#hangman au

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 6

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who has sent in thoughts and ideas for this fic! It's so fun writing it in your vision :D Y'all are really good at this plot thing XD

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

CW: Intoxication, swearing, slow burn, angsty but also a fluff factory

WC: 2000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist

“Can you please stop swerving?” you whimper, clapping a hand to your already throbbing head.

“It’s called turning,” Jake responds sarcastically.

You stare ahead impassively. “You’re doing it a lot.”

Jake looks over at you with an amused grin. “You are phenomenal company, have I ever told you that?”

You eye him with contempt. “Shut up, Seresin.”

He laughs. “I’m not joking.”

“Whatever,” you say. “Make fun of me all you want. I’m not going to remember anything tomorrow, anyway.”

Jake considers your words for a moment. “You think?”

You close your eyes. “Who knows if I’ll even wake up.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

Suddenly, you jolt upright in your seat. “Pull over!” you command. “Pull over right now.”

Jake hits the breaks and veers to the side of the road and you’re pushing your door open before he even comes to a complete stop. You detangle yourself with some difficulty from the seatbelt and stumble out of the car. You’re barely out of the vehicle when you start puking all over somebody’s neatly trimmed lawn.

Jake jogs around the car to get to you, but you stretch your arm out to keep him back. He ignores your silent request and comes up behind you, grasping your shoulders tightly. “Go away, Jake,” you say in a shaky voice, feeling the onset of yet another attack.

Jake rubs your back gently while you liberate the remainder of your stomach contents. “Shh,” he says quietly. “Just let it out.”

When you’re finished, you pull away from Jake, teetering as you go. You bury your face in your hands, leaning into the side of his car with your hip, completely mortified.

“Hey,” Jake says. “You alright?”

You wipe at your face, nodding, and look up at him despite the sting behind your eyes.

“Woah, hey,” he says, brushing the hair out of your face as tears start rolling down your cheeks. “What’s the matter?” Then, more aggressively, he adds, “Did he do something to you?”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I didn’t want to throw up,” you say with a small sob halfway through the statement.

“Aw, c’mon,” Jake says, wrapping his arm around your neck and pulling you into his chest. “We’ve all been there,” he continues, rubbing your arm with his hand.

But you’re not so sure that Jake can truly sympathize. After all, not only did you ralph, but you also happened to do it in front of the one person whom you’ve loved for as long as you can remember.

…

Jake helps you stumble your way to the front door and then holds you up as you try to rip apart the straps of your heels to get them off.

“Need some help with those?” he asks, seemingly amused.

You huff in frustration as a wave of perspiration hits you without warning. “I. Can. Do. It!” you pant, clawing at the clasp.

Jake winces as he watches you struggle. Finally, he bends down and hooks his arm behind your knees. Before you know it, he’s lifted you off the ground. “We don’t have all night,” he says, carrying you, bridal-style, down the corridor. He starts for the second floor with you still in his arms as though hauling you up the stairs takes no effort at all.

“I can’t sleep in them,” you mumble, resting your weary head on his shoulder.

“Can’t you?” he responds, kicking lightly at the partially open door to your bedroom and walking inside. You brace yourself for an impact, thinking that Jake is going to toss you down onto the mattress but, instead, he squats to set you down gingerly onto the bed. He glances over your face and removes some of the hair that’s stuck to your cheek with either sweat or tears or – well, you prefer not to consider an alternative. “How’re you feeling?” he asks quietly.

You swallow uncomfortably, letting your eyes meet his despite the whirlwind in your chest that’s perpetuating the already pronounced nausea. “Uh,” you utter. “Dizzy.”

Jake nods with a sympathetic smile. He reaches for your foot and starts undoing the clasp.

“Yeah, good luck,” you say flatly and fall backward onto the bed with a groan.

Jake chuckles and, within seconds, removes your shoe.

You sit back up in a daze. “How…?”

Jake gives you a humorous look. “You’re going to laugh so hard about this tomorrow.”

Once he takes off your second shoe, you lift yourself off the bed and start to unzip your shorts. Jake promptly turns away. “Sorry,” you say, shimmying out of your shorts as Jake starts inspecting the frame of your bedroom door intently. He runs his fingers along the trim as though nothing has ever fascinated him more.

Normally, you’d never even consider changing in Jake’s presence but, in your inebriated state, you’re feeling far more brazen.

Once your shorts are off, you kick them aside unceremoniously. Jake’s head moves slightly as his eyes follow the trajectory of the flying shorts and you can tell that he’s very purposefully trying not to look in your direction. You start to pull off your top, certain that he wouldn’t turn around even if you yelled ‘Fire’. You toss your shirt into a pile with your shorts and grab a t-shirt out of the hamper, pulling it over your head and crawling back onto your bed. “I’m decent,” you say, dropping into your comforter.

Jake turns back cautiously, as if he doesn't fully trust you and, as he makes his way toward the bed, he’s distracted by your attire. “You’re gonna be sleeping in that?” he asks, somewhat surprised.

You glance down and notice that you’re back in his Pantera shirt. You shrug. “I guess.” You shuffle around the bed, swaying as you try to find the edge of the blanket so that you could crawl underneath. Eventually, you end up collapsing on the bed in frustration. “Everything is spinning!” you moan.

Jake reaches for the comforter. “You’re sitting on it, genius.”

“Oh,” you mutter as he helps you unravel the sheets and climb inside. “Thanks.”

Jake covers you up and says, “Turn onto your side.”

You sigh, having finally gotten into a semi-comfortable position on your back. “Why?” you whine.

“Just do it,” he says firmly, putting his hand behind your shoulder to turn you.

You whimper but follow his instructions. “Are you leaving to get Bradley now?” you ask.

“No,” he responds, lowering himself onto the floor by your bed and leaning his back against it.

You lift your head weakly. “Why not?”

“I told him to catch an Uber,” he says. “Besides, he’s probably not gonna be home for a while.”

You make an “mm” sound and lift yourself further off the pillow. “Jake,” you say curiously. “What are you doing?”

He glances over his shoulder at you. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you sitting on the floor?”

Jake sighs. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re very drunk.”

“So?”

“Just stop talking and go to sleep,” Jake responds grumpily.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Are you going to stay up all night?”

“I’ll sleep if I get tired.”

You narrow your eyes. “On the floor?”

Jake breathes out in exasperation. “Where else?” he says, turning his head to look at you again.

You glance down at the unused half of your bed pointedly. “I don’t think you have to stay,” you murmur, even though what you want to say is ‘There’s enough bed here for the two of us’.

“You want me to leave?” Jake asks and you’re forced to look him in the eye once more.

Slowly, you shake your head. “I don’t want you to have to sleep on the floor,” you respond.

“It’s not a big deal.”

You gulp. “You can come on the bed if you want,” you say hesitantly, dropping your gaze.

Jake lets out an uneasy chuckle. “Imagine?” he says.

You release a quick laugh because it’s all you’ve been imagining for years. “Jake?” you say quietly.

“Mm?” He turns to look back at you after repositioning himself on the floor.

“Thanks,” you say.

Jake watches you earnestly. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do.” You nod with your head back on the pillow. “You saved me.”

Jake scoffs. “Hardly.”

You reach forward and rest a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Jake places his own hand over yours. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

You nod as your eyelids become increasingly heavy. “Will you give me advice on my sex life?” you ask sleepily.

“Anything but that,” Jake responds.

A smile spreads on your face and you shift your body closer to the edge of the bed so that you can more easily keep your hand on his shoulder. “We did the thing,” you mutter almost incoherently.

Jake’s posture stiffens as he lifts his back away from the bedframe.

“It was alright,” you continue without opening your eyes.

“Alright?” you hear a hint of distaste in his tone.

“Wasn’t as good as he said it would be.”

“Then he did it wrong,” Jake responds flatly.

You open your eyes minutely. “You don’t even know what it is.”

Jake is watching you soberly. “I don’t have to know.”

You shrug. “Guess I won’t know until I do it with someone else. To compare, you know?”

Jake cringes. “What will it take for you to shut up and go to sleep?”

You chuckle. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“It’s gross,” he responds curtly. “Anyway, forget about that loser. You’re obviously never gonna see him again.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, ‘why not’?”

“I’ll probably see him tomorrow.”

Jake stands up briskly. “Are you kidding me? He abandoned you at some random house party!”

“So? He was just pissed about losing to a girl. He’ll get over it.”

Jake puts his hands on his hips. “You shouldn’t.”

You gaze up at him sleepily. “It’s fine, Jake. He’ll call and apologize.”

Jake shakes his head. “Don’t you dare consider seeing him again.”

You grimace. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I can if you’re gonna be stupid about it.”

You grit your teeth. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“If you're gonna be seeing him again, then yeah. Very much.”

You seethe. “Well, maybe you're rubbing off on me.”

Jake stares at you coolly. “Very mature.”

You roll your eyes and turn away to face the wall. “Go to hell.”

Jake spins on his heel and heads for the door. “Whatever,” he grumbles, flicking off the light and slamming the door behind him.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you call after him, scrambling out of the bed and stumbling haphazardly to the door. “Why are you such a dick?” you yell, opening your door.

Jake gives you a harsh look from the top of the staircase. “You’re going to continue dating that shithead after all these red flags?” he shouts back. “Your brother told you to be careful!” he continues, pointing an accusing finger at you.

“Maybe I am being careful!”

Jake scowls, shaking his head. “It doesn’t sound like it.”

“Stop judging me!”

“I’M NOT JUDGING YOU!” he roars. “I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU!”

“WHY?”

Jake exhales steadily as he tries to regain his composure. Then, he begins descending the stairs.

“Where are you going?” you say.

“Home,” he replies brusquely.

“I thought you were staying,” you say, making your way toward the stairs as he disappears down the corridor.

“You’re fine,” you hear him say.

You start down after him but, when the curve of the stairs starts to coil right before your eyes, you gasp and cling onto the banister for dear life.

Instantly, you hear Jake running back toward the staircase from the front hall. He arrives at the foot of the stairs and breathes a sigh of relief seeing that you’re still upright. “Why are you following me?” he asks aggressively, climbing back up the stairs, taking three at a time.

“I don’t want you to go,” you say desperately, sinking down onto the step you’re standing on.

When Jake reaches you, he kneels down, placing a hand on your leg and another on your arm as though he’s afraid you might lose your balance again, even as you’re sitting. He lets out a wavering breath. “Are you insane? You could’ve broken your neck,” he says.

You stare at the space between the two of you moodily. “I guess it’s just one poor decision after another,” you mutter irritably.

Jake sighs, brushing his hand over your bare thigh. “Tell me about it,” he says. You shoot him a dirty look and he gives you a tight smile. “I’ll stay, alright?”

You nod.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” he says, helping you to your feet. He leads you back to the bedroom in silence.

You aren’t sure exactly if the two of you have made up or if he’s just reluctant to leave because you’re being reckless. But, regardless, you’re relieved that he still cares enough about you to stay despite being angry.

Once you’re under the covers, he sits down on the edge your bed. “I don’t get it,” he says. “Why would you keep seeing this dumbass? You could do so much better.”

You sigh tiredly. The truth is, you weren’t entirely sure whether you’d ever talk to your boyfriend again. But Jake’s pushiness hit a nerve and you made your mind up out of spite. Now, you’re not really sure how to respond. “It’s just nice to be liked,” you finally say.

Jake lifts his eyebrows. “I like you.”

You shake your head. “Not like that, Jake. You know what I mean. It’s nice to feel…” you bite your lip, slightly more reserved now that you’re starting to sober up.

“What?”

You shrug. “Wanted,” you finish sheepishly. When Jake furrows his eyebrows like an idiot, you decide to elaborate. “You know – physically. To feel like someone needs to have me. An all-encompassing, mind-altering desire that can’t be helped.” You stop talking as Jake’s blinking eyes go round in his shock and decide to omit the fact that you basically just want someone to hunger for you the way you do for him.

