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blackflag-exposition · 2 months

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This was BEAUTIFUL. Absolutely loved it. If you already didn't, please do you a favor and read this fic.

Or even re-read it, I sure will 🤍🥹

Wounded III || JTK

18+mdni

paring: jakexreader(f)

LONDON MASTERLIST

A/N: alrighty, here’s the final piece. All your words have made my first fic/series so fun and I can’t wait to give yall more:)) pretty please let me know what you think <3

Summary || You promised Jake an evening out, but you’re not certain if you can make through the night.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcoholic consumption, anger, verbal aggression, adult themes, agoraphobia, haphepobia, graphic sexual depictions

Word Count || 9.5k+

The light knock at your door sends you into a frantic spell before anyone can announce themselves and their business that miserably requires access to you and your sanctuary.

You had been doing your best to go about your routine the past few days and not dwell on the daunting date you assured Jake. You had always given him your ifs and maybes when it came to going out, but this pledged appearance was taxing your every thought.

Routine. Keep your head in routine. Just keep moving. One day at a time and all that compartmentalizing bullshit your therapists always vomit at you yet never proves useful.

The truth being no matter how you avert your attention, the dreaded moment would still come to pass. And alas, it does; arriving in the form of Jake poking his head through the door. You invite the rest of his body to join your room.

With an easy energy, Jake percolates through the doorway dressed in his signature all black deep-v button up and pleated trousers. Paired with his signature chain of doubloons and black loafers. You always find the consistency of his formulaic ensembles to be a comfort.

In the true spirit of procrastination and denial you hadn’t even conceptualized an outfit yet.

Jake instinctively gravitates towards the guitar in the corner of your room and begins to fidget with the strings, busying himself from your bed as he watches you get ready. You think maybe he fears you are going to talk yourself out of the evening or it might not come to pass if he doesn’t witness it with his own eyes.

You frantically scatter for the first outfit you can make out, dressing in a relaxed cream button blouse with mom jeans and platform oxfords. You paint your features with natural make up and throw your curls in two messy braids and lightly accessorize. You emerge back from your bathroom expecting to make out a bored Jake. Instead, you’re greeted by an empty bedroom.

You are sure you hadn’t taken too long to get ready. You simply shrug and stomp to the full body mirror. You appear just fine, yet you definitely do not feel it.

You run your sweaty hands down your jeans as Jake reappears through the door. In his hands, he clutches his navy corduroy jacket he went to retrieve. You are clueless as to what you have done in your life to deserve this man that always anticipates your next need before you do.

Jake streams across the floor towards you and unfolds the coat, lifting it in the air for you to slip your arm through. You face away from the doting man and extend your hand out as he attentively dresses you in his jacket one shoulder at a time, savoring the moment. His aroma emits from the material as you take a deep breath and tug the sleeves over your fingertips.

Glancing back in the mirror you already feel a bit better; that’s what your outfit had been missing.

You return your eyes to Jake, slinking your hands deep into the pockets of the coat as he tugs on the lapel, properly adjusting it over your shoulders; unaware of your shaking till he steadies you with the weight of his hands.

His digits travel to faintly twist the tail of one of your braids between the pads of his fingers as a smile breaks loose at the sight of you.

“You are truly a vision,” Jake’s honey eyes swivel as he indulges in every detail he can canvass, his words adorn you better than any accessory ever could, “Ready?”

You force a weak nod and dreadfully follow his giddy lead from out your bedroom, down the stairs, and towards the front door.

Of course, you freeze where you always do but this time Jake just smiles and swings the entryway wide open, sauntering out to wait for you on the other side of the threshold.

“You’re ready, I can see it,” his lips curl as he beckons you with his giant smile.

You raise an eyebrow at him from the safety of the inside, “How do you know?”

“Because in just these past few days, it's not hard to see you’re outgrowing your fears and soon you’ll become cramped with them in this house,” he offers his palm out to you.

You slip your hand into his and squeeze, clench your eyes shut, and take a deep inhale as you step from the elevated doorstep down to the porch.

You playfully puff your cheeks out to hold your breath and squint open one eye to examine your surroundings.

Jake chuckles, tugging you toward his car, “Oh? So you got jokes now?”

You anticipate the same relapse as the last time you stepped foot out your door. Everything appears the same. The autumn breeze waltzes around you the same. The birds chirp the same. The world is the same shade of fall. The same sun warms you. Yet everything that terrified you about your last excursion seems to spell you ambitious to walk further with Jake now. Maybe Jake is right and he can see something you can’t. Maybe you are ready.

You achieve the top of the driveway as Jake pilots the path to open your door and you load into the vehicle. Like a familiar episode of Deja Vu, you had almost forgotten what Jake’s car looked like: the black interior, the smell of him mixed with car leather, and of course a tricked out stereo. The sight brings you to a nostalgic giggle as you are reminded of an indecent moment or two with Jake in this very car.

The door shuts with a slam and just like that, you are alone with the terrorizing silence while Jake walks around to the driver door. Although he rejoins you within seconds, it's enough time to let panic make its presence known, like it always does.

Jake fidgets in the driver’s seat and asks you the same antsy question for the second time this evening through his restless dorky smirk, “Ready?”

You have run out of no’s for him so you force a tight lipped smile and buckle yourself, nearly flinching at the click of your seatbelt. You tug the sash as tight as possible and just pray you aren’t making a fool of yourself.

Jake pulls into a parking spot and anchors his hand on your bouncing leg. The warm sensation of his limb is what reels you in from your own anxious realm to make contact with appraising eyes. You fold your hands in your lap and manage a smile.

You can’t help the way your breath gets caught on panic, “So, everyone is just in there? Waiting on us?”

“If it's showing up wounded you’re afraid of, don’t be,” his hand seeks the lock of your seatbelt and unfastens the buckle with a click, “You tell them that's just your battle scar, angel. Don’t hide how strong you are.”

You grant Jake a slight nod in agreement. Slowly, you push your car door open and extract yourself from the vehicle one limb at a time, as if you are some fragile thing that can shatter with a single misstep. Regret looms closer and closer as you cross the parking lot and pass everyone’s car one by one, each step dragging you towards the warzone you know awaits inside. You stall as your proximity to the battlefield diminishes.

Taking notice of your dawdling, Jake shifts to tower directly in front of you. The sudden advance pounds throughout your chest and hitches your breath but you refuse to fall back. He presses his forehead to yours and coaches you through a deep breath once your eyes refocus on his caramel brown ones.

“If it gets to be too much you don’t even have to say a word,” he gingerly takes your hands in his and squeezes in a triple pattern, “just like that, and I will immediately take you home. No questions asked. Like it never happened and we can try again when you’re ready.”

You focus on your breathing and mimic the intervals in which he gripped your hands.

“Good girl, just like that,” he praises your raging seas back to stillness and checks in with you for a third and final time, “are you ready?”

You nod your head and inhale as if you could take a drag of the courage he is emitting deep into your lungs. Jake releases your limbs back to you but replaces it with his palm against the small of your back as he leads you through the entrance of the bowling alley.

You soak in the dingy fluorescent lighting and are greeted with the smell of beer, leather, and frying grease. The humble sight is paired with a cacophony of pins clunking together in their gutters as classic country pours over the sounds of cheering and laughter.

Your feet already beg to turn back towards the door.

Jake waves to the group occupying the last two lanes, only they are bowling in the farthest and using the other as a barrier of isolation. Just like Jake said. This seems to cancel out a portion of your initial panic wave.

As you follow in Jake’s bee line around pool and foosball tables you recognize Josh, Danny, and Sam waving you over, along with a few other new faces.

The two of you are serenaded by scattered hellos. His brothers each take their turns to greet you, welcoming you with warm words of how elated they are to have you with them again. Jake strategically takes the opportunity to introduce you himself to the new faces to avoid any awkward interactions and customary physical contact. He turns to you as he announces your name with the most exuberant tooth-bearing smile. The one you first witnessed in that dusty record store on Christmas Eve. The one that spelled you absolutely his by New Years. The same giant smile you now only know to exist within the walls of your bedroom during late night laughs. This is Jake in complete bliss.

The beaming smile fades out as he goes to retrieve shoes for the two of you and is replaced by a flood of new ones belonging to his brothers as they catch up with you.

As your welcome parade dies down, your eyes immediately hunt for Jake seeking comfort, already approaching overstimulation. You see him off to the side of the lane’s designated sitting area, discreetly speaking with Sam. Jake’s hand finds its place on his hip and it occurs to you this exchange is one of hostility. Sam presents some unstable defense, eliciting an eye roll and a scoff from his older brother. Ultimately, you witness Jake give into whatever Sam’s plea might be as he heads back towards you with the shoes.

You timidly prompt Jake to tell you what is bothering him when he resides back to your orbit, sitting next to you on the bench.

“Nothing, Sam did something stupid but it doesn't matter anymore,” he looks down as he unconvincingly dismisses your question.

Wavy tresses that normally frame his face, curtain his features as he lets his head hang.

You lightly tug on one of the dangling coffee-brown strands to bring your favorite honey eyes back to your line of sight and give him a heartening smirk, “But you’ll tell me when it does, right?”

His burdened face breaks back to bliss as he tucks a rogue curl behind your ear, “Yes, of course.”

Jake lets his hand linger and for a second you are revisited by the marvelous familiarity of that time with Jake before Nashville.

The rental shoes hit the floor with a light thud as Jake lets them drop beside you. He relieves you of any obligation to participate knowing that you might not be up for it yet.

Grateful doesn’t even scratch the surface of how Jake is able to read you when you aren’t sure how to articulate yourself. You agree, telling him to check back next round.

After a few cycles of everyone’s turns you notice a peculiar pattern in Jake’s behavior. After every play the bowler would return to the lane, showered by hoots and hollers of praise and glory from your friends. This includes Jake, all except for when it came to the welcome of one person.

A girl. She is tall and lean with a long auburn bob, graced by delicate cartoon features and olive skin. Earlier she introduced herself as Claudia.

Everyone cheered upon her return to the kingdom. But not Jake. He did not shout. He did not clap. He did not smile. If she so much as let her gaze fall in your direction he would clench his jaw and check on you. Everytime single time. Like a tick.

You slide your hand on Jake’s mid thigh and rest your head against his shoulder. You feel him almost spooked by your touch. Other than when he came home earlier this week, you are rarely one to seek ease in his touch. You usually avoid all physical contact but especially are never the one to initiate it. However, Jake leans into you once your intention occurs to him.

You tilt your mouth up towards his ear so only he could hear your notion, “That’s her? Isn’t it?”

The muscle of his jaw protrudes at the very mention and he places his hand over yours, “I didn’t want to cause any commotion to further overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. More than anything or anyone, I’m just happy you're here.”

You didn’t have a word for the strange sensation that followed being in her presence. Someone you thought you’d never meet. Someone you hoped to never meet. To put a name and face to the horror story of some wicked stranger who heartlessly spun your trauma without remorse between her fingers. Someone who wielded your weaknesses as a weapon to torment Jake. To turn the only man you trust against you without so much as a motive.

You are interrupted by the already buzzed boys asking for requests as they obnoxiously announce they’re headed towards the bar. Just as Jake’s brothers become absent, the girl with the auburn hair lifts herself from the opposite bench to head towards the restrooms, but not before the flashes you a sly smirk and cheekily waves and winks at Jake. She then swiftly disperses into the ladies room.

The grisly sound of Jake’s teeth grinding invades your ears as he shifts in his seat from physically cringing in outrage.

He growls through his clenched jaw, “That’s enough. I’m going to say something to that fucking prick.”

You discourage him, “No, Jake, please. It’s fine. Don’t give her the reaction she so blatantly wants. Seriously.”

“She fucking with us- she’s fucking with you,” he struggles to not to raise his voice and remain still in his seat.

“I know, but my goal is only to get through tonight,” you try to make him understand beyond his momentary red.

“She’s only going to get braver-,” he surveys your face and cuts himself off with an indecipherable flicker, “Fine, but only because you asked.”

He settles back in his seat appearing fine, his only tell being one leg vigorously bouncing up and down.

Jake seems to cool off though once his brothers are right back with beer and distractions. Claudia eventually returns from the restroom and you do your best to ignore her.

You reticently watch the boys bowl from your reserved spectator bench and ardently listen as they delight you with funny stories of what has happened since the last time they caught up with you. Your vigilance actually begins to wane and you feel yourself seeping into a plane of comfort and ease of enjoyment.

That is until you're being dragged back into reality by Claudia calling your name.

She casually accosts you with the loaded question, as if she is addressing the weather, “So I’m told you moved here from London, what brought you to the states?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. She knows exactly where the trigger is. Your shortest fuse to a spiral. You have no idea why Claudia is gunning for you, just that she is doing it well.

You feel Jake’s subtle touch to your knee and place your hand over him and squeeze.

One.

Your cheeks glow red as you burn alive.

“Well- I-,” you squeak out, “just needed a change of scenery.”

Pleased with the results of her game, Claudia continues, “Interesting. Well, tell me, why our little city? What’s Nashville hold for you? Other than your friend, Jake.”

Your hand clenches around Jake’s once more.

Two.

You feel Jake shift in anticipation, waiting for your third and final squeeze; a bull pawing before his charge. If Jake had his way he would have already put Claudia in her place and left. But he knows this night belongs to you and should be your decision, but you freeze.

In an instant, Jake discreetly turns his head to your ear, the decibel of his encouragement is hardly audible in its lull, “I’m so proud of you no matter how this night ends.”

Proud? Jake is proud of you? You had never really stopped to think about how he might perceive you.

In the midst of your storm you never sought past how he made you feel. You assumed he regards you with compassion and patience and loves you despite being this broken mess because that’s how he made you feel.

Never once did it occur to you that when Jake looks at you, it would be with eyes full of pride.

It isn’t until now that you fully realize how he craves you. It is clear he longs for your recovery and happiness and hungers to have you to himself. But you understand now he yearns for the time he had you in his corner. He aches to experience life with you, like the two of you used to. To walk into a room with you by his side and show you off and indulge in your presence. To be your equal. To be your partner. Though he loves to come home to you and regale you with stories of the road, more than anything he wishes to make you smile by recalling a shared memory instead. He misses who he is with you. But he wouldn’t dare confess such a selfish thought amongst your recent fragility.

