#professor seresin & college girl

[topguncortez]

it’s giving Professor Seresin seeing you all dressed up and ready to go to some fancy awards dinner where you’re getting recognized

[thewulf]

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it.  He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

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[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 1 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake ends up sitting in on a college physics lecture purely by accident. He's rewarded with a cute smile and a cheap beer when he defends the professor. But since when is he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! It was also written for a request and Rocktober! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"Hey, Bradshaw."

Bradley spun to face Jake in the parking lot, throwing a questioning glance his way. "Hangman?"

"I need a favor." 

Jake wanted to laugh at the annoyed look on the other aviator's face, but he really did need Rooster to help him out. 

"What favor?" Bradley asked, making a production of checking his watch for the time. It was 5:32. Jake could have told him that without checking his own watch. But once again, being at Bradshaw's mercy had him biting his tongue.

"I need a ride home," Jake informed him, nodding to where that vintage Bronco was parked. "My truck is in the shop."

"Why are you just telling me about this now?"

Jake sighed. "Because I live to annoy you. Can you drop me off at my place or not? It's like a mile from your house."

"I'm not heading straight home," Bradley informed him. "My wife is giving a back to school mini lecture at the college."

"Doesn't she teach calculus?" Jake asked, starting to sweat through his khaki uniform while the two men stood in the hot blacktop. "Why are you going to a college calculus lecture?"

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, clearly annoyed that he was being held up. "Because my wife is hot, and I want to get laid tonight."

"That's fair," he replied. Bradshaw somehow ended up marrying a dime. And Jake supposed he'd willingly attend some stuffy math lecture as well, if the woman giving it was hot enough.

"Listen, I'm leaving," Bradley said, already backing away. "If you want a ride from me, you'll have to swing by San Diego State for an hour or two first. I can drop you off after the lecture."

Jake looked around, deciding this was going to be his best option. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Bradshaw."

"Just don't embarrass me," Bradley replied, climbing in the driver's side door. Jake climbed in the Bronco as well and rolled his eyes. Really, in what world would he be the embarrassing one here? 

"I'm cool," Jake insisted as they pulled out of the parking spot. 

"And please, don't call my wife Dr. Tits."

"Okay, that was one time," Jake said, trying to defend himself. "At the holiday party. And I was very drunk."

"Yeah, well she thinks you're annoying."

"Hmm," Jake hummed, looking out the window. "I'll behave."

They rode the rest of the way in a silence that thankfully wasn't as awkward as it could have been. And when they went walking through the campus side by side, Jake chuckled at all of the college aged girls turning to get a look at them.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. "It happens every time."

"Hey, some of these girls are cute."

"You're thirty."

"I don't see a problem." 

Jake held open the door to the mathematics and science building for Bradley to walk inside, and they were met with clusters of students and professors talking in the long corridor. He followed Bradley into one of the lecture halls on the first floor, and a pang of jealousy shot through him when Bradshaw's wife made a beeline their way with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Sugar," Bradley crooned, and she kissed him so sweetly, Jake had to look away. 

"Beer Boy! I can't believe you came."

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, hi Jake," she said, waving to him from where she was tucked under her husband's chin.

"Hi," he replied, feeling kind of bad about calling her Dr. Tits a few weeks ago. "Rooster kindly offered to drive me home after your lecture, since my truck is currently in for repairs."

"You're sweet," she told Bradley before leaning up to kiss him again. But now he had one hand sliding down along her ass, and Jake waved as he walked away.

"Text me when you're done," he muttered, despising the feeling of being the third wheel. It happened more and more as his friends and coworkers started to pair off in serious relationships. He didn't mind being single; it gave him more opportunity to save money for a Cessna, and he didn't have to stop picking up girls from the bar. But he didn't like it when he was expected to stand there and watch everyone else sucking face and saying I love you. "Disgusting."

When he wandered back out into the main hallway, he noticed that it was 6:00 and everyone seemed to be heading into the different lecture halls. So he chose a door at random and ducked inside behind a kid holding a skateboard. If he'd had more time to consider his options, he might have looked for something different to listen to for an hour, but it just so happened he walked in as a physics lecture was starting up. 

There was a woman with her back to the room writing her name on the white board. Dr. Jessica Reed. When she turned around, adjusted her glasses and smiled, Jake tripped over a chair leg and sat down a little hard in one of the empty seats. She was beautiful. And now she was looking right at him since he'd made the chair screech a few inches across the floor. 

"Sorry," he whispered, wincing in apology. But she just shrugged a little bit and got started. 

"Welcome back for the spring semester. I'm Dr. Reed, and this is my second year teaching at San Diego State after earning my PhD in physics from Texas A&M." She paused and gestured to five men sitting in the front row. "Tonight some of my colleagues and I will be talking about propulsion and thrust in relation to aviation and aeronautics."

Now Jake was sitting on the edge of his seat. She went to college in Texas? She knew about aviation? She looked hot in her glasses, skirt and high heels? He was fascinated. She gave a short lecture, pausing to write some formulas on the board in her tidy handwriting, and he was pleased to note that he remembered some of this from his classes at the Naval Academy. He actually remembered a lot of this.

Now she was writing a problem on the board while she said, "Thrust provides the forward motion needed to sustain lift and counteract drag. It is also used to accelerate, gain altitude, and sometimes to maneuver. Propulsion is the act of moving or pushing an object forward. So if an aviator needs to prevent altitude loss because of drag, they would need to know how this formula works."

Jake sat with a smug smile on his face. He did this every day at work. And he already solved her handwritten problem in his head, because he took and aced four semesters of physics himself.

"Can anyone solve for the required thrust?" she asked, adjusting her glasses a little nervously when nobody immediately raised their hand. 

Jake glanced from side to side. The college kids either looked lost or too shy to answer, so he slipped his hand into the air. 

"Yes?" she asked, calling on him. "Go ahead."

"2900 meters per second," he answered smoothly, and her face lit up. 

"Perfect," she replied, turning back to the board to finish solving for everyone to see. She gave a few closing notes and some information about her class schedule, and when she was finished, she grabbed her notebook from the podium. Jake and a few others in attendance clapped for her as she made her way to the empty seat right in front of him. She smiled at him softly before she sat down. 

And then Jake had to endure a very loud, very cranky old man named Dr. Benson Leeland give a similar lecture. But his voice was not conducive to learning, and his handwriting was atrocious. He complained in a passive aggressive tone that Dr. Reed hadn't erased the board for him, and Jake watched her squirm a little awkwardly in the seat in front of him. That was pretty rude of Dr. Leeland. 

But now Jake was noticing the way the other physics professors were hanging on every word that this guy was saying. A few even asked for more information. But as Jake studied the sloppy equation he was scribbling on the board, he realized the answer was wrong. 

"He doesn't even have the right information," Jake mumbled, squinting at the board. 

"No," Jessica Reed whispered, "he really doesn't."

"Is he new here or something?" Jake muttered.

She laughed softly and looked at him over her shoulder. She looked so cute, and her eyes were sparkling with wit and intelligence. "He's had tenure since 1995."

"Jesus," Jake groaned, looking back to the board just in time to see Dr. Leeland cap the dry erase marker. 

"Any questions about the problem?" he barked, and once again everyone else in the room looked half asleep. Well, other than the panel of professors in the front who were hanging on his every word.

But Jake raised his hand and said, "Yes. Several."

"Fine," Dr. Leeland growled. "What would you like to know?"

Jake scoffed and stood up as he gestured to the white board. "I'd like to know why your answer is wrong."

The room went silent as Dr. Leeland turned and looked at the board. A few seconds later, he said, "It looks correct to me," but he sounded far less confident now.

"Well it's not. It's off by a thousand. And you need thrust not propulsion to rapidly gain altitude during takeoff," Jake said, and he noticed that Jessica appeared to be holding in her laughter in front of him. "So not only is your math wrong, your equation just doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm sorry, but are you a student here? Did you graduate from this program?" Leeland asked Jake.

"No," he replied with his hands on his hips. "I'm an aviator. And I attended the Naval Academy where the professors taught physics correctly like Dr. Reed."

He could have heard a pin drop, and Jessica was looking back at him from her seat with her lips parted and her eyes wide. Then a smile crept onto her face, and Jake decided that it was so stunning, he'd like to keep it there. 

Just as Dr. Leeland started to shuffle around the front of the lecture hall, and another equally geriatric professor took his place at the podium, Jessica stood, clutching her red notebook to her chest. She still looked kind of surprised by him, but pleased nonetheless. And when she was standing this close to him, Jake was having a hard time remembering why he was annoyed a few seconds ago. 

When she nodded to the doors at the back of the room and headed toward them, Jake tripped along after her. She slipped silently out into the hallway and he followed her lead. It was cool and quiet out here, and she laughed softly as soon as the door closed softly behind him. 

"Sorry, but there's no way I could listen to another lecture after Leeland put his foot in his mouth like that," she told him softly with a smile. "And it seemed like you were probably done, too?"

"That's right. I'm pretty sure I already got to hear the best physics professor give her lecture," Jake said as smoothly as he could. "No sense in staying for whatever the hell that was." He jerked his chin toward the door, and she looked delighted. "He didn't even know what he was talking about."

"Yeah," she agreed, adjusting her glasses and nodding vigorously. "He's been tenured. Since 1995. Welcome to my world."

Jake chuckled, and when he held out his hand, she juggled her notebook and shook it. "I'm Jake Seresin." Her hand was small and sure, and he had to fight the urge to pull her closer.

"Jessica Reed," she replied, pulling her hand from his all too soon. 

"I really liked your mini lecture, Dr. Reed," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

She laughed and looked at the floor for a beat. "You can call me Jessica." She glanced toward the elevators like maybe she was going to leave, but then she turned back to him and asked, "You feel like grabbing a drink? There's a hellaciously shitty dive bar across the street."

He grinned. "Do they have cheap beer?"

"Oh, yeah. And they give you peanuts and let you throw the shells wherever you want to with reckless abandon," she said before biting her lip. Was she nervous to ask him? She shouldn't be. Jake would have followed her out into oncoming traffic if she said that's what she wanted to do.

"Let's go," he replied, earning himself another smile. 

"It's my treat," she said, pushing open the doors and heading out onto the sidewalk with him. "Honestly, a three dollar beer and some stale peanuts is the least you deserve for standing up for me in there."

As they walked side by side toward the corner and the crosswalk, he asked, "So you're the only competent one in your department, Jessica?" Oh, he really liked saying her name. He wondered if she would respond with one of those pretty smiles if he whispered her name in her ear.

"Yes," she replied with conviction as she crossed the street toward the bar called Chippy's. "And I'm also the youngest one, the only female, and the only one without tenure." She pushed open the door, and Jake immediately noticed the crowd of college students and the floor that was simultaneously sticky and slippery from peanut shells.

"Hey, Reedy!" called the bartender, and she waved to him before grabbing the last empty high top with two stools. 

Jake smirked. "Are you a regular at Chippy's?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes with a grin as she took a seat. 

"If you were in my shoes, you'd need a shitty beer at the end of the day more often than not, too."

And then to Jake's surprise, the older bartender stopped by the table with two beers and a bowl of peanuts. He set them down next to Jessica's red notebook. "Reedy," he said with a wink before looking at Jake like he was already on thin ice. 

When he headed back to the bar, Jake sat on the stool opposite hers and watched as she took a sip of her beer. Then she licked her lips, and Jake leaned a little closer.

"Okay, so earlier you said you're an aviator?" she asked, looking at his uniform shirt. "You're a naval Lieutenant? Top Gun?"

"That's right," he confirmed, and that smile was back. "Your lecture took me right back to my Physics of Propulsion and Combustion class from about ten years ago."

She cracked open a peanut, and Jake watched her toss the shell to the floor without a care in the world, and he laughed. 

"What were you doing in my lecture anyway?" she asked before popping the peanut into her mouth.

Jake suddenly remembered Bradshaw and his wife and his ride home. He'd gotten completely lost in Jessica and managed to forget all about everything else. "I actually came with a friend of mine, but he went to a different lecture. I just picked a door at random, and let me tell you, I'm happy I ended up in your lecture hall."

She pressed her lips together, and he crushed a peanut of his own. "Well, I hope you learned something useful today, Jake."

"I did," he replied, throwing the shell over his shoulder, and Jessica laughed. "I learned that if I'm not nice to the best physics professor at San Diego State, the bartender at Chippy's will kick my ass."

The sound of her laughter as she tipped her head back had Jake entranced. Her neck and collarbones looked soft, like they were made for his lips and fingers to explore. And her clothes were kind of sexy in an academic way. Since when was he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms? 

"Yeah, you better watch your back," she said, cracking into another peanut. "What kind of jet do you fly?"

He had to clear his throat. "F/A-18. Super Hornet."

She moaned softly, and Jake almost dropped his pint glass. "One of my favorites for aerodynamics and combustion studies. I actually just read the most interesting article in the Journal of Propulsion Science about the Super Hornet. It was fascinating, because they touched on-" She froze with a peanut shell in her hand and looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

He wanted her to finish her sentence. He needed her to. She knew about the fucking physics of his aircraft! She was hot as hell! "Keep going," he urged. "Why was it fascinating?"

Jessica licked her lips again and said, "It was fascinating because they touched on the way temperature affects draft and drag."

After that, Jake was completely hooked. He listened to her with rapt attention as she told him a bit more about the article before saying, "I kept the journal. If you ever wanted to borrow it."

"Yes," he replied immediately, leaning even closer to her. "I'd love to borrow it."

"Great," she whispered, adjusting her glasses and finishing her beer. But when she set her glass down, she gasped. "I left my wallet in my office. I was going to treat you to the beer for being so sweet and essentially telling Leeland to go fuck himself earlier."

Jake was the one with his head tipped back in laughter this time. When he met her eyes again, he said, "Oh, you're cute, Jessica. But I was never going to let you pay for the three dollar beers." She giggled and covered her lips with her fingertips, and Jake asked, "You want another pint?"

But then his phone rang, and he muttered, "Sorry," as he dug it out of his pocket. 

Bradshaw

He ignored the call. All of the lectures must be over by now. He was probably ready to leave. But Jake wanted to spend the rest of the night sitting in Chippy's with Dr. Jessica Reed, throwing peanut shells on the floor with reckless abandon.

"You have to go?" she asked softly, and Jake thought she looked a little sad at the prospect. 

