#jake thomas kiszka

[hailthegodsong]

BETTER

One-shot ~ Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 5.6k +

Summary: When you come down with a sickness at work, Jake picks you up and (mother hens) takes care of you at home. Sick fic comfort!!

A/N: this one shot was requested and I loved writing it so so much! I did also do the temperature reading in fahrenheit because I know most of my readers don't use celcius so theres that. Hopefully this makes you feel better anon!

Content Warnings: illness, cough, fever, sweat, restlessness, nausea, caretaking, so so much fluff it’s rotting my teeth

You’d woken up with a dry mouth and a slight tickle in your throat— nothing serious. Nothing that screamed cancel everything, you’re coming down with something. Just a mild scratchiness that had made you pause while brushing your teeth and frown at your reflection.

Jake noticed. “You okay?” he asked, half through a yawn, sleep still dragging at his voice as he leaned on the bathroom doorway, hair messy and shirt wrinkled from tossing in the night.

You shrugged and spit your toothpaste out before speaking, “Yeah. Just… throat’s kinda weird this morning.”

He tilted his head, arms folding across his chest. “Weird like how?”

You rinsed out your mouth and then smiled at him in the mirror. “Like I shouldn't've let you talk me into sitting with you on the balcony for two hours last night.”

Jake grinned, then stepped behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. He kissed your temple, lips warm and soft. “Worth it, though.”

You leaned into him for a second longer than you meant to, a quiet hum catching in your throat. That dull fatigue from last night was still hanging on. Not quite tired, not quite awake. You figured you just needed caffeine.

“Yeah, worth it. ,” you smiled at his sleepy reflection in the mirror. 

“Let me know if your throat gets worse though, okay?”

You nodded, pulling your hair into a ponytail. “Promise.”

—

It got worse.

By noon, your head felt too heavy for your neck. You’d stared at your screen for twenty minutes before realizing you hadn’t processed a word of the email open in front of you. Your body ached. Cold one second, flushed the next. And despite the hoodie you’d thrown on during your break, you couldn’t stop shivering.

You tried to tough it out. You really did. If you left work early, Jake would fuss, and you’d feel dramatic, and there was a meeting at two that were supposed to take notes for.

But by your lunch break, you began to feel dizzy. And nauseous.

You stood too fast from your chair and the room tilted sideways. You had to grip the edge of the desk to stay upright, teeth clenched together as you tried to breath through the rolling of your stomach. Everything felt just slightly wrong, like your body was a half-second behind your brain. An ache had crawled into your joints and you could feel heat rising under your skin and up your neck. You didn’t want to acknowledge it for what it was— but it was unmistakably a fever.

You didn’t even remember sitting down on the break room couch. You only realised you were curled up there when your phone buzzed in your hand, Jake’s contact photo lighting up your screen.

You squinted against the brightness as another unexpected wave of nausea washed over you.

Attached to your text chain was a blurry photo of a tiny frog sitting on the edge of a sidewalk, back legs stretched out like he was sunbathing. You smiled faintly, chest squeezing at the way Jake always shared the smallest, most random things with you just to feel close during the day.

Before you could respond, another text came through.

Jake: How are you feeling? That throat thing any better?

Your smile faded.

You typed slowly, thumbs heavy.

You: Actually I’m not feeling great. Thinking I might head home from work early

It took all of five seconds for his typing dots to appear.

Jake: Oh no. What’s wrong

You sniffled, trying to sit up straighter on the break room couch. It didn’t help. Your back throbbed and the world still tilted slightly when you moved, like your body wasn’t sure which direction was up anymore.

You began to type your response.

You: Dizzy achy nauseous cold. Might be coming down with something

The phone started ringing before you could even finished reading your own message let alone send it. 

You exhaled and slid your thumb across the screen. “Hi.”

Jake’s voice was deep and laced with panic. “You still at work? I’m coming to pick you up.”

“No, no, it’s fine—” You tried to sit forward again and stopped when your ribs twinged, a deep cough scraping up from your chest. You couldn’t hold it in and it broke through you with a force that made your head throb. It left you breathless and slumped, blinking at nothing.

He didn’t say anything for a second. You could practically hear the way his brow raised as if to say ‘you sure about that?’

“I’m coming to get you,” he said again, firmer now. “You can’t drive if you’re dizzy. And you sound like death. I’ll get Sam to drop me off and I’ll drive your car home.”

You let your eyes close. The fight went out of you in one slow breath. “Okay.”

“Text me when you’re in the lobby, alright? I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Okay,” you murmured, voice cracking. You stood slowly, and your limbs felt like they belonged to someone else, heavy and lagging behind your thoughts

Thankfully, your boss didn’t ask too many questions when you approached her desk, voice scratchy and eyes a little glassy. Maybe you looked as awful as you felt, because the moment you murmured that you weren’t feeling well and might need to head home early, she nodded and said, “Get some rest. Feel better soon.” 

You packed up slowly, hands trembling as you zipped your bag. The room tilted ever so slightly when you stood, like the ground didn’t quite want to stay put beneath you. You pulled your coat tighter around your aching frame, wincing as the zipper caught for a second, then began the sluggish walk to the elevator.

The lobby was quiet this time of day. Just the soft hum of the air conditioning vents and the click of your shoes against the floor. You sank into the small couch near the windows, tucking your arms tightly around your middle as a shiver worked its way up your spine. Your head tipped back against the cushion, eyelids heavy, stomach hollow and churning. The light from outside blurred in your vision, soft and unfocused, as you tried to breathe through the dizzy haze.

Now all you had to do was wait.

God, your skin hurt. That strange, restless ache was everywhere— your knees, your spine, even the muscles in your jaw. Your head was pounding from the inside out, temple throbbing every time you moved your eyes. Your face was hot, but the chill running through your limbs had you tucked into yourself like it was the middle of winter. You kept trying to get warm but couldn’t.

You felt embarrassed for being picked up like this. Too sick to function. Too weak to get yourself home. You hated asking for help.

But you weren’t the one who called— Jake had known. Had sensed that you needed him before you even said the words.

A minute passed. Maybe five.

Then you heard the automatic doors slide open, and through your half-lidded eyes, you saw him.

Jake stepped in with a determined eye, already scanning the lobby. His brows lifted when he spotted you, and the look on his face was something between heartbreak and relief.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, crouching in front of you.

You blinked at him, dazed. “Hi.”

He reached up and brushed the back of his fingers along your cheek, frowning at how warm you were.

“Shit, honey, you’re really not well,” he muttered.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, which might’ve had more weight if you didn’t sound like you’d been swallowing gravel.

Jake gave you the softest smile. “Sure you are.”

He helped you to your feet slowly, one hand bracing your lower back, the other slipping under your arm. When you wobbled, he pulled you in against him and held you there for a moment.

“Alright,” he murmured, lips brushing your hairline. “Let’s get you home.”

Jake didn’t let you walk more than a few steps on your own.

He guided you out of the building with one arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, the other hand covering yours where it clutched your coat closed. You leaned into him without thinking . Your legs felt unsteady, and your body was too heavy, your skin prickling with cold despite the fever baking beneath it.

When the wind hit your face outside, you shivered so hard it knocked the breath out of you. Jake stopped instantly.

He looked down at you with that furrowed brow, the one he got when something was wrong and he couldn’t fix it fast enough. Without a word, he shrugged out of his black corduroy jacket— the one he pretended not to know that you often stole off the back of his chair— and wrapped it around your shoulders like a blanket. His hands smoothed it over your arms gently, tucking it in, like you were something fragile.

“Better?” he murmured.

You nodded weakly. “Smells like you.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. “Lucky for you, I smell amazing.”

Apparently you were too sick to appreciate the joke, as you merely hummed and continued sluggishly walking towards the car parked a few feet away. He helped you into the passenger seat, closing the door carefully once you were in. By the time he got in on the driver’s side, you were already curled up as tightly as the seat belt would allow, trying not to make your shivering too obvious.

Jake didn’t waste a second before the engine started and the heater was blasting within moments.

You leaned toward the vent, clutching his jacket tighter around you like it was the only thing keeping you upright. The warmth stung at first as your skin was so sensitive, but you sighed with relief as it finally started to thaw the chill in your bones.

Jake drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting palm-up between you on the console, waiting in case you reached for it. You did.

The heat rose until it was thick and heavy, making your eyelids droop, and Jake pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, visibly sweating but still not turning it down.

“I’m good,” he said quickly, noticing the way you peeked at him. “Don’t worry about me.”

You must’ve drifted off, because when the car stopped, Jake was already leaning over you to unbuckle your seatbelt. You blinked at him, disoriented, your head pounding behind your eyes.

“We’re home,” he said gently. “I’m gonna carry your stuff in. Can you walk if I hold you?”

“Mmhm.”

He helped you inside with slow, steady steps, and you clung to him without shame now. Your body just didn’t have the strength to do anything else.

Once you were inside, he guided you to the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you.

“Okay, don’t move,” he said softly, brushing your knee with his hand. “Let me get your pajamas.”

You watched through heavy eyes as he opened your dresser drawers with an easy familiarity, pulling out your favorite sleep shirt— the worn, oversized one you always wore when you needed comforting. He even found the fuzzy socks with the tiny suns on them that you always kept in the back of your drawer.

He turned down the blankets, fluffed the pillows, and added the heating pad to your side of the bed without a word. The care in every motion made your chest ache.

“Alright,” he said, coming back to you. “Arms up, sweet girl.”

You managed it, and he helped you out of your work clothes with gentle, efficient hands, always keeping you covered, never letting you feel exposed to him or the cold air. He tugged the pajama shirt down over your head and knelt to help you into your socks, smoothing them over your feet like you were the most delicate thing in the world.

Once you were finally bundled under the covers, he sat down on the edge of the bed and ran the backs of his fingers down your flushed cheek. His eyes moved slowly over your face, frowning softly at how pale you looked beneath the flush of your fever.

You leaned into the touch without meaning to.

“You’re still too warm,” he whispered, thumb trailing lightly along your temple. “Way too warm.”

He reached over to the nightstand and picked up the thermometer he’d grabbed earlier— waited for you to open your mouth before slipping it under your tongue. When it beeped, he didn’t hide his reaction.

“102.8,” he said under his breath, and then met your eyes again. “No wonder you feel like hell.”

He reached into the drawer where he knew you kept a small stash of meds— the way he navigated your space made it so clear how often he was here, how well he knew the rhythm of your home. He popped the cap on the bottle of tylenol and shook out two pills, then grabbed the glass of water that had been sitting on the nightstand from this morning.

“Here,” he murmured, sitting you up gently with one arm behind your back. “Take these, sweetheart. We’ve gotta get that fever down.”

You swallowed them obediently, the water barely touching your dry throat.

He eased you back down again, smoothing the blankets around you and tucking them in tight under your arms. You were already drifting, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded, but you watched as he looked around the room searching for something.

A second later, he let out a quiet sigh and bent down beside the bed, fishing around beneath it.

When he came back up, he was holding your tiny, raggedy teddy bear you always slept with tucked under your arm. The one Jake always rolled his eyes at. The one he used to grumble about stealing his spot in the crook of your neck.

He tucked it carefully under your arm, smoothing your hand around it like it was the most precious thing in the world— not some beat-up childhood toy. You were barely conscious, but the gesture registered somewhere through the fog.

When he looked back at you, his eyes were soft. Completely gone for you. He leaned over again, kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

“You’re okay,” he whispered. “Just need some rest.”

His hand lingered, brushing back the damp edges of your hair, feeling along your forehead again, then down the slope of your jaw, over your collarbone, like he couldn’t stop reassuring himself that you were still there, still breathing. Still burning up, but safe.

Finally, he pulled away slowly, like it hurt to leave you even for a second.

“I’m gonna make you something warm, baby,” he said. “Soup or broth or something. You just rest. I’ll come check on you in a few.”

He turned down the light, making the room soft and quiet, and padded barefoot into the hallway, the sound of cabinets opening faintly drifting back as he moved through your kitchen like it belonged to him too.

You didn’t hear the soft clatter of the knife on the cutting board, or the bubbling that began on the stove as Jake stirred together a pot of broth, vegetables, herbs, and a few cloves of garlic he crushed with the flat of his hand. You didn’t notice the way he leaned over the pot, tasting, adding a pinch of turmeric, squeezing half a lemon in like his mom always did when someone had a fever. He kept the burner low and the lid slightly askew, letting the steam fill the kitchen with something rich and healing.

He checked on you every five minutes. Barely got through peeling a carrot without standing at the doorframe to your room, arms crossed, watching the way your chest rose and fell beneath the blankets. You were curled in a loose ball, one leg half-tangled in the sheets, hugging that teddy bear like it was his stand-in.

After a while, he let the soup simmer, set out a bowl, and set it on the counter to cool just enough not to burn your tongue.

You stirred in bed with a faint rustle, a slow groan that carried into the hallway. Jake was already there before your eyes were fully open. He came to your side, crouched down, fingers brushing your forehead again. Still hot, still too hot.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You waking up?”

You nodded, but your face scrunched up almost instantly, like the act of opening your eyes had split your skull in two. You groaned again, pressing the heel of your hand to your temple.

“Hurts,” you whispered, barely audible.

Jake leaned in closer, smoothing your hair back. “I know, baby. I know. That fever’s a real nasty one.”

You winced, eyes barely open. “Feels like I got hit by a train. Or… a bus,” you grumbled. “Or both,” you added, groaning dramatically.

You blinked at him, eyelids heavy, throat dry and tight. You didn’t even feel thirsty, but your mouth was like paper, your lips tacky. Still, when Jake brought the glass to your lips, one hand steady at the back of your head, you drank slowly, just to please him.

“There you go,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

His fingers brushed a bit of hair from your cheek, lingering there like he couldn’t help himself. You swore his thumb had memorized the shape of your face by now— always tracing, always checking. Temperature, texture, tension.

“Think you can eat a little?” he asked, nodding to the bowl on the nightstand. Steam still curled lazily from the broth, fragrant and comforting.

You nodded faintly. “Yeah… I think so.”

Jake slipped an arm around your back, gently lifting you upright and propping pillows behind you until you were supported.

“Here.” He settled beside you, balancing the bowl and spoon. “Let’s go slow.”

Your voice was a rough whisper when you looked at the soup and managed, “Thank you.”

Jake’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to thank me. What else can I do, my love? I hate seeing you like this.”

You frowned, scooping up a spoonful. The warmth was good, heaty and comforting.

“Just need you to hold me,” you murmured between sips. Your voice was terrible— hoarse and cracked in the middle. Jake visibly winced at the sound of it, heart twisting.

Something in his face crumpled sweetly, his shoulders dropping as if your words cracked his chest open.

“Oh, my love…” he whispered, already shifting behind you on the bed. “C’mere.”

He shifted carefully, and gathered you into his arms cautiously as not to spill your bowl of soup, letting your weight melt back against his chest as you leaned into him. “Better?” he whispered into your hair.

“Mm,” you hummed sleepily, nodding as you lifted another spoonful.

His hands began to rub slow, soothing circles against your spine as you ate slowly, making your way through the broth.

When you were down to the last bit, Jake reached around, gently took the bowl and spoon from your hands, and set them aside. His arms came back around you at once, pulling you in close.

You sighed, shaky and pained, and leaned back against him, letting your aching body melt into the soft, bare skin of his chest. Your legs curled in beneath the blankets, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

He held you like that, whispering nothing words, just soft sounds and kisses to your temple. He rubbed your arm with the pads of his fingers, soothing your shivers away with the warmth of his body.

And finally, cocooned in his arms, you slipped under again, your last thought the feel of his lips against your burning skin.

You slept almost the entire afternoon. Jake never left the apartment.

He moved quietly through your space, cleaning up dishes from earlier, folding a bit of laundry that had been forgotten in the dryer, and wiping down the counters like he couldn’t sit still. Every few minutes, he checked in on you— just peeking through the door, watching your chest rise and fall beneath the covers, or feeling your forehead to make sure your fever hadn’t climbed any higher.

At one point, he pressed a fresh glass of water onto your nightstand and adjusted the curtains to let in a little golden light, just soft enough to keep the rom warm without hurting your aching eyes when you did wake.

When his stomach started growling, he made himself a quick dinner and sat quietly at the kitchen table, poking at the food like his heart was still in the bedroom beside you.

The apartment was quiet. Just the sound of a clock ticking above the sink, the hum of the refrigerator, and you, sniffling lightly in your sleep from down the hall.

Jake barely touched his plate.

Later, after the soup on the stove was cooled and packed into containers, Jake slipped into the dark of your room again, quiet as ever.

You were still curled in the same spot— tangled around that ridiculous teddy bear, your hair a little damp at the edges from the fever.

Jake sighed. He knelt beside the bed again, reaching out to press the back of his hand to your cheek, then your forehead, then your neck. You were still too warm— not dangerous, not worse, but hot enough to make him frown in the dark.

With a soft breath, he stripped off his shirt and slid in behind you.

You didn’t stir much, but your body instinctively turned into his, seeking the comfort. His arms wrapped around you immediately, hand splaying over your belly as he tucked your head beneath his chin.

He held you close, letting his cooler skin draw some of the heat from yours, wishing he could take more of it from you, just to make you rest easier.

Eventually, his eyes closed. His breathing slowed, matching the rhythm of yours. He drifted off like that, one hand gently tracing shapes against your side.

It was hours later when he woke again.

You were shifting in his arms, restlessly tossing, pulling at the blankets, breathing unevenly. Jake opened his eyes to find you awake, face creased with discomfort, your body radiating heat again like a furnace.

“Hey,” he whispered, instantly more alert. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You groaned softly, curling tighter. “Everything hurts. Can’t sleep.”

Jake rubbed your back slowly, his other hand finding yours beneath the blanket. “Where?”

“My head. My back. My legs. I can’t get comfortable,” you whispered, voice wrecked. “Feel nauseous again too.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Jake sat up and leaned over you, brushing the sweaty hair from your face. He pressed his hand gently to your forehead again, then down along the side of your throat, as if he could ease the ache away with his fingertips alone.

“You’re burning up again,” he said softly. “Hang on.”

He got out of bed, disappearing into the dark for only a moment. You heard the sound of water running, cabinets opening. He returned with a cool, damp cloth in one hand and a pot of pills in the other.

You barely resisted as he dabbed your face and neck with the cool cloth, whispering soft things. They weren’t even words half the time, just the sound of his voice, steady and low. You wondered if he was just that tired that he wasn't making sense, or if his voice intended no more than to be a lullaby meant to soothe.

Jake helped you sit up slowly, tucking pillows around your back, guiding the pills to your lips with a glass of cool water. You grimaced as you swallowed. Your throat was raw, but he praised you like you’d run a marathon.

“There you go, baby,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “Good job. Try to get some more sleep now. I’m right here.”

Jake climbed back into bed beside you, immediately reaching for you, easing you back against his chest tenderly. His palm settled between your shoulder blades, warm and grounding, then began its slow path down your spine. He pressed long, steady strokes, just the right pressure over the muscles you’d told him ached the most.

His touch never left you. Up and down, slow circles at the base of your neck, gentle thumbs pressed beneath your shoulder blades, the kind of love you didn’t have to earn, but was just given, because you needed it, and he wanted to give it to you.

He adjusted the pillows behind you carefully, then tucked your head beneath his chin, pressing the softest kiss to your temple.

You shifted faintly, body heavy, but your fingers curled against his arm like you were trying to stay awake.

Jake caught it. He dipped his head a little, brushing his nose against your hair.

“Sleep, baby,” he whispered. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

You made a tiny sound in reply, but your grip loosened. And just like that, you let go.

You fell asleep in his arms, breath softening against his collarbone, but Jake didn’t stop. Even with your body slack and still, he kept rubbing slow, rhythmic circles along your back, his hand gliding over your spine like a balm, like a promise. He massaged your shoulder where you always carried tension, pressed gently against the sore spots down your sides, careful not to wake you.

He didn't leave, not even for a second. Because if you were hurting, then Jake was staying. Just like he said he would.

– 

Jake eventually passed out, hands still pressed against your back as sleep claimed him. Morning came quickly, and you found yourself stirring in an empty bed.

And you felt... like absolute shit.

But maybe a different kind of shit.

The kind where your head still throbbed and your throat still felt like gravel and your whole body was sore— but you weren’t on fire anymore. Your brain felt foggy but no longer boiling in your skull.

You stirred under the covers and winced immediately at your aching body.

From the doorway of the room, you heard footsteps. Jake was beside you in seconds.

“Goodmorning beautiful,” he whispered, crouching at the side of the bed. “How’re you feeling? You need anything? How's your head?” He was already reaching for your face, pressing his hands against your cheeks to feel your temperature.

You blinked at him blearily. “Jake, I’m fine—”

“You’re not fine, you’re sick,” he corrected. “Fever’s down a little though. You’re not sweating anymore.”

“I feel gross,” you mumbled, voice cracking like dry leaves. “But less… death-y.”

Jake’s eyes softened. “I’ll take that.”

He smoothed your hair back again and tucked the blanket around your shoulders even though you were already half-buried in it.

“Don’t get up. I’ll bring you tea and toast. Then I’ll run a bath if you feel up for it. And I washed all your towels, by the way. The soft one’s on top.”

You blinked again. “You washed my towels?”

“Baby, I washed everything,” he said, giving you a look. “Been housewifing it up in here. I even wiped down your light switches.”

You let out the tiniest laugh and buried your face in the pillow.

“I could look after you sick for the rest of our lives and I’d still think you’re perfect.” Jake leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your hair. “But please don’t. I like you better healthy,” he added.

You gave him a sleepy, crooked smile. “Weirdest love confession I’ve ever received.”

He grinned, but only for a moment— his brows pulled together again as he cupped your cheek, just feeling the temperature under your skin.

“Still too warm,” he said under his breath. “I’ll get the tea. And maybe some fruit. You need some food in your system. Don’t move.”

“It’s not like I’m inclined to run away right now.”

He narrowed his eyes at you playfully, like you might rebel at any second, then stood and kissed your temple, again, before leaving the room. You could hear him in the kitchen within moments— opening drawers, pouring water into the kettle, pacing like you were on the verge of collapse and he had to be ready.

You smiled faintly into the pillow. Your body still ached, and your sinuses were stuffed, and you couldn’t imagine doing anything but staying in bed for another twelve hours.

But you had Jake.

And even if he hovered like a worried grandmother, and whispered about your too-high-fever under his breath like it was haunting him, he was yours.

And he was there.

Jake returned to the bedroom with a fresh mug of tea and a cautious expression. His hair was pulled back messily, like he’d been running his hands through it too many times while pacing the hallway, and he had that boyish furrow in his brow he got when he was trying not to concentrate.

He handed you the mug gently, watching you sip like it might shatter in your hands. “Alright. Be honest with me, how are we feeling?”

You gave a tired shrug. “Still shitty. But less of the delirious kind.”

“That’s not exactly a raving review,” he muttered, eyes scanning your face.

You were about to say something cheeky, but he cut in, already crouching beside the bed, one hand brushing hair from your forehead with exaggerated care.

“I was thinking maybe a bath,” he offered softly. “Something warm, not too hot. Steam might help your sinuses, and your muscles are probably screaming. I put the magnesium salts in already.”

You blinked. “You ran the bath?”

“Well, yeah. I knew if I waited to ask, you’d tell me not to bother,” he said, trying for a light tone, but his eyes were serious. “I’ll come sit with you. Just in case you feel dizzy again.”

“I’ll be fine,” you murmured, not wanting to make a big deal of it. “It’s not like I’m gonna faint in the tub.”

Jake’s lips pressed into a line.

“Let me come with you. I’ll keep you upright and feed you grapes if necessary.”

You smiled faintly, sinking back into the pillows. “Only if you join me.”

