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“You don’t have a choice to quit this,” Roger, with his little sympathise and tunnel vision, reminded you. “You don’t get to leave this until those bastards are behind bars, and we’ve put too much work into this to have you throw it all away now.”

Watch me lol 👀

“You’re okay,” It was two simple words, but the lies that read between the lines were big enough to make them seem like a whole novel of untruthful affirmations. “You’re okay,” Again you repeated the same two words as you unpacked your groceries. “You’re okay.” Hoping that if you said them enough……You’d hopefully start to believe them.

🥺🥺🥺

“What's a guy gotta do to get you to handle him like that lemon?” Trust Jake to lead with the unorthodox hello. When you looked up and met your gaze, you knew you were in deep water. The smile that smeared itself across your face was as genuine as it could ever be. “I didn’t know you were into knife play Seresin?” You saw the way Jake's eyes slightly widened with promiscuous enlightenment at your reply.

Oh he did not expect that answer 🤭

“Yes ma’am, and to see the pretty barkeep,” Jake replied as he sat down on one of the empty barstools. He looked far too handsome in his flight suit, but you’d never tell him that. His ego was already inflated enough. “Penny! Hangman here to see you!”

Haha great response 😅

“Nope, just you.” It was quiet, a little more serious with an underlying sense of admiration. Jake meant it, he thought you were gorgeous. From the moment he first met you, he saw all the beauty and grace that seamlessly radiated from your aura. “I think you’re beautiful, Brewer.”

🥰🥰🥰

“That it won’t get me anywhere–” Jake grinned, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “But if I remember correctly, it did.” The sensation of having Jake’s lips pressed against yours came flooding back as the heat in your cheeks rose. “Let me take you out to dinner?”

I mean he is not wrong, it worked before so of course he will try it again 🤭😏

Jake sat there momentarily, just drinking in the sight of the woman who had slowly become his favourite person to be around. This was his favourite part of the entire day. Getting to come to the Hard Deck, sit on his stool by the bar and talk to you. He thought about you all day long. About all the ways you did our hair and those mom jeans that hugged your waist just right. He’d catch himself thinking about the way you humbly count your tips at the end of each night, or the way you laugh with Fanboy over the most insane things. He would often daydream about your smile, your eyes, and your ability to captivate the entire bar.

He really is a simp (I love it)

“Yeah, start a table angel, gives me more of an excuse to linger,” Jake replied with a genuine smile, his eyes were soft and swirling with ease. He’d never felt this way about a woman before. You gentled him to a point where if you asked him tomorrow to run away with you, he’d follow you to the end of the world.

Oh he sure would, he would probably be like: I have my bags ready, where should I drive?

“I’m sure that’s called stalking–” You sighed as you turned around momentarily to pick up your knife and head back to cutting your lemon slices. “Consider me your biggest fan then, Brewer.”

Oh Jake is gonna disputed Mickey’s call sign if he keeps it up like that 🤭

“Lord help the man who ends up under your control,” Bradley rolled his eyes with a deep resentment you couldn't quite understand.

Ok rude mister I wear sunglasses inside the bar

“No, you can’t just pause, because in real life the trauma doesn’t just stop,” You broke as you spun around into Jake’s chest. He was quick to look around as people from all walks of life looked around to bear witness to your impending mental breakdown. He caught Bradley’s gaze before anyone else's. Even the man who had unintentionally started a war with the new Hard Deck manager was worried about you.

🥺🥺🥺

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter Four: [Like Father, Like Daughter]

Summary: You receive news from your case worker about a family member, its sends you into a spiral. Bob is awol from the Hard Deck and Jake is constantly up to his old tricks.

Warnings: Death, mentions of witness protection. Jake Seresin x F!reader

Word Count: 3k

Author Note: Been trucking along at this series. Really trying to spend a little time each day writing a few paragraphs for some projects. And I really do LOVE these two.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Throughout history, there has always been a superstition that expands across many belief systems. Mirrors can be seen as a portal to another dimension; the reflection staring back at you is another version of yourself. Another version of you from another timeline or realm.

If that were true, you’d give anything to trade places with the reflection staring back at you as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the small hallway mirror that hung for aesthetics.

“What do you mean?” Your voice shook with confusion, this couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. “Roger, what the fuck do you mean my dad died?”

Roger Spague was your case agent. He had been assigned your case right after the funerals of your husband and son. Soon after everything occurred, you were encouraged to enter witness protection to safeguard your testimony. As the only witness who could help bring the men who murdered your family and organised a multilevel drug syndicate to justice, your word was more valuable than gold itself.

