get a closer look at Charlotte.

"God, she looks just like you," Phoenix adds, narrowing her eyes on what is essentially Hangman's mouth and nose on a much smaller face. "Younger sister?"

Everyone's staring at Jake now.

It isn't even that he's been hiding the two of you--he loves showing you off. But it's just that it hasn't come up and quite frankly, they've been a little busy the past few weeks.

Bob's always been good at reading people--so when he studies the photograph and then studies the redness in Hangman's cheeks and the way he wets his tongue nervously, Bob knows. Bob knows before anyone else--besides Maverick and Coyote, that is.

"How's my niece?" Coyote asks, clapping Jake on the shoulder with a sly grin.

Jake sighs, shaking his head softly at Javy before submitting to it all--thrusting his phone forward to let the squadron read your email and look at the picture of Charlotte.

"Niece? No way," Fanboy exclaims, brows furrowed. "No way."

But now Rooster is holding the phone, his mouth agape, zooming in on Charlotte's face and it is suddenly undeniable to everyone there--that is absolutely the spawn of Jake Seresin. Right down to the dimples and the green eyes, that is his daughter.

"Charlotte," Jake says softly, trying to choke down all that pride that is inching its way up his throat. "She's twelve. And she's the best person that's ever lived, obviously."

Phoenix would've snorted if she hadn't been so totally awe-struck.

"You taking all the credit for that?" Rooster quips, shooting a playful smirk Jake's way.

But Jake just holds his hands up in surrender, sighing as he shakes his head.

"I'll give that to the wife," he says fondly. "She's also the best person that's ever lived. Better than all of you combined."

Coyote takes a sip of his own beer before nodding.

"Oh, absolutely," he agrees at once. "That woman's a saint for putting up with you and raising that Hellion."

Javy's joking of course--he'd actually never seen a more communicative, loving relationship than yours and Jake's. And he'd never met such a well-rounded girl as Charlotte. She had a good head on her shoulders, put there by her parents. Javy was even sure that Charlotte knew more than he did already and she hadn't even finished middle school.

"A wife, too?" Bob asks softly, smiling as he reads your email.

"And a dog," Fanboy adds softly, scanning over your paragraph.

Jake hums, nodding, trying not to look too pathetically in love with you. Even though he is, in fact, pathetically in love with you.

"Going on thirteen years," Jake says. "Thirteen happy years."

And everyone knows that he means it, especially when he just glances back at his phone in Rooster's hands and smiles softly to himself. He is thoroughly in love with you and with your daughter--Hell, he just loves your shared life. He's itching to go home, even if a poorly house-trained dog is waiting for him.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Phoenix says, bumping him with her eyebrows furrowed.

"And when can we meet them?" Payback adds.

Jake is grinning now--just the prospect of his Navy family meeting his real family makes affection swarm his heart. He shrugs.

"Maybe we could figure something out before everyone has to go. I'm sure we can get Charlotte out of school for a couple of days. Family's a good enough reason for me--bet it will be for the wife, too."

He's gushing with pride--he's not even trying to, but he really is. Coyote is used to the way Jake practically glows when he talks about you and Charlotte. Hell, he even gets it. You're beautiful and funny and kind and whip-smart. You hold it down and make it look easy. And Charlotte is a perfect balance of the two of you, striking every single genetic sweet-spot.

"I'm shocked," Rooster says. "You're so...gooey right now."

"Yeah, Bagman," Phoenix says with a smile. "Going all soft on us."

Hangman wants to roll his eyes again. Really, he does. But he just can't. So he takes another sip of his beer, thinks about the way you would be cuddled into him right now and quipping back at Rooster as the two of you watch Charlotte sweetly order her third lemonade from Penny, and shrugs with a grin tugging on his lips.

"I guess I am," he smiles.

here is my tag list!!

if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Let’s give him hell - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Seresin! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, cursing, fighting. Protective older brother Jake and bestie Bradley

Part 2 is posted here

“Please don’t be awake.” You repeated the words to yourself as you walked up the steps to your house, praying to a higher power that Jake wasn’t still awake. He had been home for leave and was staying in your guest room along with a couple of his navy buddies. You knew he didn’t want to stay with your parents because he wasn’t your dads biggest fan, so you said he could stay with you. But now, as you realized the situation you were in, you were regretting it. You really didn’t want your older brother to see the poorly covered bruises because you knew he would lose his shit. You were the youngest of the Seresin siblings and the one who was the closest to the only boy of the bunch, him being a couple years your senior.

The bruises that were slowly starting to turn purple now were the doing of the man who was supposed to always protect you. Jason, your boyfriend had gotten a little over zealous tonight and had put his hands on you. You tried to cover it with makeup and a baseball cap, but you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

You kept your head down as you slid in the front door, trying to shut the door quietly. You heard your brothers voice and the voice of others; telling you that there was more than one naval aviator you had to avoid. You listened to the voices; recognizing Rooster and Jake laughing about who knows what. You slowly pushed the door shut and swore under your breath as the door squeaked loud enough for the conversation to stop.

“You’re home late.” You heard Jake call out, his head peaking out from behind the door frame in the kitchen. You nodded and lowered your head even more, clicking your tongue as you sat your keys down and sighed. You felt like you were a teenager again, getting caught by him when you were out past curfew. “Yeah, I fell asleep at Jason’s.” The words were a bold faced lie as you scouted out your escape up the stairs and to your room “I hope you haven’t tried to burn my house down yet.” You tried to keep a conversation flowing as you put away your shoes and your coat, hearing Rooster laugh at your comment.

Your heart swelled in your chest at the sound of your best friends laughter, wishing you could go say hi. But knowing better than that. “What do you think?” Jake’s voice made you roll your eyes as you affirmed his smart ass words, hearing a chair scrape along the kitchen floor. “Wow, she hasn’t even come to say hi to me. We both come into town for the first time in a year and she’s avoiding us..” You heard Rooster’s teasing voice and you feel your heart start to race.

“I’m going to bed! I’ll see you guys tomorrow! Night!” And with that you took off sprinting up the stairs, slamming your door behind you. You turned the lock on the door, or so you thought as you walk into your room and sink down into your bed. You slid the hat off your head and let yourself take in the sight of yourself, a few tears slipping down your cheeks as you shake your head; recalling the argument in your head.

You had called him out on not being faithful to you, having found evidence of him cheating in the form of a girl texting him while you were over. It had made you extremely upset, telling him you were done. At the words, he lost his temper. He took his anger out on you and you were now wearing the consequences.

“Hey, Jake asked me to come check-“ You heard a knock on your door as Bradley pushed it open, showing a perfect example of the literal open policy the two of you had in your friendship. He stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of you in the mirror, his eyes widening. “He didn’t.” His tone turned harsh as he walked in and sat in front of you, carefully taking your face in his hand. “Are you okay?” His voice softened as he carefully ran his fingers down your skin, his hazel eyes meeting yours.

You gave him the best fake smile you could muster, nodding as you put your hand over his. “I’m okay, Roo. I promise.” You wiped away a couple of tears as you looked up at him and swallowed thickly. “Please don’t tell Jake..” You knew exactly what your brother was capable of and you were terrified for it to be unleashed. Growing up, he was the kind to square up against your dad and he did it with a cocky smile on his lips.

Your dad laid his hands on your mom one time and never made the mistake again after Jake punched him for it. Sure, the blonde aviator got a nasty shiner and a bloody lip, but he looked your dad dead in the eye as he threatened with the cops. “Call them. I’ll tell them to read me my rights. You don’t fucking touch my mother like that.” His words were dripping with venom as he spit his blood into the grass, clenching his fists. “As far as I’m concerned, the law was mine to break tonight and I would gladly fucking do it again.” The fight was over then and there and never happened again.

“You know I have to tell him. He fucking hurt you.” Bradley was trying to keep his cool for your sake but you just looked up at him, shaking your head. “Then I guess I should just give you more ammo if we’re going to rile my brother up.” You pushed yourself up off the bed and out of Roosters grip, walking over to your dresser. You slid out of the shirt you were wearing, slipping on one of Roosters old shirts that he gave you. “He cheated on me too.” You met his eyes through your mirror, feeling a small sense of fear creep into your spine as you saw anger flash through his eyes.

Rooster shook his head as he watched you crawl into bed, biting the inside of his lip. He walked over and sat on the edge of your bed, feeling like you could use the sense of safety. He stayed there until he heard your soft snores, quietly letting himself out of your room.