That made him pause. “Join you? In the bath?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed again. “I just… I want you close.”

There was a beat of silence, then the soft sound of Jake exhaling through his nose.

“Alright,” he said, already smoothing the blanket down. “But only ‘cause you asked. And also ‘cause I was planning to anyway.”

He helped you up with extreme care, hands steady at your waist, arm around your back, and moving like you were made of glass. You leaned against him as he led you into the bathroom, warm air curling around your legs as you stepped inside.

The tub was full, the water tinted slightly from the salts he must have added, and the lights were just a soft glow, dimmed to a warm hum.

He helped you out of your clothes, whispering little reassurances the whole time, before lowering you slowly into the bath. The moment your body hit the warmth, a full body sigh slipped from your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “That’s perfect.”

Jake smiled, then stripped down beside you and climbed in behind you, his chest to your back, thighs bracketing yours beneath the water. The moment he got settled, his hands found your shoulders, thumbs pressing slow, gentle circles into the muscles there, working downward..

You melted into him, your head lolling slightly to the side.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just kissed your damp hair and kept massaging, letting the water do half the work, and his touch do the rest. Every now and then he whispered little murmurs like "You're okay, I've got you,"  though his hands never stilled.

Finally, through the haze of steam and comfort and warmth, you whispered, “I love you.”

Jake’s hands paused. Then moved again, slower, steadier.

You turned your head just enough to glance up at him, eyes heavy but sincere. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Jake’s heart clenched like a fist in his chest. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone, then your temple, then your shoulder, his palms smoothing up and down the skin on your arms.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he murmured, voice low. “Every time. Whether you want me to or not.”

You smiled weakly and let your head fall back against his shoulder again. He held you tighter, your back to his chest, arms around your waist, the two of you surrounded by a world slowed down.

You stayed like that until the water began to cool, and even then, Jake didn’t move until you whispered you were ready. He dried you off carefully, like you were something precious, dressed you in your softest pajamas, then helped you back into bed.

He even tucked the infamous teddy bear under your arm again, muttering some dramatic annoyance at the small, ragged thing, before kissing your forehead and climbing into bed behind you.

Wrapped in Jake’s arms, the worst of the aches still lingering but your body finally starting to relax, you let your eyes fall shut. His warmth at your back, the quiet sound of him breathing behind you, made everything begin to feel a little less heavy.

You were still sick, still wiped out, but you didn’t have to do anything else right now. 

Jake adjusted the blanket over your legs, then rested his chin lightly against your shoulder.

After a long pause, he whispered, “I love you.”

You hummed faintly, barely a sound, your eyes already closing.

His hand smoothed over your arm once, slow and careful. “Get some sleep.”

And you did. Tag List: @frogkiszka @hailtheaeon @allof--mylove @scarabsinthestardust @musicislove3389 @lightsofthe-living-gvf

[gretavangroupie]

Still, Us

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 30.7k

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Begging, Heartbreak, Sadness, Crying, Talks of Marriage, Touching, Kissing, Graphic Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Masturbation, and More.

Listen to the Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

A/N: Wow this has been a long time coming. Sorry that I have been a little bit MIA lately, it was never my intention, life got crazy! I hope you will accept this as an apology. I have poured into this for weeks and I truly couldn’t have done it without the constant support from @gretavanmoon and @jakeyt. They have given me the drive to keep going even when I felt like giving up. This story would not have happened without them. Period. Anyway, I hope you like it and will accept my apology for being away so long. I have so much more planned for you all and I cannot wait to deliver. As always thank you so much for every comment, like, and reblog. It means so much to me to know that you enjoy my writing. ❤️

Frankenmuth, Michigan 

May 2014

“Jake, can you please turn it down just a little bit?” you plead, your feet propped up on the dashboard, and your hand hanging leisurely out the car window. The warm air feels magical as it glides through your fingers. You’d both been waiting for the warmer weather to blow through town and it was finally here.

You turn to look at Jake, his brown shaggy hair finally growing out like he wanted, just barely dusting over the tops of his shoulders now as it blows around him in the wind. 

“Turn down ‘Shooting Star’? Bad Company? Come on Pops, you know that’s not gonna happen,” he smirks, looking at you over the tops of his wayfarers. “This is like the story of my life.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head as you smile, watching him dramatically mouth the words to you as you coast up 83 towards your house. Jake is your best friend, has been for ten years now, and as you readied yourself for college life, he continued to pursue the dream he’s had since you’d known him, but now bringing his brothers into it with him.

“It’s hardly the story of your life,” you quip, “Maybe the life you wish you had.” you tease, elbowing him in the arm over the center console. 

He laughs as he purses his lips, and pushes you away, “Yeah you say that now, but watch. We are getting that damn record deal, I don’t care what it takes.”

You turned to look at him again as the two of you pulled off the freeway and headed toward your exit. He believed it. He truly did, and you believed that he would do exactly as he said. He has always been that way. Some would say he is hard headed, but you would say he is just determined. 

“I know, I know,” you start, being quickly cut off.

“You’re still coming right?” he urges, looking at you before looking back at the now green stoplight.

“Of course I’m still coming!” you laugh, “I pledged twenty bucks to be there, remember?!”

“Damn right, and you better be in the front where I can see you,” he grins, “Or should I say, where you can see me.”

You roll your eyes at him again, watching the shit eating grin stretch across his face. “You're so full of yourself Jacob Thomas, it's gonna get you in trouble one of these days, and I'm not gonna be there to save you.”

He puts his hand over his heart and looks absolutely offended by your comment, “Save me? Baby doll, you know I don’t need saving. You need saving. From yourself.”

“Oh really? How so?” you ask, challenging him with a quirk of your brow. 

He smirks as he keeps his eyes on the road, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, “You’re headed to college to be some hot shot lawyer or something. You’re way too cool for that, Pops. You should stick with me and the guys.”

You groan as he pitches his grand idea to you for the hundredth time.

“Seriously. You can do so many other things. You can tour, party, see the world, instead of sitting in some bleak office building reading dusty law books all day.” he says matter of factly.

“Jake…” you whine, knowing this conversation always goes nowhere and leaves your mind a mess of emotions. 

He sighs as his car comes to a stop in the driveway of your parents house. He looks over to you, and his voice is stern, “I’m serious Poppy. You’re a freebird, you’re not cut out for that boring life. I know it.”

You cut your eyes at him as you twist in the seat to face him, “So instead I can be some groupie, waiting on you guys hand and foot, cleaning up beer cans, and holding your hair back when you puke in some nasty bar bathroom? No thanks.”

He huffs in annoyance, “You know damn well that you'd be more than that. You'd be like…an honorary member of the band. You're not really the groupie type. You're far too good for that.” he says, twisting a lock of your messy hair over your shoulder. You can't help but to feel heat start to creep up your chest from the simple gesture. 

“You think so?” You ask timidly, your eyes locked in on his tawny brown eyes. 

His demeanor softens, and his finger twirls around the same lock of hair, “Poppy you are, without a shadow of a doubt, the smartest, toughest and coolest chick I’ve ever met. You are so much more than just some groupie.”

The nickname he gave you sounds different somehow– sweeter, maybe, in this moment. In an effort to quickly break the mounting tension growing between the two of you,  you nudge him hard in the arm, “You going soft on me, Kiszka?”

He laughs in response, his fingers releasing the lock of your hair and running them through his own before bringing it to rest on the steering wheel, “I may be many things, P, but soft is not one of them.” he grins playfully. “Now get out, I’ve got practice in ten minutes.”

You scoff and toss the passenger door open, grabbing your tattered bookbag on the way. As you shut the door he leans over the center console to look at you through the open window, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head.

“You know it’s just because I’m gonna miss you, Pops. More than I care to admit.” he confesses. 

“I know, Jake.” you answer, tossing your bag over your shoulder. “I'll miss you too.”

“Good. Oh, don’t forget I can’t pick you up tomorrow morning. We’re heading straight to Groovebox after classes to set up.” he says, flipping his glasses back down. 

“I remember,” you say with a playful eye roll.

“Don’t be late, Y/N,” he says sternly, lifting a brow.

“Rich coming from you,” you taunt, beginning to walk to your front door. 

“M’never late, just running on my own time,” he winks. “Catch up with you later, P,” he says finally, pulling away as Bad Company begins blasting through the speakers once more. 

—

Jake 8:57 PM: which shirt should I wear tomorrow

You 8:58 PM: Um, maybe that denim button down you like? With the pearl buttons?

Jake 8:59 PM: it’s dirty

You 9:00 PM: Ok uhhhh, what about that colorful shirt with the aztec looking patterns on it

Jake 9:00 PM: do you think that will look good on camera

You 9:01 PM: Yes

Jake 9:02 PM: do you think I should like, iron it or whatever

You 9:03 PM: Do rockstars iron their clothes?

Jake 9:04 PM: see you tomorrow ;)

The air is a bit cooler now that the sun has set, the wind whipping right through your thin shirt as you reach for the door handle to Groovebox Studios. Tonight was the night, finally. This has been all Jake has talked about for weeks and weeks on end. Tonight they would record seven songs, live, in front of all of their friends and family, and anyone else that pledged enough money to be there. It had been grueling listening to Jake torture himself over what songs they would choose to record tonight, but they finally narrowed it down. At least, you hoped they did since everyone was here and waiting. 

As you entered into the lobby it was bustling with familiar faces, all waiting to step into the studio to watch the session. You could hear the guys warming up through the wall, the wail of Jake's guitar immediately sticking out to you. You could also hear the crashing of the cymbals as Danny tested his kit and the deep thrum of Sam’s bass. You nervously picked at your fingernails as you waited to be let inside, eager to see the guys, but mostly Jake. You needed him to know you were here, on time, at that. 

A few minutes later the large double doors opened and everyone filed into the small studio. You weren’t really sure what to expect but there were bright lights, and cameras everywhere, scattered between recording equipment and wires. Jake hadn’t noticed you were here just yet, but you saw him immediately in the shirt the two of you decided on last night. Something about that made you warm inside but you forced it back down where it came from. It was Jake. It wasn’t like that. Right?

The first song began, the guys seeming completely relaxed and not at all phased by the large equipment and people surrounding them, watching their every move. Josh’s voice was as strong and confident as Danny’s drums. Finally, Jake looked up from his guitar and let his eyes scan the crowd. A small and relieved smile filled his face as his eyes met yours. A small nod of his head said everything you knew he wanted to say, seeing you there supporting him in the front row of people. You knew that being there meant a lot to him, and gave him the extra boost of confidence he needed to make it through this set.

You were completely transfixed watching him play, giving everything he had for those seven songs. It seemed to fly by in a flash, the show ending with all four guys sweaty and a little winded. The crowd that showed up for them broke out into a round of cheers and applause as you all marveled at the budding talent in front of you. You watched as Jake placed his guitar in the stand and moved towards the producers of the show, thanking them profusely as he shook their hands. 

Immediately after that though, his eyes found you. He walked straight towards you, ignoring everyone else around, wrapping you in a sweaty hug.

“Well, P, you made it on time,” he grins, pulling you in tight against him, your head resting against his chest. He smelled of sweat, cologne and faintly of smoke and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your knees just a little bit weak.

“How was it?” he panted, “Sound alright?”

You laugh pulling away from his grip, “Jake, that was amazing! Of course it sounded alright.”  

He smiles as you pull away, fidgeting with the tip of his nose,  “Yeah? You’re not just saying that ‘cause you’re my best friend, right?” he says with his signature smirk.

“When have I ever sugar coated anything, Jacob?” you taunt. 

He laughs as he playfully runs his hand through his damp hair, “Valid point.” he smirks, looking around briefly, “Stay right here for a sec. Don’t go, just need to go say hi to some people. Wait, you’re comin’ to the house right?”

“Is this you inviting me?” you tease, knowing you never need an invitation at the Kiszka household. 

He rolls his eyes, not playing into your little game one bit, “Yes, I’m inviting you smartass. Like you even need an invite.”

You nod your head and shoo him away to go talk to the people who came out to support him, but you can't help but feel special that you were the first person he wanted to see after such a big night. 

You watch as he moves from person to person, saying his hellos, shaking hands and talking about the show with each one. He was his normal, charismatic self, except for the small glances over to where you were waiting. It was as if he didn’t want you to go anywhere without checking on you every so often. You’re able to find a quiet corner of the studio to relax for a moment, and you find yourself watching him like he’s the only thing in the room.

He is still surrounded by everyone, laughing and talking. He is so in his element, being the center of attention. You're happy for him, he deserves it, but you find it a little annoying how every girl's eyes were glued to him. No matter how many times you push these thoughts away, they keep resurfacing. It's all in your head, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake the idea of being anything more than friends with him, yet you can't help the fluttering in your chest.

Twenty minutes later he is walking back over to you, the crowd of people slowly beginning to filter out as the rest of the guys begin to tear down their equipment. 

He comes to stand next to you, and his face is a bit more solemn now, the adrenaline from the show now long gone. “So I’ll see you at the house?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. “Just gotta pack up real quick, then make a quick beer stop then we will be home.”

“Beer stop? Did you forget we are 18?” you laugh. 

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Did you forget I have a fake ID?” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Plus, I heard Sara Matthews is working tonight, and she won’t question it.”

“Getting started on the whole bad boy rock and roll thing early, huh…”

He lets out a laugh as he gathers his guitar cables from the floor and slings them over his shoulder, “I’ll have you know that I’ve been a bad boy for a long time now, baby doll.”

An hour and a half later you’re finally back in Frankenmuth and turning onto his street. You can see a few cars parked outside the house but you don’t see their van just yet. You laugh to yourself wondering if Jake was busted for his fake ID yet, or if Sara still had that crush on him from fourth grade. When you see the familiar set of headlights behind you, you know it's the latter. 

The van comes screeching around the corner, sliding into the driveway and nearly taking out the mailbox. You laugh, recognizing Josh’s driving anywhere. He cuts the engine and jumps from the driver's seat with a grin. Jake slips out of the back door, pulling his guitar case from the backseat, his other hand holding a twelve-pack. Wordlessly, he trots up to your car, nodding at you to join him as he makes his way across the lawn and into the house, leaving the door wide open behind him.

You slowly walk up the steps, a weird feeling starting to settle in your stomach as you enter through the front door. Music is already blaring from the basement, and the loud hum of multiple people chatting is growing louder the further you walk. You take in a deep breath as you turn the corner into the living room. A giant group is already gathered around, sipping drinks and mingling in the dimly lit room. Your eyes scan the sea of people and you recognize some of the faces from the studio, and the rest are most likely here just to party.

Your eyes scan the room for Jake, wondering where he took off to, but then you see him come bounding down the stairs in a clean blue t-shirt and a smile. He makes a beeline straight for you, his eyes locked on yours as he navigates the crowd. He finally reaches you, his hand landing on your shoulder and ushering you away from the crowd of people. “Come here,” he murmurs under his breath as he drags you down the hall towards the kitchen.

You follow behind him as he makes his way into the kitchen, and you know he is dead set on enjoying his well deserved twelve-pack. As predicted he takes out two cans, popping the tabs and handing one to you.  “Well, let's toast.”

You take the silver can from him, cold in your hand, “Okay, let’s…”

He lifts his beer up towards you with a smirk, his eyes locked on yours, “I guess I just want to say thank you for putting up with all of this the last few years, I know it hasn’t been easy,” he grins, his eyes raking over you, “You put up with a lot of bullshit from me, but even after all of that you’re still here.”

You tap your can to his, “Where else would I be?” you breathe. 

He takes a moment to study your face, his eyes tracing over your cheeks, your nose, your chin as they land on your own eyes. The two of you silently stand next to each other, the sounds of the rest of the party still loud and present from the other room, and you can nearly feel his heart beating against his chest from where you’re standing. The unspoken feelings rushing between the two of you are almost palpable. He doesn’t answer your question, instead choosing to remain quiet as he keeps his eyes trained on you.

You pull the can to your lips, sipping at the bubbly beverage, only slightly wincing at the taste. 

He laughs watching you try to drink the beer, trying to hide the grimace as the hops tickle your taste-buds, “It’s an acquired taste, Pops.” he grins, “And you’re going to have to get used to it before you get to college.”

You sigh, “It's not like college is some big party. I doubt it's like the movies.”

He laughs, resting his can on the counter next to him, “Sure it is. Beer flows like waterfalls, parties happening every day, you’ll even have a couple different flings I bet–” he pauses for a moment, his expression growing serious, “Just have fun, Pops. Get the full college experience.”

“I'll try, but I have to take this seriously. Definitely no flings or beer waterfalls or whatever.” you answer, skirting around that subject the best you can. 

“Well yeah, take things seriously, but don’t count yourself out of a little fun, too.” he says, resting his palm behind his head. He’s quiet for a moment before he continues, “Maybe you’ll meet some fancy law student…fall in love and get married and all that.”

“I don’t know, Jake…” You say nervously. “That’s not why I’m going to college.” Why in the world were you two talking about this? You could feel your cheeks growing warm. Doesn’t he know that the only future you’ve ever planned is the one with him in it? 

He raises an eyebrow at your flushed expression, “What’s wrong Pops, planning out your dream life  as we speak?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, “No,  Jake.” you grit out. “Can we like…go party or are we gonna stand here and play twenty questions about my love life all night?”

He raises his hands in surrender, “Fine, fine, we can go join those losers.” he murmurs, pushing himself off the counter. He lifts his hand in the air, motioning to the living room, “After you.”

A few hours later you find yourself laying on the basement floor in a pile of blankets, your mind hazy and free as you bask in the feeling of the alcohol swirling through your veins. Jake is laying next to you in a similar state, staring up at the warm string lights strung across the walls. Josh, Sam, and Danny are already passed out on the other side of the room, their snoring turning into a symphony as usual. Your body feels warm and weightless as you turn your head to the side to look at Jake.

He notices your movement, turning to face you, a small smile on his face as he watches you, a long empty can of beer clutched lazily in his hand. His cheeks are flushed and rosy, and you’re pretty sure he isn’t entirely with it considering you’ve lost count of how many beers he’s had since the party started. He lets out a small laugh, the kind he’s only capable of making when he’s like this, “You know what I just remembered?” he slurs, his words coming out slowly.

“What?” you answer, pursing your lips.

He grins, “Remember when we were kids, we’d sit on the edge of Cass River and throw rocks into the water for hours…‘til the sun would go down…” he mumbles, his gaze trained on the blue blanket beneath him. “We’d talk for hours, and it was just…So peaceful. We were best friends–” he trails off, running his tongue over his lower lip.

You nod, his words causing a slight tingle in your stomach as your own mind begins to wander. He is still watching you, his eyes traveling over your face, over your hair before he speaks again, “And we’re still best friends now…right?”

“Yeah of course we are, Jake. Me going to college isn’t going to change that.” you answer softly, seeing the worry painted across his face. 

He nods his head, a small smile creeping up on him, “I know. I know, I just…” he pauses, his thoughts coming a little slower now, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you here. I’m used to you bein’ around, it’s gonna feel weird…different.”

“It’s not like I’ll never come home, and you can call me and text me whenever you want. You know that. Where is all of this coming from, Jake?”

He sighs, his eyes dropping from your face and looking instead at the ceiling, “I dunno, I just…I guess I’m realizing it a bit more now that it’s actually about to happen. You’re going to school hundreds of miles away, with other people…other guys, and I won’t be there to keep those idiots in check.”

You giggle a little, the thought of him fending off guys a little humorous. “I already told you, I’m not going to college looking for guys. I’m going to become a lawyer, and I have to focus on the LSAT and getting into law school and everything else. Guys are going to be the last thing on my mind.”

He lets out an exasperated breath, “I know, Pops. That wasn’t my point.” he mutters before rolling onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks at you, “I’m just worried about you, okay? I don’t want some douchey frat guy to come up and ruin everything…”

“Ruin what?” you ask, furrowing your brows. 

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he looks away for a brief moment, but his gaze immediately returns on yours. “This.” he mutters softly, motioning a hand between the two of you. “Us. Our friendship, our bond. You know what I mean so don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“Nothing is going to come between us, Jake. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

He nods, a small hint of a smile creeping across his face, the tension in his shoulders slowly releasing, “I know you wouldn’t…it’s just me being a dumbass, as usual.”

“Jake, you're not a dumbass. I get it. I have the same worries you know. For all I know you’ll meet some super cool girl when you guys inevitably go on tour, and next thing you know you’ve forgotten my name.”

He laughs, moving his hand to playfully swat at you, “Come on now…there’s no way I’m going to forget your name, you’re the only girl I ever think about.”

You feel your heart lurch into your chest at his confession. He may not mean it the way you’re taking it, but part of you wonders if maybe he does. 

“So it’s agreed, no douchey frat guys for me, and no rockstar girlfriends for you,” you tease.

He laughs again, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin of your arm, “If that makes you happy then yes…agreed.” he grins, watching as the motion of his hand leaves a trail of goosebumps down your arm. “Just promise me one thing…”

“What’s that…” you answer. 

“Just, tell me…if you do– if you start to fall in love. Just tell me first.” he breathes. 

You can see the sincerity in his face, and hear it in his words. He really thinks…

“Jake, guys don’t– they don’t see me like that,” you pause. “It’s never been like that for me.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, a frown on his lips growing by the second. “Bullshit.” he mutters, “Guys don’t see you like what?”

You muster up the courage thanks to the alcohol in your system, and tell him what you really think. “I’m not the kind of girl that guys fall in love with. I am plain– average old, Y/N. I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

He scoffs and turns onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, “Plain and average? Is that what you really think?” he asks with disbelief. “Y/N, you’re beautiful, and the guys around here are just too blind to see it. There are guys who would kill to be with you, for just one single chance.”

“I don’t know, Jake. Maybe. But like I said, I don’t care about that. Once I make it on at a firm, maybe I’ll consider it.” you say. 

He studies your face, the alcohol starting to dull his inhibitions, his thoughts coming out unfiltered at this point, “You’re thinking like, ten years in the future P! You’re about to go to college and you’re talking like you’re never gonna meet anyone or pay anyone any mind. For ten years!  You’ve got to live, Poppy! You’ve never even been kissed for Christ’s sake!”

“Wow,” you breathe, the hurt washing over you. 

​​He sighs, realizing that he might have gone too far, “I didn't-” he stops, looking away from you before he speaks up again, “I'm sorry, that was shitty. I didn't mean to say it like that.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, you’re right.” you reply. 

He looks back at you, his fingers running over your arm again, “No, it’s not…I shouldn’t have said it like that. It’s just, you think so little of yourself sometimes and it drives me insane. You are like…the most amazing person ever, and I don’t–” he stops himself, biting down on his bottom lip, “I just don’t understand how guys don’t see it.”

You’re a little taken aback, this is the first time that his true feelings about you have really come out. You’re unsure what to even say. 

“Thanks, Jake.” you smile, “I’ll let you know how my love life is going ten years from now.” you giggle. 

He looks at you for a long minute, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. 

“I have a better idea,” he says, taking a deep breath. “We’re 18 now, right?”

“Right…” you answer hesitantly.

“If you’re sure that you are dead set on waiting until you’re done with school to be with someone…” he pauses. 

“I am…” you confirm.

“Alright, when we are thirty, if neither of us are married…” he pauses, “Let’s marry each other.”

Shock fills your features, and you can tell that he notices by the smile pulling across his lips. He laughs lightly when you finally muster out a few syllables, “Come on P…it’s the perfect plan. If we’re both still single by thirty, we’ll get hitched.”

“Married?! Jake, you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t want to marry me!?”

“Sure I do. You’ve always been my girl,” he murmurs, still smiling, “and we’ve already established that no other guy will ever know you better than me. We’ve been best friends since we were kids, been through every high and low, you’re the only one who’s stuck with me through it all…so,” his voice trails off, “if we’re both available at thirty, I see no reason why we shouldn’t marry each other. Plus, our parents would love it.”

