the way bobby is so hot and doesn’t know it,,, the “oh yeah” and teasing him back making him stutter IM KICKING MY FEET!!!!! he’d be such a blushy mess whenever you call him pretty baby 🥺
im telling u…it’s something about shy men who don’t know they’re hot that just 😁 anyways here’s olympic swimmer bob getting shy for you
“This isn’t fair,” you draft a sigh, holding onto each end of the towel hanging around Bob’s neck.
Sitting on the plastic bench, the athlete only gives you a curious smile and gently curls his large hands around the back of your thighs, inviting you to stand in the space he’s made between his legs.
“What’s not fair?” He hums lowly, running his palms up and down the skin of your legs soothingly.
Another dramatic sigh slips when you notice that the blue hue in his eyes sparkles even brighter than the reflective surface of the pool behind him.
While your giant puppy of a boyfriend couldn’t fully understand why girls would yank at each other's hair to catch his attention—you understood them more than anyone.
Once, you even found yourself wanting to join in on the skirmish when they screamt because he was looking in your direction when you used to sit amongst them in the stands.
You two haven’t even been dating at that point, which only made you want him more back then. It’s a good thing that you have your own reserved spot on the bleachers now.
“Champ,” he laughs at the wistful look on your face, slightly tempted to kiss away your pout. “What’s not fair?” He sweetly prompts you again, pinching the flesh of your thigh instead.
Unintentionally, you start a study of his face, heart dully throbbing in your chest whenever your eyes land on another feature that makes him look so effortless.
There’s no way you weren’t dating a Greek God pretending to be an olympic swimmer to live out normalcy. The crows feet resting by the soft curl of his lashes can’t belong to a human. He’s not real. He can’t be.
“S’not fair that someone could look this good soaking wet.” Too caught in a trance by the delicate chisel of his jaw, the words tumble out your mouth without shame.
“Actually, I know someone who,” he starts, tongue lined with a dirty joke.
Bob barely gets the chance to throw it out, because you’re cutting him off through your haze.
“You’re so pretty, baby,” you finally confess, the iris of your eyes contorted into the shape of a heart.
After getting no answer from him, you snap out of it, hands dropping from his towel and the imaginary cupid’s arrow disappearing from your butt.
“Bobby? Are you oka—,” you stop to guffaw at how pink his entire body went. “You look like—like a tomato!” You say through a sputter of laughter, anchoring your hands onto his bare shoulders for support.
In front of you, Bob can't even bring himself to say a word while you catch your breath.
It’s nearly impossible to hide what your compliment does to him. Because it does a lot. Probably more than his body can physically take. With the amount of adrenaline rushing through his veins, he can probably dive back in and do another 200m swim.
In a desperate attempt to hide himself, Bob grabs your waist, stuffing his flushed face into your stomach. “Stop, please,” he whines into you.
Looking down at the top of his head, you massage his red shoulders.
“You’re pretty,” you repeat, wide grin stretched onto your face.
“Champ seriously, I—I can’t. stop.”
It’s reassuring to say the least, that you’re the only girl who could have the famous swimmer blushing like this.
TEAM TRIPS WAHHHH those late night bus rides where everyone is quietly content for the day, saving a spot for you to sit next to him, sharing earbuds and falling asleep on his shoulder as the bus lights dim..... this is so not specifically personal to me or anything........... i think this series might kill me
ok i just needed to write a drabble for this bc this is so cute. i accidentally left out the headphone sharing part but..
“What the hell are you doing?” From the corner of his eye, Jake catches your twitching hand making its way onto his thigh.
The dimmer it got outside, the closer you’ve been scooting over the line separating your seats—and the closer your hand has been inching towards his own. If it was Bradley doing this, Jake would tell him to shove off and go sit with the coach’s daughter. But three hours into the drive to the hotel, he’d already done that.
And if he were to push you away, that would only add on to his teammates’ ongoing joke that he only makes you unhappy when he’s near you.
She looks like she’s about to shit herself when she sees you. Notice how she stops smiling when she sees your ugly frown. Seresin the smile stealer.
Finally, the shock registers in your brain that your pinky is on his leg. On the leg of the guy you had a pathetic crush on, to the point that you’d been trying to simmer your laughter around him, because you overheard him complain that Bradshaw’s laughter was the worst thing he’s ever heard.