You remove your hand from Jake’s and strain a cordial smile across your face.

You're terrified to stay but terrified to retreat. You fear if you go home now you might not ever leave again. And that is not an option. More than ever, you’re now miserably aware you can no longer survive without the courage that would dawn at the burning end of this anguishing night, you only need to push through.

You will your words to wield an ostensible confidence you do not possess, “Well actually this is probably my favorite thing to do anywhere, just spend time with loved ones. So why not Nashville?”

Before she can get in another word Josh returns from the lane and Jake curtly alerts Claudia it is her turn.

After that game ends everyone decides on one more for the night. Jake attempts to sit this round out but you insist he play and so he does. Although it does not take much convincing on your end.

He plays his turns briefly, immediately finding his seat next to you every time. He avoids all contact with Claudia and is mindful to keep you stimulated with conversation rather than your surroundings.

He hums, “So, what did you do for a whole week while I was gone, hmm?”

“I went outside for a walk,” you had almost forgotten to tell him, your brain had repressed the memory.

“Oh,” his tone turns up in genuine surprise, “How was that?”

Even though Jake has seen you through so much ugly, you still carry the small failures with a backbreaking shame.

“I ran back inside,” you grimace.

His brows knit together and bites his lip, “Were you alright after?”

You look down at your fidgeting hands in your lap and click your tongue, “That was the night you came home.”

He rests his pointer finger under your chin to raise your eyes back to his, “Well, all that matters is you’re here now. Even if you hadn’t come tonight, you’ve already overcome so much. And I know I’ve said it already but I’m proud of you.”

You don’t even have a chance to process his adulation as Claudia ambushes your bubble from her seat a few feet away.

“Enough chit-chat. You’re up, Zookeeper,” she smugly addresses the man beside you.

And just like that, everything all at once is consumed by swelling flames of a long-repressed scorching temper.

She must think she's so slick. She must think she is so fucking clever. She must assume you wouldn’t understand her reference. That no one would dare tell little frail you of her verbal assailments.

Or maybe she does hope you catch on. Maybe she thinks you’ll run and hide.

To your own surprise she isn’t so lucky.

Without so much as a moment’s sense or contemplation, venom commandeers your tongue and spurts past your lips and any prior inhibitions, “So just how big does the stick up your ass have to be in order for you to be such a raging bitch?”

She, along with everyone else within earshot, surrenders their aghast attention to you. Claudia's face is now painted with a red blaze. It's obvious she did not think you were going to burst from your timid and socially safe box, no one did.

She springs straight up and crosses her arms from her place on the opposing bench, “Excuse me?!”

Though you had been keeping to yourself you had been paying attention to the game. She couldn’t have hit more than 10 pins the whole time you’ve been here.

You reload your gun and fire off another round, “Is that also the reason you can’t bowl or are you just doing that for attention like everything else?”

Her face creases in bewilderment as she jumps to her feet, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Her attack stance has concerningly no effect on your newly ballsy demeanor. Jake doesn’t say a word but the way he stands to mimic Claudia’s body language speaks volume enough. She relaxes a bit but is still ready to pounce.

“Oh, I apologize,” you feign a pout, “I forgot you probably can’t hear very well with your head so far up your ass. Let me speak up.”

The distant sounds of snorting laughter and Sam choking on his drink as he spits it out reminds you of where you are.

A pang of guilt ceases your fire. You had given Claudia exactly what she wanted, but now it looked as if it was more than she could handle.

Normally, this would indicate victory. The old you would have basked in Claudia’s dumbfounded state. But now for some reason, you aren’t able to stomach making her feel any worse than you already have.

You back down from your reign and feel your face heat a bright red. Jake holds his hand out to gesture you to stand from the bench. As soon as you take it he squeezes three times and pulls you to your feet.

In all the ways you saw tonight ending, you definitely did not predict Jake being the one to call it quits.

He turns on his heels to address his brothers and friends, “Well, it’s getting kind of late so I suppose we should head home,” his shit-eating grin finds Claudia before she can regain any kind of composure, “We’ve had quite a lot of excitement for one night!”

You only have enough time to grab your purse and motion a goodbye to Jake’s brothers before he whisks you away from the wake of madness you had created.

Once in the shelter of Jake’s vehicle he asks if you’re okay. You respond with a disingenuous yes and neither of you whisper a word to each other for the rest of the car ride home.

You speed through your nightly regimen as if the sooner you shut your eyes the sooner the tides of slumber would wash over you and rinse away the day.

Yet you lay restless in your bed. You toss and turn, pleading for sleep to come but you’re convinced your prayers must have gotten lost.

After what feels like hours, you slip out of bed and throw on an oversized shirt and a pair of worn sweats you stole from Jake. You scamper about, not even certain of what you’re searching for until a tangible task to occupy your idle hands presents itself. You never thought you’d be grateful to arrive at a kitchen sink harboring dirty dishes. You fill the sink with hot water and soap and begin to scrub away.

Your laborious act is rewarded by the complete consumption of your thoughts. Your focus is on the cleanliness of the plates only.

That is until you hear the clinking of glass on the bar cart across the kitchen. You don’t even bother to avert yourself from the chore; you know it’s Jake pouring himself a late night drink.

You dare to ask the question first before Jake can pry, “I know why I’m still up, but why are you?”

“Well, I was in bed until someone decided now would be a great time to do the dishes,” you hear the ice in his drink clatter against the glass.

You attempt to scrub quieter but don’t actually stop.

Jake has no regard for subtly as he dives right into what he knows is terrorizing you sleepless, “I thought you handled tonight fine.”

“I wasn’t ready for- I shouldn’t have-” you hesitate for a moment before continuing the dishes rather than your train of thought.

You hear Jake’s tone slightly pick up, “Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have stood up for yourself? Should have let that cunt walk all over you?”

“Jake-”

You can hear his boiling frustrations begin to erupt past his control again, “No- I'm glad you handled yourself that way! She would have just kept bulldozing!”

You pointlessly try to illustrate your crime, “I stooped to her level-“

Yet he has no desire to understand your fault, his hand not responsible for his glass flying through the air to cut you off, “She deserved it!”

You suddenly feel queasy at the night’s recap, almost dropping the dish you are holding from fatigue, “Jacob, were we even in the same room?! I mean, did you see the look on her face? How can I expect understanding for my pain and trauma and then go and make someone else feel like that?”

The kitchen fell into a still silence, the only audible signs of life being the dying suds in the sink and a remorseful huff from Jake. In his rooting for your full recovery, it hadn’t occurred to him that you might not want to return to everything you once were, including your existing flaws.

A crackled feedback of speakers introduces itself to the air, indicating Jake connected his music to the sound system throughout the kitchen. A soft blue melody pours from the stereo, confirming your assumption as you feel him come from behind you.

He nimbly removes the plate from your grip and places it to soak in the soapy sink water. He takes the nearest dish rag in his hand and delicately dries yours off before placing them around his back, leaning in to curl his arms around your afflicted stature.

Wallowing in your fresh wounds, you naturally resist when he begins swaying you back and forth with the rhythm of the music.

His speech abandons all previous conviction it carried seconds earlier as he softly prays, “Come on, I’m sorry I got upset with you, angel. Dance with me please? It’s been so long.”

You loosen your demeanor and sway with Jake, always wanting to grant him yes on the small things you could.

He accepts your movement as his exoneration and continues to candy you with kind words, “You know, I had no clue what I was in for the first time I laid eyes on you. No clue how in over my head I was- No clue I’d get to feel this way about you.”

As he feels you further give into his motions, he places his hand in the dip of your waist to properly waltz you about the kitchen. With his opposite he tucks your stray bedhead hairs behind your ear and gives you a small tight lipped smirk. His smile is one that you have yet to deny so you wrap your arms around his shoulders and follow his feet, fully accepting your fate.

You rest your head to his bare clavicle as a familiar steel guitar resonates throughout your kitchen. The smallest chuckle escapes him as he begins to hum along with the melody.

Why are you still crying?

Your pain is now through

Please, forget those teardrops

Let me take them from you

The love you are blessed with

This world's waiting for

So, let out your heart please, please

From behind that locked door

Still whirling around the kitchen tile to the swaying melody, Jake fully presses against you and rests his chin atop the crown of your head. Left. Right. Right. Left. Just like the first time on that New Year's Eve. Just like he taught you.The recording blends with Jake as he begins to fully sing along with George Harrison.

It's time we start smiling

What else should we do?

With only this short time

I'm gonna be here with you

And the tales you have taught me

From the things that you saw

Makes me want out your heart, please, please

From behind that locked door

You’re not sure if you’re overwhelmed from the evening’s events or maybe it's Jake singing along with former Beatle’s kind words, but something inside you breaks as your face begins to stream warm with tears. You cling to Jake and hide your face in his chest like a scared child. He holds you steady as you quake under his arms.

A sharp sob breaks out of you and into his flesh, “I miss me too, Jake! I want to come home to you more than anything.”

“I know,” his voice is a calm surface, contradicting his heart pounding erratically under your cheek, “but you’re going to be alright. You will heal, I can feel it. All in good time, angel.”

You fight to steady your speech against hiccuping breaths, “I’ve never fought this hard. It’s never been this dark before, Jake! How do you know that I haven’t burnt out and this is what's left of me? How do you know I’m not stuck this way?”

He answers without a moment’s hesitation, as if he had rehearsed his words and held onto them for a thousand years, “Because, angel, I’ve seen so many places and people and there is only one of you. You’re a marigold. An eternal flame. A rey of light bestowed to me by the sun herself. Your’s is not an energy that can be demolished.”

You squeeze your arms around his neck tighter, abolishing any unwelcome space between the two of you.

Jake caresses small soothing circles against the small of your back, “Whenever you’re ready, I love you now and I'm ready to love whoever you are going to be.”

There are those words again. Words you hadn’t spoken to him till you blurted them out in a half-conscious panicked confession. Words he hadn’t dared speak to you since London. But here he is confirming his love for you in the midst of your wounds and extending it to the woman you would be after they healed.

Swept in your own existential whirlwind, your fingertips mindlessly explore the warmth of his exposed skin as you tilt your head up and close in to his face to appreciate his delicate features there. He realizes you are searching for his lips before you do. Jake lowers his head to help you achieve your hunt, brushing the tip of his nose over the peak of your top lip and across your wet cheek until his warm breath hovers over yours. You swear hours must pass when you finally feel his lips press into yours but not in a kiss, more like he is relearning your mouth, trying to recall your taste before savoring it. Taking the time to survive on the same air, waiting for you to give in.

Heedlessly, you rush against him, lips plush as you remember. As if you are magnetic, Jake’s starving hands fly to cradle your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks and swiping the rolling tears away.

Your appetite swells quickly and you push your weight into Jake until he slowly backs into the nearest kitchen countertop, eliciting a hum that tickles your lips. You stretch on your tiptoes to better reach his hungry mouth. He immediately wraps his hands into the curve of your waist and shifts to lift you on the counter. Jake’s lips never leave yours as he plops you down on the espresso wooden slab.

His tongue graces your lips and you promptly grant him access. He impatiently laps into your mouth as his touch further constricts around your midriff. You feel his starved fingers fighting not to venture across your skin.

Finally, all at once Jake reignites your desire. Like someone turned on the light in a dark room you had been stuck in. Suddenly, you remember where you are and what you had been doing in that room, like you picked up exactly where you left off.

Jake has been your only shelter in this storm. He has put you back together so many times now and remained patient every step of the way. He took care of you in London when he could have looked the other way and nobody, including yourself, would have known. He hauled you away from the monsters Europe held for you. He’s been your only friend and liberation when you couldn’t even escape the very walls of your bedroom. If your malaise hadn’t warded him off yet nothing would.

You finally recognize Jake isn’t leaving. He always says it, but it seemed like this abstract concept, but he is here in front of you still voracious for more even after all he has witnessed.

His devotion is now this tangible thing.

You can see it in the way he looks at you and fights for you. You feel it in the way his fingers grace your skin and hands grab at you. Hear it in the way he sings your name and groans in restraint to devour you. Taste it on his bourbon and peach velvet tongue. Jake is not going anywhere and he’s not going to hurt you.

You depart from his lips to catch your breath and contemplate if this is solid ground or a passive breeze. You retrieve his hand from where it is clasped around your waist, calloused, heavy, extending much longer and thicker than your own digits. You run your fingertips over his knuckles studying the lines there, fidgeting because you’re uncertain how to articulate the arrival of your long awaited craving.

Jake's eyes grow wide, terrified he's done something wrong, “I’m sorry! I don’t-”

“Jake, I want you,” you can’t even stand to hear him finish.

His breath hitches at your words, “No, it's alright. You don’t have anything to prove to me. Tonight has been more than enough.”

It has been months since the two of you have touched each other. He was more than satisfied to just be near you and he did not want to lose or confuse or overwhelm you.

You wrap the material of his shirt around your fingers and tug him in close once more, not even letting the sting of his rejection sink in, “Jake I need to feel you again.”

Still gripping the half open button down, you commandeer his exposed neck to your reckless mouth. He growls a, “Fuck,” into the open air as you begin to kiss, lap, nibble and suck his salty skin.

He groans as you mark his collarbone, “Are you sure, Angel?”

You whisper your third consent into his ear and without a beat missed Jake whisks you off the counter. Your feet barely meet the tile before he's grabbing your hand and ushering you out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the frigid dark hall till you reach his bedroom door.

He twists the knob and the hinges groan as he pushes the entrance open for you. You take your time entering his room, your fuzzy socks slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor over to his bed. You sit, sinking into the soft mattress and place your hands in your lap as he turns on his salt lamp, illuminating the room in a coat of warm light.

Your favorite smile grows wild on his face at the sight of you waiting for him on his bed. The elated man hurries over and presses a quick kiss to you before he places his hands on the tops of your thighs.

He levels himself with your line of sight, his every word carrying what seems to be the weight of the world, “You’re in control here. You say the word and it is my command.”

You whisper a rushed yes and he pulls you back to your feet, gripping your hips. He once again envelopes your lips in his, but this time it is sweet and slow. There is no haste, no power dynamic, only the two of you basking in the warm essence of the other.