He walked downstairs to meet the curious eyes of the other aviators, Jake opening his mouth to spout off a smart aleck remark. However, Bradley raised his hand to stop him, a dead serious look on his face. “We have an ass to go kick. He laid his hands on her.” The words were enough for Jake to stand straight up, immediately going to grab his truck keys. “Do you know where he lives?” One of the other boys spoke up, setting his beer down on the table as they all stood up from their chairs. “Unfortunately for him, I do. He’s going to pay.” Jake’s words were cold enough to chill someone to the bone as he motioned for everyone to follow him, ready to go take matters into his own hands.

Taglist: @atarmychick007 @ginger-gabsq @fandomxpreferences

[bussyslayer333]

Push the button

summary: jake has a thing for his new assistant.

pairing: ceo!jake seresin x assistant!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smutt,, maybe power play?? he’s ur boss,, daddy kink lol, swearing and some creepy work guys. MDNI 18+

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

Jake should have never hired you. He was pretty sure you were the least efficient assistant he’d ever had. But every time he brought you into his office to fire you, you looked up at him with your big eyes and simpered,

“Yes, Mr Seresin?”

He crumbled. You made Jake Seresin a weak, weak man. You were fresh out of college and definitely too young for him, but your tight pencil skirts and blouses that always had at least one button more that needed to be done up always had him slightly dizzy.

He was currently watching you through the glass door to the copy room, bent over the photocopier on the 10th floor trying to unjam whatever document you had probably stuck in the wrong port. Mike, the creepy tech support was stood behind you offering increasingly unhelpful advice. You stood back up with a huff and turned to Mike,

“Are you sure there’s a reset button all the way down there?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,”

Jake watches as you shrug and bend back over trying to look for the “reset button”. He also watches as Mike’s hand slides low on your back, that’s when he decides to make himself known.

“Everything alright?”

Mike immediately backs off from you and prays that you don’t open your mouth. To his dismay, you snap back up immediately, a ditsy smile on your face.

“Totally Mr Seresin! Mike was helping me with the copier, I didn’t realise there was a reset button all the way at the bottom!”

Jake isn’t sure what’s worse, your complete trust in anyone that talks to you or the fact that he’s probably going to have to file to HR about Mike once again. Mike looks up at him somewhat apologetically and Jake sighs,

“Get out.”

Mike scurries off and Jake can’t help but laugh at his uncanny resemblance to a rodent. You’re looking up at him with that pout that makes his dress pants feel too tight,

“That was kind of mean.”

Jake scoffs, “Darlin’ there’s no reset button down there.”

You look up at him, confused for a second, “Oh. Someone should probably tell Mike then, don’t want him doing his job wrong.”

Jake reaches a hand up to rub at his forehead, he worries one day that your unwavering kindness is going to get you killed.

“Walk with me.” Jake orders, remembering he came to fetch you for a reason.

He’s striding out the door much faster than you with his long legs, you walk as fast as you can in your shiny heels to catch up with him. Jake can hear your hurried clip clopping behind him and smiles to himself. Once you catch up, Jake offers his arm to you, figuring it’s the best way for you to stay in pace with him (also because you have a tendency to wander off).

“I have a meeting with a bunch of guys from the board in 20ish minutes, I need you in there with me.”

You’re nodding along to everything he says,

“Certainly sir.” You giggle, saluting him.

Jake wills a groan not to slip out of his mouth at the formality. He also hopes you don’t figure out that you don’t need to be in the meeting at all, he just knows it’s going to be a drag and wants your pretty face to stare at when Rich the head of the board starts droning on.

“Great, 12th floor, meeting room 3 in..” Jake checks his watch, “15 minutes.”

You nod your head along diligently before spinning on your heel,

“Where are you going?” Jake calls after you.

“I left those papers in the copy room!” You exclaim, stumbling slightly now you weren’t looking where you were going.

Jake just sighs and hopes you’re in the meeting room on time.

What Jake doesn’t expect is for you to already be in the meeting room when he gets there, in fact you’re already talking to Rich, and he’s… laughing? In the 5 years that Jake has been head of his company he’s pretty sure he’s never seen Rich even smile. Jake clears his throat to make his presence known and you jump out of the seat next to Rich to stand by Jake’s side.

The smile that was on Rich’s face immediately drops and Jake has to hold back the urge to roll his eyes.

Jake was right, the meeting was long and boring and Rich droned on about efficiency and stats and things that Jake didn’t care about, so he was shocked you weren’t dozing off. When Jake finally managed to escape he turned to you,

“Thank you for that.”

Your bright smile makes up for every boring moment of the past two hours,

“It’s no problem Mr Seresin.”

In the elevator up to the top floor where Jake’s office is he comes to realise how late it is, it’s pushing 9 o clock and most of his employees have left. Jake still has mountains of things to sign and documents to work through, he lets a groan slip out of his mouth.

“All okay Mr Seresin?”

Jake jumps slightly, he had forgotten about your presence next to him and he grimaces down at you,

“You should go home sweetheart, get some rest.”

You beam up at him in your usual demeanour, “And leave your all on your own?”

Jake laughs, “I’ll be fine sweetheart.”

You cross your arms and muster up what you think is a pointed look, Jake tries not to laugh again at your pout.

“I’m not leaving you here, you’ll end up staying all night then I’ll be the one dealing with you tomorrow when you’re cranky and tired.”

The elevator dings and you step out in front of Jake. He sighs realising he won’t be getting rid of you any time soon. He follows the sway of your hips all the way to his office. It’s all sleek large glass doors and the top to bottom window gives him an incredible view of the city below. You flick the lights on and sit in the comfy seat opposite Jake’s leather chair. Jake watches as you kick your heels off and wiggle your toes in your black sheer stockings.

“They hurt like a bitch after a long day.”

Jake chuckles, he’s never heard you swear before. Your eyes widen like a shocked baby deer,

“Shit, am I allowed to swear in front of you?”

You cover your mouth and mumble, “Sorry!”

As Jake sits, he wonders if you truly understand the effect you have on him. Trying to do work whilst you’re perched opposite him is proving a near impossible task. Not to mention the fact that his neck has been killing him all day.

Whilst tapping something into your phone, you look up to see Jake rubbing his neck with a pained look on his face for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“Do you want me to rub your neck?” You question politely.

Jake would love nothing more than having your soft manicured hands rubbing his neck, but he worries what having your hands on him will do to his slowly weakening facade. He decides to throw caution to the winds and speaks up,

“Please.”

He realised that sounded kind of pathetic, but you seem ecstatic, jumping up from your position and making you way to the spot directly in front of him. Jake strains to keep his eyes on your face as you lean down to push his chair back, making more room for yourself.

Your hands on his neck feels like heaven, but he can’t help but feel bad about the way you are now hunkered down trying to help him. So Jake figured the best way to alleviate this is to pull you down into his lap. He does it with both hands on your hips, you land a little ungracefully with a surprised squeal leaving your mouth. You shuffle around until you’re sat comfortably, then look up at Jake,

“Is this okay, Mr Seresin?”

Jake is trying so hard not to spontaneously combust.

“Perfect.”

Your magic hands return back to his neck with vigour, working at the tense knots there. Jake can’t help but groan in pleasure every time you work over a particularly sensitive spot. Something Jake also notices is the way you’re now subtly grinding yourself down on his semi. Your pathetic whimpers going straight down to his cock as you dare to grind down harder onto him. Jake can’t help but tease you,

“What are you doing sweetheart?”

Both your ministrations holt, and your doe eyes meet his again.

“Nothing!” You all but squeak out.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

Jake’s heart pangs as you push your face into his neck and sniffle,

“You just sound so good sir. Feels so good.”

Jake guides your face away from the crook of his neck and coos at your tearful eyes, “It’s okay baby, I liked it.”

You seem elated by his praise and quickly forget your previous embarrassment. Jake slowly guides your lips to his, he’s worried about frightening you away. Your lips are tentative against Jake’s at first, unsure whether you should be doing this. But Jakes strong hands drift down to squeeze against the curve of your ass, eliciting a moan from you. Enough so that Jake can slip his tongue into your mouth, just as Jake goes to deepen the kiss again you pull back shyly and pull on his loosened tie. Jake gets the hint and takes the tie off, placing the expensive silk on his desk behind you.

You get the honour of undoing his buttons, Jake watches with a lazy smirk as you stick your tongue out in concentration. Your manicured nails making it hard to undo the buttons too quickly, but Jake enjoys the build up. When you’re finally finished with your job, you move your hands up to push at the shirt and Jake gets the hint to pull it the rest of the way off of his arms.

