Three times Jake takes on the role of your knight in shining armour. Jake Seresin x reader - I’ve imagined this in the Flyboy!universe but you don’t have to read that to read this.
College Flyboy
“12 o clock,” Jake hears you mumble into his ear as you reach up to circle your hands around his neck. Jake’s hands drop around your waist instantly, almost like a reflex as he cuts off from the conversation which he was having with the group of his teammates. They are used to it by now, Jake being distracted and dropping everything for you, so they pay him no mind, picking up easily from where he had left off.
“What am I looking at,” you can detect a current of concern, laced with a hard edge, as Jake’s eyes fan out to the background behind you, scanning over the cluster of faces in the bar to his 12 o clock direction.
“Guy in the blue shirt,” you say, hands still curled around his neck, your body taking a small shuffle until you are pressed flushed against Jake’s chest, “couldn’t shake him so I told him I had to get back to my boyfriend. Pretend, please.”
Your tone has a desperate quality to it, a sign to Jake that the blue shirt chump had been aggressive, likely he had been slimy as well.
“I got you,” Jake’s voice is almost a growl, as he catches sight of the said offender who sees you in Jake’s arm but continues to approach. He looks to be about a similar age range, but doesn’t seem to be from the same college as you both. Jake takes in the red tinge blossoming over the stranger’s cheeks, the wild look in his slightly bloodshot eyes - definitely not sober.
The stranger stops just behind you and opens his mouth to speak but is immediately cut off by Jake who simultaneously holds you tighter but doesn’t bother turning because by hell is he going to even allow the man to touch a single hair on your head. He feels your hands curl around the collar of his shirt as you turn your head to rest your cheek against his shoulder, your lips just ghosting the side of his neck. He identifies your attempt to get closer to him, to get safe, while playing into the ruse.
“Fuck off,” Jake is blunt, to the point and loud. Loud enough that it makes his teammates drop their conversation to collectively take in the sight that is unfolding. They don’t move to back Jake up because they know he’s got this, but they find themselves observing in case he does need back up. It isn’t the first time they’ve seen this happen, Jake playing the role of doting boyfriend to ward of unwanted male attention.
“Just wanted to see if she really had the boyfriend she conveniently pulled out at the last minute.”
“Seen enough?” Jake responds cooly, his gaze not leaving the other man’s. His hold on you doesn’t falter. Jake turns his head just slightly, gaze unwavering as he lets his lips brush the side of your head in an outward display of affection.
“Alright man,” the stranger holds both hands of in defeat, shrugging before walking away with an unsteady gait. His teammates resume their conversation, amused smirks on their face.
Jake doesn’t let you go until he has disappeared from sight, woven back into the crowd.
“He’s gone,” he says with a squeeze to your waist, but Jake doesn’t let go of you; not even when you unfurl your arms from around his neck. It causes you to be standing, body still flush against Jake, your hands resting lightly on his chest.
“Thank you,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to Jake’s cheek, and he finds thinking for a fleeting moment what would happen if he moved his head to capture your lips with his.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” is what Jake says before he finally lets you go.
-
Pre Flyboy
Jake hears it before he sees you. The uncomfortable fake laugh you throw out catches his attention one supermarket aisle away. It makes his brows furrow slightly and he turns on his heel to follow the sound of your voice, his search for cornstarch forgotten.
Jake’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the problem - a man standing slightly too close to you, his gaze openly dropping down to the your ass which is clad in a pair of workout tights, tracing each of your curves.
“I know a fantastic coffee place near my apartment,” he leers openly, his gaze moving up your body to meet your eyes. Jake sees you attempting to inch away.
“Hey babe, I couldn’t find the cornstarch,” is what Jake says, loudly as he is beside you in a flash, his arm coming around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side, all while placing himself as a human barrier between you and what he’s termed in his head to now be the grocery store pervert.
He sees relief in your eyes as you tuck yourself further into his hold by sliding your arm around his middle before tucking a palm into his back pocket
“You can never find the cornstarch,” is what Jake hears you say with a laugh as you look at him through your lashes with a look thats bordering on smitten - staged, he knows, but it makes his heart skip a beat.
“Help me?” He says as he begins to steer you away by your shoulders, but not before shifting both your bodies so that he is now positioned behind you, his hand on the small of your back, shielding you from further unwanted attention.
Jake throws a glance behind his shoulder, his green eyes steely and swirling with anger. He catches the eye of the grocery store perv who, taking in the way Jake’s biceps bunch under the sleeve of his t-shirt, has turned a shade paler than before.