“We couldn’t tell you,” Roger has always been a rather hard nut to crack. He took no bullshit and smiled very rarely. He saw the world for black and white more than he ever did grey. Morals were good or bad, nothing could be in between. “He, unfortunately, passed away a month ago, we’ve been informed of the burial site, Hollow Hills. However, we really advise against you visiting anytime soon,” Rogers’s monotone voice echoed in your head as you struggled to hold your composure.

“Why? Why would I not run out this door right now to visit my father’s fucking grave you asshole!” You hissed into the phone. Surely this was all some sick joke or a nightmare that never ended. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe properly. You were almost certain your heart was breaking apart yet again. The shattering pieces would surely slice into your arteries, causing you the bleed out and be at peace with the pain you’d carried for over three years.

“Because they could be monitoring the site, do you really want to risk everything you’ve worked so hard to protect?” Roger reminded you through the phone. At this stage, you were sure that all the tears you’d cried over the years had permanently stained your cheeks. Maybe one day you’d wake up with no more tears left to cry.

“Roger–” You sobbed as you made your way into your bedroom. You slumped onto the side and crumpled in on yourself. The only support system keeping you up was your elbows digging into your knees “I can’t do this anymore.”

“You don’t have a choice to quit this,” Roger, with his little sympathise and tunnel vision, reminded you. “You don’t get to leave this until those bastards are behind bars, and we’ve put too much work into this to have you throw it all away now.”

“But he’s my dad,” You never got to say goodbye. You never got to tell him how much you loved him, how much you still and always will. You never got to hold your mother or comfort your sister. Everything you’d missed, everything you’d sacrificed was starting to outway the idea, the pipe dream of justice. You were, at the very basic explanation, tired of this life. “I need to visit his grave.”

“Not until we know for certain that there isn’t anyone monitoring his grave just waiting for you to show up.” The reality was hard to accept, you didn’t want to accept it. But the fact of the matter was, that you have just lost another member of your family, and there was absolutely nothing you could do to help yourself forgive that loss.

“Fuck you,” You spat as tears spilled over your lower lash line. “Fuck you and fuck all of this do you hear me?”

“No skin off my nose there, just remember why you’re doing this, who you’re doing this for, Y/n.” Just hearing your real name, and hearing those syllables leave someone’s mouth made you feel real. That you were still a real person with real emotions and valid feelings. “Remember what’s a stake here, they get the chance to kill you now? Then what’s all this been for?”

“I hate you–” Was all you were able to get out before you broke down completely, deciding that the floor was the best place to be. You hung up the phone and made sure to throw it as far away as you possibly could.

The carpet soaked up as many tears as possible before you fell asleep crying, sobbing until your eyes could no longer remain open and a steady rhythm took over in your chest. Sleep….it never came easy, but you needed it.

By the time you slowly opened your eyes again, the sun had risen higher in the sky and the ice cream you’d brought in your weekly shop was melted into a puddle of liquid. You knew as you slowly peeled yourself off the carpet that you had to get yourself together before you lost the plot. So you trailed out into the hallway and made your way back to the kitchen to put away your groceries. The bags still sat where you and Jake had left them on the island bench.

“You’re okay,” It was two simple words, but the lies that read between the lines were big enough to make them seem like a whole novel of untruthful affirmations. “You’re okay,” Again you repeated the same two words as you unpacked your groceries. “You’re okay.” Hoping that if you said them enough……

You’d hopefully start to believe them.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Cutting lemons was one of those mundane tasks you actually enjoyed. It gave you something to do while zoning out. You’d only been at work for roughly an hour before the patrons started to pile in after work. Naval men and women from all walks of life all heading to the local watering hole. It wasn't too long after you started on your fourth lemon that Jake made his appearance in your peripheral vision. There was no doubt that his proximity to you was the cause behind your palpitations.

Jake stood on the other side of the bar, smiling his signature shit-eating grin at you while he watched your knife skills.

“What's a guy gotta do to get you to handle him like that lemon?” Trust Jake to lead with the unorthodox hello. When you looked up and met your gaze, you knew you were in deep water. The smile that smeared itself across your face was as genuine as it could ever be.

“I didn’t know you were into knife play Seresin?” You saw the way Jake's eyes slightly widened with promiscuous enlightenment at your reply. “You just after the usual?” You asked as you placed the knife you’d been using into the sink.