Jake smirks as you sigh softly in appreciation, and rake you nails lightly over his abs up to the sprinkling of hair on his chest.

“I’m feeling a little singled out sweets.” Jake teases.

You tilt your head to the side confusedly, until you realise what he’s talking about. Jake loves watching the cogs turn in your mind. You let out a little “oh!” with a giggle and begin to unbutton your blouse. This time Jake doesn’t care for the build up, instead ripping your blouse the rest of the way off, buttons flying.

You pout, “Hey! I liked that top!”

Jake’s eyes run over your chest, as he mumbles something along the lines of, “I’ll buy you a new one.” His heated gaze makes you somewhat self conscious and you bring your hands up to cover your chest.

“Please don’t hide from me baby.”

You slowly bring your hands down and watch as Jake reaches for the clasp at the back of your bra. You gasp as you feel it come undone and reach to hold the cups in place. You make sure to hold eye contact with him as you let your lacy bra drop. Jake’s pulling at his lower lip with his teeth,

“Fuck.”

He pulls you close for a kiss again, revelling in the feeling of your breasts pushed up against his chest. This time you’re confident in the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips with ease as it continues. Your hips grind down into his crotch subconsciously, swirling in delicious circles that have Jake dizzy. When you pull back for a breath Jake is signalling for you to stand up.

Stood up, there’s not much height difference between you whilst he still sits and your stomach clenches in excitement. Jake watches, pupils dilated and you slide your tight pencil skirt down your legs and kick it to the side. Your sheer stockings do little to hide the tiny lace underwear you’ve got on and you startle slightly as Jake groans loudly at the sight.

“Jesus, sweets, is this all for me?”

A smile spreads across Jake’s face as you nod coyly.

Jake spins you around so that you’re bent somewhat over his desk, you wiggle your ass at him as he pulls your stockings down for you. Once you’re fully stepped out of them Jake stands to his full height, you can feel his tall presence behind you and it sends a shiver of excitement up your spine. Jake experimentally taps your ass, it’s not too hard but your flesh jiggles, pleasing Jake to no end. He does it again, this time harder. You arch back into his touch with a moan.

“Would you look at that?” You can hear the smirk on Jake’s face.

He smacks your ass again, a pink mark forms from the pressure of it.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, hand stroking gently against the mark.

“Please touch me.” You whimper, leaning back into his touch.

Jake’s hand ghosts against your pussy, a finger sliding up the lace that covers your folds, he can feel how wet you are through the fabric. His middle finger finds your clit and experimentally circles it. You mewl, head thrown back.

“Daddy, please.”

Jake chuckles at the name that slips out of your mouth. You were driving him insane and you didn’t even know it.

Jake drops to his knees behind you, licking a fat stripe up your clothed pussy. You squirm back against his face and gasp. Jake likes your reaction so much that he takes mercy on you, pulling your underwear to the side and licking another stripe up your pussy, dipping his tongue experimentally into your hole. You’re so wet that Jake can already feel your juices coating his chin, you can’t seem to care as you moan incoherently, wiggling back into Jake’s face. Jake stills you by holding your hips, dipping his tongue back down to circle your clit. Just as your moans begin to pick up he pulls away,

“Sugar, I need to feel you on me is that okay?”

You whine at the loss of contact, but his question sounds promising, “Yes.”

Jake quirks an eyebrow as he stands back up, whispering into your ear with a smirk, “Yes what?”

Your cheeks flush, “Yes, Daddy.”

You can hear Jake unbuckling his belt behind you, prompting you to arch your back, shaking your ass invitingly. Jake is pretty sure you’re going to kill him, but he’s going to die a happy man. Jake’s hand feels strong gripping onto the side of your hip, you look back at him and still have the audacity to smile shyly even as he guides the tip of his cock through your dripping folds. He’s groaning freely at the feel of it all, especially as you wiggle back onto him. He finally takes mercy on you and pushes into you slowly, the whimper you let out is music to his ears.

Once he’s fully settled into you, he allows you a minute to get used to the feeling of his considerable size. He takes a tentative thrust into you and you moan once again and turn back to look at him,

“Please, Daddy.”

Jake had never been one to deny you before. He begins his thrusts with reckless abandon, one hand still had a bruising grip on your hip, the other pushing slightly into the arch of your lower back. The high pitched whine that comes out of you scratches against your throat sending vibrations down your chest, the feeling of your breasts pushed against the cold glass top of Jake’s desk making for a delicious contrast in temperature.

Jake’s thrusts are calculated and hit deep within you, he’s groaning behind you, the feeling of your warm walls pulling him is in intoxicating. A smirk makes his way onto his face as he realises how you’re pushing back to meet his thrusts, ass hitting his pelvis rhythmically.

“Desperate, baby?”

Jake pulls you by your hair to look back at him, he’s greeted with your glassy eyes and open mouth moaning freely. You’ve lost any shame you may have felt to the feeling of Jake so deep inside of you. The last straw is when he reaches a strong hand down to circle your clit, just enough pressure to make your knees weak, relying more than ever on his grip on your waist.

“Fuckkkkkk.” You whine and Jake tuts, kissing against the hot skin of your back.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling as Jake quickens his ministrations against your clit, pace of his thrusts still quick and deep. You clench around him, nearing your peak and he groans.

“Sweetheart, please cum for me.”

His words add fuel to the growing fire in your core, grinding back into his fast thrusts. One final toy to your clit sends you head first over the edge. You can’t even imagine how loud your moans are as you become consumed by pleasure. Jake is enjoying every last second, wishing he could commit the sweet sounds you make to his memory forever. Your throbbing walls bring Jake dangerously close to his own peak, and his thrusts become erratic as your heartbeat finally returns back to normal. Jake pulls out of you swiftly and watches in awe as you sink to your knees in front of him, tongue lolling out of your mouth and wide eyes staring up at him.

Jake strokes his cock quickly, keeping eye contact with you as he finishes. His cum spatters over your tongue and chin though mostly landing over your chest. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the sight of you on your knees covered in his seed, fighting off another erection. You swipe your tongue around your lips, collecting as much of his seed as you can. It’s salty but not unpleasant.

Jake helps you up to your wobbly feet. You’re suddenly slightly self conscious as you take in your position; stood fully naked in front of your boss who just fucked you within an inch of your life. Your anxieties are squashed as he kisses your forehead sweetly and flattens some of your mussed hair. He reaches for the draw behind him and pulls out a few tissues from a box, wiping the drying cum from your chest. When he meets your look you quirk up an eyebrow, smirking.

He chuckles, “Shut up.”

Jake reaches for his discarded shirt and drapes it over your frame,

“Let me take you home?”

“That would be nice, sir.”

Jake huffs, “Just Jake is okay sweetheart.”

“Okay Just Jake.” You tease, as he rolls his eyes.

The next morning you step into the elevator to find Jake. There’s no one else in there and he presses the button to the top floor; his office.

He looks down at your tight blouse, straightening the sleeves of his suit jacket and smirks,

“So, daddy huh?”

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

a/n: HERE SHE ISSS i am obsessed sorry everyone

feel free to send me any thoughts!! i’m thinking maybe i do some drabbles about them?? send me some prompts :)

hope u all enjoy my filth once again

pls reblog, comment or send me and ask and tell me what you think !!

thank u for readinggg

- honey <333

[thewulf]

Loving You is Easy || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - What about a jake seresin x reader. Of course jake has a reputation but he truly is in love with bartender reader, so finally he wears her down to a date. They go to a nice restaurant and reader still has has her gates up but she’s slowly realizing who Jake truly is WHEN not one but two of the girls jake hooked up... Read Rest Here

A/N: Another one for my fav cocky pilot. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.2k +

T/W : None just fluff

The clink of glasses and the low hum of the late-night chatter fills the air at The Hard Deck, a place that's become your nightly retreat amidst the demands of school and work. As you finish up your shift behind the bar, wiping down surfaces and stacking glasses, you're acutely aware of Jake Seresin's presence. He's become a regular when you worked. His charm was well-known and his flirtations a constant undercurrent whenever he's around.

"Another evening of mixing drinks and dodging offers, Y/N?" Jake teases while watching you with an amused smirk as he plays with his empty glass sitting in front of him.

Playfully, you roll your eyes at the man who had become a constant in your life. "Just counting down to graduation," you reply. Keeping your tone light even as you avoid meeting his gaze too directly. You've heard stories about Jake, enough to keep a polite distance.

"How about celebrating a bit early? Let me take you out. A real date, not just bar banter that I know you love so much," he proposes while leaning over the bar slightly trying to catch your eye.