He swings your hips closer to him and you feel his hard bulge press into your stomach. Jake's fingers scatter for the hem of your shirt. Hips not daring to leave you, his torso repels in order to slip your top off, exposing your goosebump ridden skin and breasts to his soft eyes and brisk air of the room.

You in turn, undo the few done up buttons of his shirt. You lean into him to slip the sleeves off his shoulders, your lips catching along the muscle of his jaw as you undress him.

His hands travel down your sides and slip under the waistband of your sweats, his warmth buzzing across your cool skin. He traces the curve of your hips under the fleece material and migrates to grab your ass until your feet have left the hardwood floor and locked around his back.

At this new angle he laps one of your erect nipples into his velvet mouth with ease and your whimper floats into the room. He groans with a mouth full of your tit as your hands slip into his tousled hair and tug, the vibrations rippling through you and straight to your core as he hums against your pebbled breasts.

He staggers, carrying you till he reaches his bed and leans to lay you down on your back. Jake casts his face over your pelvis and begins to slowly tug down your sweats, pressing his mouth to every newly unenveloped inch of your skin as it peeks out from behind the material being pulled down further and further. Jake’s open mouth kisses trail your hips, thighs, and down to your ankles, tossing the pants somewhere on the floor near his closet after he’s fully removed your pajamas.

He brings his knees up to the mattress and props himself over you, crawling till his mouth is hovering over yours again. He looks down between your bodies as he drags his faint touch below your naval, over your mound, and slips through your folds to feather your clit.

He swallows your moan as you are reintroduced to his kiss. You struggle to stay still as his loving fingers press into your labia till he finds your entrance. You swear you are far more sensitive since the last time he touched you, almost as if this is the first time he’s had you.

He pulls away from your mouth to gingerly check in with you, “This is okay, babygirl?”

“Fuck- more than okay,” you breathlessly whimper against his pink pout.

At your reassurance he inserts a long finger inside you, relishing in the way you squirm underneath him.

“Please- Jake, more,” you’re already begging.

Without any hesitation he inserts his middle fingers and watches as he starts pumping his digits in and out of you, glistening in your slick.

He begins a beeline of open-mouth kisses down the valley of your breasts and past your belly button. He reaches your slit and slightly parts them to suck your clit into his mouth, swirling his warm plush tongue around the swollen bud.

He returns his fingers, this time curling them up inside you, causing your hips to buck towards his face. The lewd sounds of Jake lapping your clit and fucking you with his fingers fills your head. He moans into you as you writhe in his hard-working mouth.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” you desperately command, “Jake, I- fuck, baby- I need you.”

“Just be patient, angel, let me take care you,” he croons against your bundle of nerves, “I’ve- I’ve waited so long for you.”

Jake continues drilling into you, his thick fingers pumping inside you and velvet tongue fluttering against your clit. All at once, your climax sneaks up on you, a drive by of ecstasy, sweeter than you could ever remember or commit to memory. Your legs cut off Jake’s air supplying, squeezing around him till you tremble and you cum right into his mouth without so much as a warning.

But he refuses to cease his oral attack on you. Instead, he continues to consume you at a painfully dizzy pace. You hardly register the symphony of your own whimpers and slurping of Jake sloppily eating you out.

“Fuck! Ja- I- Please, Jake, I need to feel you inside me,” you restively whine through your overstimulation.

Like you’ve casted a spell on Jake, his mouth and fingers part from you without another word. Though the dark of his eyes and furrow of his brows tell you a story of struggle; if Jake had his way, his head would still be lost between your shaking thighs.

He steps to the floor to shimmy out of his pants and boxers to free the pretty pink cock you are desperate for. You watch his hard length bob about as he hops right back on the mattress.

He wraps his hands around your ankles and pushes them in toward you to bend your knees upward. Jake admiringly watches his own hands run along your shins and up your thighs until he stops and squeezes at the thick of them. He spreads your legs open to gain access to your inner thigh and presses more kisses and nibbles there.

When his lips reach your folds Jake laps his tongue though for one last taste before he pulls away to gravitate his core closer to your dripping center. His consuming touch leaves you to grab his cock, collecting the gloss at his tip to pump his hand over himself a few times before pressing his painfully pink head to your lips.

You gasp in pure anticipation and whimper when Jake flicks his throbbing tip over your swollen clit. Lining himself up to your entrance, he looks back to you one last time for your consent.

He rests his arms down beside you to anchor himself in your atmosphere and rasps in your ear, “Ready, angel?”

“I’ve never wanted this more, Jake,” you pant out against his neck.

At your cue, he thrusts his hips into you and hisses in your ear. Your drawn out moan sounds through the room as your cunt welcomingly stretches for Jake.

He looks at you with curious eyes, concerned if you’re still comfortable.

You run a gentle finger along his hairline before brushing the rest through his chestnut waves and nod, “I’m okay, baby, you can move.”

You see relief flash on his face but it is quickly replaced by something else when he plunges deep inside you to the hilt. Jake begins to pump himself in and out of you at a deliciously slow rhythm.

This is so different from anything you’ve ever done with him. Fooling around with Jake had always been some thrilling primitive game. And while this moment is still animalistic, it is also raw and real and sweet and tender. The two of you taking care of each other. The two of you a union.

You are consumed by Jake; he is the only thing you can see, feel, taste, smell, and hear. You can’t recall a moment before him or see a thing beyond. Everything belongs to him. At this moment Jake could do no wrong.

He speeds his pace up and laps a stripe across your neck, “Oh fuck- I missed you, pretty girl.”

The only words you could find were babbled moans.

Praises absent of any satire or malice, he coos, “Oh, someone likes being called pretty? Well good because you are. You’re the prettiest girl.”

Without any real ideation, the desire blurts out of you, “Jake- Fuck- want to be your pretty girl, Jake!”

Both of you caught off guard by the demand, he pulls away from his work on your ear and his hips stall in divided attention. Jake blinks at you wide-eyed, waiting for some redirection of blood flow back to his brain to process your words. You swallow down your mournful whine that follows the loss of momentum, knowing you brought it on.

You are summoned back to coherency by the rasping of your name as he blesses your face with kisses, “You want to be my pretty little thing? Want me to make you all mine?”

Fully wrapping his mind around the concept, his strokes return harder and faster. That familiar sweltering pressure you’ve missed begins to burn in your pelvis, rolling your eyes back.

A stuttered moan is all you can manage, “Yes- Please, Jake!”

Jake brings his hand to cup your chin, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and slows his hips yet again to bring you back to earth, “I need to hear you say it, angel.”

You open your eyes to meet his dark chocolate irises and focus all your energy into gathering your words, “Yes, Jake. I’m yours and I want you to be all mine.”

You are graced with the sight of that giant smile of his, of which he presses to your lips and attempts to kiss you through his teeth baring elation.

He then swings his hips back to a mind numbing pace.

He can’t help the audible smirk in his demands, “Good girl. Now, will my baby cum for me?”

Your only acknowledgement to his request is a broken stream of moans, whimpers, and muttered swears as he swivels his hips, hitting the spot only he ever manages to find.

You are rendered to a puddle of incoherent begging, “Please, Ja- Baby- Fuck- I love you, Jacob, don’t stop!”

You feel your second climax begging to burn through you like a good smoke. With every swing of Jake’s hips, you inhale his saccharine nicotine deep into your lungs and puff him out, only to drag him in again. A sweet slowburn of ashes till you turn out.

Jake begins to thrust inside you even faster and reaches a hand down to rub your clit. You’re lifted by his gravity, arching your back as your pussy begins to contort around him.

“Fuck- do that again, babe,” he hisses in ecstasy, “squeeze me and tell me that you love me when you cum. Please?”

His begging is enough to set off your release. You try your best to look at him but your eyes roll back as the tension in your stomach bursts in a white heat. You feel that electric buzz in your chest ripple throughout you. Your only tether to reality is fulfilling Jake’s sweet need.

You squeeze your walls around Jake as tight as you can, sinking him even further inside you as your rasped confession breaks against involuntary moans and squeals, “Fuck- Ja- I love you so much- Jake! I didn’t even know- it was possible to- to be so consumed by one person. I love- I love you, Jacob!”

He fights to remain composed, coaching you down from your high as he approaches his, “Easy, princess, I’ve got- I got you. I’ve missed you so bad, baby, please let me have it.”

Your senses become bombarded by overstimulation as you finish on his twitching cock inside you but remain attentive to help Jake finish. You know he is close when his hips begin to sputter.

You buck your hips upwards to finish his motions and clench around him one last time as you feel his cock jerking inside you. Jake’s eyes flutter shut and his head drops to your shoulder as slack jaw mutters your name like a swear. Jake slips a hand under your head to cradle you closer as he fights though his final stokes.

You take the opportunity to start sucking and kissing encouragement against his neck, “Come on, baby boy. You’re so good to me. I want all of you, Jake. Want to feel full of you. Want to love you.”

Your serenade shoves him over the edge and his bruising grip sears into your hip bone as he lets go. With a blissed out grunt of your name, you feel his release coat your walls and fill you.

He collapses on to you, his weight sinking you further into the soft mattress. You wish to exist in this amber lit moment forever, convinced the weight of Jake’s head and rhythm of him catching his breath against your shoulder is the safest shelter you’d ever find.

You wrap your arms around Jake to rub his glossy back, still heaving in recovery. He hums underneath your jaw and begins to lazily kiss the muscle there. The two of you seem to exist in your own plane before Jake breaks the silence, telling you to stay put while runs to fetch you a warm rag.

Upon his arrival you grab the cloth from Jake, his eyes devouring the scandalous scene you are cleaning him from your dripping thighs. You catch his ravenous stare and fold the rag to the opposite side. You earn a beaming smile and bashful giggle from Jake as you begin to gently swipe away at the beads of sweat that decorate his glistening face.

He nuzzles into your touch, allowing you for once to care for him. But as you clean him, Jake catches your hand in his to cease your movements. You witness a short scene of grief and guilt play across the very features you were just nursing.

“Was it- not-,” you can’t string your sentence together to bare the thought of Jake regretting his actions.

“No- No- That was- I’m so glad we- Its just- It reminded me of the last-,” he scrambles for his words as a few thoughts try to make their way all at once.

You squeeze his hand still in yours and tend to his uncertainty with a smile of reassurance, “Jake?”

He reflects your gesture, taking a deep breath before putting his concern to words this time, "I never apologized for the way I treated you."

Out of all the things you expected Jake to confess in this moment, an apology is certainly not one, "What the hell are you talking about, Jacob? You have nothing to apologize for. You've been nothing but good to me."

He shakes his head with a slight chuckle, indicating you misunderstood, "No- I meant before your move to Nashville. I was just- I was cruel to you and I'm so sorry for what happened between us."

It seems like lifetimes ago, you almost want to giggle at Jake’s amends, having already made up for it in more than a million ways, "Well, trust me, you have more than made up for it. And we are finding our way back now."

Jake pulls you into him for another kiss as he presses a small chuckle and that pretty smile into your lips before scooping you off the bed and into his arms. You devoutly wrap your limbs around Jake to stabilize yourself as he playfully peppers your skin with quick pecks and carries you to the bath he had already started running.

He slowly lets you down to the floor and checks the temperature of the water. Once he is satisfied, he ties up his hair while stepping into the tub. Jake sits and settles his back against the wall before extending his hand up to guide you in. You utilize Jake for balance as your feet dip into the steaming water. You twist away from your guide as the rest of you sinks into the warm bath, replicating his movements.

Jake’s arm grips the lip of the tub as an anchor when the other wraps around your waist as he tugs you into him, your back flush against his chest. You let your head fall against his shoulder to find his lips yet again. A blissed out sigh slips from Jake and tickles your cheek.

Your call comes out smaller than you intend, “Jake?”

His only acknowledgement is a vague hum as he tucks his face away in your neck.

You timidly purpose, “No more games, right?”

You only receive another fatigued hum in agreement, “Of course. No more games.”

You proceed to pry for an answer he's already given in ten thousand different tongues, “Be honest with me? You meant what you said? Or was it the high of the moment?”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to but you should know I have a girlfriend now,” he giggles at himself into your skin, having not removed himself from your neck.

You roll your eyes at Jake. You know he is merely teasing you but you do not have the courage to ask twice.

Jake pries himself from you to grab the tan bar soap and lather it in his vast calloused hands. The smell of vanilla and patchouli shamefully teleports you back to days he had to help you bathe.

He runs the suds down your arms and speaks softly against the shell of your ear, “I meant every syllable.”

Jake rakes his fingers against the skin of your forearms before he places his stretched out hand below your open palms, your limbs posing so helpless and dainty in comparison to his.

He studies the size difference before interlocking your fingers and bringing them to his lips, “This is all I’ve ever wanted. And now it's finally mine.”

Jake places your hands back in your lap to retrieve more soap.

He lathers the suds around your torso and slightly presses his finger into the meat of your stomach, “This is mine.”

You giggle and he continues, the goofy smile plastered on his face audible in his tone.

Jake wraps his digits, finger by finger around your waist, “And this is mine.”

He spreads the suds up across your breast, massaging them and running his knuckles along your nipples as he lightly teases, “I’m very pleased to say these are now mine.”

With his fingertip, he blazes a trail along your clavicle, his lips following the route as he adds, “and this.”

With his hands still on your shoulder he lightly guides your weight forward to gain access to your back. He sweeps your half drenched raven locks above your head and grabs a tie from the tub caddy to place your hair up. His digits meet your shoulder blade and flutter down your back in lawless streaks.

You know he is tracing exactly where your scars are. The scars you’d hardly seen, avoiding them in the mirror at all costs, but you know exactly where the tissue lies.

Jake feels you cringe underneath his touch but doesn’t let you squirm from his reach.

He places his pink lips to the discolored welts there, kissing blessings and vows to your scarred flesh, “And this- I want all of this too.”

His mouth continues up your neck, biting and lapping until he reaches your jaw. Jake places his fingertips on your chin and tilts your head towards a full body mirror across from the tub, directing your vision to your reflection.