Jake grimaces. “That jackass makes you feel this way?” he asks.

You purse your lips, realizing that you’ve never actually noticed. “Not really,” you admit. “I mean, he wants sex, I know that much.”

Jake cringes, bringing a hand to his forehead and rubbing at his brow. “I swear to god, if you mention your sex life one more time, I’m going to throw myself out your window.”

You snort. “You’re so dramatic,” you respond, repeating his own words from earlier in the night.

Jake turns around and lowers his back onto your bed to lie down next to you over the covers. He puts his hands over his chest, looking up at the ceiling. “I know it’s not my place,” he says, and then turns his head to look at you, his face barely six inches from yours. “But I am begging you, please dump his sorry ass.”

You sigh, contemplating his request.

“Trust me, sweet cheeks,” he adds. “You've got options.”

Read Part 7

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[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

[waklman]

Fake it

Chapter Four: Waste My Time

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of drugs, talks of binge eating, one instance of masturbation, mentions of vomit, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+.

word count: 7.7k

college au, fake dating trope, roomate trope

previous chapter | next chapter | fake it masterlist

If Jake had known prior to his shower—where he planned to attend to his morning problem—that his best friend would be on the forefront of his mind, he would've truly chopped his dick off with the kitchen knife you stowed in the bathroom cabinet. 

You had been convinced it would come in handy, in case an intruder conveniently found either of you mid-shower. And maybe it was a good idea to leave it there after all, because he might actually make use of it. 

Raking a hand through his wet hair, Jake tosses his head back, allowing the cold water to run down his face. But it doesn’t do much to get his mind off the issue at hand. There is no way he’s about to rub one out—not when your face is currently being screened behind his closed lids. 

“This can’t be real,” he groans in disbelief, dragging a hand down his face, his heavy head dropping forward with it. 

Warily, Jake opens his eyes to the water running down his toned stomach, practically guiding him to look at the veins lining his thighs, and the untimely hard on he’s sporting between them. And though, he's staring straight down at a very clear problem, he feels the weight of his other predicament wash down on him instead.

His ex-girlfriend was far gone by the time he reached you last night—yet Jake still went ahead and kissed you, for longer than he anticipated too. Simply because he just wanted to. And if he was being honest with himself, this hadn’t exactly been the first time he’s wanted to either.

But in his defense, it had been years since he sensed that bleary feeling in his chest, the one that gave him the uncontrollable urge to just lean in and kiss you—and who would’ve known it would spawn again?

Actually, Jake should’ve known. 

Like clockwork, that urge flares up when his mind is mostly cluttered—when every part of him is riddled by heartbreak. And Jake knew you’d always be there whenever he was on the chopping block, and it’d be wrong if he went looking for affection from you everytime he was. Because that's weird. You were his best friend—not some fling he could swap spit with each time got out of a failed relationship. 

So instead, he learned to wean himself off the compulsion by simply touching you.

Whether it was pinching the back of your sweater when the elevator rattled, holding onto some part of you to make sure you didn’t linger far, or coaxing you to sleep by gliding a hand along your spine. 

Jake just needed to feel you. 

Strangely, it was enough to tame that bizarre feeling that struck him once in a while. But despite his best efforts, he didn’t stick to his usual methods last night. Kendall's disparaging remarks must’ve really got to him. And there you were when it finally spilled over, standing there like your sixteen year old self did once before, waiting for him. 

Making the choice to just let it go, Jake assures himself that he was just confused, again. All thanks to a girl in a skirt so short it could pass as a belt—and Jake pitifully notched onto that tiny belt of hers. 

With that matter put to rest, he swallows thickly—returning back to his original point of concern. His frustration seems to have gone straight to his dick today. By no means, was waking up hard, unusual for him, but it’s particularly more difficult to ignore this morning. 

Now, he’s left staring down at his, not exactly little, problem. But the longer Jake stares—the more the self-restraining thoughts trickle out his ears, joining the stream of water running down his body, and mazing through the patterns of the rubber bath mat underneath him. 

“Fuck it,” he whispers to himself, roughly spitting into his palm. 

This is so wrong—but this is so—the only time he’s doing this. The blond had only joked about wringing one out while you were still home, but now he’s seriously following through. 

“Ah shit,” he hisses, rubbing the wad of saliva over his tip, brows pinched in concentration. 

Bringing a rough palm down his aching length, Jake’s breathing labors as he starts to work himself in already desperate strokes. Maybe it’s because your strawberry body wash is sitting on the edge of the bathtub. The muscles rippled on his wet back contract from the movement. Maybe it’s because your pink toothbrush is sitting next to his by the sink. 

Gritting his teeth, Jake puts more focus on getting this over with, coiling his calloused hand even tighter around himself. Maybe it’s because his ex is making it hard for him to understand anything. 

With the repetitive graze over a sensitive vein, Jake’s eyes snap shut, breath hitching in his throat—concentrating on that sensation. Maybe Jake likes kissing you more than he thought he would. 

The sound of low grunts and heavy panting permeates the bathroom, overpowering the echoing of water droplets panging against the shower floor and trickling down the drain. And just as he’s nearing his edge, overworking his forearm in quick motions—there’s an urgent knock at the door, followed by your muffled voice. “Jake? I really need to pee. I can’t hold it in…And you’ve been there for so long.” 

The end of your plea comes off as a whine, forcing him to immediately rip his hand off. 

Jake’s eyes flutter open to blink hastily, lungs burning as they expand, forcing himself to overcome his haze as quickly as possible. God, he hopes you didn't hear a single second of that. 

“Shit, um. Sorry, Princess,” he rasps, clearing his throat immediately after.

“Doors unlocked, you can come in,” he establishes, hitting his flushed chest with a fisted hand to clear his throat again. It takes him a second, but he finally pulls himself together. 

With a soft click of the doorknob, Jake assumes you’ve scuffled inside. A faint clattering by the toilet can be heard before you desperately yell out, “Cover your ears!”

“...Hurry! I’m—I might piss on myself,” you squeak, curling your toes against the tiles.

The warning directed towards the shower curtain is useless, because Jake's already cupping both hands over his burning ears. “They’re covered,” He spurts out a short laugh, turning his head, shouting the confirmation back at you. 

The automatic response had been programmed into him from the countless times your bladder coincided with his showers—mostly during the trips your families took together.

Maintaining the nostalgic positioning of his hands, Jake recalls the one time you slipped off the porcelain toilet at his beach house and refused to let him jump out the shower to check on you. At one point during that incident, you had thrown a roll of toilet paper at his pruney fingers when you spotted them curling around the shower screen to pull it back. 

Jake’s ear nearly fell off at the reprimanding he received from his mother, following that—when he decided to joke about massaging your sore butt during dinner.

With uncanny timing, Jake’s hands fall from the side of his head as your bold thumbs-up breaches past the shower curtain, coming into view in front of him, signaling that you’re done. 

He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, staring at your tiny hand that’s lined directly in front of his lower region. 

“Hey now. You sure you wanna be stickin’ a hand in here baby?” He taunts, with a teasing head tilt—even when you’re unable to see him. 

Baby. Your hand. In the shower. Where he’s naked. 

At that, you immediately withdraw the arm you stuck in there. Then, your small voice bleeds past the small crack of the curtain. “..I don’t want to know what you meant by that.” 

“Step inside if you do, though,” he shamelessly offers, stretching his jaw to control his amusement, but the playful lilt in his voice gives it away.

“I..I am not doing that!” 

Before Jake can add on to your fluster, you’re trotting off.

With your faded footsteps nearing the door, you make your exit back to your bedroom with a huff and a whispered complaint under your breath. Jake laughs at that, tipping his head back into the water as more memories come flooding in. 

You really haven’t changed from the time you clumsily tumbled off the rim of his toilet seat.

Considering the fact that the only people you ever spoke to on campus were either frat affiliates, or freshmen who occasionally needed directions—you never really caught the chance to make friends with other girls at school. It wasn’t intentional, of course. You had just grown so attached to Jake, that you found it difficult to harbor that kind of friendship with anyone else. 

However, that disconnect from girls your age didn’t mean you were that different from them. You had an idea of what any other girl would do if they were in your situation. It would only make sense that they’d do a healthy amount of snooping on Kendall’s social media—and all her friends’—and perhaps her parents’ too. For research purposes, obviously. 

But, maybe that was not the best way to start off your day.

After an alarming amount of online stalking, you’re quickly swept up by a sudden frenzy. Because how was it physically possible for someone to shine through their pictures? She quite literally radiated in every single post you zoomed in and out of. And the flood of comments you scrolled through made sure to remind her too. 

There was no point in denying that she won the genetic lottery either. And apparently you weren’t one of the lucky winners. Because, if you were, then maybe clothes wouldn’t sit on you like it was your enemy—either strangling or suffocating you. There was sadly no inbetween, really. But, it looked like she got along swimmingly with her clothes.

Was building an alliance with your own outfits, something you had to work on now?

At that revelation, you clumsily dart towards your closet, nearly tripping over the blanket still clung to your legs. And it must’ve taken a whole twenty minutes of you combing through overworn shorts and a thick stack of failed crochet hats, to successfully track down an old denim skirt you bought over a year ago. 

Batting off unvoiced doubts, you squeeze your legs into the stiff material and hastily throw on the oversized sweater Jake bought you—praying it would hide the fact that the skirt was two sizes too small. The light layer of makeup you quickly apply next isn’t your best attempt, but it’s enough to make you look alive. 

You realize that it seemed a touch ridiculous to be suddenly concerned about how you looked, but given that you were playing as Jake’s new girlfriend—the stress was very much warranted. His ex’s instagram was a testament that if she were to sport a potato sack, she’d still outshine you by miles—many miles actually, probably enough miles to wrap around the entire earth twice. It’s only natural that you would make an effort to appear somewhat decent in comparison. 

Mentally running through your plans for today, you unintentionally wander into the kitchen and start an attack on a tub of icecream—without even realizing it. It’s only when you’re half way through the container—that Jake finally steps into the kitchen, hair slightly damp from his lack of towel drying, a pair of gray sweats sitting loose around his waist, and another variant of his black hoodies clung on his upper half. 

“Oh, there you are.” He cranes his neck to see what you’re so focused on.

Jake feels a slight sense of disappointment creep in when you don’t give him a single sign of acknowledgment. Even with the lame attempt to louden his footsteps, you’re still quietly standing by the counter, back turned to him. 

Coming to a halt behind you, he briefly gives the back of your head an unimpressed look, before casually resting a palm onto the table top in front of you. 

The ends of his hoodie drawstrings start to dangle over the top of your head when you unconsciously lean back into him. Jake hums contently, steadying his feet so you could comfortably lay your weight onto his chest. The disappointment from before lifts, slightly.

“Thought you were gonna join me in there. You coulda’ scrubbed my back or something,” he playfully laments. All you do is wriggle against him, silently making yourself comfortable. 

Out of nowhere, Jake feels the steady pace of his heartbeat begin to pick up, though, he’s not sure if it’s from the horrifying remembrance of being interrupted a little bit ago, or because it feels kind of nice to have you on him like this.

Again, with no answer from you, he looks down past his nose, eyes landing directly onto the silver spoon that’s sticking out your mouth. Jake only squints when he’s met with his own wacky reflection at the end of the utensil. 

“Okay then,” he says to himself, tracing his gaze down the shiny metal. Reaching the end of the spoon, he catches the blank stare you’re giving that tub of ice cream under those curled lashes of yours. Jake bites the inside of his cheek at the observation. 

He’s not even sure what to make of your sudden change in behavior. Not long ago, you were cutely pawing at the bathroom door, and now you’re all dolled up underneath him, raw dogging a container of ice cream. 