“Yes ma’am, and to see the pretty barkeep,” Jake replied as he sat down on one of the empty barstools. He looked far too handsome in his flight suit, but you’d never tell him that. His ego was already inflated enough.

“Penny! Hangman here to see you!” You called out as you washed your hands from all the lemon juice. Jake wouldn’t deny it if you asked that his eyes had dropped from looking at your hair to your ass as you turned around briefly to dry them on the rag that sat nearby.

“I was talking about you–” He smiled as you turned back around to face him. His elbows were resting against the top of the bar, casually, like he was truly at home.

“Bet you say that to all the ladies–” You added as you picked up a glass, going about making Jake his usual order.

“Nope, just you.” It was quiet, a little more serious with an underlying sense of admiration. Jake meant it, he thought you were gorgeous. From the moment he first met you, he saw all the beauty and grace that seamlessly radiated from your aura. “I think you’re beautiful, Brewer.”

Jake's complement knocked the wind from your lungs as you held the glass at an angle and watched the amber liquid pool at the bottom. Slowly but surely filling the glass to the top with a perfect head of froth.

“What did I tell you about flattery?” You sighed as you placed the beer down in front of the aviator who was slowly capturing your whole heart in the palm of his hands. Completely unaware that he was falling in love with a complete stranger.

“That it won’t get me anywhere–” Jake grinned, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “But if I remember correctly, it did.” The sensation of having Jake’s lips pressed against yours came flooding back as the heat in your cheeks rose. “Let me take you out to dinner?”

“Jake,” You had to sigh. “Not this again?” Playing a little hard to get wouldn’t hurt the man, would it?

“Or come over to mine then?” Jake proposed with a cheeky Serein grin you assumed he got from his mother.

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled as you let your hands rest on your bar, leaning in a little closer to Jake. “So I can contract whatever deceases you’re harbouring in that petri dish of a bachelor pad?” Jake pretended to be wounded as he placed a hand over his chest at your remark. You shook your head as you let out a small laugh. “I don’t think so, Seresin, but I’ll give you points for trying.”

Jake sat there momentarily, just drinking in the sight of the woman who had slowly become his favourite person to be around. This was his favourite part of the entire day. Getting to come to the Hard Deck, sit on his stool by the bar and talk to you. He thought about you all day long. About all the ways you did our hair and those mom jeans that hugged your waist just right. He’d catch himself thinking about the way you humbly count your tips at the end of each night, or the way you laugh with Fanboy over the most insane things. He would often daydream about your smile, your eyes, and your ability to captivate the entire bar.

“Fine,” Jake knocked his knuckles on the wood of the bar as he rose to his feet once again. “Suit yourself, but just for the record, I like my bachelor pad very much.” For as much as Jake truly did love his quick, tidy and rather put-together home, he sure wouldn’t have minded the slightest bit if you lived there too.

“I think the local community of gonorrhoea would say the same.” You took the card Jake was handing over. “Starting a tab?”

“Depends, what’s Bradshaws looking like?” Jake was always the first to add an extra beer or three onto Bradley’s outstanding tab. You were always the first person to turn a blind eye then doing so. As you looked up Roosters name in the system the number was much higher than you originally expected. It seemed as though the boys had well and truly been taking advantage of Rooster’s current love-hate relationship with the Hard Deck barkeep.

“Eh, he owes me a couple hundred.” You smiled softly back at Jake as you placed his card in the draw.

“Yeah, start a table angel, gives me more of an excuse to linger,” Jake replied with a genuine smile, his eyes were soft and swirling with ease. He’d never felt this way about a woman before. You gentled him to a point where if you asked him tomorrow to run away with you, he’d follow you to the end of the world.

“I’m sure that’s called stalking–” You sighed as you turned around momentarily to pick up your knife and head back to cutting your lemon slices.

“Consider me your biggest fan then, Brewer.” Jake grinned ear to ear as he took a sip of his beer, heading off toward the pool table where you knew he’d be for the next few hours.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The Hard Deck was rather busy for a Monday afternoon. The bar was in high spirits as you manoeuvred yourself around the floor collecting empty glasses and cans. You could feel Jake’s eyes burning into you as you spoke to patrons and cleaned up tables. But there was one person you hadn’t seen yet that you needed to talk to desperately. Bob.

“Where’s our resident underage drinker this evening gentlemen?” You cooed as you made your way over to your favourite group of aviators. “And Nix.” You added as you gave Phoenix a side hug.