"Yeah," he started before his brain helpfully informed him that he could easily stay longer and just get a cab or an Uber to take him home later. 

But when he was about to tell Jessica that he actually wanted to hang out with her longer, she said, "Okay. No worries. I... should get back to my office anyway. Thanks for the beer, Jake." 

And then she stood, and he felt instant regret as he left twenty bucks on the table and followed her outside. But his phone was ringing in his hand as she turned toward the math and science building and pushed the button for the crosswalk. 

Jake answered Bradley's call with a clipped, "Yeah?"

"Meet us at the Bronco." And then the call went silent. 

He watched as Jessica pushed the button for the crosswalk two more times. "Jessica," he started, but she cut him off.

"Thanks again, Jake. Have a great night," she said, running across the street in her high heels. So he ran after her. 

"What happened?" he called after her. "Jessica!" But she was already near the doors that would take her inside to her office. She glanced back at him one last time before she walked inside, and he didn't look away until she was completely out of his sight. 

"Fuck," he shouted, turning back toward the street where the Bronco was parked. Everything had been going well. Fucking great. Jessica was smart and attractive. Funny, too. And the chemistry was definitely there. He was almost certain he was about to seal the deal with her phone number. 

As he rounded the corner, he saw Bradshaw leaning against the Bronco. "There you are," he said, opening the driver's door and sliding the seat forward for Jake to climb in the back. 

"Which lecture did you end up attending?" his wife asked as Bradley started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

"Physics," he muttered, still trying to figure out how he managed to fuck up the night. Then he looked at her again. "Hey, do you know anything about Jessica Reed?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. She's nice. Physics professor. Kind of keeps to herself, probably because the rest of her department is comprised of a bunch of old douchebags. She's only been at the school one year longer than me. Why do you ask? Ohhhh," she said knowingly and turned to look at him. "She's a genius, and she's gorgeous."

"Sounds like she's a little bit out of your league, man," Rooster said with a laugh. 

Jake raked his fingers through his hair. "More like a lot," he said, fully agreeing with Bradshaw for once.

"Don't act like I'm not out of your league, Beer Boy," his wife said. And then Jake had to endure their little cuddle fest for the rest of the drive while he mentally kicked himself for having no clue how to treat a woman who he wanted to get to know, not just get in his bed. 

-----------------------------

Give it up, Jake. You're just as bad as Beer Boy. Oh, Jessica, where did you go? I'm kind of torn between leaving this as a one-shot and writing a second part. Big thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[ereardon]

Snowed In || Saturday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 4.2K 

Masterlist here; Part one aka Friday here

You had spent seven years trying to reinvent yourself after college. Almost exactly three thousand miles between you and Stanford, and yet the ghost of who you had been haunted you. 

The funny best friend. The sidekick. The mousy girl in class. The overachiever. The one who wasn’t invited to parties. 

You had moved to New York after graduation and taken a job with a small newspaper, working your way up. Along the way you had gotten a haircut, figured out how to apply makeup with a wet beauty blender, how to dress for your small frame. You had traveled at every opportunity, made friends with people across the city, dated a hedge fund analyst and a bee farmer and a NYU professor. You had done everything you had wanted to do and more. 

But when you laid down to sleep at night, or first thing in the morning, all of that change escaped you. And your mind immediately flitted to the version of yourself that you had once been but no longer were. 

The girl Jake Seresin had known and loathed. 

***

The day was bright. Blinding. You groaned, rolling over, taking the covers with you, trying to shield your papery eyelids from the light streaming through the blinds. 

It was no use. You groaned, eyes flying open. 

Jake. 

For a split second you had forgotten that not ten feet away, Jake Seresin was hypothetically asleep on your couch. 

Slowly, you sat up, peering over the edge of the couch. But it was empty. The pillow and comforter that you had laid out the night before folded neatly and set in the corner. You frowned. And then the sound of the tap in the bathroom caught your attention. A moment later it stopped and Jake emerged from the bathroom into the hallway, wearing a pair of joggers and a fresh shirt, hair damp. He smiled. “Hey Finn.” 

That was it. Like he had forgotten how the two of you had left it the night before. 

“I made coffee. Hope that’s OK. But you don’t really have much else,” he said, sitting down on the ottoman. 

“Ugh, yeah, I meant to go to the store, but I never did.” 

Jake shrugged. “I think that’s our only option at this point.” 

You stood up, the pant legs of your silky pajamas pooling onto the cold hardwood floor as you crossed the room and placed one hand on the window. It was frosty. Blinding white from all the snow swirling in every direction. It made the air practically opaque. “Not it,” you replied, turning around with one finger pressed to the tip of your nose. 

Jake laughed. “Fuck it, fine, I’ll go.” 

You grinned. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be all bad. “You can go later if you want. I’m not a big breakfast person, anyway.” 

“Later is good.” Jake sat on the edge of the couch. “Listen, Finn. About last night.” 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted and Jake’s eyes widened. 

He laughed. A surprised chortle. “Jesus. Never thought I’d hear Ella Finnley apologize.” 

“People change, Seresin.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice softer. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.” 

You looked him up and down. You had rarely thought of Jake Seresin in the almost ten years since the two of you graduated from Stanford. But when he did pop into your mind, it was almost always at the most random of times, triggered by a memory. The smell of a particular flavor of vodka that you remembered drinking at his fraternity house, or if someone on the street passed with a distinct Texas accent. The years had dulled your impression of him, coated him in a sepia film in your memory that automatically paired Jake Seresin with dickwad. 

Maybe, just maybe, you had been wrong. Or perhaps he had done what you had tried to do. 

Had he actually, fundamentally, changed for the better? 

“I’m going to shower,” you said, hooking one finger over your shoulder.  

“I’ll be here,” Jake said, looking around the studio apartment. The warm water helped wake you up, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the way Jake had looked when he said he had changed from your mind. There was something there that he had never embodied before. At least, not the Jake you had known. 

You turned off the tap, wrapping up in a white towel and sitting down on the edge of the tub, grabbing your phone and dialing a phone number you hadn’t touched in ages. 

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Suze,” you said, smiling. 

On the other end of the line, Suzannah whopped. “Ellie! Oh my God, it’s been forever! How are you?” 

“I’m good,” you whispered, trying not to be too loud. “Listen, I have a question for you.” 

“Everything OK?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I, um, Jake Seresin called me.” 

There was a pause. Then, “Why?” 

You sighed. “He, um, he asked to stay with me. Guess he was stuck at the airport with the storm that’s coming in.”

Suzannah wasn’t one to stay quiet for long. She had an opinion about everything, from the color of your nails to the best way to load a dishwasher to why Santorini is only for tourists. So silence from Suzannah was telling. 

“Suze?” you asked softly. 

“I’m here,” she said after a moment. “What did you tell him?” 

“He’s in my living room.” 

“Where the hell are you?” 

“The bathroom. Hiding.” 

She laughed. “You fucking idiot.” 

“Tell me why you guys broke up again.” 

“Ellie,” she sighed. “You of all people know.” 

You did. Jake had slept with not one but two of Suzannah’s sorority sisters while the two of them were on a break. But break in the Ross and Rachel definition of break. As in the two of them had parted ways for no more than three days before Jake had fucked the other girls. 

“Why’d you call, Finn?” she asked. “You already made the decision to let him in, obviously. So what are you looking for me to answer?” 

“Do you think people can change?” you asked. 

“Yeah, I do,” she replied. “By people do you mean Jake?” 

“Maybe.” 

Suzannah sighed. “You’re smart, Finn. Always have been. But you don’t trust people and that’s your fatal flaw. To answer your question, yes, I think Jake always had the ability to change. I don’t date losers, babe, you know that. Even back then.” 

I laughed lightly. “God, I miss you Suze.” 

“Call more,” she said. “And not just because you’re hiding in your bathroom from my ex-boyfriend.” 

“I feel like I’m twenty two again,” you replied. “Afraid to come out of the bathroom because you and Jake were fucking on the couch.” 

“Sorry about that.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “You need to go or else he’s going to think you have IBS or something.” Another pause. “Tell me something Finn, and don’t lie to me.” 

You sucked in a breath. With Suzannah, you never knew where the conversation was going to go. “OK?”

“Is he still hot?” 

You let out a snort. “Yes. Unfortunately.” 

“That’s what I thought. Damn men for just getting better with age while I look like a sickly Victorian child at the ripe age of twenty nine. Anyways, I love you, call me when you’re no longer a fugitive in your own home.” 

“Love you too, Suze.” You ended the call, shivering in the thin towel. When you realized you had left a change of clothes in the main part of the apartment instead of bringing something to the bathroom, you groaned.

Whipping open the door, you scampered down the long wooden hallway, shivering in the cold, rounding the corner on your tiptoes. Something hard hit you as your eyes were turned downward toward the floor. A solid mass smashed against your front and before you realized, you were falling to the ground, a small shriek echoing through the walls of your apartment as you and Jake tumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs, his fingers grasping for purchase on whatever he could. 

Which just happened to be on your bare ass where your towel rode up. 

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as the two of you smacked against the floor, your heads thankfully bouncing lightly against the cream colored rug to your left. 

Your eyes flew open as something heavy rolled over you, your knee pressing up into Jake’s crotch instinctively as his fingers touched your bare ass. 

“Oh my God!” Jake groaned, rolling over you as quickly as he had rolled on top, curling into a ball, hands cradling his crotch. 

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you shrieked, kneeling next to him, gripping the towel around you with one hand, the other hovering over his pained body. “Did I get you?” 

Jake moaned, nodding his head. “Yeah, Finn, you got me.” 

You sat back on your heels. “Well you touched my ass so I think we’re even.” 

“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling onto his side. “Not even close, babe.” 

“Don’t babe me,” you said, standing up, making sure to keep your legs closed under the short towel. “You’re fine.” 

Jake grunted, pushing himself to sit as you rifled through the dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans and a tight henley bodysuit. You brushed past him on your way back to the bathroom to change and Jake’s hand reached out, fingers circling your ankle. You gasped, looking down at him. He smirked. “It’s a nice ass.” 

“Oh fuck off, Seresin,” you muttered, tugging your ankle from his grip as he chuckled. “Your balls aren’t even sore are they?” you called down the hall. 

“Oh, they are!” 

“Dick,” you whispered to yourself, shutting the door.  

***

“Finn?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I turn the TV on?” 

You scowled. “What happened to independent reading time, Seresin?” 

After towelgate, you had emerged into the living room with a plan. To make time go faster, you and Jake would divide the day like elementary school. Breakfast coffee followed by gym class, per Jake’s suggestion, independent reading and a late lunch.

“And what the hell are we supposed to do for gym class when there’s a blizzard outside?” you asked. 

Jake shrugged. “Yoga?” 

The two of you had struggled through a yoga video that you screencast on your TV, and after Jake had obviously been staring at your ass in downward facing dog you smacked him on the arm. 

But an hour into reading and Jake was already calling it quits. 

He put his book, a worn copy of Wuthering Heights from your bookshelf, off to the side, kicking up his feet onto the coffee table. “Let’s play a game.” 

“Game time isn’t for an hour,” you replied, never taking your eyes off of your book, a new thriller by Ruth Ware. “God, are you sure you have a job? How do you focus on any work?” 

“I bounce around a lot,” he said. 

“Bounce around jobs a lot?” 

“Bounce around projects,” Jake clarified.

You looked up, eyebrows raised. “What are you, a drug dealer?” 

“Finn.” 

“What?” you asked, eyes flicking back to your book. “You never were great in school.” 

“Hey,” Jake cried. “I wasn’t great at Sawyer’s fiction seminar. Doesn’t mean I flunked out of any other class.” 

“You flunked out of Sawyer’s fiction?” You laughed. “God, that’s bad.” 

“It’s been nine years,” Jake said. “Can’t you let little things go?” 

“Nope,” you said, putting your book down. Outside, the snow had slowed so you could finally see through the opaque wall of flurries. “Fine, since you can’t sit still, why don’t you go to the bodega.” 

Jake frowned. “What do you need there?” 

“You’re kidding, right?” 

Jake looked around before turning back to face you, eyebrows raised. “A hammer?” 

“What the fuck would I need a hammer for?” 

“Why are you sending me to the hardware store during a snowstorm?” 

You bent in half laughing. “Wait, are you telling me you think a bodega is a hardware store?” 

“Well isn’t it?” 

“No,” you said, wiping under one eye. “It’s a fucking corner store. Bread, soda, beer. Chopped cheese. Midnight cigarettes.” 

“You don’t still smoke, do you?” he asked. 

“No, not anymore.” 

“Me neither.” 

You shook your head, standing up and grabbing your purse, pulling out a card. “Here, take this.” 

“No way.” Jake stood, pushing the gold Amex away from him. “I got this.” 

“Fine,” you said, sliding the card back into your wallet. “I don’t know, get us stuff to last another two days. Some pasta, maybe. Fruit so we don’t get scurvy.” 

“Scurvy in two days,” Jake muttered to himself, shrugging on a jacket, “that’s new information.” 

“Vodka,” you said. “And limes. I’m going to need to be drunk to deal with another day of being with you.” 

Jake turned toward the door, shaking his head. “Aren’t you a delight, Finn.” 

You tried to read while Jake was gone but every little sound in the hallway would make you look up. Finally, after five or so times of that happening, you gave up, setting the book down and sitting on the windowsill overlooking Fifth Ave. 

He was gone for a suspiciously long time. So long that at one point you almost pulled out your phone to call him, convinced he had gotten lost, when the doorbell rang. A minute later, you tugged open the door. 

Jake was covered in melted snow, huffing and puffing. He had two bags in each hand, and a bouquet of flowers under one arm. You frowned. “Flowers?” 

He stepped inside, tracking muddy water into the foyer of the apartment and you grimaced. “For you,” he said and your heart skipped a beat. Jake set down the bags, holding out the bouquet of white roses. “For letting me stay.” 

“Jake,” you whispered. 

He smiled. “Just take them, Finn,” he said softly. “For once in your life, let me do something for you.” 

“Fine,” you replied, taking the flowers and pressing them to your nose. They smelled clean and soft and you couldn’t remember the last time a guy had bought you flowers. You headed down the hall toward the kitchen. “Shoes off, Seresin. Stop tracking mud everywhere.” 