Gently, he pinches the end of the cold handle between two fingers, slowly pulling it from your lips. All you can do is blink dumbly at the large hand that breaks your vision, letting him take it from you. Your eyes scrunch when the sunlight trickling through the kitchen bounces off the bowl of the spoon, momentarily blinding you. 

“You gonna let me have a taste?” He genuinely asks, dipping his head down to whisper the question in your ear. He does it softly enough so it doesn’t startle you. 

You blink a few more times before rushing to nod your head. 

Permission granted, Jake dunks it back into the tub to get himself a generous scoop, pressing the spoonful of vanilla flat against his tongue, licking it clean above you. “You left some of your lipgloss on here,” he lamely shares, while eating off the sticky residue. It should gross him out, but it’s just you, so really, he couldn’t care less.

Setting the empty spoon down against the counter with a soft clatter, Jake hands end up on the front of your pants, again—for probably the third time this week. The soothing action is happening more frequently than it ever should, but you haven’t chewed him out on it—yet. And it’s not his fault he needs to wean himself off. 

“What’s with the makeup? Thought you were just hittin’ up the grocery store today.”

All you do is give him a small shrug, he takes it as an answer for now. 

There were times when Jake stumbled on his older sisters prancing around the house at random hours of the night, faces full of makeup. Out of curiosity, he’d asked them why they decided to start their enrollment in clown school—and he’d get the same response—an eye roll and annoyed exclamation of Girls just like doing their makeup randomly Jacob! You don’t get it! 

And for someone who was considered ‘a green flag’ on paper for having two sisters, Jake didn’t reap the benefits at all. Unfortunately, he was largely unaware of the things a guy should know if he grew up around girls. 

Discreetly pulling you in closer, he inhales through his nose. The taut muscles on his back relax once the scent of your strawberry body wash reaches him. “Why do you randomly do your makeup?”  

You stare at the shine of the melting desert in front of you, mildly confused by his abrupt question. 

Sure, Jake had pestered you with random questions about girls, given that you were one. But they always followed the lines of—Does this text mean she’s mad at me? or Why the fuck does she need me to pick out a nail color every two weeks? And get mad at me when I say blue? Never has he asked dumb questions in regards to you—but it’s not like he needed to anyway.

“Oh, um. I don’t know,” you bite your glossy lip, contemplatively. It takes you several seconds to come up with a better explanation than Oh, um. I don't know. Because that’s stupid, you sound stupid. 

“It just…feels good to do it, like—a confidence booster of sorts,” you finally surmise, partially honest with him. 

“Feels good, huh.” Jake repeats, trailing off as he absently runs his thumb around the rim of your metal button. 

While you weren’t aware of his large hands flirting with the entryway of your skirt before, you’re pretty much noticing it now. 

No matter how much you try to downplay the habit, it undeniably made you slightly nervous—okay, it actually made you very nervous. Because what if he accidentally pulled down your zipper—or worse—what if he saw the stupid day of the week underwear that you still wear. 

You’re not sure if you could ever live that down if he does. 

“I–um. Yeah, feels good,” you incoherently mumble, hands pathetically slick in sweat at your sides. 

He hardly gets a chance to register the mental turmoil going on under him as his brows suddenly furrow. The subtle engravings on the button of your shorts feel different, unfamiliar even.

WIth that, he stills. And without so much of a warning, Jake drags one hand around to the small of your back, pressing his palm flat against the bunched up fabric of your sweater, dragging it upward to check what shorts you decided to wear. You stagger forward, forced to crash your sweaty hands down onto the counter as he pushes you off him. 

This whole time, you were wearing a skirt.

And it’s not like Jake Seresin was opposed to the idea of girls wearing something too tight for comfort, but the dark washed band is curling into your flesh. Jake was opposed to that.

You gulp, the skin of your cheeks growing hot. Jake practically has you bent over, butt pointing up into the air. Warily, you attempt to continue the conversation as if he wasn’t checking out your skirt, in the worst way possible. “You could’ve, um, I dunno, just asked me what I’m weari–”

“This shit is digging into you, Princess,” he cuts you off firmly, flipping you around with that hand. 

Jake silently watches you, waiting for an explanation once he has you facing him. It’s quiet as you dodge his eyes. Of course, he thinks it looks weird on you. 

Eventually, you choose to look down at his front hoodie pocket like a scolded child. “I just…had too much to eat. Dairy makes me bloated,” you meekly supply, worming your hands into the empty pouch. Nervously, you begin to pick at the tiny tufts of cotton glued to the inner lining of his pocket. 

Ignoring the new feeling stirring in his stomach, Jake intently dips his middle and pointer finger into the front of your skirt, trying to get an estimate on how tight it was. They’re already losing circulation between the pudge of your tummy and the band. 

“What?” Jake scoffs incredulously, eyes rolling up and down your figure.

“You don’t eat too much. Don’t even try that with me,” he sternly cements, disapproving of your excuse. “This shit is just—not your size.” 

Using the two fingers hooked into your skirt, he tugs you forward in demonstration, causing you to let out a startled yelp. Seeing how the movement easily sends you launching forward, Jake sighs and retracts that hand from your waistband, holding you still by the hip instead. 

Moving to grab your face with his other hand, he forces you to look up at him—and your stomach bubbles, maybe because of the ice-cream. 

“I’m not gonna tell you what and what not to wear outside, ’cause my mom would fucking kill me,” he clarifies. “But, really?” Jake’s voice drops to a softer tone, considering that you look somewhat embarrassed, and not in the way he liked. 

You nod once in his hand, “I like it,” you manage to argue, cheeks squished by his fingers. If you like it, Jake can’t seem to hate it. But what Jake hates—is that he knows you’re about to head out, by yourself. 

“Okay.” His eyes flick down to your new choice of apparel. “Let me come with you today, Fuck Bradley,” he proposes, dismissing his upcoming plans with the brunette this afternoon. 

If you wanted to play dress up around him, that’s fine, but if you were going to walk around the supermarket aisles, without him trailing behind you, looking like this? He would rather go through his frat hazing twice over just so he could tag along. Your parents would kill him if he didn’t make up some excuse to watch over you. 

Somewhat bothered by your bare thighs brushing against his knees, Jake drops both hands down to pull at the sides of your skirt, but the stubborn fabric doesn’t budge. Again, he yanks it to no avail. Jake blows air through his nose, because he just needs your upper thigh to be covered at least. That’s what your mom would want, for him to look after you and all. 

“Jake,” you warn, bringing his attention back to your face. “We never end up buying what we need ‘cause you play around too much,” you put forth, glaring at him.

Jake gives your skirt one final jerk before giving up, weaving his fingers into the belt loops instead. However, under the weight of his hands, the band glides from your waist down to your hips. It covers more of your legs now. 

“I’ll behave,” he confirms, looking down at you. The specks of seriousness in his eyes says he will. But his inability to leave you alone for more than five minutes says, he won’t. 

“You never behave,” you tiredly argue, cracking your knuckles in his front pocket, accidentally pulling him closer by doing so. 

Jake cocks his head. “So? That’s what makes us work. You do all the important crap,” he points out, forgoing his seriousness from a second ago. “While I keep things fun. Don’t start pretending you don’t like it.” 

You look off to the side with a sigh. 

“I actually don’t like it,” you start, matter of factly. “And you’re not coming,” you finally conclude, brushing off the sudden memory of him keeping things fun last night. 

Rationally, you should be relieved that he remembers kissing you, it was clear in the way he wouldn’t stop teasing you about it during the entirety of the walk home. But all it does is fill you with unease. 

“My girl’s playin’ hard to get. That’s fine, I can handle you,” he continues, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. Yeah, he’s definitely not getting the permission to accompany you if he’s being so coy, this early on in the day. 

Rolling your eyes, you pivot your head to look at him again, only to realize that it’s a mistake to do so. Because you instinctively cower—when was he standing this close to you? And when did he slip his fingers through your skirt’s belt loops?

Jake’s eyes dart across your features, taking in your nervous falter. “What? You like when I call you that?” His grin only stretches wider. 

You hate that you’re still not used to his new pet names.

“What? No—no, I don’t.” You hurriedly defend yourself. 

You also hate that you can’t handle talking about said pet names without sputtering like an idiot. 

The moment you fill your cheeks with air, Jake takes it as a sign to not test his luck with you. Keeping quiet, he intently watches you let out that breath while you start to digress.

“You can join me next time, ‘cause it’s rude if you cancel on Bradley, I’ll just…come over after I’m done.” Reminded that Bradley kind of smiled at you last night, you assume he wouldn’t mind if you invited yourself over. He’s oddly let you through the door before, anyway. 

As you finish speaking, you gently nudge at Jake using the hands you still have resting in his pocket. The thick fabric, combined with his body heat, has been keeping your fingers so warm—that you almost forget the way the cold tub of vanilla felt between your hands from before.

Weirdly, Jake doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, there’s something unfamiliar that flits in his eyes, the dumb grin he’s wearing quickly fades and all he does is stare at you, like he’s unsure about something. Jake Seresin, unsure of himself, in what world?

“Promise me you’ll actually be there. Need to hear you say it,” he gently demands—suddenly.

Jake trusts you to stick to your word, but there’s some part of him that needs to know that he’ll see you again during the day. And he wasn’t going to hang out in Bradley’s room all afternoon, and have it possibly stretch into the evening—if you’re not going to show up at some point. 

You pause, lips parted, searching for any signs of his impending teasing. Because where did that come from? The last time he was this deliberate in what he said, he had asked you to be his girlfriend. 

You wonder how your sixteen year old self would react—she’d probably put on some Coldplay song and grab a nearby pillow to cry into it, if she knew he didn’t mean it in the way you wanted him to. And for some reason, you feel a twinge of her hurt flicker through your chest, when you think about it.

Above you, Jake remains still, letting you curiously scan his face. A thick lump forms in your throat when you come to the realization that he’s being serious. 

You swallow, giving him all your sincerity. “I promise.”

That unfamiliar look flashes in his eyes again when you assure him, and you instantly look down once you notice it. “Now can you, just—let me leave. We have no milk left and you can’t have your cereal dry,” you fumble, caught off guard by his sudden seriousness. 

Jake clears his throat. “Okay, yeah. I can…do that,” he starts, slowly. 

Letting his concern for your outfit drop, Jake moves off you so you can go. The weird tension in the air wrapping around you two, simply dilutes with that. 

Jake feels more confused when he watches you fetch your keys. He’d only wanted confirmation that you were seeing him later, thinking it would calm his protectiveness over you. But, it didn’t do jack shit, really. You didn’t get dressed up for no reason, nor did you wear things like that when you did.

The realization that he should’ve tried to probe more, crosses his mind when he hears you go through the front door. In the midst of his silent brooding, Jake eventually decides not to fault himself for it—because when has he ever had to pry an explanation out of you? You always told him everything. 

But as he comes to that conclusion, Jake fails to notice what you quickly pop in your mouth when you scurry out. Maybe it was because you couldn’t stop thinking of your younger self—but you reached for that reflective baggie you stole from last night’s snack table. It should do the trick to soothe that growing ache in your chest. 

“Motherfuck–” Bradley bites his lip in focus, capping off his insult. “Takin’ off half my health. Get your ass back here,” he harshly narrates under his breath. Leaning closer to his computer screen, he expertly moves his fingers against the lit up keyboard in precision with his mouse. 

Jake came over a few hours ago, and what started as a conversation between two friends—turned into Jake leaning back against Bradley’s headboard while the brunette busied himself with rounds of Fortnite. 

“I’m telling you, she wore that shit on purpose.” Jake huffs, retelling his encounter with his ex. Truthfully, Bradley’s baffled that Jake was able to stretch out the topic for this long. 