“Jake, this is crazy,” you pause, “I can’t let you do this. You can’t make that kind of promise…”

He leans back against the pillow behind him, his expression growing serious as he turns and looks at you, “I think I can. And I wouldn’t be promising if I couldn’t keep it. You’re it for me, Poppy. You always have been...”

“I didn’t think– Do you– I didn’t think you felt that way about me…” 

He lets out a dry laugh, watching the realization starting to hit you, “How could you not know? We’ve spent our entire lives together…this is nothing new.” he sighs, pausing for a moment, “I should have probably said something before, but…I think a part of me was afraid that you didn’t feel the same way and I would end up ruining everything and lose you…” he pauses. “Why do you think I’m over here telling you not to fall in love with some stupid college guy? I want it to be me, P…I’m your guy. I always have been. The question is, do you feel the same?”

“Of course I do Jake. I– I just…” you stammer. “I’m sorry I don’t even know what to say, I–”

Your heart is racing and your eyes are glued to his every movement. You want to scream from the rooftops, but right here in the moment you can barely form a word. 

“Say you feel the same, that’s all you need to say.” He gently takes up your chin, his thumb running across your bottom lip, “Say you want it to be me.”

Your eyelids grow heavy as his warm thumb brushes your lip, “Yes,” you breathe, your eyes locked on his. “I feel the same.”

He lets out a low breath, the words that you’ve just spoken going straight to his gut, “You know I’ve wanted to kiss you for as long as I can remember.” he murmurs, his fingers still resting against your chin.

“Really…”

He nods his head, a small smile creeping up on the corner of his mouth, “Yeah. Since middle school, at the very least. Maybe even earlier…” he pauses, “It’s a shame you’re making me wait until we’re thirty.”

You smile at him playfully, “I mean...maybe we don't have to…”

A low grin slowly spreads across his face, “Don’t tease me, P.” he murmurs, his fingers still lingering on your chin and gently tugging at your bottom lip.

“Who says I am?” you whisper.

His breathing is becoming ragged as he gently runs his thumb over your bottom lip once more, “Poppy…say yes…” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

“To what?” you breathe. 

“To the pact. To kissing me. To all of it.” he mumbles, his thumb still stroking over your bottom lip, his free hand slowly traveling from your neck to the small of your back, gently pulling you towards him.

Your eyes flick to his, the string lights glowing in the reflection of his eyes. You can feel his body pressed against yours in the most delicious way, the closest you’ve ever been to  each other.  “Yes, Jake.”

And just like that, his lips are crashing into yours, his hand moving from your lower back to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, a low breathy moan leaving his lips as he pulls you into him even more. His kiss is slow and tender at first, the taste of beer still lingering on his lips as he moves them over yours in a languid back and forth, but it soon turns desperate and hungry as his tongue presses urgently against yours, a low growl leaving his chest, all of the feelings and emotions that he’s harbored for years releasing themselves in this one moment. But within seconds, it’s over. 

He rests his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing in and out heavily. The kiss has both of you in a daze, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the fact that your best friend just kissed you. Your first kiss. A content smile stretches across your face before you let your head fall into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne as he wraps his arms around you. 

He holds you tightly against him, his chin resting at the top of your head as he runs his fingers across your bare arm. The feeling of your body pressed against his is one you’ve dreamed about for years and now experiencing it for the first time, you never want him to let you go.

“Thank you, Jake.” you say softly into his chest. 

He pulls you in even tighter, his heart rate finally starting to return to normal as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “For what?” he hums softly.

“For being my first kiss. I always wanted it to be you.” you answer. 

A smile spreads across his face and he squeezes you a little tighter again. “Me too, Pops.” He pauses, his hand finding a loose strand of your hair and twisting it around his finger, “and for the record, I hope I’m your last.”

You laugh, but then an idea strikes you. “Oh yeah, about that. Don't we need to like, sign our names on the line or something?” you say playfully. 

He pauses for a moment, looking down at you but quickly realizing what you mean. A small smirk spreads across his face and he lets out a small laugh, “I don’t know if we’ve got a pen and paper down here…”

You shrug as you look at him, but then he quickly reaches his hand into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled gas station receipt from his beer run earlier in the night. “Will this work?”

“I don’t see why not?” you grin. 

He reaches up behind the two of you, digging around in the pocket  of Josh’s backpack that was left on the couch, pulling his hand out with a smile. “A pen.”

The two of you spend the next few minutes ironing out the fine print of your arrangement, before Jake takes the liberty of writing out the words on the back of the receipt paper. 

‘At age 30, if both parties are single they will enter into marriage with each other.’

You both sign your names beneath the words, the act feeling strangely good and you can tell you both are feeling it. “So it’s official…” you say, letting your eyes meet his.

He stares down at the receipt, the ink of your signatures drying on the back. A weird feeling of finality washes over you as he slowly nods his head, “Yeah, I guess we’re really doing this.”

“The pact.” you grin, leaning into his shoulder. 

He lets out a soft laugh as he looks down at you, his arm wrapping tighter around your shoulders, “The pact,” he repeats softly, before pressing another kiss to the top of your head and sealing your fate as you know it. 

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

2015 

“Yeah, fuck–” he groans, “keep doing that, baby…”

Your eyes flick up to meet his icy blue eyes, his tip nudging the back of your throat as you take as much of him as you can. You know it won’t be long now, you can feel the tightening of his abs as he fights off his release. You release him from your lips with a pop, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock for dramatic effect. You can hear the bass line of ‘Starboy’ thundering through the walls of the fraternity house party still happening downstairs, momentarily pulling you from the moment you found yourself in. 

You feel Trevors hand as it lands on the back of your head, returning you to your task. Again you take him into your throat, never letting your eyes part from his as your hands cup his balls. 

“Fuck baby doll, you’re fuckin’ amazing,” he groans,  his cock starting to jerk with need. 

You wince as the pet name rolls off his tongue, taking you back to a place you’d rather not remember right now. Right back to Jake. 

Jake. Where was he right now? What was he doing? Surely he wasn’t at the back of some girl's throat. What were you doing?

Suddenly you feel him as his cum starts to paint the back of your throat, swallowing him down with every grunt that leaves his chest. You pull off of him quickly, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. Your mind is suddenly a jumbled mess of thoughts, the single word sending you into a tailspin of guilt. 

“Felt good as fuck, baby,” Trevor says, pulling up his jeans. 

You give him a curt smile as you pull yourself up off of the dirty bathroom floor. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“What?” he questions, grabbing his red cup from the bathroom counter. “Baby?”

“No.” you answer quickly. “Baby doll. Don’t call me that. I don’t like it.”

“Sorry, babe. My bad.” he says nonchalantly. “You good?” he asks, turning to open the bathroom door.

You let out a sigh, “Yeah. I’m fine.” you answer, watching him spin the door knob to open the door. The music from the party hits you full force, and that combined with the alcohol in your system hits you hard. “Actually, I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Why, the party is just getting started, it's only two,” he says, ushering you down the stairs. “And I thought you were coming home with me tonight.”

“Eh, I need to be at the library tomorrow morning first thing. I have an exam tomorrow afternoon.” you say, “I’ll call you though, yeah?”

He shakes his head, “Whatever, babe. Later.”

Relief washes over you as you free yourself from Trevor, and make your way through the party and out into the fresh air of Fraternity row.

“Fuck. What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” you grit out, making the short walk back to your dorm. The air is starting to chill as fall begins to wash over Chicago. You kick yourself the entire way to your door, immediate regret setting in as you let your mind wander back to Jake. 

It had been a few weeks since the two of you spoke, and you definitely hadn’t let him know about your little ongoing situation with Trevor. You didn’t even truly know if you needed to. It wasn’t serious, and that was the deal, right?

As you lock the door behind you, you toss your bag onto your desk, hearing the loud thud as your phone hits the wooden table. It reminds you that you haven’t looked at it in hours. Pulling it from your purse you see a few Instagram notifications but more importantly you see that you missed call and a missed text from Jake. You wonder if you were on his mind, too. 

Jake 1:46 AM: Pops, call me when you can, I have big news.

Your eyes flash to your clock seeing it read out 2:32 AM, and you wonder if he is still up. If he would answer your call. You decide to try, knowing he keeps late hours. The line rings out four times before you hear his raspy voice answering the call. 

“Hey Pops,” he says, and you can tell you’ve woken him. 

“Shit, sorry, I woke you up didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Nice to hear your voice instead of reading it on a screen,” he laughs, clearing his throat. “It’s late Poppy, where have you been all night? Are you just getting home?”

You feel hesitant to answer but decide on the truth, “Yeah, I– I was out. I was at a party with some friends.”

You hear a deep hum as he takes in your words and you already know what he’s thinking. “Did you have fun?”

“Um, yeah I guess so…” you lie. “But that's not why I’m calling, I saw your text. What’s up, is everything okay?”

He lets out a soft sigh, his voice still thick with sleep, “Yeah everything is fine. Everything is great actually. Sorry to just text you out of the blue like that, but I wanted to– I just wanted to tell you over the phone instead of texting.” He pauses for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts, “It took a while but, the deal went through. We were signed for an album and we’re  gonna tour it.”

“Oh my god, Jake!”

“We are releasing a fucking album, Pops.” he repeats. 

“I don’t even know what to say, I am so– I am so proud of you Jake! I can’t believe it! I mean, I can but, you know what I mean!” you gush. 

You hear his soft laugh from the other end of the phone, “You don’t really have to say anything. Or you can scream or do whatever. I just needed to tell you. I wanted you to be the first person to know.”

The words then hit you, “Wait, I’m the first person you’ve told?”

“Yeah, you’re the first.” he laughs, “You’re the one I need to tell everything to, first. Just how it's always been. How I want it to always be.”

“I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

You can hear his smile on the other end of the phone, “I’m proud too. God, I wish you were here, Pops. Wish you were here celebrating with me.”

A sigh leaves your lips, “I wish I was there too.”

“Pops, listen, it– It might be a while before we can see each other again. We– we’re going to be touring all through the spring. All over the place…”

“Oh, I–”

“No, no, don’t worry or anything, I just mean I will miss you, that’s all. But you’re doing your thing in Chicago and I’m doing mine out here. Just kinda the paths we are on right now.” he pauses, “But I’ve still got a couple of weeks at the end of the year before we go. We can see each other then, right?”

You bite your lips together as you try to stay positive, “Yeah. Yeah of course.”

“Good.” he answers, “Just keep on going, Poppy. We’ve got this.”

“Yeah. Yeah we do.” you answer quietly. 

“Alright, well, we should probably get some sleep, it’s late. But one more thing before you go…” he trails off. 

“What’s that…”

“Just…” he pauses hesitantly, “We’re still, us, right?”

“Yeah, Jake. We’re still us. Nothing has changed.” you confirm. 

“Okay. Well, goodnight, Pops,” he says, his voice growing sleepy again. 

“Goodnight, Jake.” you whisper, hitting the red button to end the call. 

As you collapse down onto your lumpy dorm room bed you run your hand over your face. You try to shake the hollow feeling in your stomach at the thought of everything being okay, but you couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease washing over you as you pull the blankets over your head. 

December 8,  2015

Jake 4:27 PM: When do you come home for winter break?

You 5:09 PM: I’m not sure yet. Cramming for finals currently. 

Jake 5:20 PM: good luck pops

December 19, 2015

Jake 11:47AM: We are leaving for Detroit to get a van and trailer. I can’t believe we are really going on tour. Miss you. 

December 22, 2015

Jake 9:57 PM:  I saw your mom today and she said you won’t be home for Christmas. Would it be weird if I came to see you? Let me know. 

December 25, 2015

Jake 7:46 AM: Merry Christmas, Pops. 

You 9:04 AM: Merry Christmas, Jake. Miss you. I’ll call you soon. 

December 29, 2015

You 12:03 PM: sorry I haven’t called, I’ve been so busy. When do you leave for tour?

Jake 1:10 PM: January 8th. We’ll be in Chicago on the 24th, should I leave you a ticket?

You 1:27 PM: Can you leave two?

Jake 1:30 PM: Anything for you pops. Can’t wait to see you. 

January 23, 2016

Jake 8:46 PM: leaving the venue in Springfield heading towards Chicago. See you tomorrow?

You 9:23 PM: Yes ❤️

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

January 24, 2016

“So what’ve you got going today babe?” Trevor asks, rolling over to face you. 

“Honestly not a lot. I have a class at 1:00 then I guess I am just going to come back here and get ready to go to that show. You still want to come with me right?”

“Yeah for sure, sounds like a good time,” he says, kissing your  shoulder as you sit up on your elbows. The sheet now barely covers your naked bodies, the light sheen of sweat now dry.

A knock on your door startles both of you, your head snapping to the right to look at Trevor, “You think it’s the RA?” 

“Fucking hope not,” he whispers, quickly pulling himself up out of your bed. 

You jump up, grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it over your head as you rush to the door. You push back your hair and take a deep breath as you open the door, but much to your surprise, it’s not the RA.

“Jake?!” 

“Hey, Pops,” he grins, his smile lighting you on fire. His hands are in his pockets, and he seems almost nervous.

“Jake what– what are you doing here?” you rush out, taking in the sight of him for the first time in a long time. His hair is longer now, and he seems as if he's added a little bit of muscle tone.

“We got into town early, thought I’d surprise you,” he answers, his eyes flicking up and down your body as he takes in your current state.

Before you even have time to explain, Trevor walks up behind you, placing his hand on your shoulder. 

“All good, babe?” he asks, his eyes locked on Jake. 

You see the exact moment that realization hits Jake and you swallow harshly, “Yeah, yeah, um everything is fine. This is my friend Jake. He’s in the band we’re seeing tonight.”

You watch as Jake lets out a small huff of air, anger washing over him. “Jake,” he nods, “Nice to meet you.” 

“You too.” Trevor answers. 

“I see you’re busy, Pops. I’ll uh– catch you later.” he says, looking at you before walking away. You don’t even have time to speak before you hear the elevator doors opening. You shut your dorm room door with tears welling in your eyes, doing your best to not let Trevor see, but a huge lump has formed in your throat, and you feel like you might be sick, so you quickly dart into the bathroom before Trevor can question you. 

Your blood is rushing around furiously as you pick up the two tickets at willcall under your name.  Trevor seems oblivious to your anxiety, though, you are doing your best to keep it under wraps. The energy in the small venue is buzzing around you and your excitement doubles once you step through the double doors and enter inside. There are a few people gathered at the front of the stage, and you and Trevor step up behind them. Your heart is pounding as your eyes catch on the drum kit, seeing the band's logo displayed proudly. It won't be too much longer until they go on stage, opening for the main act, and you know more people will begin to show up after they start. 

“So you’ve seen them before?” Trevor asks, turning to look at you. 

“Um, yeah kinda. But not like this. Not on a big stage with lights and real sound equipment,” you answer, doing your best to shut him up. 

Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage where you see a few familiar faces getting ready to go on stage. A smile stretches across your face and your heart starts to pound harder, knowing Jake will be in front of you in mere seconds. The house music starts to quiet down and you watch as Josh takes the stage. He is followed by Sam and Danny, and finally you see Jake step up with his red SG.

They immediately begin playing, and Josh starts talking to the crowd of people that have gathered around you. There are more people here than you would have thought, but you chalk it up to their successful shows in other surrounding states. But you’re more so shocked at the sheer presence of  them on the stage. In seconds Jake’s guitar is commanding the attention of the entire venue, all eyes on him. Part of you wants him to look at you, but the other part of you is still feeling guilty about this morning's earlier interaction. 

As your attention focuses on him, you notice that his attention seems to be focused on everything but the crowd of people in front of him, in fact he seems to be looking over the crowd as he strums out the chords to the first song. It’s then you realize that he seems to be intentionally not looking for you. You hate to admit that it  hurts. 

The performance begins, and Josh starts the opening lyrics to a song you've never heard before, but it's incredible. You can't help but notice that the lyrics seem almost as if they could be about you, and it sends chills up and down your spine. Surely not.

It's then that Jake's eyes meet yours, locking in on you as Josh continues to sing. Your breath is caught in your chest and as you struggle to blink you see Jake look over at Trevor. Your heart begins to race, your cheeks turning flushed. It seems as if time has stopped, like the two of you are the only people here, in the entire world. You hold his gaze again for a moment before he rips his eyes away, returning his focus back to the music. 

The show continues this way, the constant back and forth as the two of you look at each other, speaking silently as he plays guitar. It feels like an eternity before the show is finally over, their set is ending and the guys are walking offstage. The crowd erupts into applause and cheers, and you and Trevor begin to make your way towards the back of the venue, but not before Josh spots you and wraps his sweaty arms around you. 

He looks flushed and out of breath but still has a million dollar smile plastered across his face, “Y/N! I’m glad you made it out. Did you enjoy the show?” he says, but doesn’t let go of the hug despite him dripping sweat onto your shoulder.

“Of course I did! I always do, you guys were amazing!” you shout, hearing the headliner start their set. “It’s nice to see you on a real stage where you belong.”

He lets out a low laugh, finally letting go of you, “It’s still unreal. I can’t even pretend like I’m used to it. Thanks for being here.” he pauses. “I don’t know where Jake ran off to but I’ll find him and send him your way.”

“Thanks,” you smile, seeing him wave over his shoulder. 

You turn back around to see Trevor standing beside you, a small hint of confusion on his face. He looks like he has something he wants to say, and you know exactly what it is.

“Yes, I know the whole band, and yes Jake is a twin,” you smile. 

He shakes his head and looks down at the sticky bar floor before looking back at you. “No actually it's not that. I saw the way you look at him, Y/N, at Jake… Like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him for the entire show. And how he couldn’t take his eyes off you either. Not once.”

Panic begins to set in, your heart rate immediately spiking, “What? No. I– I watched everybody, Trev.”

He raises an eyebrow as he stares you down, “No, you didn’t. You watched him.” he replies, his face growing serious as he looks you over, “I’m not stupid, babe. You’ve been with me for a while now, and I have never once seen you look at me the way you were looking at him.”

“No, you’re imagining things,” you say dismissively, seeing Jake appear in the crowd, heading your direction at possibly the worst time. 

“No, I’m not imagining things,” he mutters, his words turning cold. “Just admit it. Say that you have feelings for him.”

Jake finally makes his way over to you, and by that point the tension between the three of you is as thick as molasses. Jake’s face changes the moment he sees the expression on your face.

“Hey Pops, what’s going on? Everything okay?” he asks, his eyes flickering between you and Trevor.

“Um–” you stammer, unsure what to say to diffuse the tension between you and Trevor.

Trevor looks at Jake, his eyes narrowing at your obvious discomfort, “Just settling an issue here, that’s all.”

Jake looks at him, obviously confused and concerned, “What issue is that?”

“Oh, so you’re going to play dumb, too?” Trevor quips, “Of course.”

Jake’s face turns serious as his eyes narrow, “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, man. You want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

“Not much to tell. I can just tell when a guy and a girl have feelings for each other. We’re working through the issue right now.” he answers nonchalantly, gesturing in your direction.

“Trevor!” you snap, your face burning with embarrassment. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “What? We are. Am I wrong? You’ve got feelings for this dude, right?”

Jake is standing stock still, his eyes wide and focused on you as Trevor mentions the feelings you’re not supposed to have.

The tension in the air is palpable, the realization of what he’s saying slowly settling in on him. “Right?” he asks again. You can’t bring yourself to look at either one of them, your gaze remaining locked on the ground.

“No. I don’t Trevor. You are my boyfriend. Jake is…just a friend…from back home. I'm here with you.” you answer, feeling your own heart break as the words pierce through Jake, too. 

He stands there, his face expressionless as your words sink in. He’s frozen, staring down at you, but your head is still glued to the ground and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Trevor lets out a breath, “We’ll just have to agree to disagree then. All I’m saying is the way you were looking at him just now, and the way he was looking at you…there’s something between you two that isn’t just a regular thing, and I see it.”

“No man, she's right. We are just friends. Nothing more. Never have been, never will be. Isn’t that right, Pops.” Jake says, and you can feel the venom in his words. 

You dare glance up at him, but the moment your eyes meet you regret it. His face looks like stone, the light in his eyes now replaced with a dark, dull anger. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Jake like this, his gaze locked on yours, staring you down.

“Right, Pops? We’re just friends,” he repeats, but his voice lacks the comfort of the countless times he’s said those words before to you. There’s no reassurance in there this time, no hint of a smile. This is not the Jake you know. The Jake that you love.

“Right,” you breathe, wishing more than anything you could just disappear into thin air. 

He holds your gaze for just a moment longer, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you, waiting for something more from you, but you just can’t say it, your voice having abandoned you.

“Okay, great, well uh– thanks for coming out. See ya ‘round, Pops.” You watch as he nods his head toward you dismissively, turning and disappearing into the crowd.

The feeling of him walking away from you, the anger in his face and in his words, it’s leaving you with an unbearable emptiness feeling in your chest. Your head is swimming with everything that has just transpired. You’re unable to move, but Trevor breaks you out of your trance with a hand on your shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Part of you wants to stay, to leave Trevor and find Jake and make things right, but you know you can't. It's too late. The damage is done. You let him lead you out, your head down as you stumble out of the venue. The night sky is cold and black, the weight of the moment still fresh. You let Trevor lead you away from the venue. Away from Jake. 

You make the trip back to your dorm in silence, both of you just wanting to forget about the whole thing and curl up in bed and sleep. He doesn’t try to talk, but you can feel his tense energy radiating off of him next to you, and you aren’t totally sure if he’s angry with you or just the situation in general.

As you slide into your bed, your mind is still replaying the moments back in the venue. Jake’s face as you denied having any feelings for him. The way he used a nickname that once was special between you two and somehow made it sound so cold. The way he didn’t argue when you denied your feelings to Trevor. And the worst part of all, your inability to correct him.

The sheets feel heavy on top of your body, and you’ve never felt more lonely. The person who knows you best is a couple miles away from you, and at the same time he’s never felt more distant. You want to try and sleep, hoping the morning can bring you some reprieve but you instead end up staring at the ceiling and letting the tears quietly fall.

Northwestern University - Chicago, Illinois

November 10, 2016

“Miss Y/N?” the dorm attendant calls out as you walk through the entry doors.

“Yes?” you answer, stopping at the desk with a smile. 

“You had a delivery come this morning,” she smiles, “a big beautiful one.”

“Me?” you ask, not expecting any deliveries. 

“Yes, stay right here and I will get it,” she says, scampering off to the back office to retrieve your package.

However, when she steps out your heart nearly drops. It’s not a package at all. It's a giant bouquet of flowers, but not just any flowers. Your eyes instantly begin to fill with tears, and a familiar ache in your heart flares up. Poppies, at least two dozen of them in a bright pink vase. They are all blooming and vibrant and you don’t even need to read the card to know who they are from. 

You accept them from her with thanks, and rush back to your dorm room as fast as you can. The tears are beginning to stream  from the corners of your eyes as you kick the door shut behind you. You place the flowers on your desk, and with shaky hands you pull the tiny red card from the holder. 

The outside of the envelope reads ‘Happy Birthday’ in bold handwriting. You look at the envelope one more time before ripping open the seal and pulling the card out. The front of the card has a handwritten message. ‘Have a great birthday, Pops.’

There’s no signature, but you know who it’s from. You open the card and find the inside blank, except for one simple phrase written in the middle.

‘Still us, right?’

You feel like your heart has exploded in your chest, the tears falling faster now. You feel a knot in the pit of your stomach as you read those words again and again, your brain unable to wrap your head fully around what they mean. You know what he’s really asking, and the feeling of shame and guilt over the way that you left things is even stronger now.