“I know,” Jake said and he was close, so close behind you that you could feel his breath on your exposed shoulder. “I’m getting something to wipe it up.” 

He reached around your body, grabbing a few paper towels from the dispenser on the counter to your right, his chest brushing against your back before he pulled away. When he did, a rush of cold air hugged you tightly, reinforcing the fact that Jake was gone. 

Once all of the groceries were unpacked, you and Jake were settled at the dining room table eating two bodega sandwiches. 

“You’re like a kid who was left alone for the weekend, do you know that?” 

Jake looped up from his bacon egg and cheese. “What makes you say that?” 

“The groceries, Jake,” you replied. “Ice cream, cookie dough, Doritos, mac n cheese boxes? Seriously?” 

“I got fruit like you asked,” he said, taking the last bite of his sandwich and wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Besides, it’s a snowstorm. Don’t we get a free pass?” 

“Free pass for what?” 

Jake stood, clearing his plate and your empty one. He smirked. “A free pass to do whatever we want, Ella. Whatever you wouldn’t normally do. Nothing is off the table.”

“I can think of a few things that are.” 

***

Jake was better behaved with a full stomach. The two of you wrapped up reading time, and even played a game of Monopoly that you had found buried in your closet. Before long, it started to get dark, the sun sliding below the buildings until the sky was just a dark blanket peppered by the continuous snow. 

You flicked the news on. “More snow is expected to fall across parts of Manhattan and the wider Tristate tonight,” the newscaster said. “We could see up to another six inches overnight.” 

“Fuck,” you muttered, turning it off as Jake returned with two glasses. He handed one to you. “What is this?” 

“Vodka tonic,” he replied and you took a sip. “Since I know you’re trying to get me liquored up so I’ll have to sleep with you.” 

You sputtered, vodka spraying out of your mouth as Jake cackled, settling down onto the couch next to you. 

“Easy there,” he said, patting your knee, squeezing gently as you wiped at your mouth. 

“I think of the two of us, you’re the one that’s easy to get into bed, Seresin,” you murmured. His hand was still resting on your thigh. 

“Maybe so,” Jake said, his eyes never leaving yours. “The couch isn’t too comfortable, you were right.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the bed with me.” 

“What if I beg?” 

“Is that your kink? You want to have to beg for sex?” 

Jake leaned back, taking a sip of his drink, his hand still hot on your leg. “Sweetheart. I’ve never had to beg a day in my life.” 

You crossed your legs, letting his hand slip off. “Never say never, Seresin.” 

***

Somewhere between the third and fourth vodka soda was when things started to blur. Jake had brought the bottle out into the living room, along with a pack of tonic waters and a lime on a cutting board. At some point, you kicked off your slippers, tucking your feet up beneath you and Jake did the same, scooting closer on the couch, one arm stretched out over the tufted back. 

You leaned forward, reaching for more vodka, sliding a little and Jake’s arm shot out, catching you around the middle, suspending you in midair so you didn’t fall. 

Your faces were close together. He was basked in warm light from the candles on the mantle and the soft yellow lamp in the corner. He smelled good and cozy and for a second, you could almost forget that he was Jake Seresin. He was just a really attractive guy in your apartment looking at you like he never wanted to tear his eyes away. 

“How on earth are you single, Finn?” Jake asked, his fingers tightening around my side. His green eyes were clear and wide. 

You grabbed the vodka bottle, dumping some into my glass, and Jake finally released me. But his knee was pressed against my leg still, warm and inviting. “I don’t like dating,” you said. “Every guy is the same. He’s Midtown East and he has three cell phones or he lives in Fidi and he works twenty hours a day or God forbid he’s from Brooklyn and he wants me to take the L on the weekends. He’s an Upper West side dick whose mother will never approve of me. He’s an Upper East Side prick who would never look my way because I didn’t go to prep school. Or maybe he’s another Stanford alum, but even then I probably won't be good enough for him somehow.” 

“How could you not be good enough?” Jake whispered. 

“You overestimate me, Jake,” you replied. “And you overestimate the New York dating scene.” 

“You’re smart,” he said. “Beautiful. Charming in a really dickish, sarcastic way.” You laughed, head tossed back and Jake’s fingers on the back of the couch tickled your neck. “The whole package, El. Always have been.” 

“You didn’t like me in college, Seresin,” you replied. “What made you change your mind?” 

“Who said I didn’t like you in college?” 

“You did! The way you always gave me shit and how you always avoided me if we were waiting for Suzannah at the same time.”

Jake shook his head. “I didn’t hate you. I’ve never disliked you a day in my life, Ella.” 

“Then what?” you asked. “Why were you always so weird?” 

Jake paused. You watched his jaw tense. He set his cup down on a coaster on the table and stood up abruptly. “We need more liquor.” 

You frowned. “What? No, we still have vodka left.” 

“Then we need gin.” 

“I have gin.” 

“OK, tequila.” 

“Jake, what are you doing?” But he was already down the hall, pulling on his jacket, sliding into his boots. You scrambled off the couch. “Jake, wait!” But he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. 

You stood in shock. What had just happened? After a few minutes, you tugged on a coat and a pair of boots, slipping your keys into your pocket. The hallway was dark and empty, no sign of Jake.  

Five floors later, you emerged in the lobby. “Ella!” Gerry the doorman looked up from behind the desk. “How are you sweetheart?” 

“Hi Gerry,” you said. “Did, um, did a guy rush out of here a few minutes ago?” 

He nodded. “Tall, blond, looks like a total player?” 

“Yeah, that’s him.” 

“He took a left, toward the park,” Gerry said. “Be safe, sweetheart. He looks like he’d break your heart.” 

“He’s just a friend.” 

Gerry nodded knowingly. “Friend. OK, doll. You be safe out there, it’s cold as all hell.” 

You smiled, bursting through the double glass doors, getting smacked in the face by a gust of air. It burrowed into your skin, freezing you whole and despite the heavy coat your teeth chattered as you took a hard left down Fifth. Washington Square Park was five blocks away, but no way Jake had already made it that far, right? 

No one else was out. Who would be so stupid as to go outside at nearly midnight in the middle of the worst blizzard in two decades? 

Apparently you. And Jake Seresin. 

You scampered across the intersection, crossing tenth street, hurrying as the wind gusted from one side, threatening to toss you into the nonexistent traffic on the avenue going downtown toward the park. 

Up ahead, you spotted the familiar Washington Arch that stood at the northern part of the park. Snowflakes dotted your eyelashes and you blinked, pressing them away into liquid, before opening your eyes wide, spotting a familiar head bobbing down the sidewalk. “Jake!” you called out, your voice getting picked up and carried away in the wind. “Jake!” 

Beneath your body, your feet scrambled along, pushing you closer. 

“Jake!” 

The man in the distance stopped and turned. The lights illuminating the arch highlighted him from behind. His jacket was too thin and as you approached you could see it was damp from snow, his hair sticking to his drawn face.

“Seresin,” you said, stepping closer until the two of you were only a few feet apart. “What the fuck? You’re like a shit baby daddy, going out for diapers and never coming back.” 

“Get it all out,” he said. “Whatever you think of me, Ella. It’s time to air the dirty laundry.” 

You frowned. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand what’s happening. One second we’re drunk and laughing and the next second you’re fucking running away and forcing me to chase you through a goddamn blizzard.” 

“You didn’t have to chase me.” 

“You left,” you said quietly. “What did you expect me to do?” 

“Let me leave,” Jake said. “If you think I’m such a bad person, what do you care if I stay or not?” 

“The real question is why did you hate me so much,” you whispered. “Back in the apartment. I asked why you hated me so much back then. And instead of answering, you made up some bullshit excuse about needing tequila. So answer, Jake. Or I’ll let you turn into an ice sculpture and I’ll sell you to 230 Fifth and their stupid fucking igloo bar as decoration.” 

“I don’t hate you, Ella,” Jake said, stepping closer. Even drenched in snow he was warm. A furnace. “I never hated you.” 

“So what was it then?” you demanded. “A Mr. Darcy thing? You ignored me and shut me out and gave me shit because you loved me?” 

“Maybe.” 

“What?” Stunned silence surrounded the two of you. If it was even possible, the snowflakes fell slower. As if they were suspended in the air. It was just you and Jake in the middle of Fifth Avenue in a snowglobe. You looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“Did you ever think, Ella, that maybe I called you for a reason?” Jake asked quietly. “That maybe, just maybe, I spent eight years wondering about what had happened to the one girl who had seen me for who I really was and never let me get away with it? That maybe, just maybe, I took your feedback to heart and tried to change. And now I’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” 

“For this,” Jake said, closing the distance between the two of you and sliding one hand around your neck, tipping your head back, bending down to press his lips to yours. 

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @buckysteveloki-me  @eli2447 @bellaireland1981 @seresinslady @hookslove1592 @shotclock24seconds @fanficfandomlove @ryebecca @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @t8r-tots

[waklman]

Fake it

Chapter Three: Deja Vu

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, underage drinking, mentions of drugs, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+.

word count: 6.1k

college au, fake dating trope, roomate trope

previous chapter | next chapter | fake it masterlist

With your afternoon class finally wrapping up, you rush to jot down the last bit of the lecture notes—but your professor’s already begun to erase it off the board. At that, you shut your notebook with a resigned sigh. The amount of content covered within the last hour has nearly distracted you from the knotting pain in your abdomen, but it’s quick to resurface again as you stand up from your seat. 

It couldn’t have come at a worse time. The opening week party—marking the start of the semester was tonight. And the universe must’ve had it out for you, because you woke up with the tightest cramp known to mankind, today. Not yesterday, not last week, but today. Today, your body decided to turn against you. 

Holding your notebook tightly against your stomach, you suck in a sharp breath, failing to hide the discomfort etched on your face. You reach for your bookbag next, tossing back the weight over one shoulder to tread lightly behind the crowd of students heading for the exit. 

As everyone spills out of the room, there’s appreciative whispers of thank you’s that can be heard ahead. Looking past the cluster of students in front of you—there’s Jake, as promised. He’s stationed himself by the door, holding it open and flashing a smile at everyone who steps out, as a polite guise to search for your face amongst the crowd. As expected, he's completely unaware that he’s acting as a distraction to your female classmates—who seem to be in no rush to leave. 

The scene unfolding in front you is almost comical, like something straight out of a sitcom.

As girls pass him, they make sure to furiously bat their lashes—as if they’re in a race with one another, to see who can do it the fastest. For a split second, you’re convinced they might be able to curate a light breeze to blow into his face if they synced up their eye flapping. And though, the sight was amusing, you're suddenly taken aback by one girl who looks like she’s nearing a stroke from the speed her eyes are fluttering.

Jake might’ve been blind to his surroundings but even she catches his attention, turning his polite smile into an awkward one. But, that’s the exact kind of reaction Jake’s able to pull from people—well, girls. So, it’s truly a mystery to you that Kendall was able to break up with him, again. 

Once you finally reach him, Jake lets out a snort. “What’s with the face, Princess? You should be happy your boyfriend’s here to pick you up.” 

Jake grabs the top of your head like he's a claw machine, extracting you from the line of students, and placing you behind him. The swift movement causes another twinge of pain to strike you right in the gut. You wouldn’t even wish this onto your worst enemy as you bite down on your tongue to deal with it.

Turning his body to face you, Jake leaves one foot by the edge of the door, still keeping it open for everyone. And the line seems to move faster as he shifts his attention to you. 

“What’s wrong? Your bag too heavy?” Jake asks with his brows stitched together. 

You straighten up, clearing your throat, now aware of the uneven mass weighing down your shoulder. “Oh,” you gape. “I guess it’s a little—”

Jake cuts you off, tugging on the strap of your school bag, signaling you to pass it over. Wordlessly, you let one hand fall from the notebook in your clutch, allowing him to glide the strap down your arm, transferring it over his broad back like it weighed nothing. And your bookbag just dwarfs in size as it rests over his large frame. 

Behind him, your professor is last to step out, muttering a quick ‘Thanks kid’ as he joins the rest of your class in the hallway. Yet, Jake’s too preoccupied by the discomfort still evident on your face to even acknowledge the appreciation. Instead, he just lets the door shut behind him as he juts his chin at you, pairing it with a look. One that says, tell me what’s actually bothering you. 

“My stomach kinda hurts,” you admit, giving him a limp shrug to conclude.

At your confession, Jake’s eyes flick down to the notebook you’re pressing against your midriff again. While your shirt only reveals a sliver of skin, Jake can already picture how the metal spirals would leave an imprint on your stomach based on how tightly it’s tucked against your body. You’re gripping it as if someone has plans to steal it from you. 

He frowns a bit. “Stop that.”

In saying that, Jake pries the book from you with little effort, your fingers instinctively loosen once his large hands hover over yours. His chest tingles in surprise at how compliant you’re being. It’s a lapse in thought, but Jake wishes Kendall was here to witness this—to witness how cute you’re acting as his girlfriend.

With the notebook now secured under his armpit, Jake presses his palm to your stomach in its place, applying just the right amount of pressure to relieve your pain. “You gonna be okay tonight?” He asks, leaning against the wall. 

You swallow hard—unsure if the goosebumps rippling across your exposed skin was brought on by his mention of the party or by the practiced gesture. “I—Yeah. Think I just ate something bad,” you blink up at him, doe-eyed and neck craning from the height difference. 

Jake’s mouth twitches, unable to hide his amusement for your sudden shyness. Moving off the wall, he rolls back his shoulders to stand up straight—all while keeping eye contact with you. 

With his palm still on your stomach, Jake skillfully guides his hand over to your waist, using it as an anchor to flip you around. Then, he returns his hand back to its original position, palming over your ache again as he draws you in—pressing your back to his front. The bookbag he took from you jostles, jerking around the charms you had hooked onto the zippers at the final move. 

Jake then shuffles forward with you in his arms, forcing you to take uncoordinated steps with him. All that leaves your mouth is a surprised yelp, making a few head turn in your direction. “Jake we–we can’t walk back like this,” you squeak, slapping your hands over your face. You can already feel your cheeks burn up from embarrassment. 

“Oh yeah?” He teases, wetting his lips. Despite the first few unsteady steps, Jake is still mindful of your stomach ache, maintaining a firm pressure there with his hand.

After learning that he could fully knock you over with a simple high five over the summer, Jake made sure to be extra careful with you, because if he wasn’t—your dad will knock him over, with a high-five, to the face. 