Mortified, you jolt a safe three inches away from him, maintaining the original gap left between you two. “‘M sorry. I just—I’m scared of the dark. And the bus driver…shut off the aisle lights,” you meekly explain, embarrassment pumping your unsteady heartbeat.
Then it’s quiet again as you drill your eyes into the headrest of the seat in front of you. The only sound that catches your ear is a calm blend of everyone’s soft snoring around you and a faint rustling from your new seat partner.
Suddenly, the side of Jake’s thigh is pressed against yours again, blanketing the left side of your body in a strangely comforting warmth that diffuses through you. Because he—because Jake Seresin moved closer to you.
Jake Seresin. Closer. To. You.
Eyes stretched like saucers, you snap your head in his direction but he’s already steered his attention to look out the window.
“I just asked what you were doing. I didn’t tell you to move,” he says plainly, extending his arm to grab your hand.
“If you were scared, you coulda’ just said so,” he whispers through pursed lips, moving your entwined hands into his lap.
All you can do is stare at him in awe, appreciation knocking over the back of your head like a wave. This was the same Jake Seresin that hated the way other people’s skin felt on his. This was the same Jake Seresin that you fought the urge to smile around because you liked him so much.
At that, you’re driven to snuggle into his side—and oddly enough, he lets you.
And maybe it’s just your blissful imagination, but you feel him stroke your knuckles with his large thumb when you press a cheek to his chest.
“I knew you were nice,” you finally giggle, forgetting your self-reminders to not do that.
Lifting your head against his team hoodie, your eyes glitter when you catch the corner of his lips twitch into a smile.
“Took you that long to figure it out, Giggles? Maybe if you weren’t frowning so much I’d get a chance to ask you out.”
Jake tilts his head to look at the fluster on your face, biting his lip to stifle his amusement.
“Yes—I yes. If you’re asking me out, yes,” you blurt, a little too loudly.
Jake nods at you in confirmation, letting himself finally smile at you.
Embarrassed, you clear your throat, face hot at the sudden realization that you didn’t have to try so hard to make him like you this whole time.
“Can I….hang out with you tonight? When we get to the hotel? Bradley keeps comin’ into the girl’s room because—” You cut yourself off with a yawn, stirred by a sudden spell of sleepiness from how warm Jake is.
“Mm, I dunno,” he pretends to mull over the idea, not caring enough to lower his voice for the sake of his snoring team.
“If you wanna hang with me all night, you gotta sleep baby,” he offers, grinning when he feels you squeeze his hand at the pet name.
“I–I can sleep. I’ll sleep right now,” you quickly answer, scrambling in your seat to pull closer to him.
At this point, the interior of the bus is coated in noticeable darkness because the sun had just set. Though, you barely notice it—as your fear of the dark recedes to the back of your mind.
You're fully focused on the fact that Jake lets you cuddle him for the rest of the ride.
fake it is my bread and butter I’m in love thank u. I feel like reader is going to start pulling away. OMG WHAT IF jake kissed the reader in front of a bunch of people when he was beyond drunk or did something that made the reader embarrassed and uncomfortable so she isn’t talking to him and jake pleads for her forgiveness and it’s angsty and fluffy
note: okay i don't really know what this was but i'm just happy i was able to finally write something honestly, anyways here is more jake and princess until i pull myself together to work on the next chapter </3
warnings: mentions of drinking, insecurities.
If you were merely a book, you’d be a forgotten composition of bounded paper, quietly collecting dust on the unreachable bay of a shelf inside a fading bookstore—barely visited by anyone but the owners themselves.
And Jake would be the first person to ever be drawn in by you, setting off the soft chime of the entrance, walking right up to the shelf you sat on, extending himself to gently pluck you from the rotting oak that previously held you upright, and take you home with him.
When it’s finally just you two surrounded by the shrouding walls of his bedroom, Jake would slowly run his calloused finger down your uncracked leathered spine to ease you open, gaining your trust. Eventually, your pages would unfurl themselves to him—revealing stories that breathed life into your biggest aspirations and smallest insecurities, laid bare for his naked eyes to see.
And Jake would read those inked lines, over and over again until he could recite your contents in his sleep, until his heart filled with fondness when he thought of you, until you became his favorite piece of literature.
That’s how you’d like to think of your relationship with Jake, anyway. You were something that existed solely for his mind to study, for him to understand. No one else.
Jake would never return you back to that shop, Jake would never make you feel a semblance of regret for opening up to him, Jake would never laugh at things that would wear down your stitched pages.