You hesitate but you had your response ready. "Jake, I really don't think mixing work with... whatever this is... would be a good idea."

"Just dinner," he presses. But his tone was sincere. "No expectations, no strings. Just two people enjoying good food. Come on, what do you say darling?"

Despite your reservations there's a part of you that's curious. The persistent part that wonders if there might be more to Jake than the rumors and his reputation. After a moment of internal debate, you find yourself nodding, slightly surprised by your own decision.

"Okay, one dinner. Only If it’ll get you to shut up about it" you say with a small smirk adorning your face finally meeting his gaze. "But, Jake, it's just dinner. That's it."

His face lights up with that well-known charming smile. "Just dinner," he agrees while raising his hands in a mock surrender. "You won't regret it."

As he leaves you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and apprehension. You've maintained your boundaries yet you're stepping into new territory. It's just dinner you have to remind yourself. But as you turn the sign to 'closed' and lock up for the night you can't shake the feeling that it might just be the start of something unexpected. But you tried not to get your hopes up. It’s just dinner.

You step into the upscale restaurant. The ambiance immediately wraps around you. It’s intimate and inviting with its dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. Jake stands from a secluded table as soon as he sees you his smile bright and welcoming. "You look absolutely beautiful," he says sincerely before pulling out your chair and taking his own seat.

"Thank you," you reply feeling a faint flutter of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation. The effort you put into choosing your outfit seems to have paid off and his notice of it warms you.

Once seated, Jake’s attention is all on you. He turns his phone off and places it face down on the table. A clear sign that this evening is about the two of you. "I remember you mentioned once you loved champagne, particularly the one from that small vineyard in France," he says, signaling the waiter. With a knowing smile he orders a bottle of your favorite champagne, not missing the surprised and pleased look on your face.

"How did you remember that?" you ask as you were both impressed and a bit bewildered. No guy had ever taken the time to remember the small details about you. And here Jake was wooing you already, five minutes in.

"I pay attention," he replies with a shrug that seems both casual and a bit shy. "Especially when it comes to things you like."

The champagne arrives and as Jake pours you a glass his demeanor is gentle, his movements deliberate. You clink glasses with a grin on your face. The first sip is just as you remembered—crisp, with a hint of sweetness, perfect.

"So, tell me about school," Jake prompts you seemingly genuinely interested. "What’s been keeping you busy?"

You share details about your latest projects and the challenges of balancing school with work. Jake listens intently, nodding and asking questions that show he's truly engaged in what you're saying. It's easy to talk to him and you find yourself relaxing more than you expected. The initial walls you had up slowly dissolving in the warmth of the conversation.

Turning the focus to him you recall the pieces of conversation you've picked up at the bar. "I’ve always been curious, Jake. What’s it like being a pilot in the Navy? It must be quite different from anything I can imagine."

Jake's eyes light up with a mix of pride and nostalgia. "It's intense and challenging, but flying is incredible. There’s nothing like the feeling of being up there… the freedom of it, but also the responsibility. Every decision matters. Not just for me but for my crew and everyone we support."

"It sounds amazing," you say with a hint of awe in your voice. "I’ve actually never been on a plane before. Can you believe that?"

Jake looks at you with an incredulous gaze. "What? You've never been on a plane? I’m changing that, darling," he declares with a playful but determined grin. "We’ll have to fix that soon. There’s a whole sky up there waiting for you."

As the evening progresses you laugh together over shared anecdotes and discover common interests. The connection feels real, unforced, and for a moment, the outside world with all its complications seems to fade away.

The evening had been progressing beautifully with laughter and shared stories flowing as freely as the champagne. You were beginning to see a side of Jake that was earnest and deeply attentive. A stark contrast to the playful banter at the bar. It was easy to forget the outside world in moments like this.

However, just as you're settling into a comfortable ease the first ripple of discomfort appears. A waitress approaches your table with a familiarity that instantly feels intrusive. She's all smiles, especially towards Jake.

"Jake, I didn't know you were here tonight!" she exclaims. Her voice a notch too loud for the intimate setting. She's overly friendly, touching his shoulder briefly as she speaks. Her eyes never leaving his acting as if you weren’t even there.

Jake's response is measured. His smile polite but restrained. "Hey, Sarah. Good to see you," he says, his tone neutral. He quickly turns his attention back to you trying to minimize the interaction. "Sarah used to work with me on base," he explains briefly hoping to dispel any rising concerns you might have.

You nod trying to smile, but the unease settles in your stomach like a stone. The moment is fleeting yet it lingers uncomfortably as Sarah finally moves away, her eyes lingering on Jake a moment too long.

Before the atmosphere can fully recover another beautiful woman approaches your table. This time, it's someone who's dining at the restaurant. Her approach deliberate as she locks eyes with Jake. Her presence is poised when she speaks. Her voice is tinged with a nostalgia that makes you shift in your seat.

"Jake, it's been too long," she says, reminiscing about a shared memory that clearly meant something to both of them. "Remember that weekend at the lake?"

Jake nods. His expression tightening slightly. "Yeah, that was a good time. Hope you're doing well, Rachel," he responds keeping his reply short and devoid of any warmth that could be misinterpreted. He glances at you with a flicker of concern crossing his features as he sees your discomfort.

"I'm sorry about this," he murmurs to you under his breath. His hand finding yours on the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Let’s focus on our night."

Despite his attempts to steer the evening back on course the interruptions have sown seeds of doubt. You appreciate Jake's efforts to reassure you, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes—he genuinely wants the night to be about the two of you. Yet, the encounters with his past make it increasingly difficult to ignore the reputation that preceded him. You find yourself wrestling with the warmth of his present attention and the shadow of his history.

As Jake continues to engage you in conversation, attempting to salvage the remaining warmth of the evening, you're left to ponder whether the burgeoning trust between you can withstand the challenges of his complicated past.

The mood at the table shifts palpably following the interruptions. Jake, noting your discomfort, adopts a more subdued tone. His usual easygoing demeanor tempered by the situation. “I can tell this isn’t easy for you, and I’m really sorry about that,” he says, his voice earnest, his gaze meeting yours with a steady sincerity. “I’ve had my fair share of casual things in the past. That’s not something I can undo, nor would I expect you to just overlook it.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing. Clearly choosing his words with care. “But I want you to know ever since you started at the bar, something was different. I haven’t felt this kind of way about anyone else in a long time. If ever. Honestly, I haven't pursued anyone else since you came around. You’ve sort of... monopolized my interest.”

His admission is frank, devoid of any veneer. It's just him being open and hopeful, sitting across from you. “I hate that my history might be making this awkward. I really like you, Y/N. I’m here tonight because I want to be here with you. All I’m asking for is a chance to show you who I am at this moment in my life.”

The words linger between you straightforward and clear. It’s a lot to take in. His past is a part of him but the man before you now seems earnest, seeking something genuine with you.

You pause letting the weight of his words sink in. His hand reaches across the table, not to impose but to offer a gesture of connection. In response you extend your own hand, sliding your fingers between his, locking them together as a silent acknowledgment of your willingness to see where this path might lead.

“Thank you for being upfront with me,” you respond. Your voice calm and thoughtful. “I appreciate your honesty. Let’s just see what happens, no pressure.”

Jake’s face softens, a gentle smile forming as he senses the tension easing. “No pressure. Sounds perfect,” he agrees with hope in his voice matched by the warmth in his eyes.

As the evening ends with the complexity of real-life weaving through your initial impressions you find yourself intrigued by the possibility of discovering more about Jake, beyond this first, eventful meeting. The evening with all its ups and downs, winds down as the restaurant begins to empty. You and Jake exit into the cool night air. The city lights casting a soft glow on the street. The tension that had built up inside seems to dissipate slightly with the openness around you.

As you walk together Jake's demeanor is reflective and he keeps a respectful distance that speaks to his understanding of the evening's emotional rollercoaster. Yet, his presence is reassuring, a quiet strength in the uncertain night.

"You know," Jake starts, breaking the silence as you both stroll towards a quieter part of the street, "tonight didn't go exactly as I planned. I wanted it to be perfect for you. To show you that I'm not the guy people might say I am."

You glance at him noticing the earnest furrow in his brow. His next words come slowly, measured but clear. "But maybe it's good that it happened this way. You saw everything—the good and the not-so-good. I don't want to hide anything from you."

You stop walking instead looking at him directly. His green eyes are sincere, reflecting the streetlight's soft luminescence. It's in this moment with his gaze unwavering and his stance open that you feel a shift inside you. The doubts linger but there's something about his honesty tonight that tugs at your willingness to explore what might be between you.