“Haven’t seen him actually?” Fanboy replied, his answer wasn’t one you wanted to hear. Usually, if someone wasn’t here by this time of the night then they weren’t coming at all. You really needed to speak to Bob.

“Do you think he'll be in?” You questioned as you let go of Phoenix and went about collecting empty glasses. You knew Bob had annual leave coming up, he'd been talking about it for weeks now.

“Why the sudden obsession with Bob, Brewer?” Rooster chimed in. “You guys on the down low or something?” That very question had Jake's blood boiling. You could see the jealousy clear as day smeared across his face from across the pool table.

“I’m uh—” It came out before you knew what you were saying. “I'm seeing someone, casually, it's really new.” Your eyes very quickly glanced over at Jake who now wore that same smug grin that he normally wore. Only this time his eyes were swirling with administration. “It's not Bob, but I appreciate your interest in my love life, Bradshaw.”

“Lord help the man who ends up under your control,” Bradley rolled his eyes with a deep resentment you couldn't quite understand. The feud between the pain of you was something that formed from a mere misunderstanding. Surely the two of you could let bygones be bygones and move on.

“An apology will wipe that ever-mounting tab clear Bradshaw, you know that.” You teased as you made your way back to the bar. You could feel the back of your throat growing tighter, and the sting of holding back tears that had become an all too familiar sensation began to grow. You couldn’t keep yourself busy enough to forget your dad was dead and no one, not a single soul had told you of his passing until he was six feet under. No amount of work could keep your mind from trailing to all the memories that played aloud in your mind, drowning out the mundane chatter from patrons.

“Can I get another beer sweetheart?” You hear one of the men say as he held his head up with the palm of his hand. He was using his elbow as an anchor, keeping him from slumping over onto the bar.

“Sure, what are you drinking?” You facked a smile so easily readable that Jake saw right through it from across the Hard Deck. He could sense that you were off, something wasn’t right. One minute you were happy, the next he didn't recognise the look in your eyes.

“Whatever you don’t mind tasting after you finish your shift.” The man said with the confidence of a much taller man. It made the damn burst inside you. Fuck this and fuck everything.

“Careful, the succulent reminder of your own inadequacies walking this way might cause a scene real quick if you don’t back off.” The problem was simple, you’re doing it all on your own. Choosing to stay all closeted in your own little bubble, longing for love, friends and family. Scared of death, scared of life, taking it out on those who tried to get close. But as Jake walked towards the bar, you felt like you could rely on him. He made you feel safe even if being around you put him in unimaginable danger. “That’s what I thought too.” You chuckled to yourself as the man nodded and sighed.

“You good?” Jake asked as he decided against following the first of many of Penny’s rules for the residence group of aviators. Mavericks rag-tag team of adopted children. The first and most important being no aviators behind the bar. Jake, however, didn’t care.

“I feel like I’m rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic here,” You growled as you poured the man his beer. The last one you were going to pour him for the night. “My life is falling apart around me and here I fucking am pouring beers for America’s best and brightest tax-guzzling fighter pilots.”

Jake could very much sense that something was wrong, this wasn’t like you. He thought, however, since your shared moment in your apartment yesterday, that he had some sort of upper hand here over all the others.

“You need to take a break, just pause for a second.” Jake placed his hand softly on your shoulder as he stood behind you. Whatever was going on inside your head was bleeding out into reality.

The feeling broke you. Jake’s touch, it wasn’t your husband’s. The man you got killed. It was Jake’s touch that broke you from whatever restraints you had tangled yourself in. The barbed wire that cut you right to your bones.

“No, you can’t just pause, because in real life the trauma doesn’t just stop,” You broke as you spun around into Jake’s chest. He was quick to look around as people from all walks of life looked around to bear witness to your impending mental breakdown. He caught Bradley’s gaze before anyone else's. Even the man who had unintentionally started a war with the new Hard Deck manager was worried about you.

“Penny–” Jake sighed as he looked over at the woman who still ran the show from behind the scenes. She nodded in agreement, a silent one. One where it was now Jake’s responsibility to get you out of the Hard Deck before you could draw any more attention to yourself.

“Let's go outside alright? Get some air–?” Jake tried to reason with you as you shook your head and balled your fist into his white cotton T. Your eyes swirled with a pain he’d never be able to process. A pain so unfathomable it sounded fictional.

“God doesn’t work that way or whoever the fucks in charge of this godforsaken hell I’m living!! You can do absolutely everything right and still…. Good, people, die.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

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