You decide, right in this moment, that this had to be the most mortifying thing Jake’s pulled so far—there was no need to uncover your eyes to see how ridiculous this looks. The sound of both of your shoes scuffing the floors of the crowded lecture hall was enough to create a mental image to flash in your mind. 

You’re so sure that you both resemble a pair of waddling penguins—specifically the ones you used to visit at the zoo instead of going to class, back in highschool.

After his morning swim practice, Jake would show up to your locker, hair still damp from the pool and a crunched duffel bag slung over his team hoodie—eager to leave before class even ensued. And who were you to say no to an impromptu day-trip? Especially when your best friend was just so convincing. Seventeen year old Jake always pledged, we’ll get back in time for third period—but you’d spend hours seated in front of the exhibit, watching your favorite set of penguins waddle around on a slab of ice, and calling dibs on which penguin you each were. 

And for some reason, the strange comparison makes your head spin. You and Jake, a pair of penguins, bonded for life, sneakers squeaking against the floors, and heading towards your apartment together. With that, an unfamiliar sensation begins to form in the pit of your stomach. It merges right into the existing pain you had there—making it difficult to discern. The only thing you registered from the sensation was that it felt oddly familiar.

But you can’t put any more attention to it, as Jake’s foot clumsily knocks into your ankle.

The offender tips his head down, a smirk playing on his lips, ready to relish in your flustered response to him—but you’re hiding behind your hands, walking blindly with his guidance. “Oh come on,” he coos. “Quit covering that pretty face of yours. You shy or somethin’?” You almost lose your footing, feeling his chest rumble behind you as he speaks. 

“Jacob—You can’t—,” you stammer, unable to spit out a response. 

All your stuttered sentence does is pull a bass-like noise from his throat, one that signifies that he’s enjoying this. 

It comes as no surprise, but Jake had always loved seeking reactions from you. A part of him knows it’s a tad bit cruel to do so, but another part of him tells to do it anyway.

Sometimes, Jake is undoubtedly sure that he was just born with the life purpose to make you squirm—because why else would it be so satisfying? And it’s not like he got away with it growing up either. His mom made sure to give him an earful whenever he did shit like this—but he took the punishment regardless. And it’s a good thing Mrs. Seresin’s not here to see this, because she would’ve given him more than just a scolding for how fiendish he’s being with you right now. 

Biting his lip with finality, Jake puts an end to his teasing—for now. Because, his mom would kill him—like really kill him for your sake. You’d always been more of a daughter to her in that sense. 

He hums, choosing to redirect his focus, leading your entwined bodies towards the building’s exit. “Let’s get you something for this, Yeah?” He rubs your stomach in a circular motion, hoping it would simmer your humiliation. 

“...Okay,” you concede, still blinded by your own hands. 

While plodding down the hall, with more coordination this time, Jake catches a pair of girls fawning over you two—secretly snapping a few pictures as they whisper to each other. He chooses to ignore it, but his ears slightly flush pink, overhearing them chatter about how you two needed to get married. 

Feigning ignorance, Jake looks down—watching your footsteps sync up with his, your steps are akin to a waddle. And the memory of those penguins crosses his mind, making Jake forget about Kendall—and about his plans to find her tonight. For a brief moment, his mind is full of just you. 

Then, it pulls back to the girl he’s been plagued by, with the self reminder that he needs to stay on track.

For the past week, the boyfriend-girlfriend routine came easier to Jake than it does to you. The only contribution you’ve made so far was barely kissing him in the library, and confirming to girls whom you’ve never spoken to before that Jake Seresin was in fact, your boyfriend. The constant questioning rooted from genuine curiosity, you knew that. But, a part of you shrinks at every inquiry you receive. Thinking back on Jake and Kendall, you distinctly remember the exalt she got on their relationship, there was never skepticism there. So, why are you garnering suspicion, when she never did?

Your inclination to overthink tells you that maybe because it’s just you. That maybe, it’s so hard to believe because you don’t know how to act like a girlfriend. But you can’t help but to feel stupid for struggling with this. All you had to do was suck it up, and act like someone Jake would date. Someone who people actually looked twice at, someone who had more friends than she could count on one hand, and someone people actually caught wind of.

You needed to be someone Kendall could be neck-to-neck with. Yet, everytime you did try to take initiative, you backtrack once Jake starts to play into it even though you had the knowledge that he would. 

And unlike you, Jake’s doing everything he can to keep up the act, and more. If your classes don't clash with his schedule, he’s dropping you off and picking you up right after, carrying your things for you, throwing in flirty comments for eavesdroppers to pick up on, and pulling you close when people come up to him for some small talk. It doesn’t steer away from what you’re used to, besides a tid-bit of bragging—because this is exactly how your previous boyfriends acted with you. 

It was something you chose to keep to yourself, but you secretly hated it—they were so sweet, but so boring. But for some reason, when it comes from Jake, it’s like you’re sixteen all over again. It’s when Jake casually moves you to walk on the inner part of the sidewalk, keeping you away from cars—that you feel like the version of yourself that has a debilitating crush on her best-friend, romanticizing every little thing that he does.

And it certainly didn’t help that Jake’s always reaching to touch you in every way he could think of now. If you accidentally walk a bit ahead of him, his hand will casually slip up the back of the sweater he bought you and travel over to your waist just to pull you beside him. Sure, he’s naturally touchy with you, but never to this extent. It made you begin to wonder if this is how he acted with Kendall when you weren’t around to see, or if he's just over exaggerating to sell this. He’s even starting to do it at home, when there’s not a single onlooker. 

“Is this…really necessary?” 

Jake had thrown you onto the kitchen counter, placing himself in a convenient spot between the crack of your legs. And even in this position, he manages to tower over you still. “What? Me taking care of you?” Jake asks, rolling two pain relievers between his fingers tips, wondering if it could melt from the warmth he’s creating.

“We’re home—you don’t,” you pause, sensing you’re about to stammer. Taking a deep breath, you give it a second shot. “You don’t have to do it this way,” you mumble bashfully.

In response, Jake gives you a lazy shrug, continuing to play dumb. “Dunno what you’re talking ‘bout.” But the smirk he’s wearing is a dead giveaway, that he knows exactly what you’re ‘talking ‘bout’.

“Now. Open wide,” he sings mockingly, holding two tylenols between his thumb and pointer, lifting it up to your lips.

Annoyance starts to sink in, but before you can show any sign of it—you suddenly wince, feeling your stomach twist again. At that, Jake’s expression falls with guilt, knowing he’s delaying you from taking the painkillers. 

“Jake. Not right now,” your voice drops, and so does your shoulders. 

“Okay. Not right now,” he mumbles back to you.

It’s like a flip is switched, he maneuvers with clear purpose now. After dropping the two tylenols into the palm of your hand, Jake reaches for the glass of water beside you, as you toss the tablets into your mouth. Taking the water from him, Jake cups a hand under your chin to catch any leaks as you chase it down, eyes softening as you finish it off. 

It comes as a mystery to everyone, even to Jake—at how you had the innate ability to just turn him off. It’s a side of him that no one really sees unless they’re watching him interact with you.

Setting the empty cup aside, you sigh. “I don’t think I ate something bad,” you share, wiping away a droplet of water that hung from your lips. Jake’s eyes slowly settle on your face. “Is that right?” He mirrors your soft tone. 

“Think I’m just nervous,” you profess, referring to tonight’s party. 

It’s not like you didn’t attend parties, you went to plenty—in highschool. It was easier to stomach the idea of spending the night out with people you grew up with, it was just a plus that you had Jake there too. And at that stage in life, everyone was equally as naive and unassuming, so it wasn’t daunting to know you had parties you were invited to. But this party—the one where you didn’t know the first and last names of every attendee, has been looming over your head for days now. Did they only try thc-treats within the last year like you have? Was their first pull of a vape just as disappointing as they thought it was?

“How about this,” Jake wets his lips, an idea forming in his head. “You wear my hoodie tonight, and I’ll take care of it,” Jake tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, holding back a growing smile.

His solution is so dumb, but it’s dumb enough to make you lightly laugh, putting an end to your stream of apprehension.

You shake your head, smiling at the lame offer. “Right, cause the pheromones wafting off that stinky thing is gonna heal me.”

“Hm,” Jake pretends to give it some serious thought. “Yeah, actually.” Unable to contain his smile, Jake’s lips curl upwards. “You know what else it’ll do?” He prompts you to ask why, with an all teasing glint in his eyes. 

Your head tilts, wondering what he’s up to. “What will it do?”

“It makes sure everyone knows you're mine,” he finally answers, waiting for your reaction to load in. 

You scoff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’re so unserious, Jacob,” you complain, hoping your embarrassment isn’t showing. 

“No,” he’s still smug. “I can be very serious if my girl asks me to,” he moves in closer, pelvis hitting the edge of the counter. 

In an attempt to create some distance, you fold your arms over your chest, but Jake’s hoodie brushes against your forearms once before he fully rests the fabric onto you.

You clear your throat, looking off to the side. You were a girl after all, any normal girl your age would be nervous if a guy had them caged in like this—it doesn’t matter if he’s your best friend or not. “You’re annoying, you know that?” Your voice comes out smaller—weaker than you intended.

There’s a bout of silence that falls onto the conversation, leaving you two to linger off in your own heads for a bit. 

Jake glosses over what you say, with a thin veil of seriousness coating his tone. “Tell me you’ll wear it.”

You swallow thickly at the idea of you showing up in Jake’s hoodie. The hoodie you bought for him last Christmas. The hoodie that he let no one near, not even Kendall. Jake knew better not to give his stuff away to girlfriends, seeing that it’ll never be returned to him. That was something he learned the hard way when he lost his favorite t-shirts to a few exes.

So Jake giving you his hoodie was a big deal. So much of a big deal that it’ll help you get one step closer to the pedestal Kendall sits on—and that's the push you needed to say yes.

“...I’ll wear it.”

This environment is one that Jake’s all too familiar with. There’s red solo cups strewn across the front lawn, stretching into the house, and finally spilling into the backyard. Some of the discarded cups are even decorated into the freshly trimmed bushes, resembling a sprinkle of red flowers.

And not far off, the sound of his former frat brother’s roaring chants towards freshman they’ve coerced into chugging beer kegs can be heard amongst the overlap of drunken conversations being held around him. From where he stands, Jake’s nose wrinkles from the nasuseating whiff he gets of somebody’s body odor. Maybe it’s the two beers he pre-gamed with, but his brain can’t process that he’s actually here. Truthfully, Jake didn't think he’d ever be able to experience this again, as unappealing as it might sound—he missed it. 

Javy hadn’t been the most understanding, when Jake dropped the bomb on him last semester that he’s moving out. He only recently realized that maybe Javy was so pissed because Jake couldn’t offer him a clear reason for his resignation. Just like how Kendall couldn’t give him the time of day before ditching him for some fucking loser.

After their breakup, she disregarded Jake like he was some tiny tank top she didn’t like in her closet, throwing it to the side, opting for one she liked better. So, when Jake went off to grab you a drink, he wasn’t ready to be faced with her again. He knew she’d be here, he knew for an entire week long actually. Jake just didn’t expect to see her right as he left your side. 

When he snuck out to the far end of the house, sliding back the screen doors leading into the yard, Jake meant to grab you one drink. But as soon as he reached the outdoor table, littered with an array of hard seltzers—Jake stomach ruptures at who stands there, forgetting about his task to fetch you something. Her eyes are skimming over the different flavors, fingering the loop of her denim skirt. And when he thought she couldn’t get any more beautiful, she did.

Jake hates this. He fucking hates that his body reacts her like this. He also hates that he’s unable to stay mad at her. His build up of heartbreak is pathetically dropped at the sight of her. It’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time, the pretty girl who renders him breathless. 

But it’s quick to die once he approaches her, tangling himself in a growing argument. 

“Jake, I—seriously,” she pauses, weary as she scans the backyard for any sign of her boyfriend. “I don’t have time for this,” she crosses her arms against her front, clenching her jaw. “Austin’s about to pull up, and he’ll kill you if he catches us together,” her usually sweet voice is lined with agitation. 

Jake shakes his head in disbelief, laughing at her useless warning. “I don’t give two shits about what he’s gonna do to me, Kenny.” The nickname slips out of his mouth so easily, that it makes it difficult for him to not think back on his favorite memories with her.

“Jacob, we can talk another—” 

“One second you’re telling me you love me. Telling me that you would marry me someday,” his voice drops into a harsh whisper. “And the next you’re telling me I can’t be seen with you?” A hurt expression takes hold of his face, and Kendall falters.

What Jake said wasn’t exactly a lie, because she did mean it. It slipped her mouth in a drunken conversation they had right in the house behind them. Kendall said it mindlessly, not thinking that it’ll stick with him—but it did. 

Before she even realizes it, she gives in. “You think this is easy for me?” She turns her back to Jake for a brief second, paranoid that her boyfriend might be here already. The familiar gesture reels Jake’s mind back to you amidst the conversation—you did that when you were annoyed with him.

Kendall faces Jake again at the confirmation that Austin hasn’t arrived yet, “Jake…you know how hard—” She catches the blond looking past her.

“Oh my fucking god. Of course!” She yells, throwing her arms up in the air, bringing his focus back to the conversation. Kendall barely spared him enough time to actually find you amongst the sea of sweaty bodies blocking the screen door. 

“You still can’t pay attention to me. And you wonder why we had problems?” There’s a tinge of hurt in her voice, but she quickly swallows it back.

“Jacob. You have a new girlfriend for fucks sake, and you’re over here begging me to talk to you. Is she even okay with this?” She spits, steering him away from her previous accusation. In front of him, she’s breathless, exhausted, fed up with him—with this. 

Jake stills at her statement. ‘Is she even okay with this?’ Because of course you would be, wouldn't you? If you knew that he was here in the backyard, talking to her, you’d be okay waiting on your own. You’d want this for him. If you didn’t want this—if you didn’t want him to win her back, you wouldn’t have agreed to help him. 

Getting lost in his thoughts, Jake loses his chance—he takes too long to reply. “You know what? Fuck this,” her tone is venomous now, a blend of bitterness and resentment. 

Jake flinches at her words, regretting his search for you. “Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right,” she grits, finally. With her closing statement being said, Kendall moves past him, shoulder knocking into his arm with full force. 