Hour five into the rant, you had tiredly strolled in the room after being let in the house by Bob. There was hardly any greeting before you immediately dove for the mattress. In a matter of seconds, you were curled around Jake’s leg like it was some life line, left cheek squished against his thigh and an arm thrown across his knee. 

Neither of them said anything about your peculiar arrival, but it wasn’t like they caught the chance to, because you had already dozed off. 

“Okay? The hell you want me to say to that.” Bradley grumbles, eyes still trained on his monitor. For the first time in his life, Bradley finds himself jealous of you. If he had to cuddle with Jake in his sleep to get a ticket out of this, then so be it. 

Before Jake can say anything, Bradley is rapidly clicking his mouse and jerks it across his mouse pad in zig zags. “No, no. Fuck—Shit. Oh fuck you.”

The gruff shout at his computer causes you to stir a bit. 

“You died?” Jake stupidly asks, cupping a hand over your ear, muffling the noise. 

Slowly, Bradley swivels his chair to face him. “No. My character just got shot in the face.” 

“Right.” Jake doesn’t care. “Anyway, you should’ve seen the skirt she was wearing,” he pauses to re-evaluate his next words. “Actually, don’t even start to imagine it.” 

“Just know it was bad,” he says flatly, hoping Bradley gets the point. 

Entirely unimpressed by his friend’s idiocracy, Bradley’s eyes dart between the skirt you're wearing and the idiot playing with the shell of your ear. Maybe if he aimed it correctly, he could chuck his wireless mouse at Jake’s thick forehead without it landing on you.

“Same skirt that your little girlfriend has on right now?” Bradley presses, lazily raising an eyebrow. 

Jake’s eyes snaps to your outfit and he roughly grabs a blanket to cover you entirely. 

“What is she, Goldilocks? Passing out on someone’s bed after going out on her own. Should’ve gone with her, dumbass,” Bradley insults. 

Jake gives him an incredulous look. 

“Bro, I fucking tried but you know how girls are.” If anyone should understand, it’s Bradley—the guy who had a hoard of sisters himself. He of all people, should know that talking to girls was like trying to communicate with a mob that was already angry at you. You say one thing wrong, and you’re getting chased by pitchforks and torches. 

“Look at that. Another girlfriend who’s tryna’ escape you,” Bradley swipes a tongue over his growing smirk, amusing no one but himself. 

“I’m glad you’re finding this funny. ‘Cause I don’t.”

“Thanks.” Bradley says offhandedly, in his usual uninterested tone. 

“That wasn’t—okay,” Jake bites his tongue, not wanting to spark an argument that might wake you. 

“Why are you so hung up on this chick anyway? What do you even like about her?” Bradley suddenly presses, trying to gain knowledge on why his friend is so infatuated. 

In the years he’s known Jake, yeah, he’s been a serial dater, but he never went back to the same girl—over and over again. And he never employed you to help him do it either. Bradley never got the impression that Jake would do that in the first place.

“I like everything about her,” Jake finally punches in his answer, focusing on the way you’re clinging to his leg. 

It’s a simple question, one he should know how to answer. But his attention drops to you when he racks his brain for a valid reason—as if you were going to wake up and give him the response he was looking for.

“She made me feel good. I don’t fucking know dude. I just liked her more than I liked anyone else.”

Bradley inwardly winces at that.  

Jake slowly turns his head to his friend who’s leaning back into his chair, and dismissively shrugs. “Everyone said we were good together and I just thought so too.” 

Despite his attention to the conversation, Jake has a far off look in his eye—his brain is wandering off somewhere. 

Bradley shakes his head, in disagreement. Clearly, his strategy of getting Jake to catch you with someone else at the party failed, so maybe he has to switch gears. “Dude, just because some fucking randoms said so, doesn't mean—”

“...Gummybear.” 

Both of them put the conversation on pause, snapping their necks in your direction. Another minute of quiet passes until you mumble the phrase again, paired with a groan this time.

Jake shifts around, no longer slouching against the headboard. The duo watches closely when you sleepily untangle yourself from him and sit up for yourself.

Scrubbing your eyes, you distribute a guilty look between Bradley and Jake through blurry vision because you feel your mouth slowly being filled with the pre-vomit drool. 

You’re one second away from showing them both your lackluster breakfast and cannabis laced gummies you had the bright idea of eating.

Perhaps, it wasn’t the best course of action to have one—or two, but you thought they were supposed to make you feel calm—because isn’t that why people buy them? How were you supposed to know that having more than one would make you feel so sick?

“I don’t, um, feel too good.” Your throat bobs and you slap a hand over your mouth.

Jake lunges forward, shoving away the pillows blocking you from him. He visually pales when bend over against him, aggressively gagging into your palm, unable to swallow back the burning acid rising into your throat and spilling onto your tongue. 

With you on the brink of vomiting in his lap, Jake keeps his eyes on you as he hurries Bradley to find something for you to dump your guts into. 

“I said I can’t fucking find it!” Bradley’s already shot out his chair, rapidly throwing dirty laundry over his shoulder once he’s bent over in the spot where his trash bin should be.

From the way he launched himself out of his seat, the gaming chair is flung halfway across the room. And with the sound of your retching and Jake’s useless instructions, Bradley picks up the pace and hastily reaches into piles of junk in hopes that he’d unearth the tiny bucket.  

“Aim on the damn floor if I don’t find this thing,” he grits, sweating as he continues to dig through his pigsty.

And aim at his floor, you did. 

“I threw up all over his room.” You mumble into Jake’s hoodie, punishing yourself over the turn of events. 

Since bringing you home, Jake’s been actively trying to get your mind off what happened. But all you’ve done is guiltily fixate on the fact that you barfed like a sick puppy, leaving a plop of mush right onto a Victoria Secret bra sitting in Bradley’s room. 

What if the girl who owned it came looking for it—just to find a fat stain sunken into the cup? Bradley would probably have to tell her that his idiot friend hurled on it because she didn’t know her tolerance was incredulously low. And you’d probably won't stop thinking about it for the rest of your life.

“Who cares? You gave Bradshaw a reason to clean. Now turn around and tell me what you want,” Jake prompts you, looking ahead at the open snack pantry in front of him.

The high clearly kicked in while you were in the snack aisle, because why else would there be five party sized bags of chips staring back at him. 

Jake narrows his eyes, straining to make out the flavor you bought. The dim lighting makes it nearly impossible to read the big lettering written across the shiny plastic. But then again, he hadn’t bothered to turn on the main lights, choosing to depend on the trim of fairy lights lined throughout the apartment. It was safe to assume that you preferred those, so he stuck to that. 

Rather than complying, you wrap your arms tighter around Jake’s torso, shaking your head in refusal against his chest. “Don’t want anything.” 

Redirecting his attention to the top of your head, he hugs you back with one arm. “C’mon sick puppy, take a look.” 

The last time you writhed in guilt like this, you had swung Jake over the head with your neon pink hydro-flask at his beach house—when he was the one who purposely scared you. Though, he took it as a win, considering that you cradled his head all night, giving him an excuse to sleep in the same room as you. Back then, it came at a perfect time since his fling that summer recently ended in disaster. 

“I’ll just throw up again if I eat anything,” you quietly whine, replaying the defeated sigh Bradley heaved when he stared at the pathetic beige goo sinking into the lace of the bra. 

Using the arm he has around you, Jake gives you a squeeze. “No? Don’t even want some gummies?”

When he’s met with silence, Jake lowers his head to kiss the top of yours, but the gesture goes unnoticed by you. For a second, he thinks you managed to fall asleep standing up. “Done talkin’ to me Goldilocks?” 

Jake’s voice pulls you out of your deep analysis of the way Bradley sighed in disappointment. But, with the reminder that you had also shamelessly napped in his bed—brought on by your desperation to sleep off the high, you fist the back of Jake’s hoodie in both hands and bite down on your lip to hold back a screech of embarrassment.

“Won’t you look at that, the little lady didn’t like my joke,” he lightly teases, glad that your useless talent of falling asleep anywhere didn’t spur into action. 

Detecting the spike of heat from your flushed face against his stomach, Jake refrains from making any more jokes and lifts you slightly, positioning the bottom of your feet over the surface of his own.

Once he drops you to stand on his sock-clad feet, Jake begins to carefully advance into the bathroom, unbothered by the pressure of your heels on his toes as he walks. 

“If you want nothin’, we’re hanging out where we did this morning.”

In one swift movement, he both peels you off his front and moves you off his feet. Letting him guide you to sit at the edge of the tub, you attentively look on while he crouches in front of you, face perfectly leveled with yours—despite the raised height provided by the bathtub. Did he place you here because you fell off the toilet that one time? 

“Why did you randomly take those? Mickey puts a shit-load in there,” he questions, referring to the gummy bears that eventually led you into buying a life time supply of Jake’s favorite chips, Smoked Barbeque. 

If it wasn’t for the soft yellow string of lights you taped around the bathroom door frame, you would’ve missed the puzzled look he’s wearing. The light pinch of his brows and the concern tightening his jaw makes you feel guilty for the second time tonight. 

Instinctively, his hands reach towards your waist, thumbs coming close to meeting at the center as his palms settle on your sides. A shiver runs down his spine when he comes to notice how you fit in his hands—but he pushes the new sensation aside. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of random things today,” you broadcast, unsure of the rationale behind wearing makeup for a mundane outing—and unsure as to why you were compelled to level with a girl who could clearly look down at you from where she is. 

“Yeah, you have, haven’t you?” Jake says softly, watching your eyes flick down towards his hoodie. It’s an exact replica of the one keeping warm from the night before—and the same one he gave you for the sole purpose of announcing that you were his.

“Oh. I forgot to give your sweater back to you last night. I’ll wash it and—”

“Keep it, we didn’t break up yet,” he cuts you off, the unfamiliar look from this morning passing through his eyes, again.  

Oblivious to it, you simply nod at him, bringing your parted lips to a slow close.

Then, it goes quiet as you two take the time to recollect your thoughts.

After several minutes you both meet back in a silent agreement that you’re ready to continue the conversation. Jake nods his head at you, encouraging you to speak first. 

“I ate it because this didn’t feel good,” you suddenly confess, lips bunching to the side of your mouth. Knowing what you meant, his attention drops to that skirt he caught you in this morning. An unsettling feeling swirls in his stomach, it looks even tighter on you now.

Jake liked to think he knew how to read you.

Whenever his ears picked up on your nervous laugh, he knew to stalk over to see which one of his nosey aunts were pressing you about having a boyfriend. Whenever you nervously dug the toe of your sneakers into the floor, he knew to start comparing shoe sizes with you as a distraction. But when he finds you in something you don’t usually wear, Jake doesn’t know what to do. 

He wonders if you felt like you needed this stuff to feel pretty. And he also wonders why he’s so unaware of it until now, if you had. 

“Think I threw up because it’s so tight. Maybe Mickey’s gummies aren’t so bad,” you attempt to joke with a light laugh, wanting to ease the tension off his face. 

In front of you, Jake’s stare is still unwavering towards the engravings of that button. In a way, this is kind of disorienting for him, what you’re wearing is so familiar to him. Yet, seeing it on you is unfamiliar if anything. Because this isn’t you, it’s the girl he was just arguing with last night. 

The only reason he even started this whole thing with you, besides Kendall’s unexplainable jealousy towards your friendship, was because you were different to her in every way. So, if you were going to change that about yourself, Jake didn’t like it—because it was unfamiliar to him. For his whole life, he kept tabs on little things about you that no one else bothered to learn. It doesn't sit right with him, that you’re keeping things from him now.

“I…don’t like this,” he delivers carefully, enunciating each word to you purposefully, leaving no doubt in your mind that he says it to be mean. And like always, what he really wants to say translates to you—I don’t like the way it makes you feel either. 

“...Can we take it off then?” you insert with the same careful delivery.

He draws in a deep breath, and you mimic the action unknowingly. 