“Thank you,” is what you say with a visible shudder as you both round the corner.
“Anytime darlin,” Jake says, his hand still on the small of your back while leaning towards you to let his lips brush against the side of your hair.
-
Post Flyboy
“Would you like to grab a coffee?”
“I don’t think so,” you say with a shake of your head and a polite smile.
“What about a drink another time?”
“I -,” you open your mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice that carries your way. You turn to see Jake walking towards you, a coffee cup in each hand.
“Hey baby,” he says, too loudly, large smile on his face. Jake maintains the smile as he walks towards you, but you see his gaze dart fleetingly to the man beside you.
“Sorry,” you say, flashing the man a look. You don’t get a chance to see his reaction, or the moment he walks away because Jake reaches you, his lips meeting yours immediately in a kiss that borders on being just a bit too much for being in public on a Saturday morning.
“He was actually harmless,” you say when Jake finally pulls away from you. You let your eyes flicker open, face feeling slightly heated from the kiss.
“Mmm,” he hums, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead before handing you your coffee, “I quite like playing the role of knight in shining armour.”
Flyboy!Jake you say??? You could write him going grocery shopping and I’d read it. Flyboy!Jake is my comfort character
he is mine as well!
-
You both look quite the sight walking hand in hand into the grocery store dressed to the nines Jake is still in his suit from the earlier dinner you both were made to attend at the behest of his Grandmother, bowtie undone and hanging from his collar, you in a floor length dress, the silky material flowing along with your movement and heels clicking under you.
The night air is cool, but the inside of the near empty supermarket is even cooler and Jake sees you shiver as you enter through the sliding doors, the blast of air conditioning hitting you. He lets go of your hand almost instantaneously, shrugging off his jacket immediately to drape it over your shoulders. It earns him a smile as you find yourself holding onto the lapels of his jacket, pulling the garment which smells deliciously like him closer to you.
“You always look better in my clothes,” is what Jake mumbles against your skin as he leans forward to press a kiss against your temple.
“Suck up,” you counter with a light roll of your eyes, but with a smile still dancing on your lips.
“For as long as I live,” he says re-tangling his fingers with yours as he guides you to the aisle you both had come for.
“Which one will it be?” He asks while you both stand shoulder to shoulder, eyes roaming over the selection of chocolate before you.
“I think,” you hum out as you let your gaze filter through the shelves, “that one,” you point towards on of the upper shelves in the direction of your favourite brand of chocolate.
“Guessed as much,” Jake grins, as he takes a step forward to swipe a handful of chocolate bars, off the shelf.
“No,” you say quickly in chastise as you see Jake’s gaze dart towards the top of the shelf where you both can see the side of an entire carton of your selected brand of chocolate bars peeking down, “you are not getting the entire carton again.”
Jake Seresin would buy you the whole galaxy if you asked for it.
There's this video of a couple eating with friends and when the girl bend down under the table to take something she dropped her so put his hand on the corner of the table so she wouldn't hurt herself on her way up without interrupting his conversation with the guy in front of him. Don't know about you but it's 100% flyboy Jake to me
i know which video this is anon! and it is realllllllly cute, also 100% Flyboy Jake!
ft. Phoenix, Halo and Penny + mentions of Fritz, Yale and Harvard because they are all <3
Phoenix and Halo lean against the bar counter, Penny on the other side of the counter, her elbows and forearms resting flat on the counter top; the three women with their eyes fixed on the end of the long table of Naval Aviators where Jake, yourself, Coyote, Fritz. Yale, and Harvard are seated.
“Watch,” Halo mutters, while pressing down on her phone screen, shooting a text off to Fritz who is seated at the end of the table on your right. He gets it, eyes darting down to his phone which is flat on the table, and shifts his elbow, stealthily knocking your small purse off the table.
The three women watch as Fritz gasps an apology, to which you respond with a small smile and shake of your head, before you bend to reach down towards the floor for the purse. Then it happens; they see Jake’s right hand dart out almost instantly, smoothly from your left to cover the corner of the table as you duck beneath, all without a break in the conversation he is holding with Harvard and Yale who are seated across the both of you.
“Well would you look at that,” Phoenix mutters with a brow raised in slight amusement as Penny chuckles with a shake of her head.
“Told you,” Halo says smugly as she pockets her phone.