Oh, but he did, right in your face too.
The moment Jake’s drunk laugh spilled out his chest at Jeremy Duncan’s sloppy joke about you being so quiet he forgot you were there—it was like you entrusted a stranger to hold your red solo cup.
The same lips that read over your fear about feeling invisible, were the same ones that curled into a smile when a jab was made at you.
Rather than facing that reality head on, you glued back shut, reverting back to that lonely collection of narratives that you didn’t let anyone read. But this time, you couldn’t go running back to that high shelf that hid you away—all you could do was slowly withdraw from the person who took you off of it.
Jake knew you needed solitude at times, and he respected that, it was how you recharged your energy after any social event.
So, for the last few days he let you do just that. He let you wordlessly walk past him when he tried to reach out for you to join him on the couch. He let you say less and less to him when he just wanted to hear your voice over dinner, afraid he might forget how it sounded. He let you sneak out earlier each day, just so you could avoid walking to class with him.
He let you do all of that, suppressing his slight worry—until he picked up on how you would nervously stand outside his door at random points in the night, only to eventually go back to your own room. And to make matters worse, if Jake hadn’t been staying up late, racking his brain about you rather than sleeping, he wouldn’t have even noticed that you started to do that.
Jake knew you needed solitude at times, but he also knew that something was wrong.
So, that’s when he decided to stop letting you walk away from him, because it was starting to plague him with concern at this point.
But, when Jake weakly trailed past your door frame, and kneeled at your seated figure at the corner of your bed, you flinched when he instinctively extended his hands to hold yours.
Refusing to meet his stare, you miss the subtle traces of disappointment that flit across his features.
“You..don’t want me touching you?” Jake’s quiet voice is colored by hurt, hands cautiously dropping to fiddle with the cuffs of your loose sweatpants instead. You at least let him do that, because it keeps him at a distance, because the fabric he’s gently playing with acts as a safeguard between you and him.
Gaze casted down into your lap, you reverently shake your head. “No, Jake,” you refuse him, your own strained voice mirroring his own.
If you were merely a book, he’d laugh at the way you awkwardly sat, he’d playfully bump shoulders with the same people who looked through you like you weren’t there.
With that, he feels an unsettling guilt well up inside his stomach, rising up to his throat like bile. “Okay, I see. Will you tell me what I did wrong then?” Jake sucks in deep breath, only releasing it when he sees you let out a somewhat steady breath for yourself.
Even when a burn spreads through his lungs for what feels like a full minute, he still doesn’t feel deserving when he goes to cool it, not when you probably don’t think he’s deserving of it either.
“No, Jake,” you reinforce, shoulders beginning to tremble from the pressure of refusing him, from the pressure of closing yourself back up.
If you were merely a book, you wouldn’t let him take you into his careful hands, he’d only read your unshared secrets to the world.
For Jake, it feels almost sinful to hold himself back from soothing his palms over your shaking body. His fingers clutch the ankles of your pants tighter, a desperate bid for solace. “Please, talk to me princess,” he helplessly begs, not knowing what else to do with himself. “You won’t even come into my room.”
“No, Jake,” you repeat, unaware of the tear that glides down your cheek. “You laughed, when Jeremy said I was practically invisible. You laughed at me.” The crack of your spine urges you to stay resilient like you did before, but the crack of your spine can’t help how much it aches for him to gently coax it again.
Jake stills as realization washes down on him, chest unwinding at your explanation.
If you were merely a book, you would want to be perched on that shelving unit. You don’t need Jake to be drawn in by what your pages held, you don’t need him to not feel put off by the plain cover that held you together. You don’t need—
Without a warning, Jake scoops you up from where you’re sitting, forcing you to encircle your legs around his middle as he leads you into the threshold of his room.
“I laughed because I thought it was the stupidest shit I ever heard,” he carefully explains, keeping you in lap as he goes to sit on his sheets. “You’re funny if you think I didn’t tell him off the morning after,” he continues, recounting the string of threats that fell off his tongue when found Jeremy after class.
When you finally look at him, cheeks sticky from streaky tears and waterlogged lashes fluttering at him, Jake feels his heart swell in his chest. Naturally, he goes to playfully tousle your hair, gently, mindful of the migraine that tends to follow after your crying.
If you were merely a book, he would have corners of the most important pages gently folded in, ingraining each word and punctuation mark that made you vulnerable into his memory.