Then, with a flick of his thumb, Jake unfastens the button of your skirt, dislodging it from the denim slit that kept it tightly wrapped around your waist. When you go to lift your butt, he pulls the tiny scrap of fabric down your legs. His eyes trail it, keeping his attention off your underwear. In his peripheral, he spots your half-full bottle of strawberry bottle wash. 

With you moving to sit back down on the cold ledge, he’s briefly greeted with a pink cursive lettering. Tuesday.

Surprisingly, it’s not awkward to be sitting in nothing but the poorly constructed sweater he said looked good on you and a pair of your day of the week underwear. Maybe you were being dramatic, thinking that you would die if he saw it. Because this isn’t so different from the days you spent walking around in your bathing suits, in the lifetime full of summers you spent together.

“You never needed that,” he shrugs, relief settling in his chest now that it’s off of you. 

“I never needed it,” you repeat back.

While your entire lives were filled with inside jokes and probably too much bickering—there were small lapses in time where that all drops. You’re not sure when it had even started, but for as long as you could remember, whenever either of you voiced something worthy of importance your counterpart naturally echoed it back. I was a dick. You were a dick. Jake, not right now. Okay, not right now. You never needed that. I never needed it. It was something your friendship naturally adopted. 

And like all other friendships, you two also knew how to shimmy your way out of a vulnerable moment like that, without making things weird. 

Jake leans into you a bit, suppressing a cheeky grin. “It says Tuesday, today is a Saturday,” he whispers.

Shoving him back with one hand, you break out into a smile. “You read my underwear!” 

“It read itself to me,” he finally grins, prompting you to smack your palm over his eyes in embarrassment. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” You chant between your laughter. “I’m never wearing these again.”

“No? Not even for me?” Jake starts to wrap his fingers around your wrist. It’s not too firm, but it’s enough to lower your hand from his eyes. Your laughter begins to die down at how gently he handles you. 

Another silence settles in the bathroom again when he leisurely traces a path from your wrist up to your palm, entwining his fingers through yours. Then, he drops your connected hands between the small gap between you two. 

But as quickly as he holds your hand, he lets go of it. And strangely, that tinge of your sixteen year old hurt sweeps through your heart when you lose that warmth against your palm.

Jake suddenly clears his throat. “I should uh, leave. You know, so you can shower.”

Pushing down the confusing swirl of emotion in your chest, you nod. 

This time, Jake’s the one to walk out of the bathroom, leaving you alone with your best friend at the forefront of your mind.

note: im so sorry for taking forever to update! so please enjoy this accidentally long chapter as an apology! as always, reblogs & thoughts are greatly appreciated, thank you for reading! & gently ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes for now

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[sarahsmi13s]

|| Bikes and Broncos ||

biker!jake x cowgirl!reader

"what do you see in him?" "everything you don't"

Adam Seresin and Kenneth Erikson, two men that live very different lives... Two men that never got along. But what happens when their children meet and fall in love with one another? Jake Seresin and Y/N Erikson meet at a rodeo where the biker makes an ass out of himself. But when they meet again Jake gets the chance to show Y/N who he really is. But how will her father feel? Can Kenneth look past what he thought he knew and learn that things were never as they seemed?

[thedroneranger]

Blood

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: Jake is enthralled with you. A treat he wants to keep all to himself.

Note: Had this kicking around. Figured I would finish and post it. It's creepy and contains blood—you've been warned.

Warnings: 18+ only, horror, gore, death, blood, violence, domestic violence, language, bad guy Bradley.

Word count: 1.6k

Moonlight seeped through the clouds and streamed between the trees. The sky was a bright gray and the fresh snow glittered. The breeze was just enough to make the pine boughs shiver.

Tonight was the perfect night for a hunt. However, tonight, Jake wasn’t stalking his usual prey in the clubs. His bright eyes, chiseled cheekbones and alluring smile weren't luring naive club-goers into the darkness. Instead, he already had his sights set—he just needed to pull the trigger.

Scenarios raced through Jake’s mind while he stood in the quiet forest. His eyes closed and head tilted back as snowflakes kissed his face and the frozen air singed his nostrils. Jake hardly noticed as he waited patiently to catch your scent.

You were unlike anyone, or anything, he had ever smelled. A prize he wanted for himself.

He thought about the first time you crossed paths.

In the nightclub, his hunting ground, Jake wound through bodies and waded to the bar for another drink. He stopped dead in his tracks. Through all the sweat and alcohol, your scent filled his nostrils. His gaze turned to the dance floor, and there you were, rhythmically moving among your fellow mortals.

Every movement fanned the savage thoughts running rampant in his brain. It was taking all his willpower not to charge over and drain you right there on the dance floor. But he abstained, because what would be the fun in that? Instead, he held himself together and enticed you to dance with him. Each glance you shared, every touch you exchanged, was part of his trap.

Your back against Jake’s chest, you swayed your hips and looped your arms around his neck. His hands rested on your hips, while his nose nuzzled the patch of skin right below your ear. The only audible sounds to Jake were your heartbeat and the blood pulsing through your veins.

While Jake again weighed the consequences of biting you right then and there, you turned so you were face-to-face. Your gazes smoldered. A devious smile upturned your lips as your hands skimmed along Jake’s shoulders and down his chest. Then two fingers slipped into the waistband of his jeans. Jake watched as you tugged the band, threatening to pop the button.

Jake’s reminiscence was shattered as your scent again flooded his nostrils. You were close—and you were bleeding.

His nostrils flared and mind raced. Why were you bleeding? Who damaged you?

Your pace was too slow to be in a moving vehicle. Why weren't you in a rideshare? Why were you walking?

Questions continued to pour into Jake’s mind as he headed in your direction. He knew you were struggling. Stumbling with each step. Breathing heavily. Bleeding.

There! Only the tree line between you, Jake watched in the shadows of the trees as you trudged along the road. Soon, you would turn down a dirt two-track toward your secluded house.

Then, the hair on the back of Jake’s neck bristled. Headlights bathed you in yellow light, and a vintage Ford Bronco slowed to keep pace with you. The window retracted to reveal Bradley.

If blood were flowing through Jake’s veins, it’d be boiling. Bradley had hurt you. Forced you to do things against your wishes. 

Jake wanted nothing more than to run up to his truck and snap his neck. A mental image of Bradley’s limp body slumped out the open window thrilled Jake. However, the succeeding look of horror on your face as his monstrous tendencies were revealed kept him from following his impulse.

But did it really matter? 

After all, he was going to kill you too.

Jake decided it did. 

He wanted your death to be more intimate. 

Selfishly, he also did not want to deal with disposing of a vehicle. Bodies were one thing, an electric blue first generation Ford Bronco was another.

Bradley smooth-talked you into the Bronco. Then, Jake watched as it zoomed into the night, tail lights fading to black. Coast clear, Jake emerged from the trees and surveyed the area. Blemishing the fresh snow, along with your footprints were blood droplets. Yours, of course. He arched a brow and thought of your blood staining the leather seat of Bradley’s Bronco. Jake smiled.

The idea of Bradley touching you had Jake seeing red. But it was a necessary evil. For months, Jake watched your interdependent relationship. You didn't want to be alone, and Bradley wanted to control someone. A perfect match. 

You didn’t know that Jake knew about Bradley, but Jake knew that Bradley didn’t know about him.

As planned, the night you and Jake met resulted in the two of you tangled in the bed sheets of the only hotel in town. Jake pulled your hair, called you gorgeous and left souvenirs in private places. Of course, you wanted more of him. And Jake wanted more of you. So, the two of you kept bumping into each other at the club and kept falling between the sheets at the hotel.

When you weren’t wrapped in Jake, you were wrapped in Bradley. Jake knew why you were infatuated with him. He was a predator built to lure his prey. He built for you to want him. What Jake could not understand was your draw to Bradley. Mortal attraction was foreign to him—he hadn’t been mortal in almost 300 years.

Your time with Jake was passionate. 

Your time with Bradley was rough. Sometimes too rough for Jake’s liking. Always aware of where you were and who you were with, Jake had been close several times to stepping in and ending it. Ending Bradley. 

Every time Jake saw you, you were always covering up something: a black eye, a bruised wrist, a wax burn, a skin-breaking bite. Luckily, you were durable. You could withstand Bradley’s abuse.

The wind blew and tousled Jake’s hair. Your scent carried on the wind. He closed his eyes and enjoyed your aroma. It put a little pep in his step as he continued through the moonlit forest to your house.

The trees began to thin, and Jake could see the house silhouetted against the soft gray sky. The moon lit it as if it were on a stage. Bradley’s truck sat in the driveway beside your vehicle. As he approached, Jake could see footprints that led from the Bronco to the front porch. Sprinkled among the prints were blood droplets. Your blood droplets. They continued into the house. 

Jake’s eyes landed on the front door. From his vantage point, he could see the door was ajar. Traversing up the driveway, he silently padded up the stairs and crossed the threshold. 

Your moans, some pleasure, some pain, radiated from your bedroom. The kitchen was quiet, illuminated by the moon. In the living room, coats and shoes were strewn across floor. Jake moved to the bottom of the stairwell and cocked his head to listen. You were still in the throes of sex.

Fingers ghosting the railing, Jake closed his eyes. Through your vision, he could see Bradley pawing at you as you tried not to trip on the stairs. Of course, it was all in the name of passion, so you exchanged kisses and laughter the entire journey to the bedroom.

Now at the top of the stairs, a creak drew Jake’s attention. A figure spilled out of the bedroom as Jake stowed away in the shadows. Bradley shuffled to the bathroom and left the door open. Jake listened as he finished his business and shuffled back toward the door. Positioned right outside, as Bradley exited, Jake grabbed his head and jerked his chin upward. An audible crack rendered Bradley’s body limp. Gently, Jake laid him down before making his way to the bedroom.

You called for Bradley. Jake let his footballs answer you. En route to the bed, Jake dropped his clothing and slid in to spoon you. Still unaware, you arched your back into him and moaned as he sucked on your earlobe. Jake’s free hand tucked some loose hairs behind your ear, and then slid along your jaw and wrapped around your neck.

"Hey, gorgeous.” Jake murmured into your ear. Your body tense as you realized it was Jake in your bed instead of Bradley. Before you could react, Jake sank his fangs into your jugular.

Instead of a scream, you coughed until you gurgled and blood filled your mouth. Jake continued to drink from you as he rolled you onto your back. Finally, Jake pulled away. Your blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, dribbled down his chin. 

You looked at him desperately as you pressed your hand to your wounds to slow the bleeding. Jake just watched as life slowly drained from you. You raised a hand to reach for him. Jake curled his fingers around your wrist and learned forward to kiss your supple skin. He held your gaze and as he punctured you again. You winced, unable to scream.

"Why?" Your brows knitted together in pain. You sputtered blood. 

"If I bring you to the brink of death, you can live forever," Jake explained. He watched you as you processed his response. Your heart rate slowed and the blood flow stemmed. The light in your eyes dimmed and your eyelids fluttered closed.

Satisfied, Jake hopped off the bed and redressed. Your blood still smeared across his face. Carefully, Jake wrapped you in the bed sheet and shouldered your body. On the way out, Jake made a last-minute decision to bring Bradley. Your first meal when you awoke. Jake drug him by the ankle. Bradley’s head thudded against each stair on the way to the door.

Jake stopped in the doorway. The only sound was the soft pat pat of blood droplets jumping off your fingertips. He adjusted the sheet so it caught the droplets and the three of you disappeared into the brisk night.

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[stcverogers]

TOP GUN FIC RECS 6!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F + A: jake seresin and the unfortunate hat situation by @sehnsuchts-trunken it's your first time in texas and you don't understand what the big fuss about hats is about.

F: never grow up by @andorskenobi you've fallen ill and the seresin boys play doctor.