The three women watch as you dart your head up, placing your purse back flat on the table. They see you accept Fritz’s second apology with a wave and shake of your head, as Jake drops his hand to your thigh momentarily, before shifting his hand over to rest on the back of your chair.
“He’s that way during football as well,” Halo says matter of factly, “he watches her out of the corner of his eye even if they aren’t on the same team, gives her space but is always ready to take anyone out for her.”
“Sucker,” Phoenix snorts, as the three women grin wildly.
ooooh can we get more baby girl stuff 👀 im really loving it for some reason because it has now been stuck in my mind that flyboy jake = baby girl 🫠
it’s hard to shake isn’t it
-
“Now everyone at base is calling me babygirl Seresin,” Jake grumbles beside your ear. He has his hands wrapped around your body, palms snaked under your top to rest on the skin of your stomach and his chin resting on your shoulder as he envelops you from behind.
“Are they wrong?” You tease, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the window that is looking out into the darkness outside as you continue slicing up the strawberries in front of you into halves. A pointed look at his current posture and grumbling.
“Yes,” you get one stubborn word of reply.
“Babygirl Seresin,” you say teasingly, as you raise half a strawberry, which you hold in front of Jake’s mouth.
“Only yours,” he grumbles again as you feel his lips against your fingertips before he steals the fruit out of your hand only for his actions to be promptly met with a shout.
“MY STRAWBERRIES, DAD HOW COULD YOU.”
The tiny yell has you shaking with laughter as you place your hands down against the counter for support.
“To think I buy those goddamn strawberries,” is what you hear him huff in your ear and for your only as he hides his face in the crook of your neck.
“He’s staring at you,” you hear Jake mumble into the top of your head. It makes you smile lightly, as you snuggle your body closer to his; it makes him wrap the arm he has slung around you, tighter.
“Is that a problem?” You tease, as you shift your head from his shoulder, pulling back slightly so that you are looking at him.
“He’s smiling,” is the response you get from Jake as his gaze darts over your head before coming back to center on you.
His response makes you chuckle and you tilt your chin towards Jake slightly.
“He’ll scream,” Jake says in protest; but while leaning his head towards yours. You only hum in agreement as you close the space between you both, your lips meeting him in a chaste peck.
“MY mama!” You hear the tiny roar of protest from your child who is nearly hanging over the fence of his play area. It makes you giggle, as Jake groans all while he lips don’t pull away from yours.
one of jake’s ex gfs noticing how protective he is with you and it causes an argument because he’s never that way with her😭
am i right to assume you were thinking of Flyboy Jake (because this was sent around the time of some protective flyboy Jake content and has languished in my drafts ever since; if it is not i apologise!) also, as I have said before - Flyboy Jake is definitely a bit of an ass, pining for someone while dating another girl. so don’t tell me and don’t read on if you don’t like it!
anyway, college flyboy!
-
“You are so protective of her,” the accusation makes Jake look up at his girlfriend who is seated beside him. He takes in the daggers in her eyes, lips pulled into a thin, grim line, and arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“I am not,” Jake mumbles, his hand reaching out for his pint of beer, taking a swig, his eyes floating across the bar towards you. He sees you laugh, throwing your head back, shoulders shaking with glee as you and a two of his team mates wait around for service at the bar counter.
“Your eyes have followed her since she left the table,” Jake’s girlfriend accuses again, and Jake places the pint back down on the table. He forces himself to tear his gaze away from you, to refocus back in his girlfriend.
“She’s been my best friend forever,” he says simply, the explanation saying it all, while managing to be slightly weak.
“Yeah, friend,”his girlfriend says again, emphasising the word, “try not to forget that?” She all but snaps, and Jake feels his brow begin to furrow. He opens his mouth to shoot out a retort when he hears raised voices from the direction of the bar counter, your direction.
He closes his mouth, head snapping towards you; only to find two of his teammates stacked up in front of you, staring down a drunk looking guy who is sneering at them both.
“What the fuck?” Jake mutters under his breath, as he pushes himself to a stand. A quick assessment of the situation tells him that it was probably a case of unwanted attention.
“Are you really going to her?” His girlfriend says, and Jake turns his head to look at her, the annoyance now written clearly over his features.
“Yes,” he says simply, tone cool and emotionless, eyes darting back to you as he sees you rub the side of your arm, while shrinking back against the bar counter, “you can either wait here, or, if you decide you are still going to have a problem with it, leave.”