“What did I do?” you whisper to yourself. You never wanted to hurt him, that was never your intention. You let your head sink, your eyes landing on the beautiful multicolored flowers on the desk. You let the tears continue to fall, the guilt and helplessness washing over you in a fresh wave. You let your head fall into your hands, trying to will yourself to do something, anything, but the feeling of despair and the memory of how Jake’s face looked that night in the venue is like a heavy weight on top of you.

Should you call him? Text him?

You look around your dorm, as if a sign would pop up and tell you exactly what to do. You turn and look at your phone, your hands shaking as you reach out toward it. You think about calling him, you think about texting, but what would you say?

You want to say how sorry you are, how much you’ve missed him, and how much better everything would be if you could both go back and do that night over again...but what good is saying those things now? It’s too late for regret, no matter how badly you want to go back and change the last few months.

You pick up the phone, your fingers shaking slightly as you dial his number. The phone rings for a few seconds until you hear his voice on the other line. “Poppy?”

“Jake,” you reply. 

“Hey,” his voice responds, a little bit of surprise and relief in it. He hesitates before continuing, “Guessing you got the flowers?”

“I did. Jake, they are so beautiful. I love them.” you answer. There’s an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, the elephant in the room growing larger by the second.

“Yeah, I’m really glad you like them,” he replies, his voice sounding less surprised and a little bit of normalcy starting to return to the conversation. He lets another pause linger between the two of you, the silence feeling strange after all the time you’ve gone without speaking to each other. Then he speaks again. “I wasn’t sure you were going to call.”

“I wasn’t sure you would answer,” you say sheepishly.

He lets out a gentle chuckle, the sound of his laugh somehow still warming your heart. “Yeah, to be honest I was a little hesitant to answer. But I’m glad you called.” he says quietly.

“I um– I got your…note.” you breathe. 

A pause fills the line before he speaks again, this time quieter. “Yeah, it’s just been kind of heavy having the distance between us lately. I just… needed you to know that the way things ended last time we saw each other, I never meant to…” he trails off, suddenly unsure of the proper words to say.

“Jake, I-” you start, but he interrupts you.

“No, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Please don’t feel bad, okay? I just needed you to know that we’re still…” he fades off again, that familiar feeling of helplessness filling the air. He takes a moment before continuing, “You’re still my best friend and you always will be. I don’t want us to lose that. I don’t want to lose you any more. You’re my girl, Pops. Always will be.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Jake,” you confess, your voice cracking with pain. 

“I know.” he replies, letting out a sigh, “And I understand.” Another moment passes between the two of you before he speaks again. “Listen, I’ve got to go, we are going on soon and Josh is breathing down my neck, but I’m glad you called. It means a lot to hear your voice. Let’s try and���I don’t know, talk more?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry to keep you, I just…” you pause, “Have a good show, Jake... a-and thank you for the flowers.”

“Of course, anything for my girl,” he answers, “and Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you…” you trail off. 

“Call soon?” he asks, the volume in the background starting to grow louder.

“I’d like that,” you breathe, feeling the distance from him even more than before. 

“Good. Okay, well have a good night, P.” he says softly, and right before you think he’s hung up you hear him whisper, “It’s still us, Poppy.”

“Still us,” you confirm, the call ending as the words leave your lips. 

January 4, 2017

Jake 8:12 AM: Just signed the contract for a headlining world tour. I can’t believe it, Pops.

You 7:58 PM: I’m so proud of you Jake

March 28, 2017

Jake 11:04 PM: Just walked past a street vendor selling red poppies. Apparently they are a big thing here. Thought of you. Miss you. 

You 11:24 PM: I miss you too. Where are you at these days?

Jake 11:30 PM: In Paris right now, England tomorrow, then Scotland. It’s beautiful here. 

You 11:32 PM: I can only imagine.

Jake 11:33 PM: One day, Pops.

June 7, 2017

You 12:25 PM: Did I just see that you guys are playing Lollapalooza?! Jake!

Jake 1:49 PM: You did, can you believe it? 

You 1:50 PM: We used to daydream about that

Jake 1:56 PM: No more dreaming. Can I save you an Artist wristband?

You 1:58 PM: You’d do that for me?

Jake 2:00 PM: Of course poppy, you’re my girl. 

August 3, 2017

Jake 8:09 AM: P, it’s show day and I haven't heard from you. You still coming? Your wristband is at will call.

You 10:23 AM: Jake, I am so so so sorry. I can’t find anyone to cover my shift tonight at work. I’ve been trying for weeks. I hate to miss this. I am so sorry. :(

Jake 10:40 AM: Ahh, it’s alright P,  there will be more. I’ll catch you at the next one. 

You 10:45 AM: I won’t miss the next one. I swear. 

Jake 10:46 AM: I’m holding you to it. Call soon. 

November 10, 2017

You 2:21 PM: Thank you for the poppies Jake. They are even more beautiful than last years bouquet. Miss you so much. 

Jake 3:04 PM: Anything for you, Y/N. Happy Birthday. 

February 18, 2018

Jake 7:34 PM:  *Open in Spotify*  - Bad Company - Call On Me

You 7:45 PM: I remember listening to this album in your car non stop senior year lol

Jake 7:48 PM: Still one of the very best. I always think of you when I hear that one though. 

You 7:50 PM: Even if I called on you I don’t think you could get here very quickly. Last I saw on Instagram you guys were in Belgium. 

Jake 7:54 PM: We are, but all you need to do is say the word, Pops. 

You 8:00 PM: Miss you. 

Jake 8:01 PM: Miss you more. 

April 4, 2019

Jake 7:48 PM: My mom said she got your graduation invitation in the mail today. So proud of you Y/N. 

You 8:21 PM: It feels like it went by so fast. I can’t believe it’s over. I actually just received my acceptance letter from the University of Michigan today. I’m officially going to Law School. 

Jake 8:30 PM: You continue to amaze me Poppy. I’m glad we both get to live our dreams. 

You 8:32 PM: ❤️

University of Michigan Law School - Ann Arbor, Michigan

August 12, 2019

You 7:52 AM: I’m freaking out, what if I can’t do this Jake

Jake 8:00 AM: what?

You 8:01 AM: It’s my first day of classes at UofM

Jake 8:02 AM: Do you think I wasn’t petrified the first time I stepped onto a real stage? I know you can do this P. If I can do that, you can do this. You can do anything. 

You 8:03 AM: Thanks Jake

Jake 8:05 AM: Call me later and let me know how it went. We are on break for the next week so I’m free whenever. 

November 10, 2019

You 3:47 PM:  Jake! You’re so sweet. Gorgeous flowers, but I have to know how you got my new address?  

Jake 3:50 PM: Don’t worry about that, I have my ways. Happy Birthday my girl. I’ll call soon. 

University of Michigan Law School - Ann Arbor, Michigan

May 18, 2020

You can faintly hear a persistent buzzing, the sound pulling you from your sleep. You realize it’s your phone buzzing away on your nightstand with an incoming call. You roll over, reaching for it in the darkness of the room, noticing the time on your alarm clock says 2:47 AM. You wipe the sleep from your eyes as they adjust to the harsh light of your phone, but that's not what really wakes you. It’s the name on the screen that has you sitting up straight in your bed. 

���Jake?” you breathe, sliding your thumb against the glass. “Hello?” you answer groggily. 

“Poppy…” he replies, his voice deep and gravely. 

“Jake, what's wrong, is everything okay? It's like 2:30 in the morning?” you rush out, your heart starting to pound. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby doll,” he answers, “I just…I needed to hear your voice.”

You can hear the slurring in his words and you know he's had too much to drink. That, and he hasn’t called you that pet name in years, “What’s going on, Jake? You don’t sound okay.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly gathering the right words to say, “‘M fine, Pops. It’s just been a bad day. Hell, it’s been a bad week. A bad month. Everything is fucking exploding in our faces.”

“What do you mean?” you ask nervously, clutching your sheets in your fist.

He lets out a deep sigh, “God, everythings just falling apart. With the album, with tour–” he cuts himself off. There’s another pause before he speaks again. “It’s just all such a mess and I miss you, Pops. I miss you so damn much. I don’t know if I can do all of this.”

“What? What do you mean? Is it because of all this Covid stuff?” you ask.

“That, and so many other things. We had all these plans to release the new album and tour and then everything came to a screeching halt. We’re essentially in lockdown now, and I don't know when we will start up again. I can’t just sit, Pops, you know that. I just can’t,” he sighs heavily. “But it’s not just that,” he pauses for a moment, his words becoming a little more slurred, “There’s a million things, and I know I sound so whiny, but–”

“No, go ahead, get it all out. Tell me. I'm here. I'm listening.”

“I don't even know how to put it all into words. There’s just so much. The pressure, the uncertainty, the loneliness of it all, the shit with the label, my parents calling all the time asking what's going on, Josh bitching everytime something doesn’t go his way. Nothing is going right,” he pauses, “and you're not here.”

“I know. I know I'm not, but I think I understand a little bit at least. All my classes are virtual right now, finals and everything. It’s not how I ever imagined Law School going.  I don't think I have left my apartment in weeks. I haven’t talked to a real person in a while. It's scary and everything is uncertain right now. I get it Jake. I do, and I miss you. I miss you so much.” you answer.

“Yeah, exactly,” he sighs, “I just feel like– everything is going wrong and falling apart and I don’t know how to stop it. I just want…I want you,” he pauses, “I want you here. Things would be better if you were here. You would know what to do.”

“Well, where are you? Are you…at home or–”

“I’m locked in this fucking house in Nashville. Feel like a fuckin’ prisoner. All I can do is play guitar and write and drink,  and– I just need out.” he groans. 

“Nashville...You–You live in Nashville now? In a house? I had no idea you guys left Michigan.”  you say a little despondently.

“See, this is exactly what I mean. I want you to know these things. You deserve to know. I– I should’ve called. But, yeah, we got a place last year. Me and Josh. It made sense with us starting to record and touring, being centrally located and all that. But it’s not my permanent home. This is not what I want.” he adds hastily.

“Yeah, I understand, that makes sense, I just didn't know,” you pause, “I wish- I mean, how far are you from Ann Arbor? You know you can always come visit for a while. I’ll be busy with school work but at least we could…” you trail off. 

“I’d say maybe…six hours, give or take,” he answers, and his mind starts to wander a little. “I wish I could just hop in the car and come to you. I miss your face. Just you, in general,” he says, the drunken honesty coming through. “But the label has us on fucking lockdown. Can’t leave the city even if we wanted to.”

“Oh. Okay. I understand.” you answer, pain coloring your tone. 

He picks up on your change in tone, his voice growing a bit more sober, “Shit, no, P. I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t want you to feel like I wouldn’t just drop everything and come to you right now, you gotta believe me. I wish I could. I’d  leave now and be there by morning.”

“No, Jake it’s fine, I get it. I was just daydreaming.” you answer, swallowing thickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything. I feel like everything has just been too much and I just wanted to hear your voice. But I shouldn’t have called you like this, I know you’ve got a lot of stuff going on with school right now. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my bullshit.” he says, his voice sounding just as pained as yours. 

“Never apologize for that Jake. That’s what I’m here for. I want to know, and I know you would do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N. You know that I would,” he responds, his words almost a whisper now. You can still hear the buzz of alcohol in his voice, but now it’s only a slight slur instead of drunken rambling. “You were always my person. My safe place.”

“And you’re mine,” you whisper. 

You can hear him sigh heavily on the other line, and the two of you let a comfortable silence fall over the line. You’re both lost in your thoughts, just content to hear the other breathe. He finally breaks the silence, his voice quiet and hoarse, “When I get out of this hell hole, I’m coming to find you. I need to see you again. It can’t be another year without you.”

“You know where to find me,” you grin. 

“Yeah, I do,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, just listening to you breathe. “I should let you get some sleep. You got school and work and… life to deal with tomorrow, huh?”

“Sadly, yes. But, I– enjoyed this. I’ve missed your voice. It’s nice to lay here with my eyes closed and pretend like it's old times.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, “This was good. I feel better now, I really do. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. We’ve got a lot to catch up on…and I’m sorry I had to be drunk to find the balls to call you.” he giggles. “Can I call you again sometime soon? Preferably when I’m a little more sober?”

“Please do,” you answer with a laugh. 

He laughs softly along with you, the sound of his laugh is familiar yet different after all this time, “Okay, I’ll call you soon then. I promise. Goodnight, my  Pops.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

Detroit, Michigan

March 13, 2022

 

“And send,” you whisper to yourself, finally leaning back in your office chair as the email flies into the ether. You let out a deep exhale, checking the time. Only one more hour before you leave for the day. You take in your surroundings, seeing your colleagues still busy and working away on case files and reports. It wasn’t easy landing this job and it has been taxing to say the least, but in a few years you would be up for partner and you would do anything to make your dream a reality. Today though, you were leaving a little earlier than usual. You had plans tonight, plans you weren’t one hundred percent sure you should follow through with, but it had been years after all, and part of you is dying to see him. Jake. 

You’d been following along with the band's success for years now, watching them grow to crazy levels of fame in such a short amount of time. You think back to the night Jake called you, so worried about the new album, and now it was their most successful release to date. It truly was incredible and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see them play it live. And tonight, you would. 

When you saw that they had plans to play in Saginaw you knew you had to make the drive. You requested the time off and now today was the day. Your heart has been in your throat all day waiting for it to drop to your stomach the moment you see him on stage tonight. It only took a few messages with Karen to find out that you had standing tickets waiting for you. Stating that ‘Jake wouldn’t have it any other way’. You could tell she missed him, missed all her boys actually, and you knew the pain all too well.

You knew he would look different, from the pictures you’d seen you could tell his hair was longer, and his boyish figure was now that of a man. But he wasn't the only one, all of the guys' looks had changed dramatically, and part of you felt like you hardly knew them anymore. You had no plans of telling Jake that you would be there tonight, you wanted to see him play a good show without the burden of knowing you were out in the crowd watching. You have your outfit picked out and waiting for you on your bed, knowing you only had a few quick minutes to change and get on the road when you clocked out at the office for the day. Now, all there was left to do was wait. 

The traffic couldn’t have been worse. The freeway was congested with an accident and roadwork, and as your hands gripped the steering wheel  you began to feel nervous that you might not make it in time. You pushed away the nervous feeling, turning up the volume of the music playing through your car speakers. You’d done your research, listening to the new album a hundred times over, and tonight you’d put that knowledge to the test as you tried your best to sing along with every song they would play. As you sang along now, you let go of your stress and relaxed into the music, watching as miraculously the road cleared in front of you and you continued on your way to Saginaw. 

With your ticket in hand you searched for your seat in the crowd, finding yourself surrounded by familiar faces. Faces you hadn’t seen since you left home. It felt like a big reunion in section 102, and you couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off of your face if you tried. When you finally found your seat you looked up to see Karen sitting a seat away, turning to face you as you sat down next to her. 

“Oh honey, you made it,” she cooed, pulling you in for a hug. 

“Yeah, yeah I did! Got stuck in some terrible traffic leaving Detroit, I didn’t know if I was going to make it on time.” you answer, waving hello to a few other friendly faces around you. 

“I am so glad you’re here, I haven’t seen you in years! You really should come home and see everyone soon. We all miss you!” she says, with a soft smile, “I’m glad he sat you with us. Right where you should be.”

You give her a confused look and she laughs. 

“Look around, you’re in the family section,” she pauses, and suddenly you realize shes right. “I can’t wait to see them play tonight, it’s been a year or so.”

“Well I guess I should confess that I haven't seen them since their first little tour. I think they were openers. It was back in college.”

“Oh well, you’re in for a surprise then. They are just fantastic now, they’ve really stepped it up since then. Oh, Jake is going to be so happy to see you.” she gushes. 

“I actually didn’t tell him I was coming,” you pause, “we haven’t talked in a little while. He’s been busy touring and I’m working at a firm now. Life hasn’t been the best to our friendship.” you confess. 

“Oh honey I hate to hear that. You’ll have to come with me after the show to see everybody. I’m sure they would all love to say hello.” she offers. 

“Like backstage? I don’t know. Maybe. I–”

“No excuses, we’re going.” she smiles, just as the lights dim and music begins to play through the arena. 

Your heart is positively thumping in your chest as you hear what you believe to be Josh’s voice as he talks over a piece of music. You feel your insides grow warm as he talks, your eyes filling with tears as you listen to the beautiful words he's crafted. The crowd explodes in cheers full of anticipation as the arena goes black and the curtain covering the stage begins to flash with red lights. 

You’re scared of what you will see when the curtain drops. Scared of the changes you’ll see in their faces, the changes you’ll notice in their playing, but mostly you’re scared that he may not recognize you if he does see you, because that would crush you. 

Suddenly the curtain falls down to the ground as loud music begins to fill the arena. Your eyes are immediately on Jake, his long dark hair and his two piece suit. He looks so amazing you feel like you could fall to your knees right here in the stands. But then, he spots you, and for that few seconds it’s just the two of you there in that arena. 

 A wave of shock sets in as soon as his eyes land on you. For a brief moment you can hardly believe that it’s real, that you’re  seeing him  in person and not just in the memories that haunt you during the dark hours of night. But there he is, living his dream right in front of your very eyes. 

He stands in front of the crowd, guitar in hand. The bright spotlight is so white it almost hurts your eyes, but once your vision adjusts you’re struck by the sight of him. He’s slightly sweaty and disheveled, his jacket open  and hair already sweaty and messy. He’s never looked more handsome than he does standing on that stage. He stands still for a moment, the shock of seeing you here has shaken him to the core, that is obvious to you. But he quickly shakes it off, and continues with the show, playing for the crowd that is screaming his name.

By the third song you are having to pick your jaw up off the floor. The way he is working the crowd is a vast difference from the last time you watched him play, still shy and unsure of himself on stage. He’s got a presence to him now, a confidence that you don’t remember seeing when you first watched him play years before. It shows in the way he moves on the stage, in the way he plays to the crowd, and in the way he works the guitar like it’s an extension of himself. He plays his heart out for the next hour, his movements smooth and precise. Jake is in his element just like he always knew he would be. 

The encore is upon you, and you can’t wait for him to be back on stage. Finally, he bounds up to the stage again, his energy and excitement at an all time high. You can tell he’s having the time of his life, the lights and cheers making him feel like he could fly. Josh is right behind him, grabbing the microphone and beginning to speak. “Thank you all for an incredible night,” he yells to the crowd, “But we’re not done yet. How about another one?” The room fills with loud cheers again. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest as Jake turns his body to look at you, pointing his guitar in your direction as he acknowledges you. Your cheeks are on fire as he sends you a smile, Karen grabbing your arm as she watches the interaction. 

“Told you he’d be happy to see you,” she shouts over the music. 

You feel overwhelmed with emotion and excitement; not just by the fact that he spotted you in this giant crowd, but also by the fact that he is so clearly expressing a level of happiness because you’re here right now. The connection you feel to him is unlike anything you’ve felt in a long time.

He finishes the show with his heart on his sleeve. It ends on an incredibly high note, and he takes one last bow to the crowd as they start to leave. He starts walking off the stage, Josh in tow and you realize that now, you will go backstage with Karen and you’ll  have to face him. 

“Alright honey, you up for saying hello?” she asks, both of you making your way out of the aisle and towards the floor. 

Your body is shaking with nerves as you answer her, “Yeah, I should. It’s been too long.”

You and Karen make your way to the back where the band is waiting, still a little winded from the show. A few roadies are already packing up the stage equipment, and the crew is helping to dismantle the set. There is so much going on behind the scenes that you had no clue about. So many moving parts and pieces. 

Karen ushers you back towards the dressing rooms, each of the guys having their own space to dress and prepare. When did they get so fancy?

“Okay, Jake should be right through there, I’m going to go find Josh. Come find me if you need anything.” she says, leaving you at his dressing room door. 

Your hands are shaking, you’re unsure if you’ll even be able to raise your hand to knock. You smooth out your skirt and take a deep breath, fixing your hair a little as you try to calm your nerves. It’s Jake. It’s just Jake. 

Finally getting over the shock and nervousness, you knock softly on the door. You hear shuffling behind the door and your heart starts to pound in your ears. You hear him call out through the door, “Just a minute.”

Your heart jumps into your throat as you hear his voice through the door. It sounds like he’s just getting out of the shower, and with a towel wrapped around his waist he opens the door. The shock on his face is undeniable as he sees you standing there. He was expecting anything but you. “Pops,” he whispers, saying your name as if he were trying to convince himself that you were real.

“H-hi Jake,” you stammer, your nerves making themselves known. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you in disbelief. He’s still dripping wet from the shower, beads of water running down his bare chest. His face relaxes and a familiar softness sets in, a soft smile crossing his face. “You’re really here.” His gaze roams over your body, drinking in every inch.  

“Yeah, I'm here. You were–you were so amazing, I–”

It’s as if the sound of your voice brings a wave of peace over him, and before you know it he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his body still damp from the shower. He pulls you against him, your body pressed to his bare chest. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and you can feel his breath on  your skin as he holds you. “I’m so fucking happy to see you,” he murmurs. 

You hug him back, feeling all the guilt and nerves melt away from you, in a way that only he can manage. You can feel the water starting to seep through your clothes, and you pull away, looking between you with a smile. “You're wet, and naked,” you laugh. 

He blushes at your words, suddenly remembering that he’s still just wrapped in a towel. “Shit,” he says, feeling an unusual shyness that he usually doesn’t feel around you. He steps back to the side of the door, holding it open for you to enter as he gives you a nervous smile. “Come in, just give me a sec and I'll change.”

“I can wait out here if you want, I know that we–”

“No, come in Pops. Please,” he says firmly, the towel still wrapped around him. It’s still hard to take your eyes off of his bare chest, but you walk into the room, trying to keep your focus on anything but him, not wanting to stare too long. 

You watch as he saunters across the room, his long brown hair down to the middle of his back now, and dripping with water. You swallow harshly as your eyes travel over the curve of his ass in the towel, but you pull your eyes away before he turns around. He grabs a bag and slips into the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind him. You can hear a nasty cough come from behind the door and you furrow your brows. Is he sick?

You stand there by the couch, suddenly noticing the small bottle of cough syrup sitting at the edge of the side table. A few moments later, he emerges from the bathroom, dressed in worn jeans and a clean white t-shirt. He sits down on the couch and he lets out another few coughs, trying to clear his throat as he looks up at you. “Sit down,” he says, gesturing towards the spot next to him on the couch. 

You take a seat next to him, and let out a soft breath. “Are you feeling okay?” you ask. 

The cough is still in his throat, but he nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have this damn cough that I can’t seem to shake.” He looks you up and down, finally being able to observe you as closely as he wants to since you showed up at the venue. “You look great,” he says, a warm smile on his lips. 

You blush at his words, your eyes meeting his. The one thing about him that’s stayed the same over the years. “Thank you,” you say shyly. 

His smile turns into a grin, the same boyish smile that you’ve always loved. “Of course.” He lets his gaze linger on your face, drinking you in as if he’s trying to memorize every little detail. He’s unable to keep his hands to himself, and before you know it he’s reached towards you. His fingers wrap around your wrist, and he gently pulls your arm towards him.

The feeling of his skin against yours causes the dam to break, “Jake, I–”

He doesn’t let go as he lets both of your hands rest in his lap. That same electricity that used to pass between you is there, and you can tell that the connection you’ve always had is as strong as ever despite the distance. He speaks softly, knowing how heavy the air between you two is. “I know.”

“No, please I–” you start, but you’re quickly cut off as the dressing room door flies open and a blonde woman, around the same age as you steps inside. 

The sudden intrusion is like a bucket of ice water, and you pull your hands away from him as if you’ve been caught doing something wrong. He looks back at you, his expression soft and apologetic before he looks up at the new presence in the room. You look over at Jake, expecting to see some kind of reaction from him, but he actually just looks mildly annoyed.