"I need things to go slow, Jake. Really slow," you say. Your voice firm yet not without warmth. "Can you do that? Can we take this one moment at a time?"

Jake's response is immediate. His nod accompanied by a gentle smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way. You're worth waiting for and I’m not going anywhere. I want to prove to you that I’m in this, really in this, for you."

There's a promise in his words, not just spoken but felt. You both resume walking and as you do, his hand finds yours, a simple touch but filled with intent. You interlace your fingers with his as a silent agreement to his proposal of taking things slow allowing yourself to feel the potential of what could be a new beginning.

As you walk further the city noise fades into the background, and a comfortable silence settles between you. It's not the fairy tale whirlwind. It’s real, it’s tentative, and it’s new. But it's a start. And for the first time in a long time, you feel a cautious optimism about the path ahead. The night ends not with grand gestures but with a quiet acknowledgment of something that might grow given time and mutual effort.

In the weeks following your first date your relationship with Jake blossomed beautifully against the backdrop of everyday life. Each shared moment from spontaneous coffee dates that extended into long or unplanned conversations to leisurely evening walks under a starlit sky, deepened your connection. The ease of laughter and the depth of discussions revealed layers of each other’s personalities and dreams, drawing you closer in ways both profound and delightful.

As the days turned into weeks, your phone became a constant companion, buzzing with Jake's texts that often stretched into late-night calls. These weren't just brief exchanges; they were rich, lengthy conversations where you found yourselves diving into everything from your favorite books to your deepest fears and aspirations. Jake remembered the little things you mentioned—like your love for mint chocolate chip ice cream or your dreams of visiting Greece—and surprised you with thoughtful gestures that showed just how much he cared. It wasn’t just what he said but how he listened and responded that made you feel truly seen and appreciated.

With each passing day, the shadows cast by Jake's past seemed to fade, overshadowed by the genuine warmth and steadfastness he brought into your life. His consistent effort and the undeniable sincerity in his actions slowly dismantled the walls you had built around your heart instead allowing trust to seep in and fill the spaces between your doubts.

So, by the time you found yourselves laughing together on his couch, enveloped in the comfort of a lazy Sunday afternoon the words that had been quietly taking shape in your heart felt ready to surface. The day unfolded effortlessly, each moment layered with shared smiles and unspoken promises, steering you gently toward a revelation that seemed both thrilling and inevitable. This wasn’t just another pleasant day. It was poised to become a defining moment in your relationship where feelings long simmered might finally find their voice.

The afternoon sun casts a warm, golden light through the windows of Jake’s living room, bathing the cozy space in a tranquil glow. You’re both nestled comfortably on the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs with a lighthearted romantic comedy playing in the background. It serves more as a backdrop to your own laughter-filled conversation than as entertainment.

Jake is in the middle of recounting yet another of his infamous escapades at the base. This time involving an unintentionally hilarious mix-up during a training exercise. His storytelling is animated, his hands gesturing wildly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and joy.

"And then, I accidentally broadcasted the prank over the PA system, not just to the squad, but the whole base!" he exclaims, bursting into laughter at the memory.

You can't help but laugh along his delight was terribly infectious, his joy utterly palpable. "Jake, you're unbelievable. You always find a way to make everything so fun," you say. Your voice tinged with affection and amusement. The warmth of the moment, the closeness you felt with him, it all feels so natural. So right.

As the laughter subside you look at him with a big grin on your face. And without thinking much more the words on the tip of your tongue just slip out, "You crack me up, Jake, I love you so much." The moment the words escape your heart skips a beat as you realize what you’ve said, your eyes widening in surprise.

Jake's laughter stops abruptly. His expression shifting as he processes your words. There’s a beat of silence, heavy with significance, before his face breaks into a tender, wide smile. He looks at you. His eyes were shining with a mixture of happiness and something deeper, more earnest. "Wait, say that again," he says. His voice low and husky, filled with emotion.

Feeling a rush of courage by his encouraging gaze you repeat your words, "I love you, Jake." It feels even more right the second time. The words resonating between you, filling the space with their profound simplicity.

Jake's response is immediate. He leans in, closing the distance between you with his hand cupping your face gently. "I love you, too. I’ve been hoping to hear that. Was wondering when it would be right to tell you how I feel," he confesses. His thumb softly stroking your cheek. "I’ve been holding onto these words, afraid to say them too soon, but feeling them every day."

"Really?" you whisper. Touched by his sincerity and the depth of his feelings.

"Absolutely," Jake replies with his gaze locked on yours, intense and full of affection. "From the way you laugh to how passionate you are about your studies, from your kindness to others to your strength in handling everything life throws at you. Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

He draws you closer and you find yourself wrapped in his embrace, his warmth enveloping you. "I wanted to tell you on our third date," he admits. His voice muffled as he speaks into your hair, "but I thought it might scare you off. Now, I just want to make up for lost time." He chuckled squeezing you tighter.

The room feels charged with a new energy. A new understanding as you both bask in the glow of shared love. The movie continues to play, unnoticed now, as you and Jake talk and laugh. The conversation meandering through dreams, hopes, and plans for the future. Each word strengthens your ever-growing relationship. Each moment deepens the love that now openly defines the two of you.

And as the sun sets, casting long shadows through the room, you feel a profound sense of contentment. This isn’t just a fleeting romance. It’s the beginning of something lasting, grounded in mutual respect and deep affection. You lean against him with your head on his shoulder, heart full, as you both enjoy the quiet comfort of knowing you're exactly where you're meant to be.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Less Talk | Part VIII

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Wooooh we're finally back! Hope y'all enjoy this infuriating little tale of will they won't they XD

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: Swearing, suggestive dialogue and actions, it's an angsty one

Masterlist | Part I

Jake senses Bradley stiffen in the seat to his right and suppresses a scowl. He's been regulating the outward expression of his feelings for you since the day you met, so what's a couple more hours?

Bradley cranes his neck, watching you step out of the car while Mustang examines his taillights with a frown. You shut your own door and join him near the trunk when he finally straightens his back. Then the two of you head for the entrance.

“I fucking knew it,” Bradley mutters.

Jake releases a steady breath, trying his best to mask his own misery. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with her?” he says casually.

Bradley looks at Jake with a sour expression. “You spend more time with her than I do these days. You tell me.”

Jake swears under his breath as Bradley rises from his chair. For a moment, he considers completely ignoring you and your piece of shit excuse for a boyfriend. ­Ex-boyfriend, he reminds himself adamantly, finally getting out of his seat. He's not sure why Bradley's so distraught by Mustang's presence, but he's getting tired of all the mystery.

He looks up when you walk into the restaurant, his eyes meeting yours the moment you enter. You’ve got your arm hooked through Mustang’s and Jake nearly sits back down.

But the smug look on Mustang’s face makes him reconsider. Jake Seresin isn’t one to shy away from a fight, if that’s what it comes down to. And whatever your reason is for arriving with this jackass, Jake deserves to know it. He steps around the table and marches alongside Bradley as he approaches the two of you.

You glance between Bradley and Jake innocently, as though you’ve absolutely no idea why the two men are stopping you before you even reach the table.

“Is everything okay here?” Bradley asks commandingly, his eyes sliding between you and Mustang.

You give him a jolly smile that is so far from genuine, it borders on comical, and say, “Of course.” Jake narrows his eyes at you, but you avoid his gaze and blink up at Mustang instead. “Shall we find a seat?” You're carrying a gift bag that's big enough to fit a small toddler and you look as though it might tip you over at any moment.

“Hold it,” Jake says sternly.

Mustang gives him a sharp look, but Jake keeps his eyes on you. You meet his gaze reluctantly.

For a split second, Jake wonders if he’s the crazy one. If he’s been so infatuated with you that he’s completely misread the situation. Maybe he’s got no reason to be upset. Maybe it was just a kiss. Two, he reminds himself adamantly. It was two.

You transfer the gift bag from one hand to the other impatiently and shake out the unburdened arm.

Jake reaches for the gift bag and takes it out of your grasp, holding it out to Mustang pointedly. This idiot can't take a hint, apparently.

Mustang stares at the bag and then blinks up at Jake, so Jake shoves it forcefully into his stomach. “Try to make yourself useful, son,” he says flatly.

Mustang takes the bag obediently even though his features are still twisted in confusion.

“Can I steal you for a minute?” Jake asks, returning his attention to you.

Mustang snaps out of his trance and steps forward as if to assert his dominance, but you place a hand on his arm and nod mutely. “I'll meet you at the table,” you say gingerly.