“And this stunningly gorgeous face, the one I see everytime I close my eyes,” he punctuates every word with a kiss to your eyelashes, the tip of your nose, and cheeks, “All you see is mine."

He finally reunites with your lips, “And I am irrevocably and absolutely yours. You are all I’ve ever wanted. I am so in love with you, baby.”

thank you so much for reading, pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

taglist❤️‍🩹 - @ageofbajabule @alwaysonthemend @anythingforjtk @becinabubblegvf @dancingcarbon @dannys-dream @dayumclarizzel @do-it-jakey-baby @dont-go-home-without-me @edgingthedarkness @fomopheobe @gretasfallingsky @gretavangirlie @gretavanglimmers @gretavangroupie @gvf23 @gvfmarge @hannahrk @heckingfrick @hollyco @hsfallingsky @imleavingyoufornewyork @kiszkazz @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @jakesguitarsolo @jakesmustache @jakeysbuttsheeks @lipstickitty @littleficsworld @livkiszka @lyndz2names @mindastreamofcolours @mountain-in-springtime @mrbrownstne @nina-23-45 @notjordie-gvf @smoking-jakelane @sparrowofthedawnsworld @kiszkas-canvas @takenbythemadness @thewritingbeforesunrise @fuckyoutommie @tripthelightfatality @vanfleeter @violet-hayes @wetkleenex-gvf @zoe-tally06

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blackflag-exposition · 3 months

Text

Edible

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Drugs. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (if you squint), Cum Play. Major Fluff.

A/N: The very last part of our four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Jake's story to wrap things up! Thank you so much for reading these one shots over the last few weeks, maybe we will do it again soon! ❤️

Usually, Valentine’s day wasn’t a holiday that bothered you. As a single person in your mid 20’s, it’s almost expected that you dread the 14th of February. The years before and between relationships never bothered you, but as you slip into your pajamas at 7:50pm on a Friday night that also happens to be Valentine’s day, the realization that you’re alone hits a little harder.

You shuffle down the stairs in your slippers and matching PJ set, your destination being the bottle of red wine in the fridge. As you stand in front of the door and look at the dry erase calendar on your freezer, you avoid acknowledging the little heart you drew around the number 14 when you were clearly in better spirits. You also happen to see the little sticker that lives permanently above the column of Fridays. Trash day.

Letting your head fall back, you groan at the ceiling before turning on your heel towards the trash can. Lifting the half-full bag out and tying it off, you consider whether or not you really need to take the bin out to the curb… It’s so, so cold, and you’ve had a tough day already.

Shaking your head, you pull yourself out of your thoughts and decide to grow up. You get moving and elbow the door open, wincing as the cold air hits your skin. The short sleeve shirt and matching shorts combination are really not on your side at this moment as you jog down the four stairs towards the spot where your trash bins live.

It’s a minute of wrestling before you get the bag in and flip the top closed, grabbing the handle and beginning to wheel it towards the end of your driveway. The rattling of the plastic wheels is so damn loud you feel like you’re waking up half your neighborhood. Oh, wait. They’re probably all out for Valentine’s day. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you kick the bin upright and position it on the patch of grass near the curb.

As you’re about to turn and head inside, you hear rumbling coming from across the street. When you raise your head and try to focus despite the limited light from the streetlamps and the clouded moon, you see your neighbor from across the street. For a moment you feel a little vulnerable in your pajama set, legs bare and no bra, but then you see he’s shirtless, a thin bathrobe over his shoulders and down his back, but it’s hanging open, giving way to show you his tanned chest and stomach. His sweatpants are hanging sinfully low on his hips, and even though you’re all the way across the street, you can see there’s just a tiny bit of hair peeking out from above his waistband.

He has his head down as he does almost the same exact thing you did- he shimmies the bin into position on the curb and makes sure it’s closed tight, left with some defense against the wind. His hair is in a low, messy bun, some stray strands of hair framing his face.

As you stare at him from the shadows across the street, realizing you’re probably giving off way weirder vibes than intended, you think back on when you’ve seen him and try to remember his face. As you think, there’s a silhouette of a cat in his front window, a warm glow behind it. And then the memory comes to you.

There was one afternoon when you had first moved in, the summer, seven or eight months ago. He came and knocked on your door, a pair of sunglasses on, his shirt unbuttoned and paired with some breezy linen pants. You answered the door in confusion, but were friendly regardless.

“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Jake. I’m your neighbor. I live across the street?” He said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Right, right. Hey. I’m Y/N.” You answered with a slightly concerned smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, um,” he started, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger as he gathered his thoughts. You watched as he crossed his arms over his chest in almost a nervous habit.

“Do you wanna come in?” You offered, but he shook his head no, waving you off casually.

“No, no. I actually just have a weird and maybe cumbersome favor to ask of you.” He said, his confidence building as the conversation went on. You raised your eyebrows, a little confused, but wordlessly encouraging him to go on.

“There’s this cat that lives in my house and I usually leave him with my brother’s girl when I travel, but she’s actually tagging along, so I’m kind of in a pinch and need someone to feed the thing.” He said. You gave him a look of playful confusion.

“That’s a weird way to say you have a cat.” You quipped, laughing.

“I’m not keeping it! I just don’t want it to get hungry or get hit by a car or something.” He said, laughing through his words. Before you can poke any more fun at him, he keeps talking.

“He’s a grazer, so he really just needs his big ass bowl refilled once a day and he’ll be fine,” he said, flashing you a little smile. “And water.”

You considered it for a moment, but he had such a way about him that there was no way you would be able to say no.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. For how long?” You asked, leaning on the door frame. He fished out a key from his pocket, handing it over as he spoke. It was brass and there was a little soccer ball keychain attached.

“Just for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.” He said with a little excitement in his voice. Holding his spare key in your hand, you nodded and gave him a polite smile.

“I can do that. For sure.” You reassured him as he leaned from foot to foot, almost like he had somewhere to be.

“I fed him just now and I’m about to head out, but when you go in, the kitchen is on the left and his bowl is there. The food is in the bin with… with the food. It’s clear so… you can see it.” He said, taking a few steps backwards. “He also bites, but he’ll probably hide from you anyway, so don’t sweat it!” He added, jogging down the two stairs to the sidewalk.

“O-okay!” You answered, perplexed but charmed. He shouted across the road to thank you before he hopped into his car and backed out of his driveway.

When you eventually went over to his house the next day, you opened the door cautiously, not wanting to sneak up on the cat who you were warned would bite you. After a moment of wondering why you agreed to this, you shrugged and pushed the door open gently. As if the cat was waiting for Jake himself but then realized it was you, he went flying by so quickly you only heard the thump of his paws and the jingle of his collar. Your eyes almost immediately found the big bowl in the kitchen, sitting in the middle of a little placemat. ‘DAVY’ was etched into the porcelain, so you figured it had to be his. Like Jake mentioned, there was the bin of food about a foot away.

You didn’t see the cat a single time that weekend. Sunday morning, after you fed him the last time, you left the key on the hook near Jake’s front door and locked it from the inside. You didn’t hear from him, but one day when you got home from work, there was a bottle of wine on your welcome mat with a card underneath, wax sealed with care. Inside, you found a card with a short note of thanks and his name signed in indigo ink.

You’re pulled back to the present as a car flies down your street, headlights flashing in your peripherals. The light pulls his attention too, and it’s seconds before he notices you across the street. He raises one open hand, giving you a casual wave. You smile and wave your hand back and forth, a polite, neighborly greeting.

“Look at you, all dressed up. Big plans tonight?” He says, projecting his voice all the way across the street. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing he’s absolutely calling you out for being outside in your pajamas.

“Oh! Ha. Yeah.” you say, the laugh incredibly forced, your nerves turning you into an awkward, stiff mess. Freezing cold, nervous, and a little embarrassed, you give him another quick wave and scurry inside your house, disappearing. You close the door and snatch the bottle of wine from your fridge, taking the bottle and glass with you into the living room.

You practically dive under the blanket on your sofa and wrap it around you in a hurry. As you reach for the bottle of wine and pour yourself a little glass, you hear your phone buzz from somewhere in the couch cushions. Fishing it out from under your thigh and some layers of blanket, you squint and turn the brightness down immediately.

You have a few notifications from instagram and other apps, and one text from an unsaved number.

???

8:08pm: Sorry for being weird, lol

It has to be Jake. You hop up from the couch and shuffle to the bulletin board and dry-erase calendar on your freezer to see the torn piece of paper pinned to it. Comparing the two numbers, you confirm it’s the same. That leaves you frozen as you try to figure out how to respond.

You

8:10pm: Oh no worries, you were right. I’m clearly staying in tonight 🍷

When you get back to the couch, nuzzling yourself back under your blankets, you look over your shoulder and out the window at his house. There are a few lights on and the cat’s silhouette has disappeared from the window.

You decide to save his number quickly before finally taking a few sips of your wine.

Jake - Neighbor

8:13pm: Likewise. I’m about to take an edible and spend the rest of my romantic evening falling down a youtube wormhole.

Laughing, you think of something clever to send back. It takes a while because everything you come up with seems to be toeing the line of flirty and friendly.

You

8:17pm: Sounds fun... If you open your curtains a little more I could probably watch along. 🙂

Jake - Neighbor

8:20pm: Or you could accompany me down said wormhole, meaning we both won’t have to lie about being alone on Valentine’s day tomorrow?

You’re immediately conflicted. This guy is your neighbor, and although he seems friendly, this feels like the beginning of a terrible Hallmark movie or even worse, one that went straight to Netflix. You think about the invitation as you stare at your glass of wine on the coffee table next to your kindle. It couldn’t hurt to just go hang out for a little while… right? It would be good to get to know him. Maybe you could convince him to mow your lawn over the summer or something.

Not to mention he’s cute. Your mind flashes back to the way he looked glowing under the streetlights, his messy bun and the tan line on his hips that you need to stop thinking about before your mouth begins to water.

You

8:21pm: Lol are you serious? I don’t want to intrude

You bite at your lip nervously, waiting for him to reply. The little bubbles that indicate he’s typing make your stomach churn as you look over your shoulder and out the window once more. There’s a little bit of a glow coming from the other side of his house now and you see his shadow move across the window.

Jake - Neighbor

8:22pm: It’s not intruding if I’m inviting you.

It doesn’t take much convincing on his end, if any. You down the last of your wine for courage and ditch the blanket on the couch. Heading up the stairs, you grab the cardigan you left hanging over the banister and pick out something to wear. The matching jammies clearly aren’t appropriate, but you don’t want to dress like you’re trying too hard.

You

8:25pm: Should I bring anything?

Standing in your closet for a few minutes, you ultimately land on a pair of yoga pants and an old t-shirt, a soft baby blue Rush tee with the band’s name spelled out in big, rainbow bubble letters. It was once your dad’s, but lives in your wardrobe as a slightly cropped version now.

Jake - Neighbor

8:26pm: Nope. Just yourself. Need the address? 😉

Pulling on the cardigan, you tug the back of it down a little to assure you’re not showing up with your ass on display from the get-go. You stand at the door with nothing but your phone and keys, bracing yourself for however this Valentine’s night is about to go.

You

8:28pm: I think I remember how to get there. I’m on my way 🙂

—

You pull your sleeves down over your hands as you climb the steps to his porch, the freezing cold wind whipping through your cardigan as if it wasn’t even there. You rap your knuckles against the wooden door, a small wave of nerves rushing through your body as you wait for him to answer. You hear his footfall against the wooden floors as he makes his way to the door, and as he opens it you feel a rush of warmth as the heat from inside blows past you.

His eyes subconsciously look you over and as he realizes he pulls his eyes away, letting them dart around for a few seconds before landing on your face. He offers a shy grin and swallows down his nerve. “Any trouble finding the place?” he jokes, giving you a small glimpse of his real smile.

“Oh yeah, traffic was awful...” you quip back, watching his full smile bloom across his face.

“Come in, come in. I know it’s cold out there.” he says, ushering you inside. The house is very different from the last time you’d seen it. More art on the walls, a new rug or two, and most importantly there were lights on. A fire is going in the fireplace, the logs crackling drawing you into his home further.

“Your home is beautiful. I’m suddenly insanely jealous that I don't have a fireplace.” you smile, gesturing towards the beautiful brick hearth.

“Thanks, I try to do what I can here and there. What’s a home if you can’t enjoy the time you spend in it…” he ponders, suddenly flicking his attention back to you. “I could…show you around if you want, it’s kind of a mess at the moment…” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his lips as his eyes scan the room. You can tell he is feeling put on the spot and your chest warms at his underlying hospitality.

“That’s okay, I know you were totally not planning on having a guest.” you laugh, hoping to ease his anxiety.

“Yeah, I’m not here too often, and when I am, things kind of get strewn around and forgotten. It’s actually a fluke that I’m here now. Which brings me back to the part about enjoying the house while I’m here.” he says, trying to unnecessarily justify his lived in space.

Your mind wanders as you recall his empty driveway the past few weeks, and you try to piece together if you ever remember him mentioning what he does for work, or why he’s gone so often. You hardly ever see him coming and going, just the glow from his windows on rare occasions.

He pulls you from your thoughts and you refocus on him, realizing that he too, has changed into different clothes. He’s added a slightly wrinkled black button down shirt to a pair of equally as wrinkled khaki pants, rolled at the ankle. To anyone else this would seem like a strange choice to hang out on the couch, but on him it seemed fitting, almost like these were his relaxing clothes.

“Can I get you anything to drink, or?” he asks, gesturing towards the kitchen, a tiny little sliver of his stomach peeking from beneath the frayed hem, showcasing an unseasonably dark tan.

“Sure, um I will take some water?” you squeak out, trying to pretend you weren’t just staring at his waist.

“Okay, you can just… sit wherever. I'll be right back.” he says nodding towards the couch. He walks off into the kitchen as you venture into his living room, the fireplace providing the perfect ambience for such a cold night. His couch isn’t huge, but it does seem comfortable. A few throw pillows are tossed to one side, giving you the hint that he was previously occupying the other side. You move a few of the pillows towards the center and position yourself at the opposite side on the chaise lounge, as you let your eyes glance around the room. The walls are dark and covered with art, and bookshelves line most of the walls. A large TV sits just to the left of the fireplace, the video he was previously watching paused and awaiting his return.

