i love love love flyboy asks (but i admit i don’t get to them all…. that’s in me) entirely flyboy!jake coded.
also look at those arms 😵💫 i can’t even with him in this photo. that casual lean, hand behind his head. his legs..
reading this in the flyboy!era, but post part 6.
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“Geez Jake, manspread more why don’t you,” Emma says as she walks back to the area where your group, a small sub-group of the Seresin brood, has positioned themselves. She punctuates her barb at her brother by raising a foot to kick his shin lightly.
“Ouch,” he says in response without even a slight change in expression or movement.
“Uncle Jake, your legs,” the little voice that trails behind Emma protests, as Kyle follows after his mother, picking his way past the obstacle that is Jake’s unmoving legs to scramble his aay onto the sofa, arms and legs first, rolling his body up to wedge himself in between his Uncle Jake and father.
“You did just fine buddy,” Jake teases in response, winking down at his nephew as Liam, Emma’s husband and Kyle’s father ruffles his son’s hair.
“You could have moved your legs,” you muse, voice tinged with amusement as you take a step forward, having been trailing behind Kyle.
“I could have,” is what Jake responds, moving his hand from behind his head so that he is reaching out to you. You slip your hand into his, letting him tug you down gently into his lap. Once you’ve perched down onto his lip, and thigh, your legs knocking against his other knee, Jake lets his arm slip around your waist while raising the glass he is holding in his other hand to let you take a sip out of the straw of your drink he had been holding for you. “But then I wouldn’t be able to do this.”
“Have you become my own personal armchair,” you joke, “complete with a cupholder?”
“I’ll have you only sit on me for the rest of your life if I could,” Jake’s response is cheesy, sappy and with a tinge of innuendo and it makes the group around you, save for the children, groan in a mixture of disgust and horror.
“You’re the worst,” is what Emma helpfully supplies for the group as she balls up a paper napkin to toss it at her brother’s head.
“Your worst,” is what Jake says as he ignores Emma and tilts his head up towards you asking for a kiss, which you oblige. It promptly earns him another round of groans.
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IF there was a charity marathon that I might have been invited to take part in and IF I was so inclined and IF there was a… costumed element to it… what kind of a costume should I go for?
Ideas welcome (either here or as anon asks if you are shy) I find myself at a bit of a loss!
Only proviso is I will not be wearing heels this time
Whoever stole my special cookies (yes the apple and cinnamon ones you know the ones) from the hiding place in the hangars and didn’t even appreciate them enough to finish the crumbs you left on the floor of the elevator had better replace them within the next 24 hours.
We do not bite people because we can discuss our differences of opinion in a civilised way
We do not bite people even if they have persistently ignored advice and refused to follow simple instructions and we end up clearing up their mess again
We do not bite people because we are not unhinged animals at the end of our tether
We do not bite people because they probably taste nasty and have diseases and we don’t want extra shots
We do not bite people because we don’t want to have another conversation with the lawyers
We do not bite people even if they really deserve it
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Weird really, feels like it should be a real doozy of a storm and yet? Peaceful. Beautiful. Serene.
Guess our hard days really are small in the grand scheme of it all… and yet.
Been doing some debriefing / horizon observation / yelling at clouds / watery catharsis with the brilliant, talented, courageous, strong and so very persistent against the worst of odds man I am privileged to call my brother. @squidsinashirt
How is it when we are well over half way through the 21st century do so many people still value fame and power or the chance to make a quick buck over human life? I will never understand it.
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.”