Jake’s words are ruthless, but all he can think about in that moment is you. The legs of his chair scrape back against the floor, as he begins his stride over to you.
“Do we have a problem here?” His voice, hard, angry, breaks through, and his teammates shift in unison, maintaining their human barricade between you and the drunk, all while allowing Jake to step in, placing himself closest to you,m.
“He tried to get handsy with her,” one of his teammates supplies, the three men now staring down the drunk who is growing less aggressive and more hesitant as the second past.
“Apologise,” Jake demands, arms crossing over his puffed chest.
The drunk opens his mouth, as if to protest, when the other of Jake’s teammate sighs loudly, before speaking in a bored tone, “if you knew better you would listen to the man.”
“I- I’m sorry,” the words rush out of the drunk’s mouth, his Adams apple bobbing along the column of his throat as he gulps in a display of clear distress.
“Leave,” Jake orders cooly, as he takes a step forward; the drunk doesn’t need to be told twice.
“You ok?” Jake watches him scurry out of sight before he turns to look at you, gaze running down from head to toe, examining you for any signs of hurt.
“I’m okay,” you say, eyes locking onto his. You see the anger walled behind his eyes, so you offer a small smile, reaching out with a hand to gently brush your fingers against an elbow. Jake loosens the cross his arms have across his chest as he feels your touch against his skin.
His teammates grab their drinks, and yours, which have now been slid across the counter by the bartender. It allows Jake the freedom to slide his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as the three men guide you back to your table. It must, you find yourself musing to yourself, be quite the sight.
“Where is-” you begin to ask only for Jake to cut you off with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders that you feel because of your proximity to him.
“She had some friends to meet.”
“Oh,” you say, brow raising slightly in confusion, but let yourself be steered into your chair by Jake, who makes it a point to slide into the chair beside your, his knee bumping into yours, his jean covered leg pressing lightly against your own for the rest of the evening, arm slung casually across the back of your chair, a brand of casual dominance, Jake Seresin’s own brand of protection for you - something he always best achieved by letting the world know just whose girl you were.
flyboy universe - because i saw this and my brain went flyboy
jake being a menace, just something quick and fast, because merry christmas 🎄
“He could not,” the voice of one of Jake’s older nephews, a cousin’s son, rings out, hitting both your ears even before you step into the threshold of living room.
“He could too!” Another one of the brood protests, female this time, a niece of some sort.
“Could what?” Jake’s voice comes up behind you, filling the air with the question that had been hanging in your mind. You feel a palm coke to rest lightly on the small of your back, as he guides you both into the room.
“This,” the same female voice proffers up a phone from her perch on the sofa, in both Jake and your direction. You both catch sight of the video on her phone, only to see a two teens post football game, a boy running towards a girl with her arms outstretched, only to pick her up with a one arm lift.
“She thinks her boyfriend could pick her up like that,” the nephew supplements, a snigger hanging off the back of his sentence.
“He could,” the girl protests again, glaring daggers.
“That’s easy,” Jake says casually, as he tugs the back of his backwards baseball cap down, pulling the cap more securely on his head. It earns him a snort from both teenagers, and you watch them give him a once over, from head to toe.
“No offence Uncle Jake,” his niece begins, “I know you fly planes and all, but you’re old.”
It earns a chuckle from you, as you turn your head to catch the amused smirk that accompanies the amused glint in Jake’s eyes. Clearly, you find yourself thinking to yourself, they hadn’t seen their uncle on the beach with a shirt off. The oversized tees, sweaters and flannels he had been living in over the family Christmas break certainly hadn’t helped his case.
“Oh yeah?” Jake tilts his head slightly, his tone conversational and too casual, “wanna bet?”
“Ja-,” you begin, only to be cut off by an eager teen.
“How much?”
“20 for each of you,” Jake counters casually, slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.
You watch the teens exchange a look, before one answers on their collective behalf.
“Deal,” the response echos out just as a stream of adults, Emma, and a few cousins along with Grace enter the room.
“Ya’ll betting?” Emma asks first, eyeing the four of you.
“Apparently I’m too old,” Jake teases, slightly mocking but with no malice.
“To do this,” his niece shoves her phone out at the group of adults, the video replaying in screen. It creates a few knowing chuckles, and head shakes which go undetected by the unsuspecting teens.
“What did you bet?” A cousin asks.
“20, for each of us,” his nephew supplies, gleefully.