You relax into the couch cushions, closing your eyes and listening to the perfect crackling sound of the fireplace. The glass of wine from earlier is seeping into your bones and you’re suddenly feeling just a little bit more relaxed. Jake returns a few seconds later, offering you a glass filled to the brim with ice water.

“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not, so I just made it how I like it.” he says, falling back into his place on the couch. He tosses a few of the throw pillows between you, down onto the ground so that there is less of a barrier, before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Where’s your little kitty cat?” you ask, turning to face him. “Or did you find him a home after all…”

“Who? Ol’ Davy Jones?” he asks, an air of underlying affection in his tone. “Ahh, that little vagrant is around here somewhere. Truthfully, I just haven’t even had time to think about finding him a home.”

You smile because you can tell he is lying. “That’s funny, because it’s been what? Almost a year now?”

“Has it… Hmmm.” he says, staring off into space. “I’m sure he’ll be around, he’s a curious little thing.”

“You know they say that you shouldn’t name pets that you don’t plan to keep…” you press, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Well…” he pauses. You can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to piece together an excuse. “He wasn’t responding to ‘hey you feline’, so I was practically forced into giving him a name. You know how these things go. I really am going to find him a good home one of these days when I have the time.”

You nod your head with a smile, as he shakes his own head, stifling back a guilty grin.

“So that is why he has a food bowl with his name on it, right?”

“Aye, aye, what’s with the twenty questions, hm?” he barks, tossing a throw pillow towards you. You catch it and hug it to your chest, resettling into your place.

“Oh, no reason. Just trying to get to know my neighbor and his cat, that’s all.” you say with a cheeky smile.

“He’s not my cat. He just lives in my house.” he says finally, feigning arrogance. “Anyways, tell me about you…”

“Not a whole lot to know, I just moved here, well almost a year ago now, for work. I go to work, come home, watch trashy TV and cook, and sometimes on the weekends I catch some friends at the bar. I also occasionally feed my neighbor's cat. Oh, and spend most holidays alone, which is how I ended up here.” you laugh, not wanting to give too much away.

“Well, I’m glad that you did, I’m rather enjoying having company for once. Listen, I was serious about the edible if you…” he trails off, nervously licking over his lips.

“Oh, yeah of course. Let’s do it.”

He stands from the couch, walking across the room and rummaging around in a backpack on the floor. The first thing he pulls out is an eyeglass case, tucking it under his arm. Then he reaches back in, searching for a moment more, before he pulls out a small black bag and returns to the couch, opening it up as he sits. He places the black glasses case on the table, then picks it up again, making sure there are actually glasses inside before closing it and putting it aside for later.

“Oh Jesus, Josh…” he mutters under his breath. He licks his lips and turns to look at you. “Okay, so, apparently they are peach ring gummies. My brother gave them to me, but didn’t specify the variety.”

“That’s actually fine, I love peach rings.” you blush.

“Really? Okay, good. I thought–” he stops himself with a smile. “Okay, ladies first, how much do you want?

“Um, how much are you gonna have?” you ask, letting your eyes flick up to his.

“Dunno…” he says, inspecting the bag for the details. “Okay, probably half. You think you can do half, or do you want a quarter?”

“I think it should be an even playing field, I’ll do half if you do half.” you answer.

“Whatever you say…” he says with a smile, trying to pull apart the sticky yellow and orange gummy. It stretches beyond belief and he stops. “Okay, so. I think you’re going to have to bite it.”

“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal, you just take half and I’ll take the rest.” he says, leaning over to place it in your hand. You bring it to your lips, biting half of the gummy with your eyes locked on him. He doesn’t dare blink as he watches your mouth, the sugar crystals collecting on your lips. You see him swallow as you pull it from your lips and hand the remainder back to him. He quickly pops it into his mouth and starts to chew.

Both of you look at each other as you swallow it down, sour looks on both of your faces as the flavor of the strain shines through.

“That was… not my favorite gummy I’ve ever had.” he winces, clearing his mouth of the flavor.

“I think it was okay…I’ve definitely had worse.” you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water.

“I can’t believe I traded my good blunts for that.” he says, thinking back with a shake of his head. “So, what do you think we should watch? A movie? A TV show? Youtube?” he rattles off.

“What would you watch if I wasn’t sitting here right now?” you ask, leaning your body into the arm rest.

His demeanor quickly changes, his cheeks blushing and his tone growing a bit bashful. “If you weren’t here? Um, probably just youtube videos.” he answers, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

“Okay, but what kind of youtube videos? What fascinates you…”

He fidgets with the buttons on the remote, trying to decide if he should lie or be honest. His eyes flick up to the TV, then over to you. “Mostly history stuff, like old shipwrecks and stuff. Or maybe sailing videos or guitar videos, I don’t know.”

You can tell he chose to be honest, his fingers still scratching at the buttons on the remote as he waits to see what you’re going to say.

“Okay so do it. Show me your favorite shipwreck. Enlighten me a little…”

“Really?” he asks, a look of shock painted across his face.

“Yeah, why not? I like that kind of stuff too. It’s interesting.”

“Yeah, yeah it is really interesting. Okay, hold on.” he grins, clicking the remote to life and returning to youtube. He scrolls to his favorites and makes his way through what has to be a hundred videos, until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Alright, I know this is a little bit boring at the beginning, but I swear it gets better. I actually learned about this first hand at this little museum in the UK last year, and I really fixated on it, and had to immediately consume every piece of media I could find about it. If you hate it we can turn it off, it’s just… really cool if you can make it through it.” he explains, and you smile watching his eyes light up talking about it.

You smile and nod as he clicks on the video titled, ‘Ghosts of the Mary Rose’. He settles back into the couch, balancing the remote on his knee, and slinging his arm across the back of the couch. You can’t help but notice the proximity of his fingertips as they rest just inches away from your shoulder. The fireplace is still roaring, and the edible is starting to kick in, and you come to terms with the fact there is no place you’d rather be than sitting here learning about this old boat.

Oddly enough, Jake wasn’t wrong. This was one of the cooler shipwrecks you’d learned about, and the fact that he saw it in person made it even better. He proceeded to talk through most of the video, further extrapolating on the points they were making, but explaining them better, in a way that was so purely Jake.

It was clear history was a passion of his, his eyes simply glowing with pride as he spoke about what he knew about this wreck and others similar. You could tell that he was dying for someone, just anyone, to ask him a single question about it, and tonight, you gave him that and more.

You wondered if he had people in his life that indulged him on this regularly, or if he kept it bottled up inside. The way he spoke about it so quickly, stumbling over his words just to get them out, had you thinking that maybe it was the latter, and you suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him ever feeling lonely.

After what had to be an hour or so, the gummy had met its full potential in your bloodstream. The two of you sat almost mute, staring at the TV screen as he selected videos for you to dive into, but little did he know that it wasn’t the TV you were fixated on. It was the glaring image of his hands as they reflected into the mirror hanging over his fireplace. You watched as they moved, the way his fingers wielded the remote, and the way his fingers would twitch every so often, quickly stifled back by the folding of his hands. You stopped yourself from turning your head to look at them, knowing that if you did you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away.

They seemed large. Slightly larger than the average man’s hands, but they also seemed well manicured. Perfectly manicured actually, as if they were his top priority in his grooming habits. His nails were perfectly trimmed, no nicks or cuts, just perfectly tanned hands that tapped away against his thighs. You pulled your eyes away from the mirror to reach for your water, the dry mouth starting to take effect.

You drank down half of the glass, and you could almost feel his eyes on you as you did so. You placed the glass back down, and allowed yourself one look at him, finding that you were correct in the feeling of his eyes fixed on you. His entire mood had shifted, you could tell he was feeling completely relaxed as he lounged on his couch. His eyes were a little red, slightly droopier than usual, and his cheeks flushed pink. His legs were crossed on the coffee table, and his bare foot bobbed along to the sound of the video playing in the background.

You’re not sure if it's the fireplace, the edible, or the man sitting next to you devouring you with his eyes, but you start to feel warm and need to remove your sweater before you burst into flames. You pull the knitted fabric over your arms, and toss it to the floor, leaving you in just your cut off tee, and you swear you see his eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of your torso.

In the silence, you hear a faint jingling. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, and your eyes shoot to the entryway. His cat trots into the room, probably only expecting Jake, but as soon as he lays eyes on you, he puffs up and hops straight up into the air, then bolts back the way he came, his paws skittering across the floor in a flurry.

The sound makes Jake’s head turn, pulling his eyes from your body and over towards the source of the noise.

“Oh my god, he’s real…” You say in amazement, a smile creeping onto your lips. Jake rolls his eyes at the cat’s dramatics, leaning back to see if he can catch where he went.

“Daaaavvvyyyy…” he calls out in a faux-cockney accent, his voice low and gravelly, rumbling through the house. You would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“He’s not a fan of me, I don’t think.” You comment, looking in the direction the tiny black cat ran.

“Don’t think he likes anyone but me, honestly. Bites and scratches the absolute hell out of my brother’s girlfriend whenever she watches him for me.” He says with a chuckle, craning his neck to try and see the cat. He makes a quiet pspspsps sound, but Davy is nowhere to be seen or heard.

“When I found ‘em, he was under a dumpster behind a… a bar.” He says, sitting back up to look at you. “He was practically shouting at me as I walked by, like he was calling for help. So I walked over thinking it was like, a fuckin’ baby or something. I don’t know.”

You grin as he tells the story, which you’re finding quite endearing.

“He called you over? Oh, he’s bold.”

“Sure is. So I wrapped him up in my shirt and put him in the passenger seat… he seemed too little to eat the crunchy little cat food, so I went to the store and got some milk… I didn’t fuckin’ know what to do.” He chuckles and itches his nose, his eyes flicking to yours as he realizes you’re invested in the story and listening with bated breath.

“We got home and he drank some… had a little milk mustache and everything. He seemed to feel better when I got him into the heat, so I made him a deal. He could sleep in the bathroom for the night if he hit the road and left town the next morning.”

“I see that worked out.” You quip, giving him a knowing smile.

“Yeah, the five-pound rapscallion didn’t hold up his end. Owes me a thousand souls now.”

You hum with raised brows as you nod, letting him go on.

“I actually…” he starts, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket he taps and scrolls as he talks. “I actually woke up the next morning and caught the poor thing asleep in a pair of me old dirty trousers.” He says, a little bit of that accent slipping in again. He turns his phone around and shows you a photo of Davy curled into a tiny ball inside a pair of patchwork denim pants, a few different shades of blue.

“Oh my god…” you mumble, popping out your bottom lip.

“Lookit his tail over his nose. How was I supposed to show ‘em the door?” He says, flashing you a grin.

“But you’re still gonna rehome him, huh?” You shoot in his direction, your tone accusatory.

“Should we watch something else? Got any requests?” he asks, gesturing toward the TV with the remote.

“Mmm, you said you liked guitar videos, right? What’s your favorite guitar video of all time?” you ask, crossing your ankles as you stretch out on the chaise.

“That is quite the loaded question, lass.” he quips, tapping the remote to his lips. His full, pink, totally kissable lips. Wait, he’s your neighbor. You have to stop.

“Can you narrow it down to a genre?” he asks, flicking his eyes over to you. He takes a deep breath and bites his lips together waiting for your answer.

“How about…I don’t know, rock? Rock n’ Roll, specifically.” you smirk.

“I know a thing or two.” he chuckles, scrolling through his favorites.

“Ahh, okay this one. This one right here. This man was instrumental in my–” he stops, clearing his throat. “He is one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever witnessed.” he finishes.

“Oh, who is it?” you ask, watching him select the video.

“Pete Townshend.” he answers, starting the video. “He is an incredible guitarist, but that isn’t what makes him great in my opinion. He has this special ability to write insanely powerful rock songs where the guitar isn’t the main focus, or even the main instrument. His work with The Who is just… He isn’t flashy just for the show of it, because he didn’t have to be. His skill speaks for itself and that in itself is an accomplishment.”

“Wow, you know a lot about him. Would you say he is your favorite, then?” you ask.

“Ahh, I don’t know. I have a lot of favorites. A lot of influences I suppose. Lots of people who shaped me.” he answers, and slowly but surely you start to realize he is letting you know him more and more with each passing second, and you’re hanging on his every word.

“Shaped you?” you ask, trying to squeeze yourself through the tiny crack in his armor.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. You need anything while I’m up?” he says, standing up slowly and effectively shutting you out. His half smile is a little guilty, which tells you he’s well aware of what he just did.

“I’m okay.” You answer, giving him a knowing smile as he shuffles out of the room, the sound of his bare feet on the hardwood the only sound under the music playing quietly from the tv.

It’s a minute or two before he gets back and this time when he comes to sit on the couch, he lays across the cushions on his stomach, grabbing the pillow to your left and tucking it between his arm and his head. He’s so, so close to you now, the smell of his shampoo making its way over to you when he nuzzles his head against the pillow. Once he’s completely comfortable, he takes a deep breath and then speaks softly.

“I’m a musician. So. When I said ‘shaped me,’ I meant it almost literally.” His voice sounds a little different when his cheek is smushed into the throw pillow.

“So I’m guessing you play guitar?” you say, blinking up at the TV as the man on the screen’s fingers crawl across the frets.

“I do.” He says it simply, but not in a way that’s short. You look down at his right hand, bent at the elbow and holding on to the pillow. At this distance, you can see there’s a little indent around his middle finger, like he wears a ring of some sort.

“I don’t really have any… creative talents. So I think that’s really impressive.” Your words are quiet and you’re trying to coax him back out of his shell. He lifts his head from the pillow, and when he’s looking up at you from below, his glassy brown eyes are enough to make your heart melt. You have to blink a few times through the brain fog to really focus on them, and when you do, your pulse quickens.

“I’m sure that’s not true. What do you do?” He asks softly, and luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re staring at him.

“It’s very true. I’m an accountant.” You answer, laugh bubbling out of you at the absurdity of it all. “Literally the opposite of creative.”

He breaks into a grin, laughing with you for a second or two, and you think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

“...Alright. You got me there. We can watch something else…” He says, looking for the remote, and you mourn the loss of eye contact.