“Jake, what would you do if I was a book?” You ask through a weak smile, heart gently throbbing as you notice the tenderness reflected in his eyes.
Smoothing down the hair he’s ruffled with both hands, Jake gives your question some thought. “Is this one of those, would you love me if I was a worm kinda questions?”
Clutching the hems of his shirt between your hands for solace, you nod at him, waiting for one of those lighthearted responses he always gives you.
But sensing that you’d want a genuine answer instead, Jake gives you just that.
“If you were a book,” he starts, brushing strands of hair behind your ears. “I would never get sick of reading you princess. Think you’d be my favorite,” and he means it.
okay, how about fake it, a trip to the beach/pool with Jake?
“This is the first time a girl complained underneath me.” Jake says sarcastically, face stuffed into the crook of your neck and sun beating down on his sun-screened back.
Sandwiched between a striped beach towel and Jake’s tanned body, you fight the urge to just turn your head and bite his ear off. The same stupid ear that wasn’t in full attention when you told him that he was in charge of bringing the umbrella.
“I can't believe you forgot to bring the one thing we needed,” you angrily mumble, instead.
You blow air through your nose. “If you weren’t so busy trying to find our matching bathing suits, which we didn’t need to wear, then maybe I could be hiding from the sun under a nice umbrella and not you.”
Readjusting himself, Jake lifts his grinning mouth up to your ear.
“Do you always talk this much when a guy is on top of you? I can do a thing or two and shut you right up, Princess,” he crudely whispers, clearly aiming to get a reaction out of you.
Too annoyed to realize that—you give into what he wants.
“I’m so telling your mom you said that!” You shriek at the vulgar implication.
With your hands wrapped around his middle, you pinch the skin of his sides but he laughs instead of winces at your offense.
Jake slightly shifts from above you as his laughter simmers down and suddenly, you feel something firm sitting in the pocket of his shorts against you when he comes to a still.
“You’re so—what is in your swim trunks?” You manage to wriggle underneath him, your inner thigh brushing against the mysterious object again.
“It’s uh, kinda poking me. Did you leave the sunscreen bottle in your pocket?” You add on, brows pinched together, trying to recall where he put Banana Boat sunblock after slathering you both in it.
Jake freezes, contemplating his entire life leading up to this moment.
Slowly, realization dawns on you at his odd silence. “Jake that’s not…it’s not what I think it is right?”
“It’s not—,” he rushes to defend himself. “Princess I swear on that dead hamster we had, it’s the fuckin’ sunscreen, okay.”
Laughing awkwardly, you both tighten your grip around each other, choosing to believe his clear lie.
I’ve genuinely been thinking about Olympic Swimmer! Bradley all week and it was such a nice surprise to see a new fic 🥰 Could I please ask what you think the Swimmer lads love languages are? I just find that they’re a nice little insight to the relationships! No worries if not :)
no!! i love this so much. ok this turned out so long but i love doing character analysis
bradley: physical touch
this was kind of a given tbh. bradley has always been touchy, there’s never a moment where his arms isn’t hung around his teammates. with bubbles though, he just needs to have his hands on you. even when he’s talking to other swimmers at the olympics or chatting up with other coaches, bradley would have his hand underneath your shirt to rub your back or he’ll be massaging your shoulder. the long bus rides to swim meets or hotels though? you’re being put in his lap and he will be holding onto you like you’re a stuffed animal the entire time
jake: quality time
for most of his life jake has been on teams, and even though he’s a man of little words he’s always secretly enjoyed being around his friends in general. surprisingly, he hates being by himself, there’s just something about the silence he doesn’t like. so, when he met giggles (who’s clingy beyond belief) it was like he found his fix. he’ll always have her around to the point that he’ll kick the other guys out of the locker rooms so she could sit in there while he gets changed. his favorite thing though, is the late night hotel adventures. he knows he has a match the next morning & he definitely knows he should be getting sleep but he stays up with her just so they can hang out in the empty lobby together while they build a lego set she bought
bob: gift giving
after every match, bob’s always received flowers or gifts as a congrats from his friends and family so that’s where his love language lies. everytime you see him, bob always has something for you. he’s the type of boyfriend to buy the most bizzare and random things in gift shops just because it reminded him of you. bob also has a list of things in his phone labeled “things my girlfriend mentioned once that i need to buy for her”. he’ll wait for the list to rack up to about 50 items and buy everything all in one go. bob is showing up at your door with a menagerie of stuffed animals you said you just needed because they were so cute and boxes full of random things you saw off tiktok that you wanted to try.