Jake gestures for you to lead the way, not even bothering to grace Mustang with a farewell.

You take a few steps away and stop, but Jake is right behind you and gives you a slight nudge to keep you moving. You glance up at him and he nods toward the back of the restaurant. You oblige, navigating the narrow spaces between the tables on your way to the rear while Jake keeps a couple of fingers on your lower back.

You round the corner into the corridor leading into the kitchen and turn to look at him with a blank expression. Jake studies you quietly for a moment, wondering if you might try to explain yourself before he has to ask. When you raise your eyebrows questioningly, he scoffs, saying, “What the fuck?”

You appear taken aback by his brusqueness, but he isn’t overly concerned with hurting your delicate feelings. In fact, riling you is probably the easiest way to get you to talk.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” he asks, taking a step forward.

You compensate by taking a step back. “We’re working things out,” you respond nonchalantly, as though Jake should have seen this coming.

Jake watches you broodingly until you finally lower your gaze. “No, you’re not,” he says finally.

You look up at him abruptly and he can sense the hostility in your eyes. “What do you want, Seresin?” you ask irritably, like he’s getting on your last nerve.

“I want you to tell me what he’s doing here,” he repeats, taking another step toward you.

You swallow uncomfortably but don’t retreat again. “We decided to give it another shot,” you say, shrugging.

Jake shakes his head when you avert your gaze once more. “You’re lying,” he says. He knows you, and something about you feels off.

You let out a frustrated sigh but obstinately keep your eyes on the ground.

“What about yesterday?” he asks.

You glance up at him reproachfully. “What about it?” you say with a grimace.

Jake takes a final step forward, towering over you while you lift your face to maintain eye contact. “Want me to remind you?” he says quietly, each strike of his accelerating heartbeat growing closer to his throat.

You roll your eyes, apparently completely unfazed by his advances. “It was just a kiss, Seresin,” you say. “It didn’t mean anything.”

Jake makes another attempt. “It was two,” he points out.

You sigh, glancing over Jake’s shoulder anxiously to check that the two of you are still alone. “One, two, twenty – who cares?” you say jadedly.

Jake tightens his jaw, not even attempting to conceal the bitterness in his voice. “Are you really just gonna stand here and pretend like you don’t feel it too?” he says. Normally, he’d have walked away by now. But he’ll be damned if this doesn't work out on account of your stupid ego. Or his, for that matter.

“Come on, Jake,” you say cynically, crossing your arms. “You’re not the feeling type.”

Jake exhales forcefully; you’re not wrong, but he doesn't want to get into it. How could he possibly explain that this assessment is no longer as accurate as he’s led you to believe? How could he tell you that things have changed in recent weeks – that he’s changed?

He can’t. Not without baring his soul. And he’s not prepared to do that for anybody.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, taking your elbow gently and drawing you forward. He detects a hint of citrus as you near and it dizzies him. “I actually don’t give a shit about you at all.”

He sees the twitch of your lips as you attempt to hold back a smile and lowers his head to rest it over yours. “There he is,” you mutter softly.

“Couldn't care less,” he adds, coasting his fingers up your arms as you unfold them.

“Sounds about right,” you breathe, and he can feel your fingers slowly twist into the material of his dress shirt. It’s all he can do not to steer you backward into the wall and run his hands up the curves of your waist and capture your mouth in his and –

He lets the tip of his nose brush the bridge of yours lightly while the torrent inside him rages on. “You drive me up the wall, I swear,” he admits, his voice cracking as a short-lived chuckle escapes with his words.

“It comes naturally,” you respond, and he can hear your smile without having to see it.

“I bet.”

“I can’t stand you,” you mutter as your fingers tangle further into the gaps between the buttons of his shirt.

Jake closes his eyes when said fingers make contact with his skin. “I don’t blame you,” he whispers, his mouth hovering just above yours.

Your hands relax slightly as your fingers graze his stomach through the slits of his shirt. “Anything else?” you ask, your eyes lifting to meet his gaze.

Jake nods slowly. “You’re really fucking annoying,” he says, bringing his hand up to trace the outline of your face.

Your smile widens. “I’m sorry about that.”

Jake shakes his head. “Don’t be,” he whispers, sliding his hand behind your head and pulling you forward. But, being the complete idiot he is, just before kissing you, he asks again, “Why’d you bring him?”

You let your face fall slightly, so that your forehead lands right on his lips. He doesn’t miss this opportunity to kiss it. “He and I aren’t together anymore, Jake,” you respond. “We’re just here as friends,” you add, but you still withdraw slightly.

Jake isn’t sure how to respond and his hands fall away from you as you retreat. Your message is fairly straightforward, but your tone has an air of ambiguity to it which gives him pause.

“He’s trying to be nice,” you continue. “He offered me a ride.”

“I could’ve given you a ride,” Jake says impulsively; defensively. There’s no way this asshole is here because you were short on a mode of transportation.

You sigh. “There’s more to it.”

“No shit,” he responds.

“Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you snap. “Just – don’t get involved. Please.”

Jake fixes you with a defiant sort of scowl. “Did he threaten you?” he asks, his voice somewhat gravelly as he tries to suppress his anger.

“It’s not like that,” you say quickly. “Let it go.”

Jake juts out his jaw and sucks in his cheeks, nodding. “Okay,” he says finally. “Go ahead and enjoy your friend’s company, then.” He gestures for you to go back into the dining room.

You give him a sardonic look and approach him with a small smile. “Try to behave,” you say in a soft, sultry voice that sends a ripple through his body.

He turns to follow you and lowers his head to mutter, “Did you give Mustang the same instructions?” just as the two of you enter the dining room.

You glance up at him with a chuckle. “I’m far more concerned about you.”

Jake grins. “You’re concerned about me?” He claps a hand to his chest. “I’m touched.”

You roll your eyes as the two of you approach the table. “Behave,” you repeat.

Jake pulls a chair out for you as you greet the rest of the party. He leans in to whisper, “No promises,” as you lower yourself into the seat beside Bradley.

…

“They’re not together,” Bradley states with a hint of skepticism as he observes your interaction with Mustang at the bar.

Jake watches the two of you sourly. “They’re just friends,” he confirms as Mustang aims a broad grin in your direction and hands you a tropical looking drink.

“He’s a chauffeur,” Bradley adds with a shrug.

Jake nods, still staring you down as you take a sip and smile, pretending to enjoy the beverage. “She hates orange juice,” Jake states.

Bradley raises his eyebrows and looks over at him.

“Why doesn’t she just tell him that she hates orange juice?” Jake asks irritably, shifting his weight restlessly as he debates walking right up to Mustang and communicating the information, himself.

Bradley glances back at you. “She doesn’t seem to mind it.”

Jake narrows his eyes, marvelling at how easily you carry out the charade, wondering what your angle is.

“Is that cake?” Bradley says suddenly, interrupting Jake’s train of thought.

Impassively, Jake looks over at the table where the party guests have begun to help themselves to the assortment of desserts. “It’s from the bakery across the street,” he mutters, returning his attention to the bar where Mustang appears to be sliding closer and closer to you, nearly pinning you to the counter.

“You brought cake?” Bradley sounds bemused.

Jake sighs loudly. “Of course, I brought cake, Bradshaw. It’s a damn birthday.” Meanwhile, he sees you laughing at something Mustang said as though you actually think he’s funny.

“What kind?”

Jake looks back at Bradley absently. “What?”

“The cake?” Bradley asks.

Jake grimaces. “How should I know?”

Bradley stares at him in confusion. “Are you okay?”

“Is he flirting with her?” Jake says distractedly, watching as Mustang places his hand on your back and leans his head in to whisper something in your ear.

Bradley looks back over at you and shrugs. “I wasn’t buying the whole friend thing, anyway,” he says.

Jake grunts in response. “You want cake?” he asks, seeing you pull Mustang toward the table of sweets.

Bradley hesitates. “It depends what kind –”

But Jake doesn’t let him finish. “Yeah, me too,” he says, starting to shove Bradley in the direction of the dessert table. He arrives at the same time you do and gives you a tarty look while Bradley clears his throat uncomfortably.

“How’s it going?” Bradley flashes a quick grin in Mustang’s direction.

You eye Jake nervously before lowering your gaze and it nearly kills him that Mustang’s got his hand planted snugly on your hip. Just friends don’t grope one another, and Jake is about to point this little tidbit out when Mustang speaks. “I think we need to start over,” he says in a grandiose tone, extending his hand to Jake.