Fuck.

Jake’s body seems to move on his own, steering him towards the beer kegs, driven by her words. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

As pathetic as it was, it didn’t take long for your stomach to start up again once Jake left your side, though he promised you he’ll be back.

But with divine timing, Bradley appeared in front of you like your fairy godmother not a second after. He’d possibly kill Jake in replacement for you at the comparison, but it was true. You blinked just once, and your college aged fairy godmother was there. But instead of a glittery cloak shrouding her shoulders, she had on a pitch black t-shirt. And instead of a dainty little wand floating in her hands, she had the back of Bob’s hoodie fisted between her large knuckles, almost lifting the blond off the ground. 

After that, he communicated to you with a grunt to follow him and Bob along to the front of the house. You had flinched when he nearly growled at you for not getting the hint to stay ahead of him, so he could ensure you wouldn’t escape. The three of you barely made it out the front door together before Bradley scared away the three puny freshmen occupying the stone steps. They were already halfway across the lawn from just sensing Bradley’s dark energy, casting onto their backs.

With a shrug of his shoulders, and an accidental yank at Bob from the movement, Bradley led you to the steps. The hoodie swallowing your figure should be enough to keep you warm from the dropping temperatures, Bradley surmised to himself. 

None of you spoke a word to each other as Bradley silently suggested that you and Bob should sit down in the space he cleared. And right as Bob gathered enough courage to put a question forward, Bradley kind of smiled at you two and left. He just showed you both what it looked like when Bradley Bradshaw isn’t on the verge of killing someone, and he dipped like it was nothing. 

You and Bob had gone through different stages of revelation at the rare sight. At first you two gaped at each other in disbelief, then you entered a stage of denial together, and following that you both confirmed that Bradley actually fucking smiled. To anyone else, you two might have been labeled for having low standards to moved by his little smile, that could, probably use a bit more practice—but at the end of the day it was a smile from Bradley Bradshaw.

“Just to preface, I don’t have my degree yet. But it does sound like an anxiety-induced stomach ache to me.” Bob offers with a small smile, still thinking on Bradley’s gesture.

Since you just had a life-altering experience with Bob, conversation began to flow easier between you two and this was only the second time you’ve ever spoken to him. 

You purse your lips in curiosity. “Have you learned about a solution for it yet?” 

Bob hadn’t actually browsed through that part of the textbook, but he wished he had now. It could be that his empathy was way too high for an average person, but Bob's own stomach started to hurt from your explanation of the pain you were feeling. 

“I–I’m really sorry, but no. I’ll definitely let you know once I do find out though.” And Bob intends to fulfill that promise, in fact he’ll download the electronic version of his textbook after this conversation so he could help you out for the future.

“But, uhm,” he hesitantly puts out his cup towards you, “It’s ginger ale, I haven't even touched it yet I swear. And I’m not saying you should take it. Girls should never really take drinks from anyone, actually. I just–I’m just offering, you have the right to say no.” Bob clamps his mouth shut, stopping himself from saying any more.

You peer into the cup, eyeing the liquid sloshing in there before curling your fingers around the solo cup. The tightness in Bob’s shoulders finally lets up once you offer him a reassuring smile.

A comfortable silence rests over the exchange, with you taking small sips from Bob’s drink as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket. You two linger in the moment, quietly appreciating Bradley for pulling you both away from the chaos that’s going on inside the house. 

Again, you bring the rim of the cup to your lips, but once the sleeve of your hoodie hits your chin—you suddenly still, which catches Bob’s attention. It somehow slipped your mind that you showed up wearing Jake’s hoodie—your supposed boyfriend, who you haven't seen in the last hour.

“Oh god,” you whisper in realization. “I–I have to go. It was really nice talking to you Bob–like actually. I just,” you’re scrambling to stand up, going light headed from rising to your feet so quickly. Bob lightly laughs, looking up at you. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you in class,” he gives you a single nod, ensuring you that it’s okay. 

Storing his assurance to the back of your mind, you go shooting through the doors. The warmth inside the house is a sharp contrast to the biting breeze outside, sending a shiver down your spine. Everyone around you downed more drinks than you have tonight, they knock into you while you struggle to navigate through the living area. As you try to recall the interior of the house—from being here last week, one guy bumps you into a wobbly table, shaking the plates of party snacks on it.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you reach a hand out to still the foldable table by its edge. Then, you take a moment, blinking down at one plate in particular. On it, there’s a load of plastic baggies containing brightly colored gummies, which you assume to be edibles.

Almost as a signal, your stomach cramps again—urging you to grab one for yourself, so you do. You whip your head left and right before doing so. It’s for everyone right? 

With the ziplock baggie safely tucked into your back pocket, you resume your desperate search for Jake. But, you hardly have to take another step, because Jake is already drawing towards you, feet heavy as he drags them across the floor.

His chest buzzes, light warmth scattering through his ribs as he comes to a slow stop behind you. And maybe it’s because he’s done it so many times, but Jake’s fingers mindlessly curl around your waist, right under his hoodie. And like earlier in the day, he flips you around, reveling in goosebumps he’s brought on. 

Jake watches through half lidded eyes as you blink repeatedly at his chest. Acknowledging the large hand hugging your bare waist, you swallow so hard, you cough up a bit—before tentatively lifting your head, to meet the owner of said hand. 

“Oh.” It’s just Jake. 

It’s just Jake who’s staring down at you, with something unfamiliar pooling in his eyes. It’s just Jake whose fingers lightly squeeze your waist, again. It’s just Jake, you remind yourself.

You blink again, eyes wide and glossy underneath him. From this angle, you note the light flush tinting his cheeks. Then, your eyes run across his features, trying to get a read on the unfamiliar expression he’s wearing, and it seems like he’s doing the same.

Hearing a crunch, you both gaze over to the cup in your hands. It takes a moment for you to even realize that it’s your fingers that’s currently wrapped around the solo cup. 

The sight of the crinkled plastic under your nails makes a voice ring out in Jake’s head. You still can’t pay attention to me. And you wonder why we had problems? Kendall’s right. That’s why she broke up with him, he let so much shit fly over his head—It’s no wonder why she had a backup plan after she dumped him. Jake didn’t even pay enough attention to realize some guy was under his nose the whole time, giving his girlfriend attention when he wasn’t.

And it’s happened again. While Jake was blindly walking around the party, with nothing but Kendall in mind—someone got you a fucking drink. Someone who isn’t him. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

Jake’s body reacts before his brain gets the chance to. Your breath hitches in your throat, watching him swat the cup out of your hand, forcing it to splatter against the wall, and fall flat to the ground with a clink.

Jake knows his limits, maybe too well for that matter. Right now, he’s slightly buzzed at best—he knows he is from his need to prove Kendall wrong. He knows from the way he moves his other hand to your jaw. He knows from the way he wants to get the remnants of that drink out of your mouth. He knows from the way he dips his head down to do it.

Jake feels like he’s sixteen again, kissing his best-friend, barely drunk.

With his hand on your waist, he steadies you, fingers digging into your flesh as you stumble backwards. Satisfaction washes over him, feeling you eagerly slot your mouth into his. You’re just as shy as he thought you’d be—you’re kissing him back with a soft intensity, it’s different from what he’s used to. And as your lips part again, Jake’s mouth tingles at the sensation. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

Not knowing what to do with your hands, you fist the front of his shirt with one, while the other reaches for the nape of his neck. Feeling your fingers hesitantly scratch at the baby hairs sitting there, Jake’s spurred on to pull a reaction out of you. A sudden need burns into his chest, telling him to make you feel brainless.

But you already do.

Because in his arms, your body is going haywire, legs succumbing to jelly, but Jake holds you still, delving his tongue in your mouth—exploring it, draining that ginger-ale lingering there. And it’s like you’re on overdrive, the dull music playing in the back dies out from the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, and your lungs burn from holding your breath.

With your jaw going slack in his hand, Jake knows you need to catch your breath, because he finally pulls away, lips twitching as he does so.

Jake’s darkened eyes lift open, observing the string of saliva between your mouths, mesmerized by the way it breaks from the distance and settles to glisten on your lips. With his hand on the line of your jaw, Jake extends a thumb to swipe away the shine he produced.

You’re breathless, chest rising up and down underneath his hoodie—mind still processing the practiced kiss.

“W-was she looking?” 

Jake’s brows furrow, but he conceals it before you catch it. Thumbing over your bottom lip, Jake’s mind is half with you and half somewhere else.

He hums, mindlessly assuring you. “Mhm. Did such a good job for me, Princess.”

note: she is lengthy, but it's because i wont be able to update for the next two weeks, due to finals week D: but putting that aside, thank you for reading! and as always, reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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[demxters]

—𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄

frat!bradley bradshaw x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: bradley meets the girl he believes to be his good luck charm at a party. the only problem is, he doesn't have a clue who she is or how to find her again.

wc: 2.1k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname clover), a wild jake and ace appears, explicit swearing, alcohol, college parties, slight nudity, tattoos

the lucky one masterlist || find on ao3

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

You hated your ex with a passion. You knew what he was doing the second you saw his arm around Allison freaking Simpson. Not only was she the dean’s daughter, but she was also one of the top students of their class. 

In other words, she was everything you were not. Your ex was trying to prove a point and you hated that it was working.

Deep breathes, you remind yourself, thinking back to the meditation classes you took over the summer. 

Your eye twitches at the sound of Allison’s obviously over exaggerated giggles. Tyler Jacobs was not that funny. 

“He’s not worth your time,” a soft voice from beside you interrupts your glaring.

It was a girl you recognized from your classes over the years. Quiet, yet incredibly smart and snarky when need be. You’ve never actually talked to her much, but she was thoughtful and much more tolerable than a majority of your peers. 

“You used to date Tyler Jacobs, right?” Apparently, she was also very observant. 

You cringe at that. “Unfortunately.”

She hums, before returning her gaze to her notes. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you could do much better.” 

Now that makes you laugh. “Thanks,” you send her a genuine smile. 

You knew she was right. You could do so much better. Tyler was all you’ve known. Dating since high school, prom king and queen, the whole cliche. You just needed to expand your horizons. 

After another grueling hour and a half of listening to your professor talk about god knows what, you’re more than relieved to finally be released from class. 

The girl beside you packs up with haste, almost like she has somewhere to be. 

“Hey, Ace, tell that boyfriend of yours that he can suck my dick!” Tyler yells after her. 

“Go screw yourself, Jacobs,” she replies with a flash of her finger. 

You wrap your arm around her, noticing the tension in her shoulders as you deliberately announce, “I’ve seen it and trust me, your boyfriend would not be impressed.” 

The people around you snicker, making Tyler’s face turn red, and you smirk in satisfaction. 

The girl, who you remember was called Ace, is laughing as you guide her out of the lecture hall. 

“His face was priceless!” Ace says between laughs. 

You shrug with a smile. “I only said what’s true!” 

Ace shakes her head. “Amazing.”

A call of her name distracts her, and you both turn to see a tall, blond man jogging toward the both of you. 

You won’t lie. He was incredibly good looking. But the way his gaze was set on Ace told you all you needed to know. “The boyfriend, I’m assuming?” 

He wraps Ace up in his arms and she playfully rolls her eyes at his display of affection. 

“The one and only,” he grins. “Jake Seresin, pleasure to meet you. It’s so nice seeing you branch out, Ace. She is so anti-social, I swear,” he murmurs from the side of his mouth. 

She scoffs, smacking her boyfriend on the arm. “Shut up!” 

You laugh along with the duo, your heart aching at how in love they were. Even if they didn’t know it yet, you could tell they would be together for a long time. You had a knack for noticing those kinds of things–relationships that were meant to last and matchmaking. You take pride in the fact that you were the one to set up your old high school math teacher with your favorite art teacher. Now, they were happily married and had two kids with one more on the way. 

The one person you were unable to help in the love department, however, was yourself. How absolutely ironic. 

You used to think Tyler Jacobs was the one. You imagined the two of you growing old together, having kids, and telling them the stories of how the two of you fell in love. Being with him since your freshman year of high school and knowing him since kindergarten made you truly believe that he was the love of your life. 

Up until a month ago, when everything came crashing down and everything you thought you knew turned out to be a lie.

“Hey, you should come to the Delta Chi party this weekend,” Jake offers, noticing the sudden lull in conversation. 

Ace nods with a smile. “Yeah, something to take your mind off that ex of yours.” 

You eye Jake, unable to contain your growing grin. “A frat party?” 

Jake winks. “Only the best frat on campus.” 

Ace was right, you needed to take your mind off Tyler. You wanted to prove that you didn’t need him–that you never did. Besides, when did you ever say no to a party? “Alright, I’ll be there.” 

»»————- ♣︎ ————-««

You’ve been to so many parties, the sweaty bodies and loud music no longer deter you. 

Pushing your way through the crowd, you say hi to some familiar faces as you make your way to the drinks. 

One of the Delta Chi guys gives you a cup full of cheap beer, which you gladly accept. You continue to wander around the house, only being there once before. With Tyler. 

Just even thinking of him makes you nauseous. Downing the rest of your cup, you go back to the keg, desperate for another drink. 

Two becomes three. 

Three becomes four. 

Until, eventually, you’ve lost count and the only thing you can feel is the warmth of the alcohol and the beating of the bass in your chest. 

You hardly remember Tyler and Allison nor the aching heartbreak you’ve been going through for over a month now. 

It was just you and the dance floor. And maybe a few frat guys and sorority girls you didn’t know the names of but danced with anyways. 

Your cup was empty again and you groaned at the realization. You stumble your way back to the drink station, no longer able to control your heavy footsteps and swinging limbs. 

Your vision is so hazy that you don’t see the body you haphazardly bump into. 

“Holy shit!” the person says as you catch yourself on the table. 

He turns around with wide, doe-like eyes. Even through the horribly lit area and hue from the alcohol, you could tell that the guy in front of you was hot. His slightly curly hair was plastered to his forehead through the sheen of sweat that glistened on his skin. You could tell he was muscular, even under the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt he was wearing. And his eyes… you couldn’t pinpoint the exact color they were due to the poor lighting, but they were what you would describe as kind. 

He gapes at you like a fish out of water. You catch yourself giggling at his flustered state. 

“Are you some kind of good luck charm or something?” He blurts out. 