“Hey, Viv,” he answers, turning his body to face her. She looks between the two of you, an expression on her face you can’t quite decipher.

She gives him a small smile, and she doesn’t even glance in your direction as she walks into the room. You try to stay as small as possible, as if trying not to be seen. She crosses her arms as she stands on the other side of the room. “How did the show go?” she asks, her voice is casual and unbothered. You suddenly feel like you shouldn’t be here. 

“Was fine, got a little winded and lightheaded by encore,” he answers and she nods her head. 

“Well, the crowd was big tonight and it got hot, plus all the lights. That'd make anybody winded,” she says, still keeping her focus on him. You sit there, feeling slightly uncomfortable, wondering why she seems so comfortable in his space. She starts to dig around in the bag on her shoulder and you turn to look at Jake. 

The whole situation feels weird, and you don't understand why she is just standing there, going through her purse, while you and Jake sit there. His eyes flick over to you and you can see slight annoyance in them as he looks back at her.

Then it hits you like a ton of bricks. She’s not just some stranger. She’s here with Jake. For Jake. Oh god how could you be so stupid. Of course he’s seeing someone. You quickly shoot up, grabbing your bag and tossing it over your shoulder as quickly as you can, feeling so stupid to think tonight would be the night you’d work things out. She’s waiting for you to leave. 

Jake’s eyes go wide as he sees what you’re doing, “Wait, no, Pops, where are you going?” He stands up from the couch, reaching his hand out to grab your arm but you pull away from him.

“I’m sorry– I didn’t know. I– You were amazing tonight, I’m sorry I–I didn’t know you— I’ll go–” you stammer, making your way to the door.  

Jake practically lunges across the room, reaching the door at the same time you do. He turns you around to face him, the panic in his eyes apparent. “No, don’t go, let me explain–”

“No, no, you don’t have to. I understand. I shouldn’t have come back here. I don’t belong back here. I’m sorry,” you mumble pushing your way through the heavy wooden door.

“Poppy!” you hear him shout, his voice echoing through the busy hallway as you search for the nearest exit. You don’t turn around. You refuse to look back and let him see you like this. Your heart is absolutely more crushed than it ever has been, but you should have expected it. He is a rockstar and you’re…just Y/N.

He moved on, he found someone else to confide in. Someone that matches him. Someone else to trust with his secrets. Someone else to think of day and night, and finally you understand how he felt that night so long ago. Replaced. 

You hear his voice fade as you walk out of the venue, leaving your heart behind you in a single, devastating moment. The warm night is replaced by a cold breeze as you step out, the tears falling down your face as you realize the past was just that. The past.

Frankenmuth, Michigan

December 31, 2022

The air is frigid outside, you’re sure this is the coldest winter you’ve ever experienced, even growing up here. There aren’t enough layers in the world, let alone in your suitcase. Thankfully in just two days you will be back home in Detroit where it's not too much warmer, but definitely not as cold as Frankenmuth. You’ve been home for the last two weeks visiting your parents, not seeing them nearly enough since you started at the law firm after graduation. It’s been nice to be home, but something about it feels different now. You are riddled with nostalgia and the memories seem to come back with a vengeance the longer you’re here. Memories you have all but pushed away lately, not letting them into your heart as you once did. Currently you and your parents are sitting in front of the fireplace sipping on wine as you watch the Rockin’ New Year’s Eve special on TV. The wine is warming you up a bit, but not nearly enough. 

You’ve now brushed off dozens of invites from co-workers and even some old friends who are out on the town tonight, celebrating ringing in the new year. You know you should go, but something is telling you not to. Even your parents asked why you’re spending the evening at home instead of seeing old friends. You wish you had a good answer for them, but you don't.

“You really should go, honey,” your mom continues, finishing off her glass of red. “You’re only young once.”

“I know, but I just…I feel so disconnected from this place. I haven’t talked to these people since highschool,” you pause, “I just feel like I’m better off here.”

“I agree with your mother, hon,” your dad adds, “It will be good for you to get out. All you do is work these days. You deserve a night off.”

You let their words sink in as you look at your phone, seeing the ignored text from your old friend Isabelle begging you to meet her at Tiffany’s for a drink. Honestly, the thought of stepping into that bar again rattles you. 

“Just one drink hon, ring in the new year,” your dad says, sending you an encouraging wink. 

You look at her text again and let out a sigh, “Alright, fine. Maybe you’re right. It would be okay to let loose just a little. Tonight of all nights.”

“Thatta girl,” he says, nodding his head. 

With the decision made you text Isabelle back, letting her know you will meet her there in thirty as you rush upstairs to change into something that isn't sweatpants and a hoodie.

 It’s an eerie feeling walking into this bar, a place you used to frequent so often, so long ago. It’s been years since you've been back but it's exactly the same as you left it. The dining patrons are long gone, making way for the locals that use the bartop as their own personal therapy space, but tonight it’s a little different. It’s New Year's Eve and the bar is filled with unfamiliar faces. Of course, there are a few you recognize from high school, that much you expected. The air in the bar is much warmer than the air outside, thanks to the large group of people filling the small space. The lights are dim and music is playing from the old jukebox in the corner. The floor is already sticky from spilled drinks, and the air smells faintly of cigarettes. 

“I’m gonna grab a drink, what do you want?” Isabelle asks, snaking her way through a group of people. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” you answer, knowing it doesn't really matter. 

She disappears into the crowd and you look around in search of a table you can ditch your jacket at. Most are taken, but you spot one in a corner with no occupants. You walk briskly towards it, throwing your jacket down onto the inevitably sticky table top as you sit and wait for Isabelle. You let your eyes wander through the bar picking out familiar faces, and even taking in some new ones, but you can’t seem to shake the feeling of uneasiness you’ve had since you walked through the door. Something is different, you just don’t know what. 

A few minutes later a drink is placed in front of you that looks to be a whiskey and coke, and you secretly cheer that it's not something overly sweet. 

“Made them a double cause the lines’ a bitch,” she says, taking her first gulp.

“Good call,” you smile, taking your own sip and letting the bubbles burn the back of your throat. Maybe your dad was right. You did need this. You and Isabelle sit and talk for a little while, letting the alcohol seep into your system and cast away your cares. But then you hear something. Something you haven’t heard in a long time. A song from long ago that has made a permanent home in your memories. 

Through the crappy speakers you hear the opening notes to “Good Lovin’ Gone Bad” by Bad Company. You smile to yourself, thinking back on just how many times Jake played that album that summer. You both had practically every single lyric memorized by the time you left for college. A pang shoots through your chest as you picture him in your mind, and your mood suddenly sours. 

“Hey, I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick,” you pause, “Save our table?”

“Duh, see you in a few,” she says, taking another gulp of her drink. 

You begin to make your way to the bathroom, needing a minute to yourself to freshen up and get Jake out of your head. You finally make your way to the opposite side of the bar, the bathrooms in your sight. But much to your surprise, something else oddly familiar catches your eye and your heart lurches up to your throat. No. It can’t be. 

His back is towards you, but you would recognize his shoulders and hair anywhere. You spot him with a group of guys, all drinking and having a good time. A wave of nostalgia hits hard, remembering how things were back in the day before you both went your separate ways and he shot to stardom. The way you could walk up to him without second guessing it. Now you’re not so sure you can. 

You try to turn around and walk away, knowing it's best to just go, but something has you frozen to the floor. You can see the way he holds the crowd at the bar, telling stories and cracking jokes in the same way he did at parties back in high school. He's a star in every sense of the word, but when the laughter fades for a second, you can almost see the sadness underneath it all. 

He doesn’t notice you, at least you think he doesn’t, as you push forward and rush into the bathroom. Your heart is pumping harder than it has in months and you feel like you might be sick. There is no way you are going to be able to get out of this bar without talking to him, so you decide you need to pull it together and pretend like he isn’t even here. 

You fix your make up, and smooth down your hair, taking a good long look in the mirror. You’ve got this. It’s just Jake. You take a few deep breaths and square your shoulders, preparing to face him and any uncomfortable conversation that may follow. You open the door and walk out into the bar, looking around as you do. You don't see him at the bar he was at before and for a split second your brain doesn't register that fact at all, but as you make your way out to the dance floor you look a few tables over and realize he is standing there, with his hands in his pockets watching you with the same intensity you’ve always seen from him.  

He looks so handsome and he doesn’t even know it. His long brown hair hanging over his shoulders, his corduroy shirt hanging open and messy over his t-shirt. He is exactly the Jake you’ve always known. The Jake you always wanted. There’s a mustache, too, you notice. The accent of hair, complimenting his upper lip in a way that has your entire chest heating. It’s the perfect touch to his pretty face, adding a masculine touch that you hadn’t known was necessary for his overall aura until this moment. 

Because god did he look impossibly more alluring with that addition. 

You know it’s only a matter of time before you two speak, and you have no idea what he is thinking. But for once, Jake doesn’t hide his feelings from you, his eyes are glued to you, refusing to look away. Willing you to come to him, and your body listens. 

You walk towards him, each step feeling heavier than the last, as if you're walking through quicksand. Your eyes stay locked on his face despite the nervousness running through your veins, and you can feel the electricity pouring off of him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just stares at you. You can feel the memories of you together crashing through your head like a wave. You get closer and closer, the world around you fading away, until you’re standing right in front of him.

“It was you, wasn’t it. The song,” you ask, putting the pieces together immediately. “You knew I was here. You knew I would recognize it.”

His jaw clenches in response, and he lets a sad smile touch his lips before he says anything. “Yeah, it was. I saw you walk in. I knew it’d work,” he replies, the familiar rasp in his voice is softer than you remember, but still as deep and soothing as ever.

“Guess you were right,”  you smirk, watching as his body language starts to soften.

He lets a soft chuckle escape, and he relaxes a little bit. You can see the tension melting away from his shoulders. “Some things never change, huh?” he says, his eyes roaming over your face and body briefly, taking in every detail he can. 

“I didn’t know you were home,” you confess.

“I didn’t know you were home.” he says gently, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He looks down for a moment, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “I should’ve told you.”

You nod your head, “I could’ve called you too,” you pause, biting your lip, “It’s just ever since that night–”

“That night was not what you think. I wish you would’ve let me explain, Pops.” he urges, his hand reaching out to rest on your arm. 

“It's- It's the past now Jake, you don't owe me anything,” you answer, the nickname searing a sore spot in your heart. 

“Bullshit,” he snaps. “You know exactly what I owe you. But I’m not going to talk to you about this in a bar, surrounded by all these people,” he drops his hand from your arm, running it through his hair instead. “Come with me, please.”

You look around for Isabelle, but of course she is nowhere to be found, “Okay.”

He leads you out the back door of the bar, into the cool winter air. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and grabs one, placing it between his teeth before lighting it just as quickly. He looks over at you for a moment, watching as you rub your arms to keep warm. “You’re cold,” he observes, noticing the goosebumps on your exposed skin.

“My jacket is inside,” you answer.

He shrugs off his corduroy shirt, draping it over your shoulders, before pulling you in a bit closer to him. The smell of tobacco and his cologne overwhelm your senses as he presses against your side. The heat radiating off of him is warm, and you instinctively bring the shirt closer around you, breathing in the familiar smell of him.

“Listen, Pops,” he pauses, taking another drag of his cigarette, “I’ve wanted to call you a hundred times since that night, explain what you think you saw…” 

It hurts you to know he's thought about it too. “So why didn't you?”

“I was scared,” he admits bluntly, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips as he does. “You are the last person that I ever wanted to hurt, believe me. But you didn’t even let me get a word in. You left and just…” he sighs. “I didn’t know what the hell to do with myself. Still don’t. I think we are here right now in this shitty ass bar because the universe decided it was time for us to figure this shit out.”

“Maybe it is,” you agree. 

He lets out a long exhale of smoke, his breath visible in the cold air. “You’ve always been smarter than me,” he says, throwing his cigarette to the ground and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know where to start, but I need you to hear me out here.”

“I'm listening,” you answer. 

He paces to the edge of the sidewalk, running a nervous hand through his hair as he tries to compose himself. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “I know you think you know what you saw that night, but it wasn’t… That woman, Viv– Vivienne, she is our Tour Medic. Like our travel doctor. A few days before that show…I’d been sick. I didn’t want to admit it then, but I will now. I was sick, too sick. I shouldn’t have been performing. We needed to cancel those shows. I hid it the best I could, and I shouldn’t have and it made it all worse,” he pauses. “That night she came in to check on me after the show. I’d avoided her as long as I could and I think she just knew. She was coming to tell me that she was taking me to the hospital for my cough. She and I both knew it wasn’t normal and my time was up.”

“I– Yeah, I remember…I asked you…”

“I know. I know you did. Even you knew. I was going to tell you… But then, you– I don’t know you just freaked on me, and left. I wanted to explain but I wasn’t ready to admit what was going on.” he pauses, his lips trembling from the cold. “I went to the hospital that night and found out I had pneumonia. Bad. I– I was there for three days. I laid in that hospital bed and replayed you running out over and over again, Poppy. I wanted to call you and tell you but I just couldn’t. I was drained mentally and physically.”

“Jake, oh my god– I– I feel so stupid– I’m so sorry–”

“No, Pops, it’s not your fault. I know how it looked. I was just being too selfish to tell the truth.” he admits. “But now, you know.”

“You were in the hospital, Jake. I had no idea, I–We used to tell each other everything…What if something happened to you and I–” you trail off. 

His body tenses at your words, and his expression morphs into a mixture of guilt and regret. “No, you’re right,” he says, defeated. “I was just…ashamed, I guess, that my body was failing me. It was such a low point…But I shouldn’t have let you walk out like that. I should have chased after you.” He looks back over at you, your face illuminated by the glowing neon bar signs and slowly he brings his hand to cup your cheek. “I can’t believe I let you go.”

Suddenly you hear the inside of the bar erupt with cheering and the loud countdown starting. “It’s almost midnight,” you whisper. 

He looks back at the bar, then back at you, “I guess it is. I didn’t even realize it.” He says, his eyes glued to your face. The countdown gets closer and closer, and you can tell he is nervous. He looks almost afraid as he continues to talk. “I’ve really missed you, Y/N. I’ve thought about you so many times over these past few years, and it feels like no time has passed, but everything has changed,” he pauses, “I wish things could go back to the way it was.”

The world feels so still in this moment, even with all the ruckus inside the bar. “Ten seconds,” you note, eyes glued to his face as his warm hand rests on your cheek. He steps forward, his body so close to yours that you feel as though you’ll become one in this moment. The cold forgotten, his body almost feverish beside you. He runs his thumb across your cheek, his eyes glued to yours as the countdown gets lower and lower.

“Jake,” you whisper, your voice trembling with want. 

He takes another step closer, his body inches apart from yours, and his lips only a breath away from yours “Poppy,” he whispers, his hot, shaky breath caressing your skin as he does. “I need you.”

“Three, two, one…”

Everyone in the bar cheers all around you. He’s so close now, you can hear the sharp inhales that are escaping his lips, and in the moments after the chaos of the New Year erupts, he closes the distance between the two of you. His lips are on yours in seconds, his hand pulling you in, his touch soft and needy.

The kiss is slow, it’s as if time has frozen in this sweet, tender moment. His hands slide into your hair, bringing your face to his, wanting all of you. The kiss is quickly growing desperate and needy. He pushes you against the brick wall of the building, his body pressing into yours, your heart racing as his hand moves from your hair to your waist. He gently lifts your leg pulling it around his waist as this kiss of reunion deepens even more. It’s  filled with emotion and years of wanting, and your body is filled with an overwhelming sense of electricity.

He kisses you with everything he's got. His body craving your touch for so long. He pulls your body against his, wanting to feel every inch of you that he can. He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth effortlessly, as if he’s memorized every curve, every crevice. You feel your stomach churning with need for him. The need for more.

You bring your hands up to wrap around his shoulders, the kiss getting deeper and more desperate with each passing moment. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you tighter against his body, as if he can’t stand to have you away from him for even a second. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and he lets out a low moan, his need for you stronger than ever. It’s as if no time has passed at all. Suddenly you’re right back in his basement kissing him for the first time. 

You break the kiss, his name falling from your lips as your eyes open to meet his. “Jake...”

“P-Pops,” he stutters, struggling to find the words through his ragged breaths. “Fuck, I never should’ve let you go. It’s you, it’s always been you.” He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his grip on you just as tight, if not tighter. “You– You just light a fire in me that everyone else seems to put out.”

You let your lips press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw before moving to his ear, “I’ll always be the one with a match to bring you back.”

“Goddamnit, Poppy,” His eyes flutter shut, and you can see that the sensation of your lips on his skin has driven him towards a bliss he hadn't experienced in a long, long time. The way your body fits against his is as natural now as it's ever been. It's as if you were molded to fit in his arms– as if nothing else in the world could ever feel as perfect as this. “I never want to let you go. I'm so goddamn sick of letting you go,” he whispers.

The desire is growing between your legs, and you can feel the evidence of his pressed against your stomach. Instinctively you rub against him, causing a growl to leave his chest. You’re no longer eighteen in the basement. You’re adults who need more. 

He moves his body against yours, a low moan rising from his throat as he does. It’s as if he can feel the fire he’s lit up inside of you, and he’s desperate to fan the flames of the inferno that has always been there. “I’ve missed you so damn much,” he gasps, his hands starting to roam over your body. “Say you feel this. Say you feel it too.”

“I've always felt it Jake. Always.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, leaving small kisses, before sinking his teeth in gently. His hands are everywhere, as if he can't decide where he wants to touch first. He presses himself against you, his body flushed with need. “I want you,” he whispers, his words hot against your skin.

“I want you.” you pant, arching your neck to give him more. 

He takes full advantage, his lips and teeth working their way up and down your neck, leaving a trail of marks in their wake. He can feel your need growing, and he responds to it with his own. He presses his body against yours with a primal force, his hand moving  to cup your face, bringing your lips back to his. The kiss is hungry and needy, his tongue slipping into your mouth, searching for what he has been missing as his free hand  finds the waistband of your jeans. 

His hand begins to make a slow descent into your jeans, his rough fingertips sliding against your soft delicate skin. They brush the hem of your panties as his tongue continues to memorize yours. Your heart is pounding, your body aching for his touch where you need it most as the sound of “Auld Lang Syne” and distant fireworks boom around you. 

A soft sound of need escapes from the back of your throat, the anticipation of his touch building an excruciating ache between your thighs. He uses his thumb to brush against the front of your panties, teasing you, as he breaks the kiss to whisper against your skin. “Do you know how badly I want you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, before returning to your neck and biting down softly. 

You nod against him, still breathing harder than ever. He takes his time, his fingers running a lazy path against your skin, and you feel the heat growing between your legs as his touch gets closer.

He lets his fingers graze over the thin lace material of your underwear, gently tracing up and down in an agonizingly careful manner. His lips break away from your neck and move instead to your ear, his teeth taking the lobe gently. “I’ve dreamed about you like this, every night since the last time we touched,” he whispers, his voice raspy and low. “I’ve ached to feel your skin on mine, your body trembling under my touch.”

You feel his fingers move lower and lower until the heat of his touch is coated in your desire for him. “Jake,” you whine, totally lost in this moment with him. 

His breath catches in his throat when he feels just how much you want him, and he lets out a low moan that makes your whole body tremble. “Fuck,” he whispers, his fingers tracing slow circles over your warm sensitive flesh. His lips find their way back to your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin, making your spine tingle as you whine.

“Shhh,” he coo’s, silencing your whimpers with a soft kiss. He slips his fingers past the fabric, his touch growing more intense as he finally finds what he’s been craving this whole time. “So soft. So beautiful,” he gasps. He moves his hand in a gentle rhythm, his fingers slipping between your folds, finding your sweet spot effortlessly. You feel euphoric, and at complete mercy to his touch. “Can you feel me? Can you feel what you do to me?”

“Yes,” you whine, “I feel everything.”

His fingers move faster as they dip inside, trying to get as deep inside of you as he can, desperate to feel every inch of you. “I dreamed up a hundred different ways to make you fall apart in my arms,” he whispers, his eyes locking on yours, “and nothing comes close to reality. Come home with me, Pops. Stay with me.”

Just as you start to feel your release creeping closer, the bar door slams next to you, pulling you both from the moment. Your eyes snap to Jake’s and his to yours as he quickly realizes the compromising position you’re in, removing his hand from your jeans. 

He quickly steps back, straightening his shirt as you desperately try to regain your composure. You look around, hoping that whoever walked out of the bar doesn't look your way and catch you two in the state you were in. You're both panting, breaths ragged and desperate, and forced to ignore the needy ache that lingers between your legs.

It's as if a bucket of water has been dumped over your head, making you see clearly. Your eyes meet Jake's, his expression still waiting for you to answer his question. But as this rush of clarity takes hold of you, you realize exactly what you've done. 

Your eyes are glued to each other, but this now feels different. Everything feels different. It’s as if the air around you is suddenly thick with unspoken words, the gravity of the situation crashing down around you both. He’s just staring at you, his chest still heaving as he tries to slow his own breathing. He clears his throat, breaking the silence that hangs in the air. “Poppy…”

Your head begins shaking, “No, Jake, we– we can’t do this– we…”

You're at battle with your own mind, fighting for what you want versus what you know is right. 

His whole body goes rigid, the disappointment in your words written all over his face. He lets out a shaky breath, as if it physically pains him, “No– Don’t say that, we can, Poppy, please,” he begs softly.

“Jake we– we’re strangers. We know nothing about each other anymore. We– You’re a rockstar, you live in Nashville. I live in Detroit, I finally work for a firm. This is what we wanted. Isn’t it? This was our dream right? We can’t– You can’t…”

He swallows hard, trying to process what you’re telling him. You know you’re right, this is what you both wanted. He runs a nervous hand through his hair, his eyes looking for something to distract him from the crushing reality you just threw out in front of him.

“I know,” he whispers. He takes a deep breath, his mind and body still screaming to hold you. But the reality of it all is hitting you both like a train, and he’s trying desperately to keep his mind present in the moment. “I know all of that…I just–I don’t give a damn that I’m a rockstar, or that you live in Detroit,” he mutters, a defensive tone to his voice, “It’s you that’s missing, Pops. All day. All night. It’s you that’s in my head day in and day out. I want you. I always will. That is never going to change. We will never be strangers.”

Tears start to form in your eyes at his confession. You want to go with him. Run away and pretend nothing else matters. But it does, and you can’t. It can never be, no matter how badly you both want it.

His voice cracks, and he can feel the walls around his heart starting to crumble as he looks at you. He reaches out, taking your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek softly. “It’s always been you, Poppy. It will always be you,” he whispers, his hand continuing to graze over your skin as if he was trying to memorize every tiny detail. “So please, just– forget it all. Come home with me.”

Your lips begin to tremble, knowing that you’re about to break his heart. Again. “Jake… I can’t.” you say, letting a tear slip from your eye. 

You see the moment the weight of your words hits him, like a slow motion car crash that feels unavoidable. The look of complete defeat on his face makes you want to take it all back, tell him that you’re just as desperate as he is to throw everything aside. But you can’t. It’s just not possible. He lets his hands fall slowly from your face, and the space between your two bodies growing feels like your heart shattering all over again. “Okay.”

For some reason, that breaks you, your tears falling faster now as you see the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss him softly one last time. 

He returns your kiss with his own, gently taking your face in his palms. It’s as if he’s committing the feel of you to memory, the way he’s holding you, the way your lips fit so perfectly together. He doesn’t want to let go, and he holds the kiss as long as he can, until breathing becomes a desperate fight for air. When he finally does break the kiss, he whispers against your lips just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s still us, Pops.” and with that, he lets you go, leaving him there as small snow flurries begin to fall to the ground. 