“Alright then,” his niece bounds onto her knees, hands resting on the back of the couch to look determinedly at Jake, “show us.”
You feel Jake’s fingers squeeze your waist lightly, and you look to meet twinkling green eyes.
“Oblige me?” He asks, “I’ll share my winnings,” he says to a snort of protest from the teens.
“I want 80%,” you caution him before stepping away, crossing the space to the other end of the vast living room.
“Watch and learn kiddos,” you see Jake say, throwing a wink to the two teens. You glance towards the side, to see amused grins colouring the features of the few cousins, Emma and Grace who are standing off towards the side.
It happens, Jake begins striding towards you, his pace slightly brisk, legs bringing him across the foyer in easy steps, before he bends, arm circling your leg, going beneath your butt cheek, and hoisting you up easily; you throw your arms around his neck in response, anchoring yourself, just as he tilts his head up for a kiss, which you meet by giving him a peck on his lips.
“No way,” you hear the teens exclaim, while grumbling, jaws slack in slightly shock.
“Pay up,” Jake turns, you still secure in his arms, as he grins at the teens.
“You really should pay more attention to Grandma’s photos,” Emma supplies with a laugh as she tilts her head towards a row of photos sitting atop a nearby mantle, “rightmost.”
You see the teens squint, only for their jaws to drop further open, as they catch sight of a picture of you and Jake from years ago, him in his football attire, with you hoisted up against him in one of his arms, you both grinning at each other in pure, unadulterated teen excitement.
The teens sigh dramatically as Jake takes a step back closer to them.
“I don’t have cash with me,” one protests.
“Venmo,” Jake drawls, as he bends his knees slightly to set you down.
“Uncle Jaaaaake,” his niece whines, as the adults standing at the side filter back around to settle into various parts of the living room.
“A bet is a bet,” Jake laughs, as he turns to kiss the side of your temple.
continuation to this - because Jake’s baby government naming him is too good (flyboy universe ideally, but can be read alone).
peek the bradley x natasha as well
-
"Hey pup," you hear Bradley's voice ring out from across the long table set out in the back patio of your house. You feel your youngest daughter's head shoot up, the crown of it bumping against your chin lightly. She drops your hand, her fingers letting go of your bracelet which she had been fiddling with as she leans forward, head titled slightly to look at Bradley in question.
You see Bradley grin as he leans forward, but not before darting a gaze back towards the small rectangle of a pool which sat on the edge of your backyard, just beyond a stretch of grass.
"What is your mom's name?" He asks, almost too cheekily for a now father of three, and you sigh lightly, knowing just where this is going; you had shared the anecdote of your youngest government-naming Jake with Natasha to see if she and Bradley had ever come across a similar situation - but keeping in tradition with the war-like (now friendly) competition that perpetually existed between Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin, anything that could became ammunition.
"Moooommy," your youngest answers proudly, as she wiggles on your lap back into you. You can't help but smile down at her, planting a kiss on her head, before you take a glance out towards the pool where a mix of Seresin and Bradshaw children are splashing around in the water, your husband in the middle of it all with Natasha standing at the edge, yelling out something to one of the boys.
"And do you know what your dad's name is?" Bradley asks, leaning just another, slight inch forward while you brace for the response.
"JAKE," she roars, having taken to shouting her father's name out loud when asked in recent days. The small bellow is loud enough that there is a temporary hush across the pool, which is quickly broken by Bradley's loud, deep, laughter. You hear your daughter's own soon follow, the youngest clearly pleased with herself as she claps her hands together. Nat's chuckle floats towards you with the wind, as the giggle of children resume along with the splashing sounds of water.
"BRADSHAW," you hear a flurry of movement, the sounds of water sloshing across the edge of the pool and into the drainage system that surrounds it as you watch Jake push himself out of the pool in a singular, swift motion, grabbing his towel from one of the deck chairs nearby. Jake makes fast work of towelling himself off without a break in the series of quick strides that is taking him towards you.
"You're a chump," he glowers at Bradley as he reaches the three of you - being a parent meant having to improvise with words. Jake is beside you in a flash, hands picking your daughter off your lap, holding onto her with a single hand as he looks into her face. She squirms as Jake shakes his head slightly, causing droplets of water to hit her lightly in the face.
"D A D, Dad," he reminds her, face and voice deadly serious.
"JAKEEE," she yells again, clearly pleased with himself as she reaches forward with bonds hands, pressing each tiny palm against Jake's cheeks.