I definitely think princess is too mature to have one of her own but also imagining jealous! jake noticing a sex playlist she made or some guy shared specifically with her 😵💫
oh my god…one of half of him would be either extremely jealous while the other is wallowing on the ground but i decided to write a drabble for the first option 👍🏻
this was written at 11pm on a sunday...so haha...
It’s not that Jake was a jealous guy, but it was exactly that, Jake was too jealous for his own good. In fact, he fixated on it, stewed in his own seething bitterness, and brooded over it until it fully weathered him out.
So, when he opened his shared spotify account with you—how else was he supposed to feel when there was a liked playlist called For Cute Girl In My Class made by some idiot you’re entertaining this semester, because you’re too nice to reject him—because you won’t let Jake pick you up after class to deal with said idiot.
You warned him not to come, but the endless amount of songs hinting at the fact that he wants to basically get in your pants? Yeah, right. Jake’s just going to have to ask for forgiveness later, because he’s standing right outside your lecture room.
As if on cue, you’re walking out the doors with the smug bastard dumbly trailing behind you. Grabbing your attention, Jake yanks you by the charm of your backpack, sending you stumbling back into his chest.
Your eyes widen like saucers, registering the fear descending on Josh’s face.
“Riding slow on top of me, girl, on top of me?” Jake spitefully recites the lyric back to the pale sophomore in front of him.
All you can do is chew on your lip when Jake tucks a hand into the front pocket of your jeans, large fingers stuffing the tiny pocket of fabric to the brim. Bracing yourself, you tuck your feet between his own larger ones, knowing exactly how he looks, without even having to check.
It’s obvious in the way his voice sounds thicker, coated by venom—there’s no point in stopping him. He saw the playlist, and horrifyingly enough, it looks like he memorized all the tracks.
“Look, man. I didn’t know she had a boyfr—”
“Who’s gonna fuck you like me?” Jake cuts him off with another lyric, jaw ticked in annoyance. If it didn’t result in him getting expelled, Jake would spit right in his face. Because this was the guy that thought he had a chance with you?
“You always dedicate songs like that to girls, or what?” Jake spits, not letting the shortstack in front him get a chance to defend himself.
“Wanna know how cute she looks in a tiny little bathing suit? Yeah? Well you’re never getting the pleasure of seeing it buddy.”
“Is that right Princess? Tell him who’s seen you practically fucking naked,” Jake softly nudges the back of your knee, encouraging you to speak up. Above you, Jake tilts his head to watch the words leave your lips.
“He has.” you meekly respond, heart hammering in your chest as you lean your head back to point at Jake.
Jake lifts his dark eyes back at the idiot starting to sweat. “Now say bye to the little lady, you have manners. Don’t you?”
“I, um, Goodbye,” he follows the command, stammering as he does.
Licking over his lips in satisfaction, Jake continues. “See, ain’t that hard to be respectful.”
“So what you’re gonna do is, run your ass home–delete that god awful playlist–and make a new one for us to fuck to,” He crudely suggests, meaning it fully.
At that, Josh nods and turns around, speed-walking towards the building’s exit.
An embarrassed shriek leaves your throat when Jake finally pulls his hands from you. Flipping around, you hide your face into his chest.
“Jake, that was so horrible!” you cry out, voice muffled by his hoodie.
In response, Jake laughs, petting the back of your head to calm you down. Like nothing happened, his voice lightens up again, previous demeanor completely dropped.
“Well? I got rid of him, didn’t I?”
You nod against him, still frazzled by what happened. There’s no way you’re sitting anywhere near Josh again, not after this.
“Don’t make me listen to the playlist he’s about to make,” you beg, knowing Jake scared him hard enough to do it.
Jake clicks his tongue at you, “Oh, c’mon we gotta have a listening party. Let’s see what that fuckface thinks we would get down to.”
Tilly re: billionaire!Brad, I’m thinking of a reclusive type Brad, yknow in the style of Bruce Wayne but with a famous wife!reader maybe an actress or something else and no one knows they’re married and he’s never seen in public unless they’re seen together so people are constantly spreading dating rumors til she brings him to a red carpet with a HUGE rock on her finger 🤭🤭🤭🤭
oh my god….why do i love the idea of wife!reader being some a24 actress and when she gets caught with him everyone’s freaking out bc BRADLEY? and MARRIED? i love unsuspected couples