With a heavy heart you finally make your way inside your childhood home, tossing your coat onto the couch. You collapse into your bed, letting the tears fall now that you’re alone in your solitude again. You can hear the snow falling harder now, tapping against your bedroom window.  You can still feel the faint remnants of his touch on your skin, his warmth lingering in your heart as you remember the taste of his lips. Jake. Your Jake. Yours for only minutes before you pushed him away. But you know it's for the best. 

You drag yourself up from the bed and change into your cozy pajamas, realizing you are still wearing Jake’s shirt. You bring it to your nose and breathe in his smell, sending you into a new round of tears. You put the shirt back on and crawl back into bed, needing to feel his presence close to you. You bring the neck of the shirt up, enveloping yourself in it like a blanket, your body still trembling with need.

It feels like it's been hours. You're exhausted, but your mind still won't put Jake to rest. There’s no escaping the fact that you're still just as hopelessly in love with him as you were the first time you met. As if he is thinking of you too, your phone buzzes next to your head, his name illuminating the screen with a text. 

Jake 1:42 AM: I keep thinking about what happened. I can still taste you on my lips. I know what you said, and I understand but I can’t let it be over, Pops. I just can’t.

Your heart shatters reading his message. You know how he feels because you feel the exact same way. You don’t even know what to say to him, so you just don’t. You lock your phone and put it back on your nightstand, turning off the lamp and attempting to sleep this terrible, beautiful night away. There is, however, an unbelievable thrum between your legs that you can’t seem to ignore. 

You toss and turn, trying so hard to sleep, but it’s pointless. The only thought going through your brain is of Jake. That deep need for him is building in intensity, your body wanting his touch desperately, your mind remembering every detail of the time you spent wrapped together against the building just an hour ago. You let your hand wander down beneath the sheets, your fingers pushing beneath the waistband of your pants.

He’s all you can think of. It’s as if the flood gates are now wide open, and you’re finally allowing yourself to let Jake occupy every space in your mind and body, and there is nothing else you need. You close your eyes, but all you can see is Jake’s face. His strong, handsome features, the way his lips form as he speaks…

With your eyes shut tight, you picture his body hovering over yours. The scent of him, his touch, the way his body felt against yours as he leaned into you. You let yourself fantasize about him being here with you, wanting you and only you. You imagine the way his lips felt all over your skin, the way he let his teeth graze over your neck and collarbone. The memory of it makes you shiver and your fingers work faster and faster, seeking the release you’ve craved for so long.

You feel like you’re right at the peak of surrendering to this imaginary version of him, when you hear your phone start to ring. Your eyes shoot open as you pull your hand from under your sheets. You reach for your phone but this time your brain is too hazy to think clearly. You see his name on the screen, along with a picture of him you set as his photo years ago. Against your better judgement you slide your thumb across the screen, needing to hear his voice. 

“Hello?” you breathe, your voice coming out as a breathy pant. 

His voice sounds soft and vulnerable, “Hey…” he breathes, sighing on the other end of the line, “I didn’t think you’d answer…I was just laying here, can’t sleep. I don’t know why I called, I just, I saw you read my text earlier and you didn’t answer– I don’t want this to be us. I never want that.”

“I know,” you pause, trying to even your breathing, “I'm sorry.”

“How can this be it?” his voice sounds strained now, the emotion in it pulling at your heart, “How is this the end? I can't make sense of it, all I can think about is you.”

Hearing his deep, gravely voice has your hand slipping back under the sheets, resuming its previous work. “I– I never said it was the end…”

“The way you walked away sure made it seem that way,” he says, and it breaks you in two. 

“It took everything I had Jake, you have to know that,” you say, your voice even more breathy than before and you know that you need to calm down before he takes notice, but the sound of his voice has your hand continuing to move. 

He notices the slight change in your tone, picking up on the way your breathing gets more shallow and more uneven, “Are…Are you okay? You sound…different. Where are you? You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“I'm at home now. In my bed,” you pause, breathing into the phone, “Where are you?”

He lets out a shaky sigh into the phone. You know he’s figured it out, and if you know him like you think you do he isn’t going to change the subject. 

He wants nothing more than to be there, to hear every noise he could pull out of you, to feel every shiver and tremble as he worships every inch of your body. “I’m…I’m in my bed too. But I haven’t turned the light off yet.”

“Turn it off, Jake,” you breathe. 

Your self control is gone. You want this. No, you need this.

You can hear him inhale a sharp, stuttering breath, a quiet, breathy moan escaping him as he takes in your words. He knows what you’re asking for. He’s wanted it in some form for years. The phone jostles a few times before he says, “Done.”

You hum in response, continuing to run your fingers through your soaking wet folds. Something about the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne wrapped around you has you soaking in this moment and throwing your cares to the wind. 

“Let me send an Uber, Poppy, please,” he manages to breathe, the desperation in his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Come to my hotel. I fucking hate not finishing what I start.”

“So finish it,” you tease. 

“God damn. Get in the Uber, Y/N.”

“No, no Uber. Just this. Just...talk to me Jake,” you whine.

His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a groan, the sound going straight to your core. You can hear him moving around in his bed, shifting to a more comfortable position, the sheets rustling as he does. You know he wants to touch himself, but he’s trying to resist. “I don’t know if I can just talk. Not knowing you’re…like that.” 

“For what it’s worth, you felt better,” you confess in an airy breath. 

“Fuck, Pops,” he groans, “You don’t even know how many times I’ve thought about you like that. I’d die to have you on my fingers again.”

“I want you,” you breathe, “But I know this is the only way I can have you.”

He is quiet for a bit, the only sounds you can hear from him are the heavy breaths he’s trying so hard to control. You’re picturing it all, imagining exactly what he looks like on the other end of the line.“You can have me,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, “I’m all yours, baby.”

“You've never been mine, Jake…”

“I’ve always been yours,” his words are spoken quickly, his voice almost a pleading whine. “I’ve always been yours. You’ve always been mine. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

His words sear through you, your fingers circling your clit faster now, causing a whine of pleasure to leave your chest. 

“Fucking hell, Poppy.” His voice comes through the phone, raw and ragged. “Are you…Is there a way…Can I see you at least?”

You think about it for a second, and you know the sight of him will send you straight to that sweet release you've been chasing all night. “Only if you join me…” you counter. 

“Do you think my hand isn’t already wrapped around my cock, listening to you whimper like that? Thinking about you touching yourself in all the ways I’ve dreamed of?”

“Show me, Jake.” you breathe. 

You quickly switch your phone to Facetime, your thumb hesitating over the call button. You know that there’s no coming back from this, but you can’t help yourself. You need to see him, and you’re not going to let your fear stop either of you from taking what you both want. “Answer the call.”

You press the button and watch as his face fills your screen, his chest heaving with each ragged breath he takes, his silver necklace laying against his body. He’s propped up against the headboard, his skin flushed with a light sheen of sweat that makes your body heat up even more. “You…” he whispers, “God, look at you. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Jake…” you moan his name, your hand moving faster and faster.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty. I can’t….I need…” he stops, unable to find the right words.

You stop suddenly, realizing that he can’t see that much of you. “Hold on,” you say, dropping your phone to the bed as you peel your shirt over your head, leaving your chest exposed. This will be the first time he’s seen you like this, but you feel more confident than ever. You prop your phone up on a pillow, allowing him the full visual of you. 

He sucks in a sharp breath as your shirt comes off, his eyes going wide as he stares at your bare chest, completely mesmerized by you. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, his eyes glued to your body, “You are so perfect. It’s not even possible that someone is this perfect,” You watch his hand move, disappearing under the sheets and moving slowly down his body until he starts to move the sheets so you can watch. “I want you to see me, too.”

It’s dark but you watch as he props his phone up the same way, giving you the exact same view. His cock is hard and throbbing in his hand, bigger than you ever dreamed of, but exactly what you felt beneath his pants at the bar tonight. “Jake, I wish–”

“Say it,” he responds quickly, unable to wait another second to hear your words. He’s almost painfully hard right now, but he needs to hear it all. “Please say it, baby. Talk to me.”

The new pet name sends you spiraling, admitting things you would never admit in the light of day. “I want to feel you. I need to know how you would feel inside of me. I need you, Jake. All of you,” you whine, watching his hand stroke his cock a little faster. 

“Fuck, I’ve never wanted anything like I want that. I need you, too. I need to feel every single inch of your body. I need to do all the things I’ve dreamed about. You have no idea how many times I’ve laid here thinking of you. Wishing that I had you in my bed.” He stops his hand, trying to keep his mind together. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” you answer. 

He pauses for a moment, as if he’s afraid to give in to the moment completely. But his need for you is stronger than his common sense. “Take your panties off, but don't touch yourself again. Not until I tell you to. I want you to listen, I want you to feel this.”

You comply, sliding your panties over your legs and tossing them to the floor. He can see all of you now, your wetness glowing in the dim light of the phone. 

“You’re everything,” he moans softly, his hand moving again. “You are as perfect now as you’ve ever been. I can’t believe I’m seeing you like this.”

“Tell me what to do, Jake,” you plead.

The control he’s desperately trying to keep is starting to crack. Every part of him is wanting to rip that phone from his hand and be there with you. “Touch your inner thighs,” he requests, his voice sounding low and strained. “Just your thighs, don’t touch anywhere else.”

You comply, running your fingers over your thighs as the sound of his voice gives you goosebumps.

He watches you, his eyes glued to the way your fingers move over your skin. His hand slowly working over himself, his need to touch you growing. “Good girl…Does it feel good to touch your skin?” he asks, his hand moving faster. 

“Yes, but I wish it was you,” you admit, your legs starting to shake with anticipation. 

​​“I know,” he whispers, “I know, babydoll. You have no idea how desperately I need it to be my hands.” He bites the inside of his cheek, fighting back the words he wants to say.

“Jake,” you practically moan his name, your back arching as the need for him consumes you from the inside out. You let your eyes flutter closed as you let your hands roam over that most sensitive part of you. “It feels so good but it’s not enough. I need to…I need…” you plead, your whimpers filling the void between you.

He can’t take it anymore. Your desperate whimper has shattered the last bit of his resolve, leaving only pure desire in its place. As much as he wants to watch, to see every bit of you come unraveled, he can’t stand it anymore. He has to see you. “Look at me, baby.”

Your eyes flick to his, seeing them dark and blown out with lust. 

“Spread your legs, let me see you,” he growls, and slowly you do as he says, placing the phone back down against the pillow. 

Watching you spread your legs is the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. The way you’re trembling underneath your own touch makes him let out a soft moan, his hand starting to work faster. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, completely entranced by you. “Touch your clit for me, baby.”

Your hand moves without hesitation as his words ignite something inside of you. He gasps, completely hypnotized by everything he’s seeing. “Slowly, baby,” he whispers, drinking every moment in. “Don’t rush it.”

Your fingers move  in soft, slow circles over your clit as you do what he requests, desperate to obey him. You’re already so close to that edge, his voice is sending you flying. “That’s it, just like that,” he’s praising you, and the look in his eyes says he’s as close as you are. “Keep doing it, baby. Don’t stop.”

“Are you touching yourself, Jake? Are you hard for me?” you ask, knowing he needs this release as much as you do. 

He groans, his head dropping back as your voice fills his ears. “God, yes. You have no idea how hard I am right now. All I want….No, all I need is to bury myself inside of you. I need to feel you, all of you, every warm inch… I need it more than air. I need you, baby. I need you so badly.” he says, flipping his phone around to show you his beautiful cock as he works it with his hand. Precum has started to gather on the tip and you wonder how he tastes. 

“I want to taste you, Jake. I want to feel you in my throat. I want to swallow down every last inch of you. So fucking bad,” you whine. 

“Jesus…” his words come out as a strangled gasp. “I want that, too. I’ve dreamed of having your mouth wrapped around me, of seeing you on your knees, swallowing my cum. I want it so badly, baby. I’d give you everything.” he says. “Put two fingers in baby, move your thumb to your clit.”

You sink two fingers into yourself, the camera positioned perfectly for him to watch how your body takes the digits. “Oh god, Jake,” you cry, wishing more than anything it was him. 

“Oh fuck, look at you. I’m never going to forget this. I’m never going to be the same after seeing you like this.” He takes a moment to just watch your body, his hand still moving furiously on his length. “I need you to keep going, just like that, but start with a third one. I want to see how much you can take, because that’s how much I’m going to give you. As soon as I get my hands on you, I’m going to wreck you, Poppy.”

“Please Jake, I’m so close,” you whine, adding a third finger. 

His chest is heaving, his hand moving at a rapid pace. His eyes watch your every movement, drinking it all in. “I know, baby,” he responds, his voice ragged. “I can see you getting tight around those fingers. I need to hear you Poppy, I need to see your face as you come for me.”

“Come with me, Jake. Please,” you beg. 

“Together, then, ” he breathes. “I’m fucking close. Come for me, baby. Right now.” He’s on the edge, and watching you is going to take him over. “I’m right there, you have no idea. Just come, baby. Look at me, let me see my girl fall apart for me.”

Your eyes lock on his as you fall apart against your own fingers. Your mind tricks you into thinking it's him, letting loose the most powerful release you’ve felt in years as his name falls from your lips. 

He sees the wave hit you, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Hearing his name in that moment does it, it’s all he needs. He gasps as he watches you and lets go, “Fuuuuck,” he whimpers, shuddering as release begins to wash over him. “Y/N…Poppy...” he grunts, “I’m coming, I’m fucking coming,” he grunts, his body tensing as his cum lands on his bare chest in several hot spurts.  

It’s like a freight train, the way it builds and then comes crashing down. And then it’s over. All that’s left besides the ragged breathing is the blissful silence. And as it clears, you find him there staring at you like it’s the first time he’s seen you. He looks so vulnerable, so open. His body is still, but his chest is rising and falling as the last hints of what you did are still visible on his chest in the dim light. The words hang between you, heavy with the impact of everything you just did.

“Poppy,” he whispers, still catching his breath. 

That word breaks your heart, and you find yourself unable to speak for a minute. The weight of all of this is taking over your chest and you have to swallow to find your voice. “Jake,” is all you can manage to say.

He just stares at you. It’s like a dream. You’ve been here, in this moment a million times, but it’s never been real until tonight. All of this feels so impossible, and you’re still trying to make sense of it. 

“I…” he tries to speak, but his voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”

Your guilt overtakes you, “I'm sorry...That I ran from you again. I didn’t want to. I just–”

He shakes his head, the pain of it all visible in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I get it. We both know why you did. I just wish…” he trails off, the words caught in his throat.

“I wish things were different,” you finish. 

“Yeah,” he sighs heavily, the weight of it all hitting him. “We’ve been wishing that since the day we met,” It hangs in the air for a bittersweet moment before he speaks again. “Maybe in another life.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” you whisper. “But Jake?”

“Yeah, P?” The way he says it, the way he says your name, it feels so intimate.

“We’re still us, right?” you ask, your eyes welling with tears. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He stares at you for a moment, taking everything in. “Yeah, we’re still us.” He responds quietly. There’s a long pause before he speaks again, but his face is filled with so many different emotions. “We’ll always be us.”

A single tear falls down your cheek, “You promise? Forever?”

His heart is breaking, watching that tear fall. He’s desperate to brush it away, but he can’t. He can’t touch you. He can’t hold you. He can’t tell you that it’ll be okay. He just has to watch from afar, wishing for more. “Yes, baby. Forever. I promise.”

You nod your head and swallow down the lump in your throat, finally meeting his eyes again, “Happy New Year, Jake.”

You can tell he is shattered just the same as you are, but he is doing everything he can to keep it together. “Happy New Year, Poppy,” he responds quietly, trying his absolute hardest to steady his voice. “I’m glad you were my midnight kiss.”

“Me too, Jake…” you trail off. 

He forces a soft smile, trying desperately to hold on. “I should let you get some rest,” he says quietly, the words making his chin tremble.

You nod, “Yeah, it’s late…”

“Okay,” he whispers, hating every second of this. “You get some sleep.”

“You too,” you murmur.

“I’ll try,” he says, his voice so weak. “Goodnight, my beautiful Poppy.”

 Your voice comes out cracked and thick with emotion, “Goodnight, Jake.”

You want so badly to say more. But the lump in your throat is too strong. You stare at him through the screen, trying to memorize every tiny detail in this moment, knowing that this is how things are going to be. 

“Bye, love,” he breathes, desperately hoping that you don’t hear the word that slipped out, but you do. The screen goes dark, the call ending as you drop your phone to the bed. 

For a minute, you just lie there, staring into the darkness. It just feels so empty without him. The loneliness is almost oppressive, and you need…something. You’re desperate for his touch, for his smell, for anything. You finally sit up, grabbing his shirt that you had pulled off earlier and putting it back on. You crawl under the covers, pulling the shirt over your head. 

You curl up to his shirt, pulling it up over your nose and closing your eyes. It feels like if you could just will it hard enough, maybe you’d feel him here, in your bed, holding you. But you can’t, and you know you have to live with the memories of how he felt pressed up against you at the bar, instead. He’s just a few miles away, on the other side of town, in his bed, probably thinking the same goddamn thoughts. And here you are, separated from him, but no less in love with him than you ever were. Your arm is draped over your pillow, your eyes fixed on the wall across from the bed. You’re trying desperately not to cry, but the tears start anyway. You pull his shirt over your eyes, trying to just disappear in it, hoping it will give you just a bit of comfort. But it doesn’t. 

You know you have to live with the decision you made, even though it's not what either of you wants. You let yourself cry until you can’t anymore and then you just lie there, in the darkness of your childhood bedroom, holding his shirt like a goddamn lifeline. You’re fighting the sobs that are trying to tear out of your chest. 

It just doesn’t make sense. You’ve always been so sure of yourself, and of your life. But right now, the only thing you can be sure of is that you love this man more than you ever thought possible, and you’re going to have to spend the rest of your life knowing that you will never be able to tell him how you really feel about him. How you’ve always felt about him, because though it may be true, it doesn’t change anything. You can’t be together, and that's what hurts the most. 

November 10, 2026

Detroit, Michigan

You drop your car keys into the ceramic dish by your front door, the metallic clang echoing through the house. Your coat is dripping with rain, the weather not giving you a single ray of sun the entire day, in fact the forecast even calls for snow. As you hang it on the coat rack you’re sure to fish your phone out of your pocket, still receiving a few sporadic birthday texts here and there. 

There’s a text from your parents congratulating you on your milestone birthday, a few messages from friends and of course the obligatory ones from random old classmates you haven’t seen since high school. You’re almost at the bottom of the messages when you’re suddenly hit with a wave of disappointment. You don’t know if you were expecting him to reach out today, but it doesn’t make you feel any less deflated that he hasn’t. Not a call, not a text, no flowers, nothing. Part of you wonders if he’s finally moved on from your friendship, or whatever it was. 

Today was a busy day like any other, maybe even busier than usual. You spent most of the day preparing your client in the office for trial next week. It’s everything you’ve ever worked for. You were finally living the life you always dreamed of, but for some reason, you knew something was missing. It felt incomplete.

You drop onto the couch, the heavy November rain against the windows is the only noise in the house. Now that you are finally home, your exhaustion is starting to hit you, and your thirty minute commute  in the rain and traffic didn’t help. You reach for the remote on the coffee table and flick the T.V. on. Nothing is really jumping out at you as you browse through the channels so you just leave it on the news, not really bothering to pay attention. 

You can’t help but dwell on the fact that you haven’t heard from Jake today. Today of all days is the one you count on each year. Big beautiful poppies always show up at your door when you least expect it, but now at 6:30 with no delivery trucks in sight, you let your heart fall. You lean your head back against your couch, letting your eyes close as you think of all the years you took it for granted. You can’t help but smile when you think about it. How thoughtful he was to send poppies specifically. They always were significant to you, a special moment between you and Jake all those years ago. 

You can remember it clear as day. Jake was the first to get his license having a birthday in April, his beat up old sedan now his pride and joy. He insisted he drive you everywhere, to school, to work, everywhere. He just loved the freedom. It was about a month after he got his license when you got a text from him, telling you he wanted to take you somewhere. This wasn’t strange because again, he insisted on driving you everywhere. But this was different, it was early in the morning, and he told you it was a bit of a drive. He gave you no other details, but told you to be ready for him to pick you up in an hour. It was a warm day, dressing yourself in a pair of cut off shorts and a tank top, fastening your hair into a braid as you waited to hear his car pull into your driveway. 

The engine of the car was loud, the windows rolled down. Music was blasting from the stereo as you opened the passenger door to the car. He was already turned to face you, a wide grin on his face, “You ready?” he asks, looking you up and down, with a nod you reach for the door handle as he speaks again.“Well, get in, we’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

You spent two whole hours on the road, him not giving you a single clue to where you were going the entire time. You’d never been with him in the car for this long, but there wasn’t a single nerve coursing through you. You were completely at ease, you remember that perfectly. He sang along to every song that came on and you couldn’t help but to stare at him, even then you were totally and utterly in love with him. 

When the car started to slow, you saw it. Right there through the passenger side window you saw the biggest field of flowers you’d ever seen. You didn’t even know the place existed. It was stunning, as far as the eye could see, flowers. Thousands of them. Red, yellow, orange, pink, every color you could imagine. Your eyes were filled with wonder, and you looked over at him, his eyes still on the road, but his smile was present. 

“I knew you would love this,” he said as he pulled off the main road. He brought the car to a stop and turned to look at you, studying the awestruck look on your face. “Come on,” he said simply, climbing out of the car and walking around to your side to open the door for you.

As you got out you walked along the overgrown pathway towards the field of flowers, the sun shining down harshly on your shoulders as bees buzzed around overhead. “Where are we?” you asked, letting him lead you. 

“Fennville,” he smirks, flipping his sunglasses down to his nose. 

“How did you know this was here, we are in the middle of nowhere?” you question. 

“Heard some people talking about it at Kroger, thought of you.” he answers, rubbing his hand over his mouth. 

“Do you know what kind of flowers these are? I’ve never seen them before.”

“Yeah, they’re poppies.” he smiles, snatching one up from the ground and tucking it behind your ear. Your heart swelled at the act and it was right then you had a new favorite flower. 

He led you deep into the field, the two of you spending hours exploring and picking the beautiful flowers. He eventually sat down in the middle of the field, lying down to watch the sky, patting the ground next to him for you to join him. You laid next to him, your heads turned to look at one another. You remember exactly how the sun cast his face in the most incredible glow, the flecks of gold in his eyes stood out more than ever, and the freckles that dotted his nose were almost shimmering. Your mind drifts back to how effortlessly you two could just be together. You couldn’t get enough of his attention, and he was never scared to give it to you. You just existed together, comfortably, calmly.

He twirled a beautiful red petaled stem between his fingers as he looked up to the sky, listening to the nature that surrounded the two of you. “You know, these kind of remind me of you.” he says, softly. 

“Really?” you breathe, feeling sleepiness take you over as you lounge in the warm sun. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, staring at the flower between his fingers. “They’re not afraid to stand out, to be bold. They grow wild and free and they are just so full of joy. You can’t help but smile when you see them. The rest of the field is so plain, but they fight to get their share of the sun. Just like you.” He looks over at you when you don’t respond. You’re almost asleep, the heat of the sun and the beautiful afternoon sending you into a blissful trance.

You turn to look over at him, he is staring up at the sky, his profile completely visible. You’d never been around anyone who paid such close attention to the little details about you, the thought alone made your heart skip a beat. 

“So soft and beautiful,” he continues, letting the stem fall from his fingers and reaching over to lightly lay the flower between the two of you, “and you’re just as unique as these are. They don’t grow everywhere, they’re rare.”