“What?” you slur. You boldly grab his forearm in order to steady yourself from swaying too much. You bite your tongue to hold back a sigh as the smell of cinnamon and faint cologne floods your senses. 

“I said, are you some kind of good luck charm or something? Because I just won that shit!” He gestures sloppily to the table where a game of beer pong was set up. 

“No way!” You bounce on your toes, feeling giddy from the excitement oozing off the guy in front of you. 

He nods vigorously. “I was about to make that shot, but then you bumped into me and I still got it in. That was awesome. You are a good luck charm! You’re like a… like a…”

Your eyes light up as he continues to think. “Like a four leafed clover?” 

He snaps his fingers. “Yeah!” 

A mischievous grin tugs at your lips while your fingers tug your shirt upwards. Rolling the loose tee you have on so it’s resting just right above your bra, you turn. “You mean like this?” 

His gaze zeroes in on the image inked below your right breast, on the edge of your rib cage. There lies a delicately etched four leaf clover. 

The tug in your chest is palpable. The pull this guy has on you is strange, yet welcomed. It was unlike anything you’ve felt before, even with Tyler. You wanted to beckon him closer. You wanted him to take his fingers on his large hand and delicately trace the outline of where you are most vulnerable. 

Your grip on your shirt loosens as it rolls back down your chest to your abdomen, suddenly feeling self conscious of how forward you were. Great, you just met the guy and now you’re gonna scare him away.  

He opens his mouth to speak, gaze glancing back up to meet yours, clearly rendered speechless by the unexpected action before him. 

“Yo, Rooster! Come on, someone’s trying to beat your time on the keg!” 

He’s interrupted by another guy who shakes his shoulders and pulls him away without another word. 

He gives you one last look over his shoulder, one apologetic and full of longing before you lose him in the crowd. 

Rooster. What a strange nickname. 

You just hope your sober self remembers it tomorrow. 

»»————- ♣︎ ————-««

Bradley can’t tell if the pounding is in his head or coming from his bedroom door. His head feels like a bowling ball and he can barely open his eyes without feeling like he was getting stabbed through his skull. 

He rolls over, throwing his pillow over his head. He prays that whoever is on the other side of the door gets the hint and leaves him alone. 

Much to his dismay, the person ends up inviting themself in anyway. 

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jake’s irritating Texas drawl rings through his ears. 

Bradley groans, tossing his pillow lamely at him. “Go. Away.” 

“No can do, Bradshaw. Up! Up! Up!” He shouts, clapping his hands in front of Bradley’s face like a drill sergeant. 

Bradley wishes it were Jake in his place right now. In another time, it was Jake that was in his place. Bradley would be the one ushering him and his latest fling out of bed. When he started dating Ace, Jake changed. She straightened him up—made him lose the fuck boy act and be more respectful. Now it was time for Jake to have his fun. He hates how much Jake is enjoying Bradley being on the other end of the stick. 

“Go away before I rip your dick off,” Bradley threatens with narrowed eyes. 

Jake doesn’t take Bradley’s comment the way he wanted him to. His cackle and the rush of sunlight that enters the room makes Bradley whine pathetically. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, the light from outside was burning through his eyelids. 

“Reuben cooked breakfast. Hurry up if you want to eat anything other than bread crusts,” Jake announces before, not so softly, shutting his bedroom door. 

Bradley throws his pillow back over his head to block out all the light and sighs. Every time they host a party, he swears that he won’t drink too much. And every time without fail, he ends up blackout drunk and in bed with a sorority girl. Which is why he’s surprised that, for once, he can actually remember the night before. There wasn’t much significance to last night. Just like any other Friday, Delta Chi was throwing another rager. All his friends were there as well as the usual sororities. However, last night at the beer pong table was embedded into his mind. 

He could still smell the perfume of the girl he recalls being his good luck charm. He could see her bright smile and the tattoo she willingly flashed at him. A dopey smile tugs at his lips as he reminisces about last night. 

His euphoric haze is cut short when he realizes he never even got your name. Bradley didn’t know who you were or who you were with. He finds himself getting more of a headache trying to remember if he has ever seen you at any of the Greek life events on campus. He doubts you were in a sorority. He’s sure he would’ve remembered seeing a face like yours. 

The best thing he could do is ask if anyone knew a girl with a clover tattoo, but even that would probably get him nowhere. 

The pounding in his chest didn’t settle as he continued to relive the interaction from the night before. If only he hadn’t been pulled away by Omaha, he probably would’ve mustered up enough courage to get your name and number. He maybe would have even asked you out on a date. But he was whisked away in an instant. After the fiasco at the keg, Bradley wandered around the house trying to find you, with absolutely no luck. He didn’t understand what it was, but he was convinced that he needed to see you again. He had to. 

Even in his hung over state of mind, Bradley was on a mission. First, he was going to sober up and shower. Then was going to find his four leafed clover. 

this one is dedicated to @blue-aconite for this fic and clover wouldn’t exist without you, ily <;3

a/n: i hope you’re all as excited for bradley and clover as i am. im super stoked to introduce them into the ‘loving you universe’ and for you all to see where their story leads them. as always, the inbox is open and comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated.

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @potato-girl99981 @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom @kmc1989 @percysaidnever @thestarspangledcaptain

[sushiwriterhere]

two: required texts

flight path

summary: "It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake."  rating: mature (eventually explicit, 18+ mdni) pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader word count: ~6.9k lol warnings: angst, masturbation ment, enemies to lovers!, college au!, eventual smut, hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: dedicated to @waklman bc u entertain my insane dms <3 pls pls pls let me know what you think everyone!! masterlist here this fic is being posted from my queue while I have little access to the internet. any tag list requests/fic replies will be slow; thanks!

"Jake said you were coming to our party this Friday?" Bradley's smile is so genuine, so unlike everything about Jake, "Never thought you'd agree but it'll be good to see you."

Sometimes you regret making things so sour with Jake, because Bradley’s actually really sweet. He’s been letting you and Jake duke it out about your project at their breakfast bar counter while he cooks in the background. He’s kind of always on FaceTime with someone, usually a girl, and he even makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. Something about the flakey sea salt just does it.

Bradley is the kind of guy you think you might settle down with one day. Bradley doesn’t throw his hands up in the air at you in frustration when you argue about what exactly qualifies as sustainability, and he certainly does not make deals with you to try and get you to come to frat parties.

That being said, he looks so happy to hear that you might be joining them that you really don’t have the heart to knock him down. 

“Oh, yeah, Jake–” You consider your words carefully. 

Jake hadn’t explicitly said that the deal was to be kept hush-hush, but you didn’t really know how much you wanted people knowing that you were willing to trade your introvert lifestyle just to ensure a good grade. Plus, it felt just a smidge pathetic that that was what you’d caved to. 

“Jake told me he talked you into it in exchange for going with your lead on your project, but it doesn’t seem to really be working.” Bradley’s laugh fills the hallways of the lab and you feel yourself tense up. 

God, you really did get the short end of the stick if it was that obvious that Jake wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain at all. 

“Yeah... well...” You trail off, twisting your hands in front of you until someone calls you name at the end of the hallway.

Bradley looks at you, his gaze a little too knowing, before you both wave goodbye and you take off toward the sound of your supervisor’s voice. 

Running into Bradley is one thing, he’s nice and doesn’t make you want to poke your eyeballs out, getting to the end of the hallway to see Jake standing in front of your professor with an easy-going smile on his face is another. Fantastic.

“Mr. Seresin here was just telling me that the two of you have been hard at work,” Jake bounces his shoulders just a little behind your professor’s back, as if rubbing it in how much he’d obviously been talking himself up in the few seconds before, “I have high expectations for the two of you.”

You resist the urge to call him a dumbass in front of the man who’s probably going to single handedly get you into MIT, and school your features into something a little more school-appropriate. You are not going to let him screw this, especially this, up for you. 

“Of course, Professor Simmons, we’re certainly putting our all into it.” Jake mock gags behind the professor’s back for a split second before he turns around, and then he’s the picture of academic excellence.

Simmons wanders off in the way he usually does, leaving just you and Jake standing in the hallway. Distantly, you know that you’re technically on the clock, but you’re well-liked enough that you can get away with a little time theft. No one’s had any complaints on time sheet day so far.

Jake rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, smile ever present. For a moment, he looks a bit unsure of himself, but the expression is gone even quicker than it came.

“What are you doing in the labs, Jake. Don’t you have some other poor girl to harass?” You cross your arms and stare expectantly at him– you’d rather spend your stolen time reading the New Yorker on your phone and not dealing with Jake Seresin.

“Was just dropping by to chat with Simmons, you know how it is. Office hours, etcetera, etcetera.” He’s at ease once again, his gaze trained fully on you.

“Why did you say etc like that?”

“Did you just say ‘e-t-c’?”

For a moment there’s complete and entire silence, the type that happens right before exams are handed out. Then, Jake starts howling with laughter, completely doubled over. You watch in horror, listening to his voice echo around the sterile hallways and probably right into every professor’s office. 

Once he’s done completely humiliating you, he stands up and wipes at his eyes, “Sorry, you just—you were lecturing me the other day about ‘histrionics’ and you’ve never heard etcetera said aloud have you?”

You bristle, teeth gritted, “I’ll have you know, you can say it either way.” He doesn’t need to know, but you haven’t heard it aloud.

“Oh, I was also looking for you.” His abrupt change of subject makes you nervous. 

You and Jake have admittedly been spending a lot of time together. After your first few hours at the library, Jake’s been making a habit of being around you. Like, a lot.

First, he’s always sitting next to you in your shared classes. You’re only taking four, and sharing three of those is just a lot of Jake-time. He mostly leaves you alone, thankfully, but he’s taken to poking you to get your attention for his random thoughts, turning his computer your direction to show you a funny meme someone sent him, and occasionally reaching over to doodle on your notes. He also always uses your shared seat rest.

You don’t know why you let him do it. But, if you were brutally honest, it’s kind of nice having him around. Despite all your petty disagreements, Jake’s a bright personality, and it makes your stomach flip in a funny way when he spots you across the quad and waves wildly to get your attention, or when he buys you lunch before your library sessions. You do keep bickering about nearly everything though.

That’s the second thing. Now, after your two classes together on Mondays and Wednesdays, the two of you will go to the library and study til the wee hours of the morning. On more than one occasion, he’s bought you coffee to sustain your hours of staring at complex equations and trying to apply to grad schools. 

(“What grad school are you applying to now?” 

“Nunya.”

“Okay, unless the top fifteen rankings have been updated since the last time I checked there is no grad school that—“

“Nunya business.”

“Very funny. Real mature. You’re really childish y’know that.”

“I’m childish? Remind me which one of us spent eighty five dollars at a candy store last week after taking forty five minutes to decide.”

“There’s a lot of options!”)

You two don’t make a lot of conversation but it’s getting easier to talk to him like he’s a normal person, like he’s anyone else. You still keep your cards close to your chest, though, unready to let him in fully and still not entirely trusting him. 

Once, you’d shared a bit about how much pressure you felt to get into a top graduate program, to ensure that your parents were taken care of as an only child. Jake had been surprisingly empathetic, and had shared some about his home life, which you suspected wasn’t as idyllic as he made it seem, but it had made you smile. 

“Youngest, with four sisters, I was a little doll,” He’d laughed. He never talked about his parents, really.

It had been an odd moment of peace between the two of you until he had teased you for the way you read out an equation as you were checking your work, and then it was back to trading barbs.

The third thing is that he hadn’t invited you to a party til this week, about four into the semester. Before he had, it hung over your head like an anvil–ominous, always present, and not exactly forthcoming on when it was planning on crushing you like a bug. 

He’d been too nice about it, assuring you that whatever you wore would be fine (“Just think... slutty?” “Don’t be sexist, Jake.” “What! That’s what the sorority girls say.” “Well, are you a sorority girl?” “I can be if you want me to be, sweets.” “You have issues.”). He’d also said he’d keep an eye out on you but that his frat brothers were all great people, and besides, Bradley would be around. You don’t really want to share how it makes you feel that Bradley had asked you if you really were attending.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re coming on Friday.” His smile softens into something more genuine than his usual wild grin. “Was worried I might’ve scared you off.”

You huff, “I’m not scared.”

The way he looks at you in that moment makes you want to shove him so he’ll stop staring at you, a combination of pity and something else you’re afraid to identify, “No, not at all.”

Then, his demeanor changes back into something that’s a bit more familiar to you as he tucks his hands into his pockets and turns to leave, “Besides, if you don’t come, we’re doing our entiiiire project on Naval mechanics. Bye!”

He’s gone before you can yell at him.

-

This isn’t who you are–outfits strewn all over the floor of your room, music blaring from your phone where it’s charging in the corner, a layer of nervous sweat starting to coat your forehead and palms. Nothing fits right or in a way that doesn’t make you want to lose your mind. 

For a moment, you wish that you were a sorority girl, surrounded by women who know all the cultural rules of what you’re about to walk into. It’s not in a “I’m not like other girls” way, but more in a “my parties consist of wine and boardgames”. You are excited, but you also just feel stupid. 

You jump about half a foot in the air when your music cuts off all of a sudden and is replaced by the someone singing “save a horse, ride a cowboy” at far too many decibels. Scrambling, you grab your phone from the far side of your bed and see that it’s Jake trying to FaceTime.

“When did you change your ringtone?” Is the first thing you say when you pick up, endlessly irritated. “Your voice is terrible, by the way.”

Jake just laughs, “Oh, it absolutely is not. And you left your phone unlocked when you went to the bathroom two weeks ago, it was the only logical course of action. How have you not noticed til now?”

“I keep my phone on silent like a normal person.” You try to angle the camera so he can’t see the fact that you’re only in a sports bra and that you are absolutely not dressed despite the fact that you need to leave relatively soon.

“Again with this normal person thing, sweets,” He looks like he’s walking through the frat house as you hear people in the background, and you have half a mind to ask if Bradley’s around but decide against it. Something tells you Jake would be, well, weird about it. “You have got to be the least normal person I know, and that’s saying something.”

The absolutely unimpressed look on your face makes him laugh, and you almost hang up until you remember that he could potentially be helpful with your predicament. He wasn’t helpful last time but maybe this time he will be. He at least knows more about what girls are supposed to wear to this stuff.

“Jake...” You start, unsure of how to even ask. 