F + A: signed away by @seresinhangmanjake at 19 years old, the last thing you want is to marry someone you don't love. however, a contract is a contract and you must see it through.

F: 7 years by @flaming-tgmcu jake's known you since he was 7 and he's loved you ever since.

F + S: birds away by @wombtotombx 𖥻 everyone who knew you and jake growing up were convinced that you'd end up together. you were perfect for one another. yet life and the navy had other plans.

F: tiktok troubles by @ultralightpoe jake misses date night and to get back at him, you pull tiktok pranks when he least suspects it.

F: sweet as candy by @halsteadsbradshaw with a callsign like haribo, it's no wonder you have a sweet tooth. jake knows this and this is the 4 times he brings you candy.

F + A: you again by @ereardon you're back in jake's life and he's determined not to let you go again.

F + A: bad habit by @seasonsbloom 𖥻 hangman was cocky. a complete asshole. you hated him, that was for sure.

F + A: glue song + part 2 + part 3 by @waklman the coffee you make isn't why jake is friends with you, though it is a good plus.

A: move on by @starlightstories jake left you hurt years ago and you've long moved on. it was time that he did too.

F + A: rule number one + rule number two by @ultralightpoe when you first met jake, he made the rule to not fall in love with him. you break it and he breaks you heart in the process.

F + A: nothing else matters by @sunnysidevans despite not being her biological father, jake had helped you raise evelyn ever since you found out you were pregnant with her.

F: dad jake blurb by @stargazing15

F + A: left at the alter by @tip-top-cloud-surfer 𖥻 you get left at the alter by your jerk of a fiance. luckily, jake is there for you, just like when you were younger.

F: the beanery by @callsign-peach when jake keeps coming into work with fancy thermos coffee every morning, his colleagues get jealous and want in on the nice roast too.

F + A: tell them by @sarahsmi13s 𖥻 jake's nearly loses his eldest son to a car accident and decides it is finally time to share his family with his work one.

F + A: i had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself by @gennyanydots 𖥻 jake thought that leaving everything behind would make it easier. instead he feels alone, his life consisting of nothing but his job that consumes him.

F: a little bit easier by @sunlitsunflowers jake is there to comfort you when you start to feel overwhelmed at the hard deck

F: marry that girl by @books-are-escapes jake always knew that you were the one he would marry and he finally made it happen

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F: baby, i'm yours by @almightyellie you're completely blind to bradley's very obious affections for you.

F: to the moon and back by @katsu28 a very special valentine's day for you and bradley

F + A: i will always love you by @amysteryspot with his parents gone and the closest thing he knew to love away, bradley wasn't expecting anyone to tap him out.

F + A: fawn by @sappy-seresin you've garnered rooster's interest working at the hard deck. your skittish behaviour leaves him worried and curious.

F: wedding day by @tip-top-cloud-surfer it's bradley's wedding day and he's brought to tears from seeing his bride

S: (christmas) baby please come home by @gretagerwigsmuse if bradley broke your agreement of only one gift each, surely he wouldn't mind if you broke it too.

F + S: the keeper + part 2 by @tulipsbymybed rooster is infatuated with the owner of the local bookshop.

F + A: homemade dynamite by @mothdruid you and rooster hadn't ended on good terms, now, you're both back at top gun.

F + A: endings and beginnings + part 2 by @tip-top-cloud-surfer rooster finally gets his chance at a family

F: just roommates by @risriswrites you and bradley were roommates, that's all.

F + A: terms of endearment by @ohtobeleah 𖥻 jake seresin was an instigator. as your brother-figure in life, he just wants you to be happy. this includes pushing you and rooster together.

F + A: something special by @helloheyhihowdyheya rooster cares for you more than he lets on, he just has a terrible way of showing it

F + A: what a look on you by @thewulf you secretly harbour feelings for bradley. when a friend from college comes visit and rooster seems far more enamored by her than you, you're hurt.

F: 5 times the Bronco was a third wheel by @thesewordsareallihavetogive there isn't many things bradley loves more than his bronco. you, maybe, but that's about it.

F + S: what's in a name? by @sometimesanalice bradley's favourite thing about you was the way you said his name

F + A: superstar + part 2 by @maggiedanikka bradley bradshaw was the poster boy for the americna navy. he was everything you weren't. why would he ever fall for the likes of someone like you?

F: daddy's little princess by @startrekfangirl2233-writes you come home to bradley playing dinosaurs and barbies with your two children

F: milk and toast and honey by @amysteryspot despite your bad experience with naval aviators, you have an affinity for one bradley bradshaw

F: romeo, romeo by @welcome-to-my-multiverse rooster is completely enamored by you and the dagger squad definitely shouldn't have left a drunk him alone with you.

ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD

F: losing something and the other picks it up and calls after them by @callsignsaturn

F: afternoon bedrest by @jungle-angel bob returns home with an upset stomach. lucky for him, you're there to comfort him

F: he's all that by @withahappyrefrain bob's too nervous to approach the cute girl at the hard deck. his team mates decide that a makeover is just the confidence boost he needs

F: rodeo by @sarahsmi13s though you could perfectly hold your own, bob would always stand up for you.

F: surprise by @topgun-imagines bob proposed to his girl and no one the dagger squad had known

F: blind date gone...wrong? by @intricatechaosofyou you get stood up on a blind date. thankfully, bob is there to save you the embarrassment.

F: wanna buy you a drink by @anonymooseforever007 you surprise bob at the hard deck, but not without a little teasing first.

S: untouchable + part 2 by @idkwhylou as the only daughter of the captain, you were placed on a pedestal, deemed untouchable. bob was the only exception.

TOM 'ICEMAN' KAZANSKY

F: little reward by @dragon-kazansky to entice tom away from his computer, you promise him hugs and strawberries

BEAU 'CYCLONE' SIMPSON

F: super trouper + part 2 by @callsignmayhem you're sick and beau is ready to help you feel better, with the help of soup and mamma mia.

[that-one-random-writer]

My favorite top gun stories! 😍😍😍 Highly recommend you to give them all a read.

No certain order, just how I copied them to post.

Faking it- @tongue-like-a-razor

Fake dating at its finest! 😍😍😍 It's just incredible! I linked the entire masterlist because every story I've read is incredible. My honorable mention is Less Talk by the same author.

Operation Apollo - @sunlightmurdock

A secret service agent is an ass to the presidents daughter. Sign me the fuck up. Incredibly angst and impressive in the Enemies to lovers trope.

Batting practice- @roosterforme

A single mom getting the hots for a coach... put me in coach! ⚾️⚾️⚾️

Ivy - @perpetuelledaydreaming

The drama confusion of loving two people. Which do you turn to? There's so many variables on the love that I don't know where it's going to lead, and I love that.

Kink .com- @ohtobeleah

Simply porn. The best kind with 2, count' em, 2 kinky pornstars have you in every way possible. Leah is the leader in smut writing. You can't change my mind.

[fangirlvibez]

Fangirlvibez’ Masterlist

The Bradshaw son and Seresin daughter

Summary of the story: The 16 year old daughter of Jake Seresin gets pregnant. The dad: the 18 year old son of Bradley Bradshaw. How will the dads react to their kids becoming teen parents?

Introduction - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - part 10 - part 11 (on hiatus)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Bradshaw Rockstar

Summary of the story: Nick Bradshaw, son of Bradley Bradshaw, wants to move to LA with his band to pursue music. Bradley disagrees and thinks his sons friends are bad influences on him. Nick ignores his dads wish and moves out anyway. Bradley sees his 18 year old son grow up through different media outlets. This is the story of Nick Bradshaws journey through fame with his band ChaosRoxs.

Introduction - part 1 (discontinued for the moment)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Festival of Hearts (a Royal Au)

Summary of the story: princess, now Queen Y/N (Y/M/N) Y/L/N was forced into marrying King Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Leaving her own kingdom, Eldoria, behind she left to live and rule Jake kingdom, Misthaven. The time for an age-old tradition in Y/N kingdomcame. Miraculously the Queen convinces Jake to invite her old village to come celebrate the tradition with them. This is the story on how the ruthless King learns how to love his Queen.

Introduction - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 (on hiatus)

[roosterbruiser]

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐍, 𝐖𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕

"𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐲!"

"𝐎𝐡, 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐬."

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍…

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Drink With Me Masterlist

Summary: In the middle of a vampire apocalypse, no one is safe. And yet, nothing could have prepared Jake for watching the love of his life torn apart by a swarm right before his eyes. So he is in for the shock of his life when you turn up two years later, standing before him as one of the creatures he's sworn to destroy. And though you still seem like the old you, you both know this can only end one way….

Status: Upcoming

Part 1

Part 2 (coming this month)

[jackiequick]

That’s Would Be Enough | Marvel Fanfic 🖋

Summary: Elizabeth wants to be the best inventor and aunt. She’s overworked herself late into the night, but what she needs a break. And to be reminded that she is enough. And who other to do it than her own favorite blonde, aside from Captain America.

Pairing: Jason Grey Underwood & Elizabeth Stark

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe—> Agent Carter, Iron Man 1-2, The Avengers

Marvel timeline: Pre/During—Avengers 2012 (Phase 1)

Characters mentioned: Tony Stark, The Young Avengers, Howard Stark and Jarvis

Song inspired fic: That Would Be Enough from Hamilton

A/N: I know it’s a simple fic but I was listening to this song and just had to write it.

Ship Name: JALIZZY

Sidenote: Jason’s nickname is JJ meanwhile Elizabeth is Liz

Click here to see the latest fanfic featuring this family

——

It’s been a few short weeks, Stark Tower was running high and low with noise.

New York City lights in contacts to the skyline views that the home brought to the world. Voices from the young heroes were softly heard. You could hear Liane and her friends screaming over the sound of the tv wired up in the living room and the hallways were being used as a reminder of how huge the building truly was.

But underneath the main lounge floor, past the elevator doors and across the narrow halls stood the tapping of nails against a keyboard humming a soft tune, that was played earlier from the afternoon radio. Files surrounding her desk as she spun in the chair for a while, as it reminded her of older memories at The Mansion’s lab.

The laughs and the louder bickering over bullshit that didn’t matter but it did at the time. Trinkets and posters surrounded the lab back then, it still does now but as many as Stark Tower.

She missed it, weather she liked to admit it or not.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking that belonged to a tall blonde with fluffy hair, sweatpants and a baby blue t-shirt, carrying two mugs of warm hot chocolate. She nodded, inviting him into the room as he took a seat near the empty chair, gently placing the mug into her palms as she took a peek noticing a few tiny marshmallows.

She hummed as she took a delightful sip of the warm drink.

He noticed she wasn’t upstairs for a while now. Something that never bothered him, he’s used to his creative minds spending longer than expected in the lab tinkering. However having seen what he would assume the worse of it from Tony in 2010, noticing his eyes bloodshot and the lights making his body appear weak, he made it a promise to watch the time to bring whoever was in the lab to bed.

Tonight it was Elizabeth.

She’s a Stark. So he can’t stop her being in a lab to invent something, since that’s one of places she shined. Aside from the stage of course. He have noticed her getting a new scope of the world, having been gone under the ice for a while now. He knew she had her own ways of doing things, as she handled the transition better than expected but it had him worried.

Does she believe that she’s not doing enough?

He has been there himself plenty of times, where he feels useless and annoyed around everyone but he never showed it. Everything phases him, just not exactly his face. With one swift look at her vulnerable face, the tired eyes and gentle smile that could light up the stars, he knew.

He has been around theses people long enough to not know. Especially since JARVIS tend to be the house’s eyes and ears, it all added up to this point and he wasn’t upset about it

Elizabeth’s eyes analyzed his facial expressions, noticing the small bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. He smiled softly at her, placing the mug of hot chocolate that was in his hand onto the desk. All she wanted was to rest her head on his shoulder and hear his smooth southern drawl as he hummed a old song while she drifted to sleep.