You let his words sink into you, and unbeknownst to him you felt exactly the same way about him. You looked to the field, the poppies dancing hypnotically in the breeze around you, and the colors on their petals almost sparkled in the sunlight. You were surrounded by hundreds of thousands of them, and every single one of them was beautiful.

That was the day your nickname was born, Jake refusing to call you anything else after that. You loved it, it was special, and no one else knew why. They didn’t need to. There was no hiding the flush from your cheeks that day, or the flutter in your heart each time he let it slip out. You couldn’t deny its significance, you were completely lost to the boy that was lying next to you in the field of poppies, and you didn’t know it then, but you always would be. 

As beautiful and special as the memory was to you, it also hurt, knowing that today was the first time since that day that he hasn’t sent them to you on your birthday. The memory now feels tainted and forgotten. You pull yourself up from the couch and make your way into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine to try and ease the pain that has suddenly crept up upon you. 

You feel the cold air from the open fridge as you pull out a bottle of Pinot Grigio, the neck of the bottle clinks against the edge of the glass as you fill it up more than you should. You move to the counter and lean against it, staring blankly out the kitchen window into your backyard. Darkness has settled in, and you're reminded once again that you are entirely alone with these thoughts. No one to pull you out of your head, no one to whisper sweet nothings to you. 

You even tried to make plans with friends tonight, hoping to share a few drinks and laughs to ring in your thirtieth, but each person you asked had plans, or perfectly valid reasons they couldn’t. Families to tend to, and partner work events. If you didn’t feel alone then, you certainly do now. It’s not like the weather was the best either, all around this day was a bust.

You stand in the empty kitchen, surrounded by all the silence and feeling so utterly alone. You lift the glass to your lips and take a heavy swig. You try to shake off the feeling that this might just be the most miserable birthday you've ever had. Unable to stand the silence a moment longer you wander over to your album collection, your fingers searching through the shelf for the one album you know will help soothe the ache inside you. You smile when you see the familiar cover, pulling the vinyl from the sleeve and placing it gently on the turntable. The unmistakable sound of Bad Company begins to play through the speakers as you sit on your couch and drink your wine, wondering where Jake is tonight and if he feels this too.

You stare out the window, watching the rain and now snow fall together, your head starting to feel fuzzy. You drink your wine as you listen to “Weep No More”, wishing that it would numb you in ways that would make the ache disappear, but it doesn’t. It just reminds you of how lonely you are, how lonely you have been for so long. As the guitar solo sounds through the speakers, you lean your head back against the couch and close your eyes.

Next thing you know you find yourself waking on your couch, the record begging to be flipped and your wine glass empty on your coffee table. The rain is still pouring and the clock now reads 8:43. You decide to call it a night, placing your glass in the sink and closing the turntable until next time. You drag yourself upstairs, changing into a pair of pajamas and pulling your hair into a knot at the top of your head. You crawl into your bed, ready for this day to be over and as you turn off the light, the last thought on your mind is Jake. Just like always. 

It's hard to fall asleep, your brain just won't shut off. Your mind is still working overtime, memories playing in double time. It's a vicious cycle, and a cycle that you get stuck in every year on your birthday. Each year, one year older but no less sad. You close your eyes tightly, doing the only thing you can do right now which is force yourself to fall asleep. Or try to, at least.

As you start to drift off thunder clatters in the distance and though it’s soothing, it wakes you, causing you to toss and turn. Just as your eyes begin to close, you hear it again, but it sounds strange. A few seconds later you hear it again, and your brain fully wakes as you sit up in your bed. You listen again for the sound, and as you hear it you realize it's not thunder at all, but the sound of someone knocking on your front door. 

A bolt of panic runs through you. Who the hell would be at your door at this time of night? You look at your phone, it's almost ten-thirty. No one you know would be stopping by unannounced, and at this hour? You get up, quietly walking from your room, down the stairs and toward the front door. As you get closer, the rain and the knocking both get louder, causing you to grow even more confused as nerves start to gather in your stomach.

You take a deep breath as you gather your courage, twisting the lock and opening the door. The second the door opens, a gust of cool, wet air blows through the house. The rain, now seemingly heavier than before pours onto your front porch step, the sound almost drowning out the sound of your thumping heart. You peer through the dark, rain drenched night and you swear your heart stops at the sight. Your mind can hardly comprehend what you’re seeing. 

In the dark, with rain pouring down around him, you see Jake. In jeans, a t-shirt and a very drenched leather jacket, holding the largest bouquet of multi-colored poppies you’ve ever seen, petals heavy with rain. 

“Poppy?” he says. He's breathing hard and he looks incredibly panicked. You again notice the bouquet in his trembling hand and your brain starts to piece the situation together.

“Jake? What’re you–”

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was supposed to be here hours ago, but there was a wreck once I hit 75, and then the traffic–” he says, water dripping from the end of his nose as he talks. 

A wave of shock washes over you at the fact he's really here. Right here at your doorstep no less. “Oh my god– Come inside!” you urge, seeing his cold, wet body start to shake. 

He nods his head and starts to shake the water off of himself like a dog as he steps into your house. His hair is sopping wet, and the way his shirt clings to his chest…well, you’re trying to push down that thought. He looks like he’s barely holding it together. As soon as you shut the door behind him he holds out the bouquet, wanting you to grab it.  “Happy Birthday, Pops, sorry they’re late.”

Your heart shatters. Of course he didn't forget. “Jake...Thank you...But– You're here, in Detroit, what are you–”

“It’s your birthday, Pops,” His voice is shaky and his body is shivering slightly. He's soaking wet and he's going to get sick if he stands here in those wet clothes any longer. So, you reach out and take his hand, tugging him with you as you walk toward your living room. He follows you in and stands awkwardly next to the couch as you turn to face him. You can’t take your eyes off of him, and you notice the look in his eyes is off, like your presence has him hypnotized. You notice his eyes move up and down your body, taking in your pajamas.

You quickly look down at yourself, feeling slightly self conscious and he instantly notices. He shakes his head as if reading your mind. “No, don’t. You look perfect to me.”

You feel bashful, and unsure of what to say, so instead you rush to the bathroom to grab a towel for him to start drying himself off.

“Thank you.” he mumbles and takes the towel from you, trying to dry his face and hair. You watch as he rubs the towel over his head, his shirt comes off his body and you're almost knocked backward. There were a few times throughout the years you'd see him shirtless but, my god, did he look good now. You're trying to take little glances, hoping he's too busy drying off to notice.

“Jake, don’t think that I don’t want you here, but…Normally you just…send the flowers. I can’t believe you drove eight hours to deliver them, in this weather no less…” you question, crossing your arms across your braless chest. 

He stops drying his hair and stares at you. You can see the look in his eyes. It’s  intense, and it’s not just because he’s freezing. He’s trying to read you, he’s searching for something. He stands there, in his wet jeans, with only a towel thrown over his shoulders. He is looking at you intensely, and your heart starts to pound in your chest.

He bites his lip, and his eyes dart down your body for a split second. He swallows and continues to dry his hair, the air around you suddenly feeling much heavier. He looks you in your eyes. “The flowers didn’t feel like enough this year.”

“Jake, they are always enough. They are more than enough,” you whine. 

He drops the towel to his side, the damp strands of hair clinging to his face. You see his chest rising and falling, trying to steady his breathing, but he seems to be failing. He walks towards you and you back up until you are pressed against the wall. He gets in so close you can feel his body heat, and he gently reaches up to take your chin into his hand. His fingers are still cold, and the feeling of them on your skin almost burns. His voice is rough as he looks at you deeply, he’s searching every inch of your face. “No. I couldn’t let you be alone, to sit there all night long with a glass of wine in your hand, just staring at the flowers. Not this year, Pops. This year is different.”

“Different?” you breathe.  

“It's your thirtieth birthday, Poppy.” he smirks.

“Yeah?” you answer, still not on the same train of thought he seems to be on. 

He takes a deep breath, and you can see the nervous look come over his face again. His eyes flick down to the floor, his cheeks start to get red. He can’t look at you. This entire thing is so incredibly intense, and you can feel the anticipation in the air. He takes a deep breath and then lets his eyes meet yours. 

“You know, I have traveled all over the world. I have seen people and places so beautiful your mind can hardly comprehend it. I’ve seen waterfalls and caverns, and cliffs and fields so big and vast you feel small compared to them. What I’m saying is that, I’ve been to so many places and seen so many beautiful things, but none of them, nothing, compares to you.” 

You blink at him, awestruck by his words. “Jake…”

He doesn’t give you a second to speak. He’s nervous and he’s scared, and all of this is coming out unfiltered. “I mean it, I’ve been to so many gorgeous places, I’ve met so many people and nothing has captivated me the way you do. I have searched the whole damn world, and everywhere I looked, I was looking for you. Always looking for you, thinking about you.”

You don’t even know what to say. Just two hours ago you were laying in your bed missing him, and now hes here, in front of you spilling his soul. 

“I could go to the edge of the ocean and see the beauty of the sunrise, but it’s nothing compared to the way your eyes light up when you laugh. No matter where I go, or how many new things I see, I can tell you that there isn’t another you. You’re rare. You’re my one in a million, wild and free Poppy. I’d give up every single thing I have to wake up next to you in that poppy field again, just to be next to my girl. Just me and you.”

Your lips part to speak but he’s not done.

“It's been twelve years since that night in my basement. Twelve years that I have thought of you day in and day out. I know that at the time you probably didn't mean it. Who really means anything they say when they're eighteen?” he laughs. “The thing is, I did. I did mean it Pops. You're all I’ve ever wanted, so much so that I signed the back of a gas station receipt to prove it.” he says, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He reaches inside and pulls out a well worn, tattered and wrinkled receipt, barely hanging on to life. Signed on the back with both of your names. Your heart lurches in your chest as your fingers grab the delicate paper from him. 

He rubs his hand over his mouth, trying to find the courage to keep going. “And I still mean it today, Poppy. Twelve years later, and I still feel it, I still feel everything…for you.” His eyes don’t break from yours, and you can feel all the walls he’s put up starting to come crumbling down. You can see that he’s terrified, but he’s fighting to keep those emotions tucked away. “I’m ready to make good on that pact, Y/N. I never forgot. Not for a second.”

You look at the receipt in your hands, seeing the words scribbled down so carelessly, promising yourselves to each other at age thirty. Your names are still there, though the pen is faded. You hadn’t thought about that night since it happened, and seeing this has flooded your mind with the memory. The night you kissed him for the first time. “I can’t believe you still have this.”

“Of course I do,” he says, his voice shaking. “It’s the only thing that has kept me going. How do you think I got through all these years?” His eyes are still locked on yours, he is trying so goddamn hard to keep everything inside him. He’s fighting the tears that are attempting to come, “Every time I thought time was up, every time it looked like we wouldn’t make it, that this thing we have was hopeless…I’ve had that piece of paper. It was something to hold on to...” his voice drifts off, his eyes are watering now. “A piece of you when I couldn’t have the real thing.”

You see his eyes fill with tears, and you can’t take it anymore. You reach out to him, your hand touches his stubbly cheek. You wipe his tears away with your thumb. You’re not even sure what to say right now or what to do, just that you need to touch him. He reaches up and grabs your hand, holding it against his face, desperate for your touch. 

The walls are coming down, he can no longer hold back. “God…you have no idea, no idea at all the hold you’ve had on me, Poppy. You don’t understand how much I’ve loved you for so long. You know how much I still do. Even if I never said it, even if I didn’t fight for it…I still kept loving you, more and more with every single day. You were always there, in my heart, in my mind. For twelve years, shit, longer than that, you’ve been my everything.”

Love. He loves you. He’s always loved you. 

“Jake, I lo–”

He pulls your hand from his cheek, resting your fingers on his mouth as he slides them across his lips, taking in the feeling of you. Then, his eyes meet yours again. “And listen, I don’t even know if you have a boyfriend, or– or if you’re seeing anyone…I never let myself look, but I’m here, I have time, and I want this Poppy. I want you. I want to do this. It’s finally time for us.”

This feels like you’re in a dream. You’re watching some fantasy of yours unfold right in front of you. You would be convinced that this isn’t really happening, if it weren’t for your hand still against his lips. Your heart aches, and you feel like maybe it’s too good to be true. The man you’ve been in love with since you were young, the man who keeps you awake at night, is telling you what you’ve dreamed of. 

“Jake, you– you want to be… with me? Like…that?”

“Of course I do,” he says, his voice cracking, “I’ve wanted it forever. I wish I could go back and change things all those years ago….I wish we could have just been together the whole time. But right now…I just need you to hear me when I say that I want you, I’ve always wanted you. I’ve only held on and I’ve only pushed through for you. Everything I’m doing is for you. For us. You’re my girl, Pops. I’m ready to make it official.”

You feel your own eyes starting to well with tears, the words coming from his lips are everything you’ve ever wanted. The part of your life that has felt so incomplete has suddenly vanished from the second you opened your front door. It’s him, it’s always been him, and now he’s here, asking you to be with him in the way you planned all those years ago. 

“I won’t promise you that it’ll be easy. This isn’t going to be pretty. We’re not kids anymore. We’re not those two dumb teenagers who made a promise on a piece of paper not knowing what life had in store for them. We’re in the real world now, and it’s messy. It's hard. We both have demanding jobs and work long, tiring hours, but I know we can do this. I want to do this. With you. No one else.” he whispers as he rubs your cheek with the back of his fingers, his knuckles dragging along your skin like he’s trying to absorb the feeling of you.

“But– Married? That seems like a big leap,” you breathe. 

His mind drifts for a moment as he tries to put together the words. “Is it a big leap? I don't think it is. If you think about how long I've loved you, the idea of us being together, it's not too soon. I've waited twelve years to be here with you. I've taken every single step just to get to this moment, and now I know, even through all the bullshit, there's no one else for me. I want to be married to you.”

“It just– it seems scary,” you whisper, feeling his hand wrap around your waist. 

He steps even closer, his hand wrapping around you and pulling you against him. His damp chest pressed to your thin tank top. You can hear the sound of his breathing, and feel his hands as they roam gently over your body. “It is scary, it’s terrifying. Being without you is scary, and the idea of me losing you completely scares me the most. But, what if we just try? What if we stop running and just try?”

Your eyes meet his as his thumb rubs small circles on your lower back. 

He leans forward ever so slightly, closing the distance even more between your bodies, like he’s pulled into your gravity. A faint noise escapes his lips as he breathes against your mouth. “Sometimes you just have to jump and trust that the net will appear.”

It’s as if your breath has been stolen from your lungs, “I–”

He’s so close, all you can see is the gold flecks in his eyes. His lips skim across your cheek, your skin is on fire. You can feel the air from his nose brush against your face, his hand around your waist is holding you so close. His touch is lighting you up inside like fire, you’re completely hypnotized by him. 

“I want to do this, Y/N. I have a long time off, and I want to spend it with you, making this work. I love you Poppy. I’ve loved you forever. We can do this. Say yes. Say yes to this, Poppy.”

“You’re sure about this?” you breathe, letting your lips brush his. 

“Every nerve in my body is telling me this is right. I know in my soul that this is it. It’s you, it’s only ever been you….” he whispers, his hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, pulling your body into him as his mouth ghosts over yours. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me like I want you, P.”

“I want you, Jake. I always have.” you confess, cupping his cheek with your hand. His face falls into your touch as he groans with relief. 

“Do you love me?” he asks, his tone vulnerable and pleading. 

“Yes. I do. You know I do. I’ve loved you since the day I met you,” you answer, brushing your thumb under his eye.

He breathes against your palm, your name murmured out in a soft whimper. “Say yes, Poppy. Be mine. Marry me.”

There’s no hesitation, no second guessing. You know this isn’t some fairytale that you’re going to wake from. The only man you’ve ever loved, the one man you’ve dreamed of for years is standing in front of you asking you to marry him.

“Yes.” The word falls from your mouth so easily, it's as if you haven’t even thought it through. This could be the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done. 

Your heart is pounding, the word feeling so final on your tongue. 

And as you look at him, you have no idea what the future will hold, but what you do know is that he’ll be in it, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

But… this was Jake. You needed to be fully honest with him. 

Your present, real life wasn’t going away. There was a crafted reality that didn’t involve him, in ways you didn’t care to address at this moment. 

Though, you couldn’t lie to him. You had to tell him. There was one issue. It wasn’t so drastic that it could get in the way of this for you two, per se. It just seemed wrong to go through with what you felt was about to happen, without informing him of your current situation. 

But, logic was escaping you quickly. 

As soon as he was leaning in to kiss you, his lips so full and soft, you lost the ability to rationally think. Any thought besides Jake Kiszka himself was far and fleeting from your mind. 

Tonight was meant for you two.

Right now, this could be it. All you had to worry about was right now. At this moment, you could venture into a universe where things seamlessly fall into place. Just like you always wanted.

A little secret kept from him in this moment was the least important thing to you as you felt his lips finally brush against yours, his mustache tickling your upper lip. 

The harsh beating of your heart calmed as soon as you felt his lips touch yours. 

Tonight was tonight. 

Tomorrow’s reality could set in just as soon as you felt him like this, the way you've always dreamed of— even if only this once. 

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Taglist: @wetkleenex-gvf @joshym @farfromthehomelands @sacredstarcatcher @britney-gvf @stardustjake @jakesmustache @starshine-wagner @mweasley19 @emsfallingsky @joopsenthusiast @ageofbajabule @ladywhimsymoon @vanfleeter @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @ageoflou @freefallthoughts @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @literal-dead-leaf @welllauragvf @writingcold @bizzielisteningtogreta @neptune2324 @itsafullmoon @violet-hayes @gvfmarge @demonrat444 @mybussyinchrist @cl0ver-j4de @earthgrlsreasy @what-i-read-home-of-reblogs-mama @mama-likes72 @lenagvf @laurngvf @racheljuneeee @farfromthehomelands @cat3rpillarbaby @cassiesgreta @jarmonicasweat@ghostly--photography @josh-iamyour-mama @raviolilegs @gvfmarge @milkgemini @jaketlove @watchingover-hypegirl @ageoflou @cl0ver-j4de @takenbythemadness @lightmyloverry

@flightofseams @torniturntomyarrow @allmylovejtk @m0uthfl13s @klarxtr @styles-canvas @fleet-of-fiction @gretavanbear @builtbybrokenbells @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @starrymoonslut @lightmy-love @edgingthedarkness @gvfmarge @dannys-dream @demonrat444 @jjwasneverhere @fleetingofthegretas @highway-tuna @gretas-sweat @darianh07 @age0fwagner @stardustjake @Catharu77 @milkgemini @watchingover-hypegirl @lightmy-love @twinszka @peaceloveunitygvf @raviolilegs @thetroublegetssoloud71 @sacredthefran @solanjjje @sanguinebats @itsafullmoon @sacredthethreadgvf @gretavanbrie

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. There could be more where this came from...

[hailtheaeon]

oh… OHHHHHHHHH

[sirjaketkiszka]

Jake One Shot: Attitude Adjustment

Some things call for punishment.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,241

Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, horny!reader, bratty!reader, the pet name "sweetheart," slight grinding, slight public inappropriate touching, angry!Jake, rough!Jake, oral m!receiving, face-fucking, hair-pulling, gagging, oral f!receiving, fingering, a bit of edging, orgasm denial, spanking, taunting/mocking, unprotected PIV sex, begging, light degradation, choking, creampie, aftercare, a hint of fluff, and of course, mediocre writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

Jake Kiskza One Shot Masterpost

A/N: I heavily suggest listening to Deftones while reading. Enjoy ;)

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Once satisfied with your work, you pucker your lips in the large bathroom mirror after painting them with clear gloss. You examine your appearance; a mini skirt rests just below the curves of your ass, paired with your favorite top, with black eyeliner smudged across your waterline. Josh is expecting you and Jake to come over relatively soon for a “welcome back” get-together, hosted by himself, of course. And with the tour's first leg being over, the band is home for a few weeks– something you and Jake had already taken advantage of earlier this morning. 

“Did you miss me?” Jake’s husky morning voice rang in your ears as he thrust into you from his spooning position, your leg hooked over his own with your back flush against his chest. Heavy breaths caused his chest to heave into your upper back while your lower back arched, your head pressing against his shoulder while his lips grazed the curve of your ear. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Jake, I missed you so much.” Your voice was hoarse, sleep still intertwined heavily in your breathless moans. You missed mornings like this and hated being away from him for so long– you both figured you’d get the most out of the short break. 

Flashes of the memories cause your vision to blur and thighs to rub subconsciously, your eyes zoning out and keeping you from noticing Jake’s sudden presence. Walking up behind you, his warmth engulfs your backside. The front of his body molds against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he smiles at you through the mirror. 

“Almost ready?” His sweet voice pulls you to lock eyes with him through the reflection, your gaze focusing solely on him. 

“Just about.” Smiling back, you push your hips back against him, yearning for his touch again. You can’t help but notice the strained noise that catches in the back of his throat when you do, making you fight the urge to plaster on a devilish grin. 

“You look beautiful,” He whispers while bringing up a hand to sweep away the hair from your neck, placing soft kisses along the exposed skin. His hips absently grind into you as his nose grazes your skin, his lips dragging and leaving open-mouth kisses along the sensitive flesh. Tilting your head to the side, your eyes flutter close, your lips partially opening to let soft breaths pass. 

His hands rest on your hips, holding you in place while his erection grows against your ass. You aren’t entirely sure if you have enough time, but God, you don’t care. Josh will understand if you show up late, right?

“Jake–” When you whisper his name, he pulls away from your neck, his eyes trained on the side of your face.

“Tell me what you want.” His warm breath rushes along your neck, sending small huffs with every accentuated syllable. 

“You.” He nearly groans at the single word muttered from your lips as he pushes harder into you, holding you against the bathroom counter. Wandering hands leave your hips, traveling along the curve of your waist and plastering themselves across your stomach and ribs, eventually settling on the hills of your breasts. He squeezes them gently, resuming his peppered kisses along your neck while his words vibrate against you.

“Didn’t get enough this morning, did you?” His voice borders on taunting.

“Never.” 

“Neither did I.” His confession is followed by one of his hands carefully wrapping around the front of your neck, and the other moving from your breast to the bottom of your skirt. Slowly hiking the stretchy material up your thighs, his fingers graze the heated bare skin and your eyes shoot open to look at him; his hand wrapped around your throat holds you still while the pads of his fingers caress the moistened fabric of your underwear. He hums in approval when feeling your arousal, just seconds away from giving you what you want–

Buzz buzz

His phone in the back pocket of his worn jeans vibrates, prompting him to pull his hands away from you to grab it. You nearly let out a whine of protest while the remaining feeling of his warmth disappears from your neck and your skirt falls back into place. Turning to face him, he frowns at his phone, clearly just as upset as you are. 

“Who is it?” You ask eagerly, attempting to ignore the dull heartbeat between your legs.

“It’s Josh,” He sighs, “He wants to know when we’ll be there– I guess everyone else is already there.” Sliding his phone in his back pocket, he gives you a sympathetic smile and leans toward you, kissing your scrunched forehead softly. His hands instinctively rest on your waist, and he chuckles when he sees the slight pout on your features, “I’m sorry, baby, but we have to go.” 

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” Trying to reason with him, your pointer fingers hook themselves into his belt loops and pull his hips flush against yours. His bulge is straining in the confines of his jeans, and you know it pains him to stop, “Please?” 

“No time, sweetheart. Don’t wanna be late.” While he turns you down with a subtle shake of his head, disappointment settles in your gut. 

“Fine.” Throwing your head back with an exaggerated groan, you release his belt loops and step around him to finish getting ready. His body turns to follow your movements, silently watching as you bend over to slip your shoes on. Clearing his throat, his eyes settle on the peek of your underwear as your skirt moves up your thighs. 