Jake slowly tears his eyes away from you to give Mustang a stony look. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he responds coldly. He can feel your aggravation without even looking at you, but this doesn’t discourage him in the slightest. Your soft spot for Mustang is slowly eating away at him and he can’t help the animosity that’s burning up his veins.

Mustang laughs off Jake’s curt response and puts a second arm around you, as though he means to claim his territory. Jake narrows his eyes at him, clenching his jaw as he watches you pat Mustang on the belly before casually squirming out of his embrace. You give Jake a stern expression and then aim a gracious smile at Mustang. “Don’t mind him,” you say. “Jake doesn’t play nice with anybody.”

Jake rolls his eyes despite the pointed glance he receives from Bradley.

“Can’t we all just get along?” Mustang offers, shooting Jake a smarmy grin.

You nod your head at Mustang, apparently completely missing the blatant insincerity of his statement, and Jake could swear this gesture makes his blood boil. He shifts closer to you and, before he can stop himself, he lifts his hand and hooks a finger through one of the belt loops on the back of your shorts, giving you a small, but purposeful tug.

You glance at him over your shoulder but, otherwise, act like nothing is amiss. Of course, despite being amply aware that this sort of stunt isn’t altogether becoming, the fact that you don’t seem overly opposed to his discreetly possessive behavior gives him a fair bit of comfort. So much so that he even gives the loop another soft pull, bringing your back into his chest. It’s a microscopic movement since the four of you are already jammed so close together in the midst of the crowd, but he swears that you lean into him for a moment, letting your shoulder blades rest on his pecs before you straighten your posture.

“Want to catch a movie tonight?” Mustang asks you, grabbing a plate for himself once he reaches the table.

“She’s busy,” Jake responds before you can say anything. He takes a plate from the stack and hands it to you, ignoring your arching eyebrows as you give him an incredulous look.

He also ignores Bradley’s amused expression even as the latter turns away, pretending not to have heard the exchange.

When you open your mouth to protest, Jake meets your gaze and says, “Trust me, you’re busy.”

You purse your lips, but Jake can tell that you’re suppressing a smile, so he swipes his thumb over the delicate skin of your lower back, just above the waistband of your shorts. He savors the fleeting lapse in your façade; the subtle flutter of your eyelids as you experience the thrill of his touch – however faint it might be. And it rattles him. Your momentary slip, the nearly imperceptible manifestation of pleasure that hijacks your features, rattles him, as though the arousal had been his own.

And he wants more. He wants to witness every cadence of bliss on your face. He wants to savor every single intake of breath. He wants you, alone, uninhibited.

His grasp constricts around the loop of your waistband, tightening its circumference around your waist. You submit willingly to this additional tug, letting your backside connect with his body as if you want him to pull you closer. To hold you firmer. To grip you harder.

…

“Can I buy you a proper drink?” Jake asks, approaching your seated figure at the bar.

Your gaze drifts up Jake’s body as he situates himself on the stool beside you. You let out a humorless laugh, pointedly pushing away the Screwdriver you’ve been nursing for the past hour.

“Having a good time?” he asks after hailing over the bartender to put in the drink order.

You eye him warily before dropping your gaze into your lap and dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. Jake glances around to confirm that there’s nobody nearby. He hooks a hand behind your calf and rotates you to face him on your stool. You lift your eyes carefully. “Are you?”

Jake holds your gaze. “Not particularly.”

You lift your eyebrows unsympathetically. “You should work on your people skills. Might make social gatherings more enjoyable.”

Jake suppresses a grin. “Are you lecturing me on people skills?”

“As a matter of fact, I get along with everybody but you,” you respond haughtily.

Jake smiles, his gaze drifting down to your mouth as you try to keep a straight face. “That’s because you’re not comfortable being yourself with anybody else.” His hand is still tucked into the crevice behind your knee, and he squeezes the muscle of your leg gently.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking full of yourself.”

Jake skims his fingers along the underside of your thigh. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Your eyes slide over Jake’s shoulder. “He’s just outside,” you say, your voice suddenly on edge.

Jake tilts his head to the side as though he’s puzzled. He’s not; in fact, he was waiting for this reaction. “Your driver?” he asks brazenly.

You give him a flat look. “Oh, you’re being a dick. What a surprise.”

Jake shrugs, curbing the nausea in the pit of his stomach – which definitely doesn’t need a label – with a gulp of beer. He’s not the jealous type. “Why would ‘just a friend’ take issue with our conversation?”

You watch him coolly without responding. Finally, you turn back to the counter and Jake drops his hand from your leg.

Despite his frequent quips about your tendency to distribute your opinion like it’s a courtesy to mankind, the irony of finding himself wondering what’s actually on your mind is not lost on him. Not your stance on the import of exotic fruit or the numerous ways he could reduce his carbon footprint. Not even your unfortunate disdain for his beloved truck, although he might circle back to that one at a later date.

No. These aren’t the things that matter. Not immediately, anyway. What you’re holding back is far more personal. And, with an unpleasant – and therefore significant – pang, Jake realizes that he wants to know. That he isn’t just a stand-in, waiting for Bradley to swoop in and provide timely emotional support. He isn’t an acquaintance making small talk just to pass the time. He isn’t a friend of a friend. Not anymore. Not for a long time. And he cares. He cares about you and your feelings and he cares about your ridiculous principles. He’s unplugged his goddamn table fan, for crying out loud. He mowed his lawn.

“Why did you bring him?” he asks. It’s the same question as before but it’s vulnerable this time around. He’s not demanding an answer. He’s begging for one.

Absently, you twist the stem of your fresh glass between your fingers. For a moment, Jake thinks you might ignore the question. Then, you let out a heavy sigh. “I need him,” you say.

Jake narrows his eyes. Need can take on many forms and he could use an elaboration. “In what sense?” he asks, a little hurt that you don’t seem to need him.

“Can we just move on?” you say irritably, taking a sip of your drink.

Jake shifts his jaw, considering your request. Finally, he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You look over at him sharply and he can tell that his response has taken you by surprise. If he’s being honest, it’s a bit of a shock to him as well. He’s not one to dwell on matters that don’t concern him. He’s not one to pry. So why won’t he just drop it?

But he’s on his feet before he can process his own actions. He’s speaking before he can gather his thoughts. “You know where I stand, princess,” he says in a low, but assertive voice, somewhere far too close to your ear to resemble a friendly exchange. His hand drifts along the hem of your shorts before he finally turns to walk away.

It takes exactly two seconds for you to call out, “Jake!”

He rotates slowly to look at you, swallowing uncomfortably as he awaits your next move. He watches you calmly, trying his best to quell the hope that’s disturbing his breathing.

You’re gazing at him anxiously, as though the last thing you want is for him to depart. And the regret on your face makes him believe you might reconsider keeping him in the dark. So, against his better judgement, he takes a step back toward you.

And what a relief this brings; as though you’ve got him hooked on a tension cable. But before he can take another step, he hears the front door open, and Mustang’s voice carry confidently over the other patrons’ conversations.

“There’s something I need to get off my chest!” he announces as he makes his way toward the bar.

Jake witnesses the lightning transformation of your face as he nears: confusion – alarm – a forced but terrified smile.

Mustang crashes into the counter clumsily and throws a heavy arm over your shoulders, the weight of which makes you wince. You whisper something indiscernible to him, but he waves a dismissive hand at you before you even finish.

“We wanted to wait until after the party,” he continues in a booming voice as your eyes slide nervously to Jake and then search the restaurant for Bradley. “Because we didn’t want to take away from Mickey’s birthday celebration…”

“What the fuck is going on?” Jake turns to see Bradley at his side.

Jake shakes his head. “He’s hammered.”

Bradley looks down at his watch. “It’s barely noon.”

Jake narrows his eyes as he watches you fidget under Mustang’s arm. This can’t be what you want out of life. It just can’t.

“But I suck at keeping secrets,” Mustang continues with a chuckle.

This piques Jake’s interest. If you’re not going to share with the class, perhaps he can get the necessary intel from Mustang. And he’s almost pleased with this turn of events. Until, that is, Mustang speaks again. And shortly thereafter, Jake feels like he might just throw up.

Mustang grins broadly and looks down at you lovingly. He cups your cheek with his hand tenderly. He kisses your forehead. And then he turns back to the growing crowd of spectators. “We’re engaged!” he declares. “We’re getting married!”