But she wonder, if she left asleep and let herself take a breath, then that would mean her inventions would be unfinished. Her work would’ve not been done and the studies she has been doing lately would have left aside. It was silly to think she was putting all this unnecessary work onto herself when she doesn’t need it but it made her feel like she was doing something.

Then it clicked.

“How long have you know?” She asked, running her fingers crossed the side of the mug

“A month or so.” He replied, playing with the fabric of his sweatpants.

“I never told you.”

“Jarvis told me a less than month ago.”

“No…”

“We all just wanted you home.”

She sighed, “You should have told me.”

“I’m not sorry.” He added, with a honest smile.

He smiled placing a hand on her knee and said, “I knew you’ll work until the idea was done.”

“The idea’s not done.” She replied, placing a hand over his and sighed.

“But you’re tired and deserve a chance to be with our son.”

“He’s Howard’s son, I’m just his overprotective aunt.”

“We both know your more than that to him. You don’t need to prove anything, you said it yourself years ago.”

“I know…um but still my work, my life. I just want to make sure I’m worth all of it and I’m leaving a legacy behind..”

He sighs and smiled, “Just look around and you’ll see the difference you made.”

“We made.” She corrected him with a smile.

The two chuckled soft at that.

Nonetheless, Jason continued, “Look around at how lucky we are, just to be alive right now is a miracle. And that’s saying a lot knowing what we’ve been through.”

“Will you relish being a silly inventor’s spouse?” She added, as it sounded like a question, “Somewhat dependent, not about to provide for our life? It’s stupid I know, we’re in a good place but it feels like the roles are reversed and i don’t know why..I don’t feel as independent yet. I mean, we used to have Jarvis and Ana to help us. Peggy too! And now we’re sorta alone at this..”

“It’s not easy, it never was but we can handle it. And that not true, you’re more than confident and independent. Give it time.”

“How much time? How did you do it? Let’s face it, I’m here now, I have been awaken from the ice for a considerable period of time, but it still feels odd. We both has been working for a long time and sometimes it felt like we can’t breath again because of it. The world is changing a lot more than expected…so do you still relish all of this?”

“Your just tired and a little vulnerable right now, honey. It’s okay, no rush here. But to answer your question, yes, I do. I also relish you someday being my wife. Just look around, look at where you are. Look at where you started..the fact that you’re alive is a miracle. Just stay alive, that would be enough.”

She smiled hearing those words, “Yeah. I guess I am tired…and a little worried, I just want to be the best version I can be.”

“You already you.” He added with a chuckle, “Our child shares a fraction of your smile and dare I say, a fragment of your mind just as much as he does Howard!”

“Oh good god he’s smarter than I thought!”

“And his ego too. I love him but damn, it’s wild.”

“Oh yeah, he’s more than enough to make a difference in the world. We’re safe then.”

They both smiled and laughed harder than expected knowing how many godchildren Tony gave them. So look out world, that would be enough.

He looped a finger underneath her chin, “Look, I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing. The worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind. Your reading more than i do when it comes to understand everything we can.”

“Mhmm! It’s hard moving from one era to another.” She admits with a light chuckle, “..sometimes I don’t know how we’ve done it for so long and haven’t driven ourselves mad.”

“I know...but I’m not as afraid as I should. I know who I married. So long as we all come home at the end of the day..”

“That would be enough. Uh, about our legacy and the money?”

“Liz.”

“Jason. I’m serious.”

“We already are creating one and we already have money. If I could grant you peace of mind, let us inside your heart…”

Those words shut her up, as her eyes watered a bit understanding everything he meant. That they are supposed to be made of steel but it takes the people you love to make it a strong material.

And truth be told, she told him those same words years ago. It wasn’t as gentle, heartfelt and darling as she said in her own way, but it was a similar format as theses line meant the same thing. She remembers telling him in a charming yet sweet manner.

“Just let us be apart of that narrative, in the story we are watching today.” He continued, with a gentle grin, “Let this be a new chapter where I hope we stay..”

“And I could be more than enough.” She finished for him with a gentle grin, “We could be enough…since that would be enough.”

“Took you long enough to get it.”

“I should’ve known by now, I just need the reminder...I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t mean it. Now, can we please go to bed?”

She smiled breathlessly and softly replied, “Yes please!”

He stood up, and walked away to the doorway thinking he was following her. But she wasn’t. He looked over his shoulder to to find her holding out her hands at arms length with a cheeky little smile that resulted him to snicker.

“Carry me?” She asked with a soft chuckle, tiredness laced in her voice.

“You’re so dramatic.” He replied with a similar tone as he walked over and picked her up bridal style.

“Shhhhhh babe, there are people trying to sleep here.”

“Oh my god.”

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I think I love you.”

“I know.”

The pair smiled as he carried her to bed, as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. She hummed a few words and cracking a couple of jokes while he rolled his eyes dropping her onto the bed. She swiftly crawled under the warm covers and laying her head on the pillow, smiling at the blonde who treated her well.

Sometimes she wonders how exactly did she deserve such a man? Guess she will never actually get that solid answer.

She reached for his hand, giving it a small squeeze as if to know she was real and not at all in that icey cold apartment she once placed into. He smiled in return and winked, as there was an unspoken feeling of love in the air.

He left her side and stepped over to the doorframe. He looked over his shoulder and whispered, “Night Liz.”

She yawned, about to ask, more like suggest something but choice against it. Save it for another night as she replied, “Night Jason.”

Just as Jason turned off the lights and leading himself towards the hallway, Elizabeth bite the bullet with a soft grin. She decided to go for it and muttered, “Grey?”

She wondered if he heard it but he did. It cause Jason to pause and turn around to face Elizabeth, because it was a rare but somewhat made common sense that he would hear his middle name being used. Not everyone called him that unless necessary and he secretly preferred it being used among certain people.

Usually it was a way to get his attention in an endearing manner, when it came to his plenty of nicknames over the years.

His mind was fighting off a nerve of worry, as he met her eyesight, and hummed, “Yeah?”

“C-can you stay with me tonight? In bed like old times…” She replied almost shyly, pushing away her curls. It was a rare moment for a woman as bold as she might be. Yet, there was gentle tired smile that tugged her lips.

“Y-you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be sure if I didn’t ask, would I?”

“Fair point. Uh, left side of the bed?”

“A-and you on right.”

“You’re positive about this?”

“Mhm, I am. If not, I can always buy a dog to keep me company instead. I heard Sal’s shelter is open this time and hour.”

“Elizabeth.”

“I’m kidding! But not about the dog thing.”

“Liz.”

“Come on, I know you can’t resist waking up the next morning to a nice view.”

“You talking about yourself or the city’s morning skyline?”

“Both. We’re such amazing views, just sayin’.”

With a chuckle and a little eye roll, Jason climbed into bed and nuzzled himself underneath the covers next to her. Elizabeth’s giggles could be softly heard from her own cocky comments from earlier, as she rested against his shoulder blade humming gently.