‘Oh hey Jake, how am I supposed to dress slutty for the frat party you cajoled me into going to because this is really out of my comfort zone and I’m this close to just telling you we can do your stupid Naval aircraft idea so that I don’t have to deal with this’ is a decidedly bad start.

“Sweets...” He croons back at you over the phone as he sets you down on a bathroom counter. 

It’s then that you realize that he’s been shirtless this entire time, and is still very much shirtless. Look, you may have a deep dislike for Jake Seresin as a person, but you’re not blind. You have eyes. And your eyes are telling you that Jake is absolutely so fucking fine that you have sort of forgotten your question. 

He’s absentmindedly applying shaving cream to his face and bustling around the bathroom while opening drawers and humming to himself. You remain silent. 

You just sort of stare at him for a few seconds before he raises an eyebrow at you. It’s then that you realize you’re holding your phone at an atrocious angle and you’re supposed to be asking him how to dress for this and showing him the insides of your nostrils is definitely not going to be doing you any favors.

“Sweets, did you have something you were going to say or are you just going to spend the next thirty minutes checking me out?” Jake says it so nonchalantly it almost makes you hang up, but you’re caught off guard by how something as simple as watching him shave on FaceTime can feel so endearing and domestic.

“Very funny. I was going to tell you you have something sticking out of your nose but I guess I won’t now.” You huff, hoping it’ll distract him from the last two minutes of silence.

At the very least, it works. Jake frantically tries to figure out what’s danging from his nose while you try and regroup. 

“I need your help picking an outfit.” It’s dramatic, but it feels like a weight off your chest to say it, “I just– Well, it’s just that nothing looks good and I hate this.”

Jake sets his razor down and leans close to his phone so you can see only his face and nothing else, “Lemme see what’cha got, sweets.”

The next twenty minutes are, somehow, not entirely excruciatingly painful. Jake immediately vetoes every single one of your business casual outfits (“You are not wearing slacks to a frat party, sweets, be serious.”) but he’s nice about it. When you dive deep into your closet to pull out a box of items you haven’t thought about since you bought them freshman year, you really start to reconsider how much you don’t want to work on Naval mechanics. 

“Okay, you can’t be mean, I bought these freshman year in a moment of weakness.” You can feel how hot your face is and you barely manage to get through the sentence without stammering or hanging up on him.

You lay out the tops on your bedding–Jake had already approved of a pair of jeans you hardly ever wore. These pieces are much more party-oriented than anything else you regularly wear, and you remember how for a weekend freshman year you’d felt so alienated, so weird, that you’d spent almost three-hundred dollars on going out tops. You’d returned most of them but the ones in front of you you’d kept in secret hope maybe you’d get to wear them. 

“You are a liar.” Jake’s voice comes softly from your phone and you frown.

“I literally just asked you to not be mean. You can’t even not be mean when—” 

“Sweets, any guy here would pass away at the sight of you in any of these,” He says and you make sure the camera isn’t on you so you can contort your face into a silent scream, “Talkin’ about, ‘I have nothing to wear’.”

“Drama queen.” It’s all you can say, but the thought of him passing away at the sight of you? That might be more appealing than you’d like to admit.

-

God, it’s so fucking loud in here. You managed to arrive fashionably late, as Jake advised. Now, you’re just sort of standing by the doorway, unsure of where to go or who to talk to. 

Then, all of a sudden, Jake appears next to you, all bright eyes and white teeth as he bobs along to the music. He grabs your arm and pulls you into an excessively tight hug, one that smooshes your face into his chest and traps your arms at your sides. You try not to breathe in too hard, but you can’t really avoid smelling him (like a fucking weirdo). You’re only slightly disappointed to note that Jake smells really good. 

“Sweets! I thought you’d bailed!” He exclaims, letting you go only slightly so he can take a look at your face. “When did you get here?”

“Um, like ten minutes ago?” You try and push out of his arms but he’s got a strong grip on you–glancing to the side you see that he’s grasped his elbows so you’re completely stuck.

“Only one hour and fifty minutes left to go!”

And with that, you’re being hauled off by one arm through the frat house. You stumble on your feet but manage to catch yourself on Jake when you trip over a beer can someone just threw on the ground. He turns around with a glint in his eye.

“Sweets, if you wanted to cuddle, you should’ve just said so!” His tone is gleeful, but he steadies you gently anyway.

“Just get me a drink, Jake.” 

He doesn’t let you go but this time his grip is gentler and he walks at a human pace instead of trying to make record time. After turning a few corners, you finally arrive in the kitchen.

You have to admit, you’re sort of jealous. Your apartment isn’t tiny by any means, but you’d love to have a kitchen this sprawling, with its huge windows, what looks like a state of the art fridge, and granite countertops the sheer square footage of which could make you drool. You feel a rush of disappointment at how dirty it is in here, but you squash it remembering that this is a frat house. Clean is nowhere near part of these men’s vocabulary. 

Jake makes you a drink that seems to be some odd combination of liquors and juices (he avoids the jungle juice thankfully, almost turning green when you ask him if you should try some–“Not unless you want to spend all of tomorrow throwing up.”). When he hands it to you, he looks at you expectantly, like a child who just gave their parent a crayon drawing.

“Well? What do you think?” You grimace on instinct when the liquid hits your tongue, but you realize it’s actually not that bad. 

You tell him as much. Maybe you’re already starting to get drunk because it’s the only explanation for the way you think the look on his face could persuade you to drink three hundred cups of this if it means having him smile at you like that again. You keep drinking to avoid spilling your guts, figuratively.

Jake makes himself a cup while yammering on about planning the party, how he took shots with his frat brothers before you got here, and how he has a brunch planned Sunday with a few of his frat brothers. It’s all a bit too close, too intimate to be honest. Even with everyone around you, even with the way he almost has to yell so you can hear, it feels like it’s just the two of you. It makes you want to flee, but you force yourself to stay put in an effort to at least try.

And it’s not actually terrible. You keep sipping on the drink Jake made you, and try to engage with him. 

He’s in the middle of telling you a story about him and Bradley from freshman year when one of his frat brothers walks up to the two of you with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Now who is this, Jake?” He’s terribly handsome, but something about the way he’s looking at you sets you on edge. 

“Javy, meet sweets.” Jake gestures at you with his perfectly iconic red solo cup.

You roll your eyes at the introduction, “That’s not my name.”

But Javy doesn’t let you correct the record, instead his entire face lights up. He looks like a kid on Christmas as he wraps an arm around Jake’s shoulders and looks between the two of you, a gleeful expression spreading over his face. 

“You are famous in this frat, I hope you know that.”

You prepare yourself for a snide remark about your attitude in class, about your reputation, but instead Javy leans in close, so close that you can see how perfect his skin is (what the hell?), and he whispers conspiratorially, “Jake here never shuts up about you.”

The whisper clearly isn’t meant to keep much secret and Jake obvious hears him because he shoves Javy off him and starts waving his hands at him to shoo him off. When he turns back around, he’s blushing and you don’t think it’s from the alcohol or the heat. 

“Talking shit?” You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow expectantly, not knowing what you’d do with any other explanations. 

“Something like that. Want more to drink?” 

He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, and he clearly doesn’t want you to remember this conversation either, because his next pour is overly generous. After that, he drags you out of the kitchen to ‘socialize’. He keeps you next to him, occasionally slinging an arm around your shoulders or even just leaning on you. 

Much to your dismay, Jake doesn’t let you wallflower, to disappear as you stand next to him–suddenly you’re being introduced to everyone in the frat. You grouse about being forced to remember a thousand different white men’s names and Jake’s laugh rises even above the din of the music and the chatter. You’re loath to admit it aloud, but it’s sort of nice, being included, being in on jokes and spoken to like you might have something funny or interesting to say.

Part of you wants to bring up what Javy said, because almost every guy that Jake introduces as being part of his frat smiles in the exact same way that Javy had. Like a cat who got the cream. But the alcohol is making your tongue heavy and you worry what might be said if you start down that path.

Then, you hear your name distantly, and you whip around to see Bradley making his way through the crowd waving wildly. Nearly missing elbowing some poor sorority girl in the head, he pushes past people. His face is flushed from drinking and the heat, and he’s got his phone pressed to his ear. Why he’s attempting to take a phone call in this type of environment, you’re really not sure.

When he gets to the both of you, he at least has the sense to hang up before he separates you from Jake when he sweeps you up into a bear hug that lifts your feet off the ground and crushes you to him. He seems so happy to see you, and you smile bashfully as you hug him back. 

Once your feet are back on the ground and Bradley’s released you, you notice how Jake has stiffened slightly beside you. He and Bradley engage in some long, complicated handshake that ends with jazz hands and eventually Bradley sweeps away in just the same way he came over. No words are exchanged, and Jake relaxes when Bradley’s out of sight.

“You’re being weird,” You accuse, leaning into Jake so you can get closer to his ear to be heard over the noise, “Well, you’re always weird, but you were being weird towards Bradley.”

“Was not.” Jake says haughtily, pouting lightly like a child. 

“You’re literally pouting right now.” You’re too tipsy to deal with him acting like you just took away his toy truck, and you poke his arm to emphasize your point. 

Jake immediately schools his expression before taking you by the arm and pulling you outside. His broad form clears the way for you and you do your best not to trip on any more beer cans. You two aren’t alone by any means, but here the sound has space to dissipate. There’s beer pong tables, a bonfire going (which, frankly, seems very unsafe), and people milling about. 

“Do you like Bradley?” The two of you are now standing off to the side of the sprawling deck behind the frat house, illuminated by a series of string lights that only seem slightly out of place for a frat house and Jake’s staring at you intently.

You shrug, “I mean, what’s not to like? It’s Bradley, I think we’re friends.” 

This is so awkward and you hate it with every fiber of your being.

He wrings his hands just a bit, and it strikes you that there’s a chance that he’s actually upset. It’s not the kind of annoyed that he always seems to take on when you two are going at it, it’s more genuine, like whatever he’s imagining might be enough to get him really worked up. He opens his mouth but then shuts it.

“Jake. What is wrong with me liking Bradley.” This is so ridiculous–standing in the backyard and trying to get Jake to talk about whatever issues he has or doesn’t with Bradley is probably almost as close to the opposite of socializing as just staying home would have been.

“You don’t like like him, though, right?” 

You roll your eyes and snap at him, “Jake, what is this, middle school?” He’s not calling you sweets, and when you notice, it bothers you just a tad more than you’d like to admit, “No, I like Bradley because he doesn’t yell at me when I correct his projections and he makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. He’s a friend.”

Everything about his demeanor changes in the oddest way when you say that, he peps up and it’s like the Jake that was pouty (jealous?) was never there, and he takes you by the hand, “Great! That’s solved then, let’s go play beer pong.”

You try to ignore the way you get emotional whiplash as he drags you over to the people standing around a folding table.

But you can’t help it. As Jake tries to teach you how to play beer pong you end up ruminating on whatever the hell that just was. Why would it bother Jake if you did “like like” Bradley? The two of you, you and Jake, could barely be classified as friends. Besides, as frat brothers, there’s no way both Jake and Bradley haven’t gotten around or even been with the same girl. No shame for anyone involved, but what’s his fucking deal? (And, Bradley’s a cutie, so what?) 

Eventually, you give up trying to figure out what Jake’s issue is as the two of you start losing at beer pong, and badly, given just how inebriated you are. Jake keeps trying to shout instructions every time you go to throw the ping pong ball and it keeps messing you up, so eventually you shove at him. He barely moves as he starts laughing at your anger.

“Jake! Stop messing me up!” You can feel how bad your coordination is from the alcohol as you stumble a bit as you lean your weight into him. “You’re making us lose!”

He can barely breathe through how hard he’s laughing at how far off your last shot had been, but he still steadies the both of you and wraps his arms around you, “Sweets you’re just too easy to mess up, oh my god. Are you even looking at the cups?”

You just hit his chest once as you start taking in the way that you’re pressed up against each other. He doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he just sort of lets you step back enough to have full control of your arms and continues standing at your side with his arms around your waist. Then, he starts leaning down to breathe instructions in your ear.

Normally you would find it in yourself complain about how gross having his breath in your ear is, but in that moment, already past tipsy and just enjoying the warmth of his body and skin against yours, all you can do is shiver. You fuck up your next shot worse than the last one. You hope it’s dark enough to cover how flustered you are as the patio lights glimmer weakly in the distance.

It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake. 

It’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in a long, long, time and you lose yourself in it. Jake at your side, his arms wrapped around you, laughing loudly as you lose to team after team. He barely removes himself to make his shots. When he laughs it shakes your whole body. Every time he takes a step, he knocks your legs together so you move with him. 

You’ve continued drinking so you’re only getting progressively drunker and it only makes you focus on him more. You lose track of time completely and wholly.

Every time you turn to look at him or talk to him, Jake’s already looking at you. He keeps looking at your lips. In that moment, your rivalry, the project, and really, the entire world falls away. You have nothing to think about but how warm he is, how good he smells, and how you want to keep this moment in a jar so you can come back to it later. 

You think he might kiss you.

The moment breaks when you feel Jake’s phone start buzzing against your leg and he finally lets you go. In an instant, he takes a step back from you and his arms are gone. You didn’t realize just how much his body heat was keeping you warm in the cool evening air til he removes himself from you completely. You miss it immediately.

He steps off to the side, face completely impassive but frozen in a smile as he reads a text, and he starts typing furiously. The smile slides off your face as you think of all the girls in his phone who are probably waiting for his drunk “you up?” texts and you take a step back, putting more space between the two of you. Someone more important than you must want his attention.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go, sorry, sweets.” Jake says, but you don’t feel the apology as much as you do the rejection. It stings in the way a harsh winter wind burns at your cheeks, pricking your skin and raising the blood to your face.

Somewhere in your mind, you remember considering hooking up with someone tonight. That’s what people do, right? Get drunk, sleep with a stranger, then stumble home in last night’s outfit in the morning. And maybe somewhere along the way, maybe between drinks three and four, you’d thought about what it might be like to kiss Jake. At some point when you’d watched his eyes linger on your lips, you thought that was it.

You take a few steps back, trying to feel sober again, but swaying slightly without Jake to hold you, “Right.”

His face falls as he takes a step toward you, but the magic of the night is gone. There isn’t anyone standing on the opposite of the folding table anymore. The backyard is somehow too quiet despite the loudness coming from the house. Jake doesn’t reach for you when he sees the expression on your face. 