Read Part 9

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you guys liked this chapter! Sometimes I wanna shake these two and say, in my best Mav voice, "Don't think just talk!" They still have a ways to go.. Until next time! xoxo

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[waklman]

The Showoff

summary: jake likes to show you off or you learn why jake keeps protein bars he’s allergic to in his bag.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: no use of y/n. fluff, allergic reaction, mentions of dying, jake being a little mean for a second. 18+ blog in general.

word count: 1k

olympic swimmer au

the halfway mark masterlist

Jake Seresin had virtually every reason to be a show off.

The moment his muscled body hit the water, he was truly unmatched—a force to be reckoned with—a smug face you wouldn’t want to see stretching in the lane beside you. If his name merely floated into the ears of elite coaches, the rival teams they managed were in for it on training days. But no matter how many grueling drills their swimmers were pushed to do, they could never truly emerge as a threat to the United States team.

So, the heavily decorated athlete never faltered, not when he knew his country dominated every arena they strode into. 

However, Jake did falter when he was too busy boasting, that he didn't think to check the peanut butter protein bar that his giggly girlfriend was happily feeding him. There weren’t many things that could render the Olympiad breathless, though, you wearing his gold medals did, that was a given. But, peanuts—his worst food allergy to date, that was also a given.

Before Jake could tell you how his coach had no critique for his freestyle stroke, the walls of his throat started to close in on him—leaving him quite literally breathless.

To his disbelief, you were so distraught that you had to stab your boyfriend with an EpiPen, that your mind simply erased the memory of you coming to his rescue.

Even when he spent half an hour swiping away the fattest tears he’s ever seen off your cheeks, you were still adamant that you most definitely killed him. That he refused to move onto the afterlife because he wanted to look after you. 

“Giggles, you need to calm down. I’m not dead,” he firmly assures you, for what feels like, the hundredth time this afternoon. 

If Jake had to sit on the edge of the pool any longer, legs submerged into the water, his toes might as well shrivel off, separate from his feet, and find its final resting place on the pool floor.

Straddled on his lap sits his teary-eyed girlfriend, tracing a trembling finger over the Olympic rings tattooed under his left pec. “What if…you’re just a ghost right now,” you hiccup, eyes still trained on the red ink you’re drawing over. 

“If I was a ghost I’d be haunting Bradshaw right about now,” he confirms bluntly, eyes running over your stuffy nose and puffy eyes. It looks like you’re the one that just had an allergic reaction. 

You sniff, feeling a bit lightheaded when you lift your chin to look at him. 

“But…Casper the ghost—”

“Alright, that’s enough. I ain’t getting myself compared to that pale freak,” he cuts you off, pulling his arena jacket back up your droopy shoulders. Splashed across the back of the official team jacket is Jake Seresin written in white blocky letters, contrasting against the navy blue of his flag colors.

A weary sigh leaves his lips when the reprimand only makes you weakly fall forward, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck. Then, another flow of tears slip out of your eyes, wetting his shoulder. 

It should’ve been obvious to him that you were sensitive enough to start crying again. Jake should’ve known that—should’ve watched his tone with you. But he didn’t. And for that, he feels like a complete asshole.

Carefully, he wraps an arm around you, bicep flexing to ensure that you won’t fall backwards into the pool. Jake is acutely aware that you can’t swim—or float on your own, so he scoots away from the water, petting the back of your head to signal the sudden movement. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Gigs,” he finally whispers, staring ahead at the floating ropes, separating the swim lanes. Months ago, Jake had been hanging onto one of them, playfully arguing with Bradshaw during practice when he spotted you for the first time, sitting in the stands with the coach’s daughter, peanut butter protein bar held up to your smiley mouth. 

“Yes it was. It's all my fault. I packed your lunch today,” you’re quick to blame yourself, mumbling guiltily against his tan skin.

“Actually,” he lets out a soft breath of amusement, coaxing you off him. With his hands moving to cradle your head, Jake intently cools your hot cheeks with his thumbs. Somehow, they're still cold from the frigid waters soaking his legs. 

“I might have snuck those into my bag when you were busy adding Taylor Swift to my playlist,” he confesses, pulling your face closer in to kiss away a tear that formed in the corner of your eye. 

Not quite sure if you heard those words right, you keep still as he leans back and cocks his head at you, waiting for a reaction to load in.

Once it all hits you, you slap your own hands on his cheeks, holding his head between your smaller palms. Now the both of you are grabbing onto eachother's heads. “Why on earth would you do that!” 

There’s not one plausible reason for him to purposefully toss that in with his ham and cheese sandwich. Did he not like what you made for him today? Was that it? Or did it just slip his mind that peanut dust could take him out faster than a bullet can?

“You’re—you’re allergic to peanuts! And you hate the chalky taste of protein bars!” You exhaustedly remind him, more confused than ever. 

There’s a crooked, and somewhat bashful smile on his face when you widen your eyes at him. Sheer horror is written across your features, leaving you oblivious to the gradual heat that colors his cheeks. 

“Okay, but. Don’t you like them? I wasn’t gonna let my girl starve while I ate like a king,” he gives you a offhanded shrug, as if he wasn’t practically contaminating his own food by squeezing the protein bar next to it. 

It’s silent for a few seconds while you two stare at each other—until your face suddenly scrunches up, bottom lip starting to wobble, and tears beginning to drip onto his thigh.

You can't help but to cry at the small gesture. Because Jake knows how much you love snacking on something he was deathly allergic to. Because Jake loves you enough to remember that. Because Jake doesn't care if it could hospitalize him if he kissed you while you ate it.

“No, no—hey quit crying,” he laughs, chest warming when you weep tears of happiness this time. 

The athlete barely flinches when a confused Bradley and Bob walk through the locker room doors, clearly confused by the sight of their teammate chuckling as his girlfriend sobs in his lap, blubbering about peanuts.

All because, Jake Seresin likes to show off his pretty girlfriend—pathetically drowning in her own tears or not. When he goes to kiss the tears away again, Jake thinks that he has virtually every reason to be a show off.

note: okay i love them so much, i've been wanting a grumpy jake x sunshine reader on my blog for awhile so here they are!! thank you for reading and as always reblogs are greatly appreciated.

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

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[ereardon]

New fic coming soon ...

Summary: Returning home to California after six years abroad in England, you found everything has changed. Jake Seresin, your father's former college roommate and lifelong best friend, is now a widower and has purchased a new vineyard in Montecito, only a few miles from your childhood home. Your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, your brother is struggling with what to do with his life, and you’ve grown up and are starting your own counseling practice. So what happens when you find yourself falling for the man your father calls his best friend? And worse, what happens when your parents find out he’s falling for you, too? 

Warnings: Age gap, eventual smut, cursing, alcohol

A/N: Jake will 100% be a hot vineyard owner a lá Dennis Quaid's character in The Parent Trap.

Tagging people who may like this: @clancycucumber230 @bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @horseshoegirl @teacupsandtopgun @katiedid-3 @djs8891 @sio-ina-bottle @na-ta-sh-aa @roosterforme

[of-many-aus]

Ice Ice, Baby

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Ow-“

“Stop moving.”

“But it hurts-“

“Maybe it would stop hurting if you weren’t moving.”

Jake hissed as you pressed the ice pack to his skin once more, craning his neck to try and see what you were doing, eyes narrowing in an almost accusatory fashion, “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you were there.”

You slowly looked up at him, a singular eyebrow raised, “Me being there wouldn’t have changed the fact that the guy took a cheap shot and chucked the ball at your turned back.”

“Nuh-uh.” He argued childishly, “You wouldn’t have let it happen if you had been at the game.”

A roll of your eyes was what he was met with, “It would’ve still happened-“

“You’re my guardian Angel.” He reminded you, as if you would forget when he called you that every other sentence, “When does anything ever go wrong when you’re watching my games?”

“Last game.” You were remembering when poor Bradley was practicing his swing before being up at bat, the man was all hopped up on caffeine, and had gotten too excited and swung the bat so hard and quick it came around and he hit himself right in the face.

“Nothing ever happens to me.” Jake amended, shaking his head slightly at the memory of his sometimes idiotic teammate.

Jake was holding his shirt, partially rolled up as he sat on the kitchen table chair, you in your own chair right next to him, holding an ice pack against the spot on his lower back that already had begun to bloom with a nasty bruise, the spot being too low for him to reach himself.

“Me being there wouldn’t change anything.” You rolled your eyes as you repeated yourself once more.

The man craned his neck once more and threw a playful wink your way, “He would’ve known not to mess with me while my guardian Angel was present.”

This time, you had to tilt your head down and desperately try to bite back a smile, hoping your roommate didn’t notice the way your cheeks warmed slightly.

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