She pressed a tiny kiss onto his cheek, as her eyes slowly dropped muttering a few words as she did. He wouldn’t admit it but he missed this, as he pressed a light kiss onto the top of head. With a swig of his arm, he reached forward and turned off the lamp that rested on the nightstand as the soft night sky peeked through the windowsill.

~~~

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy the fic

Please like, comment and share. Also let me know what you think in the comments below. Like suggestions for future content.

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THE LIES WE TELL 🃟 PROLOGUE 🃟 PROTECTION

🃟 add yourself to my tag list(s) here 🃟

pairing 🃟 CEO! Hangman X Bodyguard! Reader

warnings 🃟 swearing

a/n 🃟 and we’re up and running with the hangman installment of the Dagger Security universe! As always feedback is very much appreciated 🫶 (and can we once again appreciate @callsignmeiga ‘s graphics?!)

“Jake, man slow the hell down.” Javy yells down the corridor as his best friend walks swiftly away from him. “I need to talk to you.”

Jake carries on walking, slowing slightly only to check his watch. “Sorry buddy, I have a meeting which I’m already 10 minutes late for.” He calls over his shoulder with a hasty wave sent in his friend’s direction.

Sighing in defeat, Javy runs a hand over his face and shouts, “You got another letter this morning.” Jake stops this time, his expression only faltering for a split second before he turns to face Javy whose long strides have him catching up in no time.

“What, are you reading my mail now?” Jake asks, a full smile stretching across his face. To anyone else it would seem like a normal throwaway joke between friends but Javy knows better. After knowing Jake as long as he has, Javy knows Jake is uneasy following his words and the smile on his face is forced. There’s only a few people who have seen Jake Seresin’s real smile and Javy knows this definitely isn’t it.

Looking down the corridor, Javy rolls his eyes and grabs his friends arm, pulling him into an empty meeting room. When it’s just them in the room, Jake seems to relax slightly. Brushing off his navy blue suit, Jake looks up at Javy with a frown as he talks “Look this is getting really fucking creepy man, and I’m telling you as your advisor,” he scoffs, “hell, as your best friend! That you need protec-“

Jake cuts him off sharply, “Protection? Javy, I don’t need a fucking bodyguard,” he says, voice clear and precise as he snaps slightly, stepping forward into his friends personal space. Not one to back down from a confrontation, Javy stands his ground, looking up at the steely expression on Jake’s face.

“I’m trying to help you man,” he pleads, his soft expression making Jake falter.

Exhaling, Jake pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I know man, I’m sorry for snapping but I’ve already upgraded my home security system like you said.” Javy rolls his eyes at that- it had taken him months to get Jake to fix his cameras and install new ones in the blind spots on his property.

“Just hear me out,” Javy digs in his pocket, fingers closing on the small business card he’s had in his jacket for a number of days now.

Jake just sighs, grabbing the card out of Javy’s hand without even looking and crushing it in his own palm before throwing it straight into the open trash can a few feet away. “I love you Javy, but I’m not budging on this. I’m not having a bodyguard.“ and with that, he smooths his hands over the tailored suit on his body, checks his watch once again and exits the room, leaving a disgruntled Javy behind.

Once alone, Javy retrieves the now crumpled business card from the trash can and attempts to smooth it out. Aside from the creases, there’s no damage to the card and thankfully all the details on it are still readable.

He pulls his phone out from the inside pocket of his jacket and types the number on the card into the keypad. As his thumb hovers over the call button, Javy hesistates. Jake did flat out refuse any form of personal protection and going behind his back like this would only serve to strain their relationship. Rubbing a hand over his face, Javy takes a moment to think. However much jake is refusing a bodyguard, is it worth risking the safety of his best friend just to keep him happy? Not to Javy, nothing is worth Jake’s safety.

And with that thought in his mind, Javy dials the number and holds the phone up to his ear until a chirpy voice sounds from the other end.

“Dagger Security, how can I help you?”

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[ereardonlibrary]

The Backup || Chapter 2 [Jake Seresin x Reader]

Full chapter here

[that-one-random-writer]

City Of Love Part 1 [complete]

Kind of an AU drabble multi part words: 1,037

Summary: You are a famous fashion designer, Jake is an actor. You style Jake for a photoshoot for his cover on Vogue magazine. It set you up for a night in Paris.

Warnings: 18+ for language and NSFW content, smoking a cigarette.

A/N: I am feeling writers block in my current story, Caution to the Wayward Son. I wanted to write something that might trigger some brain activity.

My Masterlist. Part 2

Your skin had the ultimate comfort of the white, down duvet. The crisp pillows held your head in a perfect mold. You lifted your head, and your feet fell flat against the smooth hardwood floor as you turned. You stood up and slipped your arms in your robe. Your body is embellished with black lacy lingerie with a mesh robe lined with fur.

You glide through the airy room. You stop in front of the glass doors to your balcony. Your assistant, Naviair, opened the door for you, and you stepped onto the balcony. Naviair handed you your morning coffee. You sat with a cigarette in your hand and lit the end, puffing smoke into open air above the streets of Paris.

Your assistant joined you on the balcony once your cigarette was out. He sat at the table beside you. He pulled out your schedule book. "Navi dear, why must our lives be so busy? Can't we just take a day?" You tossed your head back, wishing away your busy schedule.

"Darling, you know you run important roles in this industry. You are an elite designer. You can't just run willy nilly across the city." You pulled your knees up, watching the busy streets. Your mind frolicking in the city.

"Commençons" 'let's begin' he spoke in his native tongue. You nodded, and he began your schedule. "Hair and make up will be here in an hour. You have to get ready for a shoot for Vogue. You will be preparing the designs you created for the cover." His hands were thrown into the air dramatically. "Jake's Rise To The Top"

You lean back into the chair. "The one with the hot actor?" You gasp, Naviair looking you up and down. "Yes, and if you show up like that, I think he might be a little too excited to fit the pants. Now let's go, you have an outfit to style for yourself." He offered his hand to help you stand. You lifted with grace from your seat.

Naviair led you into the closet. "What shall I go for today? Maybe Versace? Louis Vuitton?"

You choose a white top with gold embroidery. It has a strong angled shoulder line that cuts into the skin on your shoulder, and your back is bare as a statement. The bottom is high waisted pants with black and gold. Your waist is cinched with a black wide belt. White and gold red bottom heels with a black pair of sunglasses.

"Good choice. So chic. Hair and make-up are here." Naviair takes your hand.

You lean into the stylist chair. The cold leather tensing your skin. Two stylists begin working.

"So we are thinking some dark, with a little gold and a bright red lip." The makeup artist prepped your skin. "Yes, please use the new color that Navi picked up a few days ago."

"For Hair, I'm thinking curls for femininity to peak through. Contrasting with the masculinity in the pants." You nodded, agreeing. "I couldn't agree more." You allow them time to work.

You emerge from the chair once they are complete with their art. Your feet clacking against the wooden floors. You grab your folder for the styles for today's shoot. Thanking the pair while leaving the room.

The car rides past the busy city and stops at the studio. Your chauffeur opens the door. Flashes blare through your dark tinted lenses. Naviair held your hand, helping you up the stairs avoiding the paparazzi.

"Bonjour, right this way." The attendant led you to the back. The attendant knocked in a pattern, the doors slid open. You move to the center of the room elegantly. "Oh, tres belle" 'very beautiful' "Please come, we have the sets you ordered right here." Your head of correspondence called to you. You lifted your glasses from your view, pulling out the articles of clothing.

You followed into the room where Jake was taking practice shots. "Jake, is it?"

Jake's eyes left the camera lens and met with a beautiful woman. "Yes, ma'am."

Jake's voice was rough in all the right way. "I'm ready for you now." Jake stepped down. Following behind you. You both step into the dressing room. You hand him the clothing. "Oh, um, thank you..." He trailed. He expected you to leave the room, but he was in france. Once you turned to the mirror glancing over your makeup, he decided you weren't leaving, kicking off his shoes, and he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His strong shoulder peeked through the top. He slid the top off his arms, tossing the shirt over the chair. His pants unbuttoned and slipped down his toned legs. He paired the shirt and pants together over the chair. He grabbed the new outfit and turned around the pants gliding over his legs. You turned admiring his muscled back. "What are you thinking?" His gaze caught yours in the mirror in front of him.

"Nothing safe for work, I assure you." Your cheeks threatened color under your makeup. "I won't tell anyone..." His rough tone teased. He turned facing you. "Maybe another time?" His arms slid through the shirt. You stepped closer to him and slowly buttoned the shirt. Your hands wrapped into his collar, positioning the corners and creases.

His calloused hands gripped your soft touch. "Dinner tonight?" His confidence lured your eyes to his.

"I have to check my schedule, but I would love to." Your face just inches from his. He handed you a card. "My personal number is on the back. Call me when you decide." He slipped on his shoes and made it back to the shoot.

"Naviair..." You called out for your assistant. "Yes, amour?" Love. He spoke out from the hallway. "What is my schedule for tonight?" He opened the schedule book. "You have a meeting with Pierre." You spun on your heels and walked out from the dressing room. "Can you reschedule?"

He smirked. "And what should I tell him?"

You looked him up and down mimicking his smirk. "Something has come up. He will understand. Now come Navi. I have something to get ready for. My work here is done." You look back at the photoshoot, Jake is pushing his hair back with his hands holding his jacket over his shoulder.

Naviair commented, "Chef's kiss, he looks incredible. You've done it again." You both made your way out the door. "Was there ever any doubt?" Your looks of showed pride.

I do not give permission for my stories to be posted anywhere. Stealing stories makes you a c u next tuesday.

[fangirlvibez]

The Bradshaw son and Seresin daughter - part 7

Characters: Bradley Bradshaw x female!OC Madison Ella Hanscott, Son!OC Nicolas Peter Bradshaw, Jake Seresin x female!OC Quinn Kelsell, Daughter!OC Hazel Alexandra Seresin, Son!OC Benjamin Jacob Seresin, OC!Connor Malcolm Oxland

Warnings: in this chapter: mention about (teenage) pregnancy. (Let me know if I forgot a warning)

Summary of the story: The 16 year old daughter of Jake Seresin gets pregnant. The dad: the 18 year old son of Bradley Bradshaw. How will the dads react to their kids becoming teen parents.

A/N: English is not my first language, so if there is any spelling or grammar errors: please let me know

Previous part - next part - masterlist

His homescreen was a picture of Hazel with Mac, taken a week later when they switched the kids for their parent-son day. He loved his small family.

While Nick and Bradley were having their conversation in Bradleys office, Hazel decided to take the twins grocery shopping with her. She had invited Connor that evening for dinner to celebrate the first day at Top Gun. “Okay kiddos, ready to go buy some food to make dinner for dad and Uncle Rex?” She asked her twin boys, looking at the rearview mirror of the rental car. Both boys where strapped in the seats and cheered at what their mom said. Hazel laughed before turning on the car and driving to the grocery store.

After a twenty minute drive the young mom parked the car close to the entrance of the store. She takes of her seatbelt before turning to her kids. “I will take you out of the car and you will hold my belt loop when we are walking towards the store. Than you can sit in the shopping cart. If you let loose of my belt loop and run off, I will get you and we will turn back home, Okay?” She asked, making sure her kids understood her. “okay mommy” Benji said while Mac nodded at his mom. Hazel smiled while she opened her door to get her kids out of the car. She was glad her kids listened well to her. She was proud of Nick and herself in raising such fine boys, even when they were only 4 years old.

When inside, Hazel picked up Benji first to put him in the shopping cart, Mac followed. “Okay, I will put items around you, I don’t want you to play with them unless I say so and if you throw something out of the cart, I will take you out and you can walk next to me, okay?” She asked her boys again. The kids nodded. “Okay then let’s start shopping” Hazel said, taking a grocery list out of her purse.

“Mommy, mommy, you can’t forget the cake mommy” Benji said, pointing at a birthday cake when they pass the bakery aisle. Hazel laughed: “why would we need a cake Benji” “for daddy and Uncle Rex, mommy. You said celebating and celebating means cake” the 4 year old explained to his mom. Hazel laughed once again at the mispronunciation of her son. “You are absolutely right Benji” she agrees. “But we are not celebrating a birthday, so let’s get this brownie cake, it’s dads favorite.” “I like brownies too mommy” Mac said proudly. “I know sweetie” she said while placing the cake next to Mac.

The small family keeps shopping, not knowing a familiar person stood frozen from afar, following the family with her eyes while holding a watermelon in her hands. No, it couldn’t be. The woman was hallucinating, she didn’t just see her daughter walk into the store with 2 kids. She didn’t just hear both kids call her daughter mommy. That woman couldn’t be an older version of her daughter. Quinn stood frozen for another 5 minutes before placing the watermelon back and starts walking around the store. Not caring she left her shopping cart behind. She only need to see the woman again to make sure she didn’t see her daughter.

After passing the fourth aisle Quinn freezes once again. She could hear a laugh coming from an aisle further. A laugh only a young boy could make. And then she hears a woman’s laugh. A laugh Quinn knew all too well. That laugh belonged to her daughter. Slowly she walking towards the aisle, hiding behind the closed samples bars, standing next to the rows of cereals, she looked into the aisle.

There stood her daughter once again, holding up one of her kids to pick small cereal box from the top shelf. The boy she was holding had his tongue stuck out, focussing on completing his task of picking the box. Quinn’s eyes follows the laughing sounds and land on the boy in the shopping cart. He was laughing at his brother. Than she heard her daughter laughs again and her eyes wander back towards the woman. She has grown so much. She turned from a pretty teenage girl to a stunning young woman. She became a mother, and from what Quinn could see, her daughter became a great mother too.

Quinn got tears in her eyes. How she missed her daughter so much. Like her husband, she never forgave herself for putting her trough what she put her through. She felt guilty of what she did. She thought back to her own pregnancies. How difficult they were for her, the morningsickness that lasted for months, the moodswings that made her lash out on Jake, even though he hadn’t done anything, the midnight cravings where Jake had to leave to the midnight store to get the exact right food for her. the constant back pains and food cramps that went so intense she sometimes cried herself to sleep too. And that was only with one child. She couldn’t imagine what she had to go through with two kids at once. Quinn knew she was taking care for by Nick. She knew Nick treats her right before, during and after the pregnancy.

The boy completed his mission and got the cereal box from the top shelf. His brother cheered while Hazel put the boy back in the cart. “Great job Mac” she said kissing the young boy on his forhead. “You will get the next ingredient from the shelf Benji” she told the other kid, who smiled at her.

Quinn froze for a third time in those 20 minutes that passed by. Benji and Mac, the twins names were names Hazel and Nick were very open about naming their children. Quinn can still remember the first time she heard the name Benji come from her daughters mounth.

A newly 7 year old Hazel was opening a birthday from her grandparents. Her whole family was standing around her, watching the young girls smile. She gasped before showing the present to her parents. “Look mommy, daddy, it’s a baby doll” she said, holding the doll in her hands like she seen her mom do with Benjamin when he was born. “I see sweetie, what is their name?” Jake had asked his daughter. Hazel put up her thinking face, which had made the family laugh. “I know!” She said excited. “I’m gonna name them Benji, like Benjamin. That way, I will have my own Benjamin” she explained to her parents. Years later, Hazel kept saying she would call her firstborn baby boy Benji. No one thought she would keep that promise.

A couple of years later Quinn heard the second name pass by. Nicks kitchen was being renovated. Meaning Nick couldn’t concentrate one bit on his homework. Jake and Quinn let Nick use their kitchen table to study at when the library was closed. One day Nick was doing some Science homework when Jake noticed an egg with a face drawn on sitting on the table. “Why is there an egg on the table and why does it have a face?” He asked the room. Quinn was preparing for dinner, while Bradley was waiting for Nick to finish his homework to take him home. “Oh that’s Mac” Nick had answered. “It’s this thing we need to do for school. You need to look after an egg and the persons egg who can survive the longest can win something” he explained. “Mac? You give it a name?” Bradley laughed at his son. Nick laughed akwardly. “Yeah we had to give a name to make the experience real or something. I thought Mac was a cool name. Who know I can name my future child that” he laughed.

Quinn laughed at the memory. Of course Nicolas Peter Bradshaw would name his kid after an egg project from school. She decided to leave the young family alone. She didn’t want to make a scene and didn’t know how her daughter would react to seeing her mother after 5 years. Quinn turned around, ready to look for her shopping cart when she bumped into an other customer, making their shopping cart to flip over. Hazel looked over at the noice, only for her to freeze this time. Quinn stood with her back to Hazel, but she can hear the shock in her voice when one word came out of her mounth: “mom?”

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