“No, no! I wanted you to pick something you’d watch even if I wasn’t here, and you did. Plus, I kinda like your commentary. This stuff is all new to me.” You say, and he chuckles softly. He rests his head on the pillow again, his arm grazing yours unintentionally. He pays it no mind.

“If you say so.”

After another two videos accompanied by Jake’s narration, you find yourself so hungry, you think you might be withering away. When there’s a lull in his commentary, you whisper into the dim room from behind him.

“Is it normal to feel like I need a snack so urgently I might pass away?”

He stretches a little, rolling over to look at you again. You give him a slow smile, your eyes squinting as your cheeks push them closed.

“I can go see what I have… It’s been a minute since I’ve been home but there’s probably–”

“No!” You interject, sitting up a little more. He jumps at the motion, a little startled. “I have this tray of chocolate covered strawberries in my fridge! My coworker called in today, and her boyfriend sent her like two dozen of them, so obviously I brought them home.”

“Oh hell yeah.” He answers, smiling back at you.

“I’ll be right back!” You say excitedly, hopping off the couch and swiping your keys off the table. You quickly slip on your shoes and head for the front door, darting out into the cold night.

It’s not long before you’re kicking the refrigerator door shut and sneaking back out into the windy February air. As you cross the street you see his door open, and once you’re close enough, you duck inside. He takes the box from you right away as he shuts the door.

After putting it down on the table near his front door, he reaches for your bare arms, rubbing them to warm you up. He laughs softly as you smile up at him.

“You didn’t bring your sweater, you absolute maniac…” he chides playfully, and you laugh in response, a chill running up your spine. His hands are so warm and his presence so comforting that you find yourself resisting the urge to wrap yourself up in him.

“I didn’t think it would be that cold.” you mumble, trying to keep your teeth from chattering.

“Oh, you thought the cold snap had just let up suddenly?” he asks with a sarcastic inflection, and you roll your eyes with a smile as he lets go of your arms. “Figured it was probably a cozy 27 degrees instead of 22?”

You pick the strawberries back up and walk past him, back toward the living room to take your seat again. Before you can offer him a snarky retort, he’s quickly heading up the stairs of his old house, taking them two at a time as they creak and crack. Footsteps sound from above you, moving in one direction and then the other, before he’s coming back down slower than he had ascended. When he appears in the entryway of the living room, he’s holding the biggest, plushest navy blue down comforter you’ve ever seen in both of his arms. He’s peeking over and around it as he navigates behind the coffee table, careful not to trip or bump into something.

“What’s all this?” You ask, laughing at the sight before you as you sit criss-crossed on the chaise, the container of strawberries still sitting in your lap, uneaten.

“The comforter from my bed, obviously.” He answers, snatching the berries from you once more and putting them on the coffee table. You groan, but it’s short lived, as he drops the entire giant comforter overtop of you. He arranges it to wrap you inside of it, letting your head peek out. He tucks it under your thighs and tugs it closed across your chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble through a tight-lipped smile, finding him a little ridiculous, but also thoughtful and sweet. He plops down next to you, sitting similarly to you with his legs crossed, the box of strawberries between you. He opens them and offers you one by the stem, which you graciously accept.

You take a bite, quickly moving your hand under your chin to catch any of the chocolate cracking and falling. You moan a little at the taste, smiling at him when his eyes cut to yours.

He takes a bite of his own, his approach for avoiding a mess a little different than yours. His bite is so big that it takes him a while to chew through it, eventually speaking with some still in his mouth.

“I don’t know who the fuck decided these are supposed to be a romantic food.” He has a little bit of chocolate in his mustache and you can’t help but giggle, his tongue quickly darting out to lick it. “I’ve never had a more difficult time eating anything in my goddamn life.” He says, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

You’re so far under the influence and feeling so content from finally getting your hands on the sweets you were craving, all you can do is giggle in response. It’s the kind of giggle that lingers, when the joke is probably forgotten. He’s watching you with one raised brow as you cover your mouth and try to stop it.

He eventually joins you, unable to resist the contagious, almost delusional snickering coming from you under the giant blanket across from him. It’s a sweet, silly moment, and it feels effortless. You spend the next few minutes chewing and laughing and stealing glances at him in secret. The edible has you at a point where you’re not sure if you’re speaking out loud or thinking the words in your head. So then, the question you’re considering asking him just slips out.

“Why are you so tan in February?” You laugh, realizing it was a little forward of you to just ask out of nowhere. Luckily, you’re met with a stoned giggle of his own before he swallows and answers.

“I… went to a music festival in South America last week.” He says, eyes flicking up to yours, almost like he’s trying to see if you believe him.

“See anyone good?” You pry, your cheeks a little flushed the more you stare at him and catalog his mannerisms.

“Nobody you’d know.” He says, and you take him at his word. He smiles reassuringly, even though you don’t believe him, and it makes you giggle some more.

Eventually, it settles down and it’s just occasional quiet laughs cutting through the quiet of the room. He reaches for another strawberry and you realize it’s a little too quiet. You turn your head towards the tv, the last video having ended, and the countdown to the next one descending from 15. You squint your eyes a little to see what’s about to play next.

Rig Rundown: Greta Van Fleet [2021] is the title. But what really throws you is the thumbnail. The image is an older guy with coiffed silver hair, smiling and pointing at… Jake? He’s got a smug smile on his face, an arm on this other guy’s shoulder, and his hair down, which you think you’ve seen only once. He’s in a navy blue blazer with a hand on his hip, a guitar hanging across the front of his body.

“...Is that you?”

10…9…8…

“Huh?” Jake says as he looks up at you from the box of strawberries, his mouth full, a stem pinched between his two fingers. He sees where you’re looking and follows your gaze towards the TV as it counts down.

7…6…5…

“Oh, fuck–”

You quickly grab the remote control from the end of the coffee table, trying to find the OK button so it will start playing sooner. Jake panics, tossing the carton of berries onto the table with reckless abandon. He lunges towards you, so you hide the remote inside the comforter along with as much of yourself as you can.

“No!” He shouts playfully, grabbing at the blanket and trying to unravel you. He kneels on the edge of the chaise, knocking you over and trying to get to your hands and arms under the layers and layers of soft, fluffy blankets.

“You have… to let… me watch it!” You argue with a laugh, avoiding his grasp. You finally decide to raise the remote all the way over your head, almost over the edge of the couch. He leans forward over top of you, his weight balanced on his palm next to your head.

“Hand it over.” He says, attempting to be stern, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. A little jingle begins to play, and you can’t see the screen, but you’re positive the video is starting. You adjust the remote in your hand and crank the volume as he stares down at you. His eyes linger on your lips, then your eyes, then your lips again. His stare is only broken when he realizes it’s getting louder. A riff starts to fill the room, a song you can’t say you’ve ever heard before, and he huffs, reaching for the remote again.

You’re a little distracted watching him on the screen over his shoulder, his long hair and unbuttoned shirt and the way his hands look wrapped around the neck of the guitar. He snatches the remote from you with an extra stretch of his arm and you giggle softly. “Oh my god…”

“Hey, hey! I’m John from Premier Guitar, and I’m here with Jake Kiszka from–”

Jake pauses the video, falling back into his seat on the couch. His head lolls to the side and he looks at you with a playful, annoyed glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell are you doing guitar interviews?”

“I told you I’m a musician.” He says, a little short, lifting the remote to exit the video.

“No, no, wait!” You plead, reaching for his forearm to lower it. “Just let me watch, like, a minute.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “If you don't, I'll just go home and watch it anyway.”

He groans, mumbling a barely there “fine,” begrudgingly before pressing play and letting the guy continue.

“Greta Van Fleet! Jake, congratulations! Since I last saw you, you won a grammy! Or two grammys?”

“Yeah, one…”

“You have a fucking GRAMMY?” You exclaim as the video continues to play. You turn and look at him, but his eyes are on the screen, squinting with what you can tell is embarrassment.

“Are you gonna talk through your allotted one minute of watching or what?” He says, giving you a little warning look. You grin, turning your attention back to the screen. As the guy goes on and on, you realize this isn’t the part you want to watch.

“Can we skip past this guy? He talks a lot. This is not how I want to use my minute.” You bargain, and he just offers you the remote silently with a smirk.

You fast forward a little until you see he’s about to play. It’s a few seconds of him playing something else you’ve never heard, and then he speaks.

“It’s hotter, it’s a bit hotter…”

You smirk with wide eyes, looking at him in your peripherals.

“Shut up.” He says, closing his eyes like he simply can’t watch any more. You laugh at his dramatics, and when he hears it he can’t help but crack a smile. His cheeks are rosy and you look back at the screen, eyes trying to decide on what part of him to land on.

“This guy…” You start, shaking your head a little.

“He’s a bit much.” Jake says, looking over at you with a half smile.

“He’s so sweaty!” You add, laughing through your words.

He lets you watch for more than a minute. He makes a few comments, scoffing at himself, even running his hand over his face a few times. You can tell it’s a little painful for him, but you’re in your glory. You reach for another strawberry as you look over at his embarrassed face.

“So this is why you’re never here…” you say, turning the volume down a little. “And the music festival…”

“Yep. That would be the reason.” He says softly, sniffing a little as he watches. You turn to look at him and his eyes flick up to yours, his gaze traveling straight to your lips. There's a flicker in his eyes, and you hardly comprehend that his hand is moving towards your face. You feel his thumb swipe softly against your bottom lip, a tiny smear of chocolate on the tip of his digit. Your tongue immediately licks over the place his thumb was, tasting the sugary sweetness of the chocolate that was once there. He places his thumb between his lips, licking the chocolate from his own finger, while his eyes stay locked on yours.

“Somehow, it’s even sweeter.” he breathes letting his hand drop from his lips. He settles back into the couch cushions resting his head on his hand as he looks at you. You can hardly pull your eyes away from his as your heart races in your chest, the video in the background long forgotten.

“Tell me why you’re alone on Valentine’s day…” he murmurs, his pink lips barely parting to let the words escape.

“You tell me why you are…” you counter, blinking slowly as you stare at him.

He bites his lips together as he tosses around the words in his head. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he starts to speak. “Well, to be honest… I’ve had trouble finding someone that can live with the burden of my lifestyle. It’s a lot to ask of someone. ”

“Burden?” you ask.

“Yeah, that’s the word that always gets thrown around when things go south. And they’re not wrong I suppose. I know that I’m gone more than I’m home. Even you know that.” He says with a humorless chuckle. “Half the time I don’t know the next time that I’ll be home and get to sleep in my own bed. So naturally that sort of…uncertainty doesn’t lend well to relationships. Of any kind really…” he pauses, letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to find, let alone keep, any type of meaningful connection… Especially when I’m halfway around the world. But I swear it’s not for lack of trying on my end. It’s just one of those things that comes with the job whether you want it or not.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling your heart breaking for him. If you weren’t sure before, you are positive now that he is just a little more lonely than he is willing to let on.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here now. We’re supposed to be traveling to New York right now. Though, everything happens for a reason I guess.” he says, offering you a little smirk as he brushes his hand over top of yours. “Now, your turn. Tell me why such an intriguing woman is all alone on the most romantic day of the year…”

You pull the fluffy blanket up a little further onto your lap, toying with the hem as you look up at him. “I haven’t really dated anyone since I moved here. I thought I would but, I just…haven’t. I thought that once I was settled into a good routine at work I could spend a little more time meeting people, but every time I go out I’m suddenly surrounded by twenty other girls who are by modern standards perfect, and I just don’t even stand a chance against them, you know?” you pause, letting your fingers roll over the stitching on the edge of the duvet. “I don’t look like them, and I never will. So I just work a lot, hang out with my friends when I can, and have zero expectations of ever being the person that is going to stand out in a crowd like that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, suddenly feeling stupid for telling this stranger your secrets.

“You couldn't be more wrong.” he breathes, letting his arm fall against the back of the couch. There’s an air of demand in his voice as he speaks. His hand swipes the hair away from your face, letting his fingers brush your jawline. “You’re prettier than all of them. And smarter, and funnier. They have nothing on you. I’d pick you…In a crowd.”

“You don’t have to just say that to try and make me feel better. It’s okay, really.” you say dismissively.

“I’m not just saying that, Y/N. I mean it. You’re so pretty, and you’re so quick witted, and you listen to me talk about stuff no one else cares about...Shit, I can’t think of one person I know that would have sat through even the first video, let alone let me talk through the entire thing. I’m having one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, with you.” he urges, settling his hand loosely on the curve of your neck. His skin is warm against yours, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he likely sprayed on his wrist this morning as it wafts towards your nose.

You laugh softly, suddenly feeling shy as he compliments you. You lean into him without even noticing, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. The cushion dips as he leans towards you, meeting you where you were and pressing his lips to yours almost tentatively. His fingers grip into your neck as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. If the gummy didn’t already have you feeling floaty, you were sure you’d be feeling it now. He pulls away from you and a small whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of his warmth. His hand slides down your neck and over your shoulder, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. With his other hand, he picks up the remote and hits pause, not wanting the video to carry on in the background of what you think is about to be another kiss.

“C’mere…” he growls, holding a hand out to you. You tuck your feet underneath yourself in an attempt to push up onto your knees, feeling slightly off-kilter. You grip his hand a little tighter as you reach for his shoulder, moving slowly until you’re straddling his lap. He positions your legs on either side of him, making sure you’re comfortable, and taking the opportunity to run his hands over your thighs. You rest your hands on his chest for some stability, your head in the clouds. His hands immediately find their way back to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in and kisses you again,though this time there is a little more urgency behind it. You slide your hands up and over his shoulders, letting your fingers weave into his hair, grabbing a handful of the chestnut locks and gripping it in your fists. He tilts his head back slightly in response.

“Oh, fuck.” he groans. He looks at you with his head tilted back, his lids heavy, a barely-there crooked smile on his face. He’s such a sight with his dark eyes and pink lips, you think you might burst on the spot. You know you need to kiss him again, but you also want to hear him moan and curse again, and his exposed throat is calling to you.