“I’ll uh, venmo you for the Uber.” His face betrays nothing but the cool indifference you remember from freshman year–are you really back to where you started after everything tonight?

Him offering to pay for you only makes you remember that you hate him–flirting with you all night then ditching you to go hook up with someone he actually likes. Classic Jake Seresin, everybody. 

-

You don’t care that he slept with someone else after how close the two of you were. You are deciding not to care. It does not bother you because you and Jake aren’t even friends, you are sworn enemies and the only reason you’re even going to these parties is so that you can ensure the project isn’t a flaming mess. 

You’re repeating these mantras to yourself from the moment you wake up, while you go to classes, while you avoid making eye contact with or speaking to Jake for fear he’ll know. You say it to yourself as you sit silently across from him in the library, headphones firmly over your ears so you don’t have to hear him ask if you want coffee. 

He brings you one anyway.

It’s clear that you are utterly failing to convince yourself, because all you can think about is how close he was, how the heat radiated off his body, how he smelled, and how his eyes flitted down to your lips ever so often. You feel like you want to crawl out of your own skin with the realization that you want Jake to want you. You’ve sort of always wanted his attention, it’s just that up until now it’s almost entirely been in the form of your little rivalry.

You find yourself scoffing as a thought comes to the forefront of your mind, It’s like in those romance novels. That shit does not happen to people like you.

The shame and desire washing through you reaches its peak when you find yourself biting into your fist with your hand between your legs a week after the party. All you can think about is how he’d smelled, how close he’d been to you, and the way his hands felt around your waist. You finish with a whine tearing itself from your chest and a deep sort of mortification coursing through your veins.

You can’t avoid him forever though, the work must go on. 

The thought of attraction goes as quickly as it comes when you find yourself sitting across from him at his and Bradley’s kitchen table again, the two of you bickering about a piece of analysis.

“Why do you refuse to listen to me, even the slightest bit, sweets? I’m literally second in our class, I can’t be an absolute idiot.” Jake looks at the ceiling as if some supernatural being will give him the strength to deal with you, and sighs heavily.

You clench your fists, “I’m not refusing to listen to you, Jake, I’m just telling you that you’re wrong.” You don’t remind him you’re first in the class.

Bradley walks in the kitchen, phone held casually in front of his face, a bag of chips grasped in his other hand. He stops to observe the two of you still arguing, now going on about a quiz question you two had disagreed on first semester sophomore year. He could be surprised that you and Jake have found something else to argue about, but then again Jake told him the two of you spent almost three straight hours arguing your first time together at the library. He’s also been witness to countless pointless fights about god knows what since the beginning of the semester.

“Can you two just fuck already, good god.” 

The room goes so quiet the only thing you can hear in your ears is your own heartbeat. Jake looks similarly mortified, cheeks turning red as he tucks his head to the side in clear embarrassment. The tips of his ears are bright red. 

Bradley, unaware of the absolute nuclear bomb that he just dropped, tucks his chips into the pantry, and leaves as the FaceTime call sound starts trilling from his phone. 

Neither you or Jake move. All you can think about is how you felt in that moment last Friday, Jake pressed up against you, his breath heavy in your ear, and his body solid and warm against you. You think about the way want had coursed through your veins when you’d been alone. But he doesn’t want you. His current reaction is evidence enough.

Jake’s the one to break the silence by muttering something under his breath. 

“What?” 

“I said, he’s one to talk.” He clears his throat and avoids eye contact.

You can’t take this, so you try to laugh a bit, but it sounds fake and tinny in your ears, “And I don’t know what he’s talking about. In case everyone’s lost their minds and forgotten, I do not like you, Jake Seresin.”

He laughs lightly in response and says, “People don’t use contractions when they’re lying.”

And you don’t really know what to say to that. Because you don’t really know if there is anything to say. So you decide not to say anything to that, at all.

“You still owe me twenty five dollars for the Uber.”

“Twenty five—“ Jake sputters, “Twenty five American dollars? Where the hell did you have him take you? Downtown and back!? You live twelve minutes from the house!”

“I tipped well.”

Jake mutters something about tipping culture being out of control but you still feel the way your phone buzzes so hard it rattles some pens strewn across the table.

-

When the second invite comes, you decide preemptively that you’re not going to drink. Your deal with Jake was about attending and staying for two hours, it said absolutely nothing about drinking or generally partaking in party activities. You don’t want a repeat of last time–you want the arousal that spikes your bloodstream every time you see his face to disappear as quickly as it came.

You’re avoiding Jake in the frat house by ducking into doorways and keeping an eye out for a blonde head of hair the best you can. At one point, Bradley spots you and sends a confused look your way, clearly scanning for Jake. He doesn’t do anything about it, you guess, because Jake doesn’t come running within the next ten minutes. 

Keeping yourself pressed to the wall where the music isn’t so loud but you also can’t hear the way people are very obviously doing drugs in the bathroom, you count down the minutes til you can leave. 

About five minutes before, you decide to sneak a peek in the kitchen one last time. Maybe you can rob these assholes of some Oreos or something as divine punishment–revenge of the nerds, or whatever.

When you get to the kitchen, you realize you’ve found Jake. His back is to you, and he seems to be holding court. Surrounding him is a group of frat brothers most of whom you don’t remember, with the exception of Javy, who’s leaning his elbows on the countertop and listening about as intently as a drunk person can. 

“She’s fucking stuck up man, I don’t know how you do it. I don’t think being that obnoxious is a requirement to be top of the class.” One of the frat brothers that usually surrounds Jake scoffs. 

You feel all the blood drain from your face and you suddenly feel like being sick. Backing away from the doorway to the kitchen you almost trip over your feet at the speed you’re trying to get away from the conversation, from Jake, from the frat house. 

There it is–there’s your out. Your ick, if you will. Jake, standing in his perfect kitchen, surrounded by a bunch of barely matured fraternity bros, talking shit about you. It’s not that the feelings of hatred weren’t technically mutual, but the extent to which you complain about Jake is usually limited to surface level shit. 

If you had stuck around for just a moment longer, you would’ve heard the way that he defended you over a chorus of agreement from around him, “C’mon man, it’s not like that. Don’t say shit like that about her. She’s under a lot of pressure and you’re kind of a dick in class anyway.”

But you don’t stick around. Instead, you push your way through the mass of bodies, accidentally stumble through a smoke circle, and you still seem so far away from the exit. You pass by Bradley again, and this time he’s with the girl that he insists is just a friend, but they seem too cozy for that in the moment. You don’t stop to say hi. 

When you finally get outside, your chest is heaving and you think you might be sick, alcohol aside. 

This is exactly why you focus on academics. They gave back as good as they got, never betrayed you, never let their friends talk shit about you. Academics never called you “stuck up”, stopping short of biting out the insult “bitch”. God you’re so stupid. 

You should’ve never let him get close, you should’ve stuck to the project and just finished it without ever learning more about Jake beyond the bare minimum. No evenings spent crowded around a countertop covered in textbooks and notes, Bradley humming in the background as he cooked something delicious. No letting Jake buy you coffee or cafeteria food. 

This is exactly what you deserve for letting him in.

----------

tagging: @roosterbruiser @joaquinwhorres @sometimesanalice @seresinsweetie @bobfloyds @theharddeck @jupitercomet @dempy @gigisimsonmars @sunsetsimpsblog @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @kajjaka @clancycucumber230 @desert-fern @bibitches-r-us @cruelmissdior @chaoticassidy @blue-aconite

[callsignspark]

WIP Title Game

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

thanks for tagging me @sometimesanalice!!!!

here are all the wips I've actually worked in the last six months and all their current working titles (some are obviously more developed than others lmao)

Bad Case of Loving You

Xs and Os

An Unexpected Proposal

Love a Rainy Night

Little Red Corvette

Wrapped Up in You

Check Yes or No

Coffee, To Go

Amour, Kärlek, Love

The Sign of Love

I Can Fix That

Here in the Hills

I'd Lay My Life Down For You

All In On One

The Home We Built

V stands for Jake Hangman Seresin is a Fucking Virgin

PT/Trainer Bradley

the toxic threesome fic

the post college-Bob fic

the half baked country club idea

the nail fic

professor Jake

freaky finals (adjust for the J factor)

Fooled Around and Fell in Love

the wedding date fic

the wedding date (AU VERSION)

bob and the cafe girl

the firefighter AU

Rhett Abbot: pussy god

holidate but nothing like that dumbass movie

the CEO AU

Mister Swing and Miss Numbers

I didn't tags as many people as wips because that would be a lot but no pressure tags! @gretagerwigsmuse @laracrofted @princessphilly @withahappyrefrain @a-reader-and-a-writer @rhettabbotts @roleycoleyreccenter and anyone else who might want to participate!

[topguncortez]

hehehe this reminds me of someone…

[topguncortez]

shameless by camila cabello is so professor seresin code

Distance, inches in between us

I want you to give in

I want you to give in

Weakness, tension in between us

I just wanna give in

And I don't care if I'm forgiven

HELL THE FUCK YEAH IT IS

the constant back and forth in the song is so professor seresin. college girl wanted everything and was willing to risk everything for him but jake wasn’t ready for that… and he still might not be…

[topguncortez]

The first and second photos of professor Jake legit fighting with himself not to fuck you right there and then because otherwise you’ll be late

SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE FOLKS AT HOME

He knows good and well you aren’t wearing anything under that black dress. The slit in the fabric shows off your amazing legs and he has to almost physically restrain himself from getting on his knees and devouring you.

“Jake… we can’t, we’re going to be late.”

“Sweetheart, this awards dinner is for you. We will be just fine. Now, let daddy have a taste.”

[topguncortez]

in vol 2 of the professor, will there be cheating involved? I absolutely love your work and like angst but cheating literally hits me differently. Stupid I know. Also can’t wait for Court of thieves! Have a wonderful day

there won’t be any cheating in Vol 2, but there will be angst.

[topguncortez]

Rough as in Sex or rough as in trauma?

a lil bit of both.

Professor Seresin is highly incapable of dealing with feelings like a normal person.

[topguncortez]

Started rereading The Professor at 930 pm (cst) finished it at 11:20 pm.

I am nothing if not dedicated to fanfic.

Professor Seresin and College Girl still have my heart.

THE OTHER REFERENCES THO (Grey's and I believe I may have spotted a new girl reference...)

Bradley’s character in that fic is based off of Nick! and Jake’s sisters are named after Derek’s siblings!

lol thanks for reading the professor!!

[topguncortez]

27. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other?

Between Jake and Lil Kazansky

33. Who has the most nightmares and how do they deal with them?

Professor and College Girl

5. What is their love language?

Rooster and Tex

-@seresinsbabe

27. For Lil Kazansky it would be anytime she sees a plane in the sky. Could be a regular commercial jet and she's wondering where on the face of the planet her baby daddy is. For Jake, it would be calendars, because lord knows Miss Kazansky has her fair share of calendars laying around. Every year for Christmas he gets her a big new calendar and watches her eyes light up as she fills it out. When they have Wren, they get one of those calendars where you can add photos to it to memorize all of her milestones throughout the year.

33. College Girl has the most nightmares, and it's usually about her parents. The first time she had a nightmare, Jake froze and didn't know what to do. When they happened again, Jake gently moved to hold her in his arms, and just held her until she stopped shaking.

5. Tex's love language is for sure physical touch. In fact, Bradley is gonna get quite annoyed with her on it cause he hates it (and it's summertime), but she grew up in a family that used to hug each other all the time. Bradley's love language is acts of service. He likes to be the one who she calls to come fix her bike or the air conditioner. He likes to be the one to drive her places, or make her dinner.

OTP ASKS!

[roosterforme]

roosterforme's Jake Seresin masterlist (Hangman x Reader)

(hey, who the fuck let Jake in here?) roosterforme masterlist

Jukebox War Jake likes the jukebox at the Hard Deck, drinking beers, and cute girls who are a little bit mean to him.

You're Not My Type You only spent one evening with Jake, but it was enough to leave you wanting more and also have you hoping to never see him again.

Specialty Goods Jake is tasked with planning a holiday get-together. He’s unhappy about it, until you offer to let him sample the specialty goods. 

Better Than Revenge You thought you had the interest of one of the aviators who frequented your bar. He always had a soft smile when only looking at you. But when there's another girl hanging on his every word and his arm, Rooster helps you get Jake to come to his senses.

A Formal Reprimand Above all else, Jake prided himself on his spotless Naval record. When his wife inadvertently causes him to be formally reprimanded during a deployment, he plans to give her a fair share of the punishment when he gets home.

Alone With All Your Letters You had been with Jake for so long, he could barely remember himself without you. But he was ready for more, and he was tired of waiting for you to catch up to him. With a few ugly words, he broke your heart. And with one handwritten letter, you brought him to his knees. 

You and Me and She Makes Three Jake had feelings for you. And that was a problem, because he didn't do relationships. He was going to have to choose his independence over being with you. At least that's what he thought until he was presented with the opportunity to enjoy you and his freedom at the same time. 

Sundays Are for the Boys Football Sundays are a sacred tradition amongst Jake and his friends, and he's quick to make sure you know that. But when the boys discover your favorite drink in the refrigerator, Jake makes an exception to his rule.

This Sunday Is for My Girl Jake can barely remember what Sundays were like before you were part of his football watching tradition. When his team makes it all the way to the Super Bowl, his nervous energy practically has you on edge too, but you formulate a plan to distract him. The results are better than you could have predicted. (A continuation of Sundays Are for the Boys)

Sneak Peek You spent so much time around the boys, they counted you as one of them. You were firmly stuck in the friend zone with Jake, so it was time to move on with a guy who could see past your flight suits. It's not immediately obvious to either of you that cranky Jake is actually jealous Jake.

Adult Education (23 Part Series) Jake ends up sitting in on a college physics lecture purely by accident. He's rewarded with a cute smile and a cheap beer when he defends the professor. But since when is he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms? (Part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own)

Mr. Right Now (11 Part Series) When Jake picks your ID up from the floor at the Hard Deck, he has no expectation that he's about to be in for a wild ride. But when he learns that you're looking for Rooster and why you're at the bar in the first place, he starts to feel more possessive than he should. You're young and stubborn and about to get yourself into trouble. Maybe he would prefer if you got into it with him instead. "It's a bad idea," he said, and then your lips were on his.