Leaning down, you place a kiss to his jaw, the skin soft and warm. You feel like you’re in the passenger seat as someone else, a bolder and less inhibited version of yourself, calls the shots. One minute, you’re thinking about how the textured skin of his throat feels against your cheek, then then the next, you’re kissing and licking at it without a second thought. You feel his skin buzz under your lips as he whines, the taste of his skin and cologne mixed together so good you’re certain you’ll never be able to forget it.

You feel yourself melting into him, your tongue pulling the delicate skin over his clavicle into your mouth as you suck and bite softly without any consideration for the fact that he probably shouldn’t be covered in love bites. When you lift your head, he’s got his own resting on the back of the couch, his eyes closed, his brows knitted together as you shower him in searing kisses.

Sitting up, you lean over him again for another kiss, this time taking it upon yourself to deepen it, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip as you lace your hands in his hair again, taking a bit of control. You feel him shudder beneath you, his hips bucking up in response. His tongue slides into your mouth and you can taste the lingering flavor of the tequila he was no doubt drinking prior to your arrival mixed with a hint of chocolate. His hands travel down your body, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt. He stops as his hands wrap around your waist, his thumbs swiping over your skin. You lean into his grip, feeling him pull you down onto his groin as his teeth nip at your lips now.

You know that both of you are still feeling the effects of the gummy and there isn’t a shred of inhibition between the two of you. You release your grip on his hair and let your hands trail down the open buttons of his shirt, feeling the chest you’ve stared at all night beneath your fingertips. You slide them further down, letting your fingers toy with the remaining buttons, waiting to see if he will stop you, but when he doesn’t, you finish the job and push his shirt open completely. A silver necklace rests between his pecs, and you smile recognizing the coin as one of the artifacts you saw in one of the videos from earlier in the night.

His mouth is like velvet on yours and you can’t help but to want more of him. You roll your hips against him, feeling him growing beneath you and spurring you on even more. Another groan leaves his mouth, his lips vibrating on yours. His hands move up a little further, his thumbs just dusting the underside of your bralette. You can tell he’s doing his best to be respectful, but you simply cannot wait another second to feel his hands on your body.

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. He swallows thickly as his eyes roam over you, his lips parting as he looks you over. His mind is struggling to keep up with the pace things are moving. He hums in approval as he runs a calloused fingertip over your navel, which pulls a lazy smile from you. Jake chuckles in response, now moving his hands to rest at your shoulders before pulling you down closer to him so he can press a wet kiss to your collarbone. His lips trail down your skin until they reach the fullness of your chest, and with his eyes now locked on yours, he sucks a hot, audible kiss into the rounded skin.

Your eyes flutter closed as his tongue swipes against your skin, simultaneously feeling his fingers pull the bralette straps down over your shoulders. With the extra support gone the cups fall slightly, revealing a little more of your chest to him. You grab his hands and pull them to your chest, giving him the green light to take things a little further.

“God, you’re stunning.” he mumbles breathlessly, gripping into your tits as you roll your hips against him. You lean forward to press your lips to his again, licking into his mouth as his hands move to circle around your back, resting just at the base of your back. He presses you closer as you roll into him again, this time feeling his fully hard cock pressed against your core. He hooks a finger into one side of your bralette, freeing your nipple. He leans forward and takes into his mouth, sucking softly. You groan at the feeling, a breath of air leaving his mouth as you drag across the length of him. He pulls you closer, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud as mewls fall from your lips. You usually aren’t as affected by something so routine in foreplay, but all of your senses are heightened and you think you could probably cum from the feeling of his mouth spoiling you with kisses and bites combined with how hard he is between your thighs.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still glassy and blown out. “I promise this isn’t what I intended when I invited you over...” he breathes, his thumbs swiping against your back as he licks his lips, his blinks slow and lazy.

“I know…” you answer with a bashful smile and lidded eyes, staring into his brown irises. “But it feels too good to stop.”

“Yeah,” he says, more of a breath than a word. “I want you so fucking bad right now.” he adds, a smirk pulling across his lips as he makes the move to roll you to your back on the chaise of the couch. You're giggling as he’s now hovering over you, similarly to how he was earlier, only this time you know he’s going to kiss you and you don’t have to wish for it. He makes quick work of his shirt, pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it to the other side of the room. Your head is positively spinning, the room around you seems like a blur and the only thing in focus is him.

He runs a finger over your chest, hooking into the fabric of your bralette. “Take this off for me, sweetheart. Show me.” he mumbles, his lazy eyes slowly raking over every inch of you, needing more.

You practically burst into flames, rushing to pull the fabric over your head. Now completely exposed to him, his eyes flick down to your chest as he bites his lips together. He pulls back again, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down for some relief. He swallows harshly, letting his eyes meet yours again. You reach your hand up and hook it around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. You press your lips to his and he lowers himself down to his elbows, deepening the kiss as his body lays on top of yours.

You let your free hand circle around his back, your fingers following the contours of his waist, dipping down to his spine as you run the length of his back. He groans at the feeling of your nails against his skin, and you find yourself wondering if he’s usually this vocal or if the high he’s experiencing has lowered his guard.

He shoots up, turning his head around to look at the TV, muttering something under his breath as he grabs the remote from the other side of the couch. He exits the video and you giggle, realizing it was paused on a still of his brother, you assume, in the middle of talking with his hands, sitting behind a keyboard. He tosses the remote to the coffee table, leaning back down over you with a smirk. “Sorry. I just think three’s a crowd.” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away from your lips leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, and over your sternum, stopping just shy of the top of your yoga pants. His eyes flick up to yours, and you offer him a shy nod, silently thanking yourself for that “everything” shower this morning.

He kisses your stomach one more time before curling his fingers beneath the hem, sliding them slowly over your hips and down your legs before letting them fall softly to the floor. You lay there in just your panties, and you think he may notice that you’re feeling exposed as he quickly stands to kick off his pants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the heavy outline of his dick, visible and straining against the black fabric of his boxers.

His eyes flick to yours but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the tan line just above the elastic of his boxers, wanting more than anything to peel the black fabric from his hips. He kneels onto the chaise, settling himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. A few strands of his hair hang around his face, and his dark brown eyes are growing darker by the second. You bring your hand up to his stomach, letting your fingers sneak beneath the elastic of his boxers, sliding across the front of his waist causing him to clench up his stomach with a smile.

“You ticklish?” you murmur, continuing to slide your fingers across his waistband.

He drops his head to look at your hand in his boxers before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Not ticklish, just…sensitive…” he growls. You can tell that the gummy has made him a little more responsive to touch than he normally is.

His hips jolt forward on their own accord and you feel the brush of his dick against your fingers. He sucks in a harsh breath at the contact, his eyes connecting with yours. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you push your hand further inside, wrapping softly around his hardened length. A hiss leaves his mouth and he starts to breathe a little heavier as you squeeze around him. You slide your hand up and around the tip, rounding off at the end before sliding back down, watching his eyes flutter closed for the slightest second.

“Fuck, wait…” he breathes, pulling back and taking a second to compose himself. He sits up a little more, hooking his fingers into your thong and pulling it swiftly down your legs. His eyes flick up towards the couch then back down the length of the chaise, “Move down a little for me, baby. Rest your feet on the floor. ”

You quickly push yourself further down on the couch, letting your knees hang over the edge of the chaise until your feet meet the rug on the floor. He drops to his knees at the end of the chaise, running his warm hands up the length of your thighs. He kisses the inside of your thigh, humming in appreciation for the position he’d found himself in.

He rests both of his hands on your hips, and as you look down at him, you see a faint silver scar up the length of his left arm. You wrap your hand around his forearm, feeling his veins pulsing against your palm.

His eyes meet yours as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds, hot and slow as you throw your head back into the couch cushion. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin pulling you closer as his lips suction over your clit. His tongue swipes against you again, flatter and with more pressure as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck…” he curses, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. “Had I known what I was missing…” he pauses to lick at you again. “I would have pulled you across the street months ago. You taste like heaven.”

You feel as if you’re floating on a cloud as you melt into his comforter, the warmth from the fireplace radiating across the room. A soft gasp falls from your lips as he laps at you, no urgency or strategy behind his method. He seems to just be enjoying himself, his eyes lifting to look at you, a little lazy, a little glassy. You shift underneath him slightly, but he’s not deterred. His mouth doesn’t leave you for even a moment, like you’re his only source of vitality in this very moment.

You whine when you feel his tongue press to your entrance, and you feel the smile that pulls across his lips. Your hips buck up towards him, his nose brushing over your clit, sending you quickly towards a place you’re not quite ready to be yet. His tongue finds you again, pressing forward this time and entering just for a second before pulling back out. His lips suction over you again, and he shakes his head side to side, taking you to that place whether you’re ready or not.

“Jake…” you whine, sliding your hands into his hair.

“Mmm?” he hums into you, his eyes slowly opening to find yours, heavy with lust.

“More…” you beg, shuddering the slightest bit as you see how dark his eyes have become.

He gives you one more slow, long lap of his tongue, like he’s savoring it and committing the taste of you to memory. He stands from where he was kneeling and taps your thigh gently, wordlessly telling you to shift back up on the chaise. You scoot backwards and he follows, nestling himself between your legs, propped up on his palm. With the hand he isn’t using for balance, he frees himself from his briefs. He strokes himself once, but then lets himself go and you feel him against you, his cock heavy and hard, landing on the inside of your thigh with the softest sound. He pulls back slightly and when he pushes his hips forward again, he’s sliding through your folds, slick and lewd. It makes your cheeks hot.

“You’re so fucking wet…” he grunts, his voice strained like he’s in pain. “Just wanna feel you for a second…”

He lowers himself to bury his face in your hair, his breath hot as he pants, gently rutting his hips against you, his thrusts a little uncoordinated and desperate.

“Everything’s just so fucking sensitive.” he says, his now boyish voice cracking as it’s muffled by the pillow behind your head. He wraps his arms tightly around you and under you, like he’s worried you’re about to float away. “Feels so good.”

With a deep breath he releases you, sliding his hand down to fist his base. As he presses the tip to your entrance his eyes lock on yours, wordlessly asking if you’re ready, and when you nod he starts to press forward. His eyes flick down to your center, watching as he slides into you. The stretch is noticeable, but you welcome it. You want it. His eyes flutter closed for just a second and you feel him stop his movement, not pressing into you fully.

“Fuck, give me a second.” he pants, his chest heaving.

You feel him try to slide in a little more, but again he’s holding back.

“I think– I think you’re gonna have to take the reins here.” he admits.

“What do you mean…”

“If I move a single inch more I won’t–” he pauses, shaking his head as he blows out a breath. “I just need you to be on top.”

His eyes are pleading, searching yours, and you can’t possibly fathom the idea of ever denying him.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” he offers, and you can’t help but give him a little smirk, nodding. He withdraws and gives you a little space to get up, ditching his underwear before taking your place. You gingerly climb over him, taking a moment to brush one of the strands of hair that frames his face out of the way. He gives you a soft, lazy smile, his eyes barely open as he welcomes your gentle touch.

His hand reaches between the two of you as he lines himself up, and you waste no time lowering yourself onto him, savoring how full he makes you feel. Intending to fly right out of the gates you lift your hips again, but he slowly settles you down, a soft hum rumbling through him.

“That’s it. Yeah… Lean back for me?” he coaches, and you do as he asks without a second thought. His warm hand brushes down your abdomen until his thumb makes contact with your clit to rub gentle circles while his lidded eyes are open just a sliver to stare intently at where your bodies are meeting. His pink lips are parted slightly, his breathing shallow. You can’t help the wanton moan that escapes your throat at the sight paired with his careful touch.

“Rest your hands on my knees. I won’t let you fall.” he instructs, letting his free hand slide up your thigh. You do as he says, leaning back onto his knees, allowing you to take him a little deeper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck…”

You roll your hips in figure eights, feeling him brush against that sensitive place inside you, eliciting a whine from your chest.

“Yeah? Right there?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You stay just like that. Let me take over.”

He brings his foot up to rest on the cushion, giving himself a little more leverage. His hand firmly grips into your hip as he forcefully flicks his hips and fucks up into you. You gasp as he hits that spot, like he knew where it was the whole time. His thumb never relenting in its work on your clit.

“Yeah, damn. That’s it isn’t it, sweetheart? You feel so good like this... You just keep squeezin’ me, just like that.”

The force of his thrusts cause his silver chain to work its way up his body and into the crook of his neck. Your attention is quickly drawn to the metal coins rattling together with each thrust.

“M’gonna cum…” you warn him so he can decide whether or not to back off, but he just groans and keeps his motions steady. You can’t breathe when it hits you, nor can you help the way you fall forward, gasping for breath. Steadying yourself with weak arms, you grasp at the plush comforter underneath him.

“Fuck me that’s tight,” he groans. “Fuck.” He grabs your wrists on either side of his head for leverage, thrusting up into you so hard you see stars. It’s like your vision goes white as your chest heaves and you meet your end, crying out a desperate wail of his name.

“Slow down for me now, baby.” he coos as you tremble and try to catch your breath. You nod, taking all of him slowly with each roll of your hips. Looking down at him, you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together. Something about the way he’s dewy with sweat, his chest rising and falling, his hair sticking to his face… It makes your head spin. You watch his stoned eyes rolling back each time you take him so deeply the head of his cock brushes against the deepest part of you and it’s almost too much to bear.

He grips your hips suddenly, inhaling sharply. You freeze, knowing what he’s getting at, and you feel him twitch inside you. His brow is knitted up in concentration and a whine leaves his perfect, heart-shaped lips.

“Goddamn… you feel too good. I can’t– I can’t hold it, fuck…” he babbles, his voice pitched higher than you’ve heard it all night. Before you can say a word, he continues on.

“Can I do it inside? Please, baby, can I? Pl– oh, god, please? Wanna cum inside you so bad, so fucking bad… Can I? Baby–”

“Do it.” you urge, desperate to give him anything he wants in this very moment.

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Yeah, do it. Please. I need it…” you whine, squeezing him with everything you have one last time.

“Oh fuck…” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you down and holds you in place as he pumps into you. “God damn, fuck me…” he cries out, grunting with each pulse inside you. His brows are furrowed and his eyes screwed shut before finally letting out a deep breath and slowing his hips.

His chest is heaving and a sheen of sweat covers his tanned skin. His hand moves from your hips, swiping the sweaty hair from his forehead. You lift to your knees, knowing exactly why his eyes are still trained on the place the two of you meet. He wants to see his work.

As you lift up, you feel his release start to stream out of you and back down onto his cock. A huff of pride leaves his chest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip before biting it between his teeth.

“Should we clean up?” he asks, watching the hot white streams drip down to his base.

“I’m working on it...” you say softly, lifting off of him completely and dropping to your knees. You plant your hands on either side of his hips, arching your back and pressing your ass into the air as you lower your mouth over his cum covered cock.

“Fuck…” he groans, watching your lips slide down his length.

Closing your lips over his base, you take him as far into your throat as you can, sucking his release from his skin as you work your way up, dragging your tongue over his every inch. You can feel him growing hard again as you reach the tip, lapping and circling your tongue around the sensitive skin. You drop down to his base again, but this time you feel his hand grip into your hair, holding you there as his hips jerk forward, propelling him further down your throat.

“Look at me.” he demands, and you flick your watery eyes up to meet his.

You gag around him and he releases your hair, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “Mmm…Yeah, fuck. We’re gonna revisit this...” he says, eyes fixed on you as you pull off of him with a pop. “Just needed to see how pretty you look with my cock down your throat.”

You can’t stop the tiny gasp that escapes you as you shoot him a playfully shocked grin. You blink once, raising your brows.

“We have a lot to revisit. Where did that come from?” You ask through a laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He chuckles, handing you your shirt.

“Sorry, sorry. The edible’s wearing off.” He says with a smirk, attempting to get himself off the couch. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Jake shows you to the bathroom, then disappears into his bedroom while you freshen up. When you emerge, re-dressed and significantly less sticky, he hears your footsteps and comes out to meet you in the hallway. The two of you smile at each other, feeling the THC and endorphins and feelings starting to settle like you’re standing in a snowglobe.

“I'm glad you came over. Sorry I Jake’d you for a few hours.” He says softly, and there’s some jingling coming from his bedroom, which is probably Davy annoyed that you’re still lingering in his house. Jake hears it, reaching behind him to close his bedroom door without looking away from you.

“Jake’d me? Please don’t tell me that’s what you call–”

“NO, no, no. Oh, no. Getting ‘Jake’d’ is what my family calls it when I corner one of them into talking to me for an extended period of time about something they don’t really care about in excruciating detail.” He explains like he’s reading the definition from a textbook, a charming smile on his face. He seems a little embarrassed but at the same time, he sees the humor in it.

“Well I had a really great time.” you answer genuinely, pushing your hair behind your ear. “You can Jake me whenever you want.” You joke, a laugh bubbling out of you. You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully and it coaxes a short, loud laugh out of him as well.

“I just might take you up on that.” He says, and there’s a rosy tint to his cheeks even in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“You know where to find me...”

As if he can tell you’re about to try and take your leave, he starts to walk past you and down the stairs.

“...Have you ever watched those videos where they clean out old barns?”

–

The two of you ended up curled together on the chaise, tucked under his big comfy blanket. The exhaustion hits you all at once, and about 10 minutes in, you slip into a deep sleep, your head tucked into his shoulder, his arm around you, his hand gently scratching your scalp.

Hours later, you wake up unsure where you are for a moment. As you shift a little, you feel there’s a heavy weight against you, which you soon realize is Jake’s leg. You’re no longer tucked underneath the giant duvet, a little sweaty, as Jake is asleep on his back. His hand is tucked into his sweatpants resting on his upper thigh, and you have to peel your eyes away once you spot the first sign of him half hard and half asleep. You can see his bold tan line and the slightest bit of hair through the gap he’s created. Sitting up, you try to search for a clock somewhere in the room or even your phone. Feeling around the chaise under you, you don’t find it. You look over on the other side of Jake hoping it’s there, but the only thing you find there is little Davy, curled into a ball and pressed against Jake’s back.

Jake seems to feel you moving around and it wakes him, eliciting a raspy hum from his chest. He pulls you back in towards him, your back to his chest, and you feel him shaking his head against your shoulder.

“Morning,” you say through a breathy laugh, but at the sound of your voice, you hear the jingle of Davy’s collar and the tippy-taps of his feet as he runs as far away from you as humanly possible.

“Too early.” He grumbles, reaching blindly over his head to feel around for the curtains. When he doesn’t find them, he groans and gets up, tugging them closed tight. “Fuck. Slept with my contacts in.” He says, standing over you and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretches his arms over his head, his tanline peeking out again, and you squeeze your eyes closed trying to keep your head on straight. He sighs deeply before sliding back onto the couch with you, pulling you tight to him. The two of you fall back asleep soon after, the only sound you hear is the clinking of Davy’s collar tag against his bowl and some quiet crunching.

–

When you wake again it’s from the feeling of Jake’s fingers moving against your hip. You stretch your legs out along the chaise, feeling the brush of his sweatpants against your legs. You roll your body towards him letting out a yawn. His eyes open, a little red from the dryness of sleeping with his contacts in, but as they fully open you’re once again pulled in by the dark brown irises.

“Still too early?” you whisper, your morning voice thick with sleep.

“Mmm, a bit, but I should probably get up. I’m sure my phone is just completely blown up by this point.” he groans, stretching his own legs out. “You sleep okay? We should’ve just moved to the bed earlier.”

“Actually this couch is pretty comfy, no complaints from me.” you smile, watching a grin spread across his own face.

“Speaking of complaints, your snoring…” he trails off.

“I don’t snore!” you admonish, playfully pushing off of his warm chest.

“No, you don’t. I’m just kidding. You are warm though, but that’s not a complaint.” he growls, tossing the comforter off of both of you. He pushes himself up off of the couch, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. “Coffee? You drink coffee?” he asks, searching for his phone on the coffee table. “Or I can order something to the house, though there’s really only one good place that deliv–”

You send him a knowing look and he stops himself.

“But you know that already because you live across the street.” he sighs. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee’s good.” you answer, looking for your own phone.

“How do you like it? Sugar? Milk? I don’t know what I have but–”

“Just sugar is fine…” you smirk.

He leans over the coffee table to grab his phone, stealing a kiss on his descent.

“Hey!” you laugh.

“You said just sugar…” he grins, swiping his phone and disappearing into his kitchen.

You stifle back the smile on your lips, and a morning you thought might be slightly awkward, feels like you’ve done it a million times. You pull on your cardigan, and run your fingers through your hair, straightening up the couch cushions, and repositioning the pillows. You’re finishing folding up his comforter as he walks into the room.

“Ahh, you didn’t have to do that.” he says, placing your mug on the coffee table.

“No trouble, just cleaning up our mess.” you smile, tossing the folded comforter down onto the couch.

“You seem to be rather good at that...” he smirks into his coffee mug.

Your cheeks grow hot as you recall what he is referring to. You grab your mug from the table and take a few sips, finding that somehow it’s made exactly how you like it.

You spot your keys under the coffee table, bending to grab them. “There they are. Always getting away from me.”

He chuckles as he takes his normal seat on the couch, crossing his leg over his knee. You stare at him, just enjoying his coffee on his couch and you want to ask him if you can see him again, but you don’t. You think back to what he told you last night, and decide against it.

You place your empty mug on the table, and bite your lips together before looking at him. “Thank you– for the coffee, and everything. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was nice, wasn’t it? Same time next year?” he jokes, offering you a wink.

“Oh yeah, I thought that was a given…” you say through a laugh, “I mean, if you’re home of course.”

You grab your phone and keys from the coffee table and stand, ready to make your way towards the front door. He joins you in standing, the mug still clasped in his hand.

“Yeah, you just never know, ya know? I mean, maybe we don’t even have to wait that long…” he laughs, taking another sip of his coffee with a shrug.

“Yeah, I mean, you have my number…” You smile, twisting the front door knob.

“That I do. I definitely do.” he pauses, as you pull the door open. “Hey wait, let me walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, it’s just right there…” you say nervously.

“No, really. I want to. Just give me a sec.” he says, setting his mug on the entry table and rushing to grab a hoodie from his coat rack. He slides on a pair of dirty white Vans that have definitely seen better days, and opens the door further. “Alright, you ready?”

The two of you make your way through his front yard, giggling back and forth all the way to your front door as he quizzes you about the videos you watched last night. As you step up to your front porch mat you pull your keys from your cardigan pocket and start to unlock the door.

“Thanks for walking me home. You’re such a gentleman…” you say, feigning romance. As you peek over his shoulder you see Davy sitting in the window, keeping a close eye on Jake.

“Well of course, I couldn’t miss out on my kiss…” he smiles, a little dimple forming in his cheek.

“What kiss…” you press, all the while secretly hoping for just one more.

He grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, pressing his cold lips to yours. You can taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue, and as he pulls away his lips linger just a second longer.

A hum leaves his lips as he steps back. “That kiss.” He says, stepping backwards off of your porch, taking a few steps before turning to head back to his house. As you step inside your front door you look over your shoulder at the same time as he does, throwing his hand up from inside his hoodie pocket to offer you a two finger wave.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you close the door behind you, and you feel like positively melting into the ground over the night you just shared with Jake. As you peek out the window you see Davy gone from his patrol post, and you smile knowing he’s definitely happy to have Jake all to himself again.

—

As you scrub away the remnants of the night before, you can’t help but to remember the way his hands felt as they moved across your body. So warm and so intentional, even in his intoxicated state. You wonder if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and if he’s thinking about it just as much as you are. You think back to every other Valentine’s day you’ve ever had, and not a single one holding a candle to the night you just spent across the street with your neighbor.

You hear your phone buzz on the bathroom counter as you turn the shower off, wrapping yourself in a towel as you pick it up from the countertop. Your heart leaps in your chest as you see his name flash across your screen.

Jake - Neighbor

12:04pm: Probably should have watched the first one before the sequel. 😉

12:04pm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDf_CEkpoU&t=1382s

You quickly hit the link, watching as it directs you to youtube, pulling up yet another Rig Rundown video. This one is much older than the one you saw last night, and as you lean against the bathroom counter the intro music starts to play. You’re met with a much younger looking version of Jake, in a sweater and a bucket hat, looking bright and eager to talk about his craft.

You quickly head towards your kitchen, pulling your own stash of gummies from your pantry. You pluck one of the small black bags from the basket and snap a photo as you pull up your texts and attach it to a message with a giggle.

You

12:10pm: Should I take one of these before I watch it?

12:10pm: By the way, love the bucket hat… 😉

You make your way back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in lounge clothes, knowing you’ll probably spend the rest of the day relaxing and catching up on your shows. Satisfied with your outfit you grab your phone to check for his response, only to be met with an empty screen. You sigh and make your way to the living room, flopping down onto your couch with your leftover take out from the night before, pressing play on the TV.

You try not to think about the man across the street and what he’s probably doing. You know he must be into something since he has yet to respond to your message. That or he has no intention of ever speaking to you again.

Feeling frustrated that it’s probably the latter, you toss your phone to the other side of the couch, catching a glance out your window. Your eyes snap to his driveway, seeing another car taking up the space next to his. Who the hell is at his house?

You stand up and make your way over to the window, taking a closer look at the white Jeep parked next to his car. You’ve never noticed it before…Or have you? You start to wrack your brain for the times you’ve even seen another car at his house, but you come up short. Never really caring before today.

You sit back down on the couch and start the next episode of your show, feeling the soreness from the prior night's activities starting to settle into your muscles. You grab a throw blanket and your favorite pillow and snuggle down into the couch cushions, ready to nap away your troubles, and hoping to wake up to a new message in your inbox.

A knock on the door startles you awake. You grab your phone and see that you’ve slept quite a few hours, and it’s now nearly 6:00pm.

You stand up and run your hands through your hair to combat the bedhead, clearing your throat as you reach for the door knob. Standing on the other side of your door is Jake, looking like he is fresh from the shower, as his damp hair lays long over his shoulders. You can smell his body wash wafting off of him and you practically melt into the door frame.

“Did I wake you up? Did you actually take that gummy?” he laughs, pulling his hands from his pockets.

“Oh, no. I didn’t. I just… I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.” you blush, trying to play it cool, and not like you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left this morning.

“Sorry I forgot to respond. My brother came over and I couldn’t get him to leave.” he laughs.

His brother.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I was in and out of sleep all day anyways.” you lie.

“So…” he pauses, taking a breath as he reaches into his pocket. “I may have acquired something a bit better than what we had last night.” he says holding a small black bag in his palm.

“I don’t know, I kind of liked what we had last night.” you quip, a little smirk on your lips.

“Mhmm, I know you did.” he smiles, sliding his hands back into his trouser pockets.

“I don’t know if you had plans tonight or anything…” he trails off, kicking his foot against your doormat. “But I was thinking about watching this video I saw about how to make a barbecue smoker out of a filing cabinet. Really riveting stuff…”

His big brown eyes flash up to yours in question and you feel that flame in your chest reignite. You’re already eager at the thought of spending another night like last night. You knew right then that it wouldn’t matter if it was a filing cabinet smoker or a centuries old shipwreck, there was suddenly nothing more important than watching whatever it may be, with him. So with a shy smile, and the tap of your fingers against your chin you meet his gaze.

“You know, I really have been meaning to look into that…”

Taglist: @ageofcj @britney-gvf @bladenotblaze @gretavanfan @peaceloveunitygvf @highway-tuna @anythingforjtk @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @myleftsock @gretavanmoon @aflame4goinghome @ascendingtothestarssasone @jjwasneverhere @sparrowofrhiannon @gvfstuddedmajesty @kiarraaldarondo @oliver-mf-reed @notjordie-gvf @starshine-wagner @starcatcherchords @sadiechar @spark-my-nature @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mackalah @stardustofman @eyelinerjake @farfromthehomelands @abby-gvf @writingcold @fleet-of-fiction @stardustjake @sinarainbows @gvfsstardust @ageoflou @jarmonicasweat @jakekiszkasmommy @bubblyjake @jakeygvf21 @starrymoonslut @takenbythemadness @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @m0uthfl13s @floatinglikeaswan @bri-archer @Mama.likes72

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