“Will you behave?” You smirk at the slight uncertainty in his voice while he attempts to keep his restraint. Standing up straight and slowly walking toward him, you drag your hands up his stomach to his broad chest, the muscles beneath your fingertips flexing with the tantalizing movement. You lean in, your lips ghosting over his while he parts them, waiting.

“You know I will.” Your hushed words pour along his parted lips, and he’s flustered when you pull away. 

“Good.” He swallows thickly, his eyes blinking rapidly to keep his composure, “I’ll give you what you want after dinner, okay?” 

“I’m counting on it.”

If only you had known how long dinner was actually going to last. Josh is already on his tenth story about the tour and shows no signs of stopping. Usually, you’d be all ears because you love listening to him talk, but you’re growing antsy; your thighs clench beneath the dining room table, the heat of Jake’s palm on your bare knee only adds to your growing arousal, and your mind wanders to what awaits when you get home. When you shift in your seat, Jake’s hand twitches on your knee, and he glances over at you. 

“You okay?” He asks quietly, low enough for only you to hear. 

“M’fine.” You flash a close-mouth smile to him, bringing your attention back to Josh and everyone else at the table. Sam and Danny listen intently, laughing along with Josh and adding any missed details to the stories he shares. Dinner has since withered away from the plates, drinks gone dry in cups, and you’re hoping that means it’s coming to an end soon. 

“So, how about some dessert?” Josh claps his hands together, finishing his previous story and standing from his chair at the end of the table. Everyone, including Jake, simultaneously agrees with murmured phrases of “absolutely,” “sounds lovely,” and “of course.” When you don’t respond, Josh pauses, squinting at you, “And you?” 

“Oh! Um– yeah, that sounds good.” Plastering on an eager smile, Jake peers over at you when Josh leaves the dining room, bringing Danny and Sam with him for assistance. 

“What’s wrong?” His tone is genuine, and you feel silly for your pure desperation, “You seem off.” His thumb absently rubs circles on your knee, and the feather-light touch travels up your inner thigh, straight to your aching core. This is torture.

“Just eager to get home, that’s all.”

“Oh,” A smug smirk pulls the corners of his lips, flashing his teeth into a full-on shit-eating grin, “Patience, sweetheart, we’re almost done here.” 

“I have none.” You whine, resting your hand on his, squeezing tightly. Sliding his hand from your knee, you let his palm graze the plush flesh of your thigh until his fingers rest just centimeters from your clothed cunt. A shaky inhale pierces his lungs when he feels the heat radiating from between your legs, his hand gripping your thigh to keep still. 

“Be good.” He rushes out when his brothers return holding bowls of ice cream, setting them down on the placemats before you. His hand remains on your thigh, his fingers slightly twitching, kneading deeper into your skin. 

The storytelling resumes while you pick away at your ice cream, eventually coming to regret placing Jake’s hand so close to where you desire him most. Jake seems to be heavily amused by the effect his simple touch has on you, his lips twitching into a smirk each time you squirm with a subtle squeeze of his hand. Two can play that game, you decide.

Mirroring the position of his hand, yours rests just below the bulge in his pants, your pinky grazing the rough fabric of his jeans. His spoon nearly drops from his hand at the sudden intrusion, and his eyes shift toward you, an innocent smile spreading on your lips. You know this is risky and highly inappropriate, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Months without Jake proved to be extremely difficult; creating an insatiable problem not even your hand could fix. 

Removing his hand from your thigh, he grips the table’s edge, his fingertips turning white from the force. You turn to listen keenly to Sam’s talking, your hand now traveling up and palming Jake’s hardening bulge. His hips softly buck into your hand, making a quiet sound reminiscent of a choked groan mix into the clearing of his throat. 

“You okay, Jake?” Josh’s voice breaks through Sam’s story, and everyone turns to look at Jake, including you. His face is flushed and his eyes wide while heat creeps up his neck, a result of you stroking his clothed erection underneath the security of the table. 

“Yep.” He grunts out, discreetly reaching down and gripping your wrist, halting your movements, “I think it’s time we head home, though.” 

“I suppose,” Josh sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, but you know he’s only joking, “Let me walk you both out.” Jake shoots up from his chair while your hand falls from his lap, and you follow his movements, carefully standing from your seat and sharing goodbyes with Sam and Danny. 

The twins exchange pleasantries while Josh walks the two of you to the door; Jake thanks him for the meal and having you over while Josh thanks the both of you for coming. It’s a relatively routine goodbye, one you’ve seen them do plenty of times, and you’re eager to get out the door. 

As soon as the front door is shut behind you, Jake grabs your wrist and swiftly walks toward the car, dragging you behind him. 

“Jake, wait–”

“No talking.” His tone is austere and cutting, making you close your mouth immediately, your feet stumbling beneath you while you struggle to keep up. His demeanor has changed completely; darkness looms over his stature as he treks down the long driveway, his calloused fingertips digging into you, but never firm enough to cause you any discomfort. 

When he opens the passenger door, you quickly get in and flinch when he slams the door shut. Your eyes follow him as he moves briskly to round the front of the car, swinging the driver’s side door open and plopping into the seat, wasting no time to start the engine. 

“Jake, I’m sorry–”

“What did I say?” His harsh voice cuts you off. 

The car ride is eerily silent, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, white-knuckling the steering wheel. You avoid looking at him, only focusing on the blurred view that speeds past the passenger window. A pitch-black canvas paints the sky with speckles of twinkling stars and rough brush strokes of vanishing clouds— the only definitive outline is of the towering trees littered along the dimly lit road. You know what’s coming once you get home, and you can’t help but feel a little… excited. 

It’s not long before the car pulls into the driveway and he puts it in park, moving with haste. You wait impatiently while he exits the vehicle, walks around the hood, and opens the passenger door for you. Grabbing his extended hand and stepping out, you follow closely as his legs stride to the front door, his long fingers firmly intertwined with yours. 

Once the door is open, he pulls you inside, shutting it behind you and releasing your hand. Parting your lips to speak, he interrupts you again.

“Go to the bedroom.” His gruff voice cuts through the suddenly thick air of your shared home, and you nod, turning in the direction of the stairs and treading up the wooden steps. Your heavy footsteps are followed by deep thuds, Jake’s own mimicking them just seconds behind. Looking over your shoulder, he keeps a distance of a few feet, his lust-crazed eyes trained on you. Anticipation wraps around your torso, making you pick up the pace to get to the bedroom quicker, and when you cross the threshold, you immediately turn around, waiting for an instruction of any sort.

The stern look on his face is very telling, and you know exactly what happens next. His thick eyebrows are set in an irritated scowl, and his deep maroon lips are naturally downturned into a frown. His pointed glare pierces through you, his eyes void of any empathy, pure vexation taking its place. He steps closer once he shuts the bedroom door, audibly locking it while holding your gaze. Standing toe-to-toe with him, you cross your arms over your chest, your chin held high, challenging him. 

“What did I say about behaving?” His tone is concerningly calm, and a single chill prompts the thin hairs on your arms and the back of your neck to perk up, leaving minuscule bumps in their wake. He slowly blinks while addressing you, his body nearly vibrating with pent-up frustration, clearly struggling to keep his composure. Jake usually can keep his cool, but the only times he really struggled was when you pushed his buttons– on purpose, of course– which is exactly what you’re doing now. 

“I don’t know,” You shrug innocently, your voice reflecting naivety, “What did you say? Maybe I wasn’t listening.” You’re certainly playing a perilous game, considering you don’t always reach the desired outcome. But, you don’t know till you try it. 

“I could’ve sworn you were.” Tilting his head, his hand comes up to grip your chin between his pointer finger and thumb as he examines your features, “What did you say… ‘You know I will.’” He tsks, shaking his head disappointedly, “Your words, sweetheart.” 

“I don’t recall.” You answer sarcastically, your eyes boring into his, watching metaphoric flames in his eyes rage at your persistent attitude.

“Get on the bed.” There’s a rigorousness to his words, his teeth baring as he enunciates them and drops his hand from your chin. You back away from him, the bed only mere feet from you, but you hesitate when the edge of the mattress hits the back of your knees. He leisurely walks toward you, his shoulders heaving slowly with the heaviness of his deep breaths. His eyes are clouded with sin; lust expanding the darkness of his pupils, causing them to melt into his chocolate brown irises. “I said,” His voice is nearly a growl as his hands rest on your shoulders, carefully shoving you down to sit, “Get on the fucking bed.” 

A small oof leaves your lips when you sink into the plush mattress, the bedframe quietly creaking from the force. Looking up at him through your lashes, his hooded eyes peer down at you as his hands grip the sides of your face, tilting your head back. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks with faux solace, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes.” You admit, the simple word rolling off your tongue with a shaky breath. 

“If you say so.”

His hands leave your face to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, undoing the few that are actually buttoned, and pulling the cotton garment off his shoulders and arms. His upper body lays bare to you, his chest rising and falling with every breath, wavy hair framing his exposed neck, and his stomach clenching from the sudden coolness of the bedroom. Your mouth waters at the ungodly sight, watching as he toys with the button and zipper of his jeans, eventually pulling the waistband of them and his boxers down just enough. 

You swallow thickly when coming face to face with his erection; the angry red tip leaks precum dripping down the shaft and traveling along the most prominent vein. When glancing up at him, a cocky smirk is displayed on his lips, expectant and waiting. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” The once wholesome pet name now spills venom. Leaning forward, you keep your eyes on him as your tongue hangs from your lips, collecting the precum from his sensitive tip. His hips jerk slightly from the mixed sensation of your warmth and the hum that vibrates from the depths of your throat when you taste him. Sliding your hands up his thighs, you attempt to grip his shaft to assist, but he swats your hand away, “Ah– No touching.”

“How will I–” 

Placing one of his hands behind your head, he nudges you forward, making your mouth completely engulf his tip between your lips. He groans when your cheeks hollow around him, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact, “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? Always talking back.” 

The hand on the back of your head brushes through your hair, sweeping away the strands that cover your face, and gathering them into a make-shift ponytail. Twisting the bundle of hair around his closed fist, he moves you further onto his cock, watching intently while your brows scrunch at the feeling of his tip brushing against your throat. His jaw falls slack and eyebrows scrunch as he pulls you back, then pushes you back onto his erection, repeating the motion until low grunts dangle on his tongue. 

Your mouth is a mixture of an increasing amount of spit and salty precum, the liquids leaking from the corners of your mouth as he controls your movements. When he decides the speed isn’t enough, he halts, moving his free hand to grip your chin and feel his cock slide into your throat. Without moving your head, he thrusts his erection into your mouth, gaining speed quite rapidly and repeatedly poking the back of your tongue. 

“You like when I fuck your throat?” You make a noise of agreement, nodding slightly with his cock sliding in your hollowed cheeks, “Shuts you right up, huh?” 

The persistent motion causes tears to gather along your darkened waterline with spit now dripping down the sides of your chin and onto Jake’s hand. He doesn’t seem to mind, if anything, he moves quicker and more relentlessly while exasperated huffs exhale from him. The looming threat of gagging clenches your torso, and you breathe deeply and hum aimlessly to keep it from happening. Though, Jake notices, and thrusts harder. 

“C’mon, baby.” He coos, tightening his grip on your hair, and choking out a moan when the muffled sound of you gagging around his cock fills the room. The tears that collected rush down your cheeks, and as a result, leave streaks of black on the blotchy skin. He abruptly pulls out of your mouth when his stomach spasms, signaling that his release isn’t far behind. Gasping for the air you forgot you needed, you heel over and watch as strings of spit connect you to his glistening cock, and dribble down your chin. You figure you must look in disarray; hair tangled from his grip, cheeks bright red, lips shining with spit and precum, and black eyeliner traveling over the rounds of your cheekbones. Still, he looks at you with a sense of adoration, inspecting the labor present on your face while releasing the hold on your hair and gently wiping away the fallen tears. “Lay back.”

Following his order, you scooch back onto the bed, moving backward until you feel the pillows beneath your upper back. You lower yourself onto the soft material and your head sinks into the cushioned fabric. 

“Undress yourself.” 

Moving fervently, you sit up to grip the bottom hem of your shirt, lifting the material over your head and throwing it elsewhere. You hook your thumbs into the elastic waistband of both your mini skirt and underwear, stretching the fabric over the curves of your hips and lifting them to shimmy out of the clothes. Discarding those, you move to unhook your bra, peeling the straps off your shoulders and tossing it over the bed. You lay bare in front of Jake, who stands in only his jeans at the end of the bed with a primal expression on his face. You feel small under his investigative glare, diffidence blooming in your chest as his eyes rake over your breasts and settle on your spread folds. 

Tucking himself into his boxers, he climbs onto the bed, moving slowly up the foot of it until he’s between your spread legs, eye-level with your weeping cunt. Blowing gently on the sensitive skin, your legs twitch around his shoulders, unable to close. Your hips writhe beneath him as you fight the urge to buck your hips into his mouth, growing visibly impatient as you crane your head to watch him. 

“So needy.” He whispers with a dark chuckle, lowering himself and kissing just above your slit. With your hips squirming, he presses a few more kisses in places other than where you yearn for him. And once you’re a whining mess, his tongue darts from his lips, the coral-pink flesh flattening and swiping along your wet folds. A surprised moan flows from your parted lips as your head falls back, your back arching when he continues the same motion. His pointed tongue parts the velvety folds, exploring the valleys and divots, eventually circling the bundle of nerves that begs his attention. 

“Oh, god, Jake–” His name flows from your lips like a sacred mantra, your words pointed to the ceiling while your hand tangles itself in the silky strands of his hair. A muffled groan escapes him, disappearing into your core and pulling a strangled cry from you. His lips close around your aching clit, sucking and performing a pulsing pattern. “Holy shit, just like that!”

A sharp gasp pierces your lungs when you feel his fingers poke at your entrance, two of them sliding into you effortlessly and only enhancing your pleasure. You look down at him, his eyes already on yours, but occasionally glancing at your bare chest, which heaves with every breathless pant. Slowly pumping his fingers, they curl slightly to brush against the spongy flesh, creating a building pressure deep in your gut. Strings of silent curses and fretful moans follow the grinding of your hips, seeking more friction against Jake’s plump lips. 

His free hand comes up to press on your lower belly, pinning you in place while continuing his relentless assault on your swollen clit with his fingers moving in a sweeping motion to pull an orgasm from you. The heat that pools in your abdomen spreads like wildfire, shooting waves of arousal to your core and spreading across Jake’s fingers and lips.

“Keep going,” You cry out as your eyes squeeze shut to prepare for the intense orgasm that builds in your gut, “I’m so close.” 

Just as the beginning pulses of your growing orgasm clench around his fingers, he pulls away, leaving you void of any touch. The indistinct yell of protest that spills from your partially open lips fills the bedroom, and your eyes shoot open to stare at him; a satisfied smirk pulls at his scarlet lips, his hair still bundled into your clenched fist, and your near-release glistens from his lips to his chin, quietly taunting you for what could’ve been. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

“You have to earn it, sweetheart.” He explains like you should’ve already known, leaning away from you and settling himself down on the heels of his feet, kneeling before you. “Lay on your stomach for me.” 

Repositioning yourself with a single huff, you lay snugly against the mattress while he’s out of view. Peering over your shoulder, you observe as he moves up your legs, straddling them and putting just enough weight on them to keep you still. His hands wander over your curves, his calloused fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of your ass. You wait patiently, unsure of his next move.

Smack

You yelp at the sudden stinging sensation on your right cheek, followed by the tender caress of his hand. 

“You have me for three weeks, and yet you still acted like a desperate brat.”

Smack

Jumping at the second spank, he immediately soothes the reddening skin of your left cheek. His voice is laced with forged sincerity as disappointment and built-up dissatisfaction pry through clenched teeth. 

“You said you’d behave, and did you?” He hesitates with his hand displayed in the air, waiting for a response. Shaking your head, he mimics the motion, “Right. That’s what I thought.” 

Smack

The initial pain subsides and is quickly replaced by a sultry feeling in your core, causing your yelps to soften into moans. 

“Did you want to be punished?” Amusement melts from his tongue, and you can almost hear the smug smirk he’s sporting from the tone of his voice, but you nod anyway, a little too earnestly, “Yeah?”

Smack

“Say ‘thank you,’ then.” A shameless moan escapes with a rushed breath, your hips swaying side to side while his hand soothes the heated skin, “Say it.”

“Thank you.” You whine as the unbearable feeling of fervor causes your core to throb. 

Smack

“Again.”

“Thank you, Jake.” You shakily breathe out the repeated phrase, tears stinging your waterline once again from the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Good girl.” He praises you, his hands rubbing gentle circles along the slightly elevated skin that outlines his handprint on each cheek. 

You feel him shift behind you, his weight lifting from your legs, and his hands prying them open to spread, allowing him to kneel between them. His grip rests on your hips, hoisting you up into a bent position with your cheek pressed firmly against the pillow and your ass in the air. He wastes no time freeing his erection from his boxers, pulling the fabric down to his knees and wrapping his digits around the shaft. He pumps his fist absently while gliding the tip between your soaking folds, a small gasp being heard from both of you at the feeling. 

Your breathing halts when he nudges your entrance, his free hand tightening around your hip while he pushes his forward, inching into you at an antagonizing rate. Your walls stretch around the size of his cock and a trembling breath blows from your puckered lips when he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass. A dragged-out groan carries itself from Jake’s throat when he exhales, the soft rush of his breath cascading along your arched back. Neither of you move, simply relishing in the feeling of your walls squeezing around him, accommodating his impressive size. 

A moment passes before he finally pulls back, inching out of you before sliding back in, pressing firmly with each steady thrust. It doesn’t take long before carefully calculated thrusts morph into consistency, pulling a continuous string of moans from you and choked grunts from him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice cuts through the incessant smacking of his hips against your ass, “You wanted to be fucked?” When you nod against the pillow, he grunts a noise of disapproval and swats your ass, “Use your words or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck– yes, I did!” 

“Yes, who? Say my fucking name.”

“Yes, Jake!” Crying out, your hands grip the sheets underneath you, grasping for leverage while he picks up the pace, mercilessly pounding into you and holding your hip as support. His free hand grazes along the expanse of your back, tracing your spine and running through the roots of your hair. Flexing his fingers, he gathers your hair between them, pushing you further into the pillows with your head turned, your furrowed eyes glancing back at him. His stomach clenches with every thrust, his chest flushed, the smooth skin mirroring his concentrated face. The sheer force rebuilds that familiar sensation in your core, and your knuckles turn white from the strength of your hold on the sheets, “Faster, please, I’m so close!”

“Nah, you asked for this, sweetheart,” His pace remains the same, not quite hitting the mark you desperately need to make to capture your release, “Take your punishment like the needy little brat you are.”

“Come on, Jake.” You groan, feeling discouraged when you feel his hand leave your hip, only down-turning his thrusts. 

Smack 

“Fuck!” Taken by surprise, your hips squirm against him while the stinging pain simmers into dullness with the gentle stroke of his hand. “What was that for?” 

“Talking back. Want me to do it again?” 

“No!” You protest, “Please, just let me come. I’ll behave!”

“Hmmm.” He considers your request, but ultimately declines, shaking his head with torment on his tongue, “Not until I say so. I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.” With that, he swiftly pulls out, the sudden absence pulling a choked cry from you. A second denial dissipates the boiling heat in your lower abdomen, and your legs tremble when he flips you over to lay on your back. He’s quick to move between your spread legs, his erection probing at your entrance in an instant, and immediately sinking into your aching cunt. An appreciative whimper catches in your throat when you feel full again, your hands coming up to grasp his bare waist as his arms cage you in.

There’s no easing into the new position as he instantly matches his previous pace, the upward twitching of his cock now brushing against the sensitive flesh of your fluttering walls. Your fingertips sink into the pliable flesh while your legs wrap around his waist, creating a new and deeper angle for him. 

“Oh, my God!” For the third time, your climax climbs to its very peak, yet it still doesn’t bubble over.

“You wanted this, right? Wanted me to fuck you senseless until you’re a fucking mess?” His voice is strained, reflecting his heightened exhaustion as his eyes bore into yours. You can’t respond while enervated sighs pry past your parted lips, your eyes threatening to close in concentration. “Answer me.” One of the hands supporting his weight grips your jaw, keeping your attention on him, and only him.

“Yes, I wanted this,” Breathing out, your brows scrunch, and your jaw falls slack when you feel the slow pulsing of your cunt around his erection. 

“Say it louder.” He’s grunting uncontrollably now, the sound melodic as your hands progress up his back, your nails digging small divots into the flesh. 

“I wanted this!” The pitch of your voice is high and wavering with the vigorousness of his hips pounding against yours, creating a dull ache in them. 

“Poor thing– can barely fucking talk.” His words are slurred as he visibly struggles to maintain his velocity, and if you aren’t mistaken, you’d think he was talking about himself, “What happened to all that attitude, hm?” Still there.

“S’gone.” 

“You think you earned it?” He asks, referencing the release you can both feel pulsing within your core. Rushes of arousal coat his cock, allowing him to move quicker, more thoroughly, and you nod frantically at his question, “Yeah? Ask for it. Use your words.”

“Please, Jake, just let me come.”

“Ah- ask for it, sweetheart.” He corrects you, nearly causing you to whine pathetically out of protest and pure desperation. You’re so close to what you’ve been begging for since before leaving for Josh’s get-together, and you’re practically shaking with anticipation when you give him what he’s demanding.

“Can–” Your voice comes out in a meek tone when speaking, diffidence halting your words, “Can I come?” But, you don’t care, because you only have one goal– finish. You’d continue to beg all night if you had to. 

“Good girl.” The praise rolls off his tongue effortlessly, like music to your ears, “Go ahead, come on my cock.” 

His allowance encourages the climbing peak to fall over the ledge, the intense heat spreading like lava through your clenched limbs. The deafening sounds of your cries and moans are muffled while your cunt uncontrollably spasms around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“Hey–” The hand that still grips your chin inches down to your throat, squeezing lightly to keep your focus on him, “Eyes on me while you come– That’s right.” 

The remainder of your orgasm squeezes his erection in a pulsing pattern that slows gradually and your breathless moans morph into heavy pants. His eyes melt into yours, his pupils blown while he examines your writhing body and the sweet whimpers that dance on your tongue. Chasing his release, Jake maintains his momentum, silent curses intertwining between the forced grunts as he keeps his hold on your neck. Bringing a hand to his, your fingers wrap around his wrist, encouraging him to stay there as you grin, holding strong eye contact, “Come inside me.”

“F-fuck.” He nearly collapses when the hushed words leave your lips and you feel the frantic twitching of his cock, coating your walls with his cum. Wide eyes hold yours while he lazily grinds into you, his stomach flexing with each spurt of cum, now leaking out of you and spilling onto the sheets below you. His appearance is purely erotic; his eyebrows furrowed as his jaw stays agape, strands of hair sticking to his sweat-sheened skin, while letting out choked whines that catch in his throat. His breathing mimics yours; chest heaving and lips drying from rushed breaths. 

His hips sputter the final waves of his orgasm with a shuttered breath landing on your relaxed features. His movements slow to a halt, the only feeling left now being the subtle throbbing of his softening cock and your fucked-out cunt. 

Staying inside you, he leans down and brushes his lips against yours in a light sweeping manner before placing a gentle kiss upon them. You hum at the tenderness, your eyes fluttering close when your lips move fluidly against his. It dawns on you that it’s the first time he’s kissed you since coming home; a sign of affection you weren’t aware you missed until now. Pulling away, he peppers kisses along your jawline and down the side of your neck, moving lower to repeat the action on your bare shoulder and collarbone.

Letting go of your neck, he sits back, hesitantly pulling out of you and watching as your mixed releases rush from your aching entrance. He’s in awe, his tongue darting from his mouth to wet his bottom lip as his eyes zero in on the profane view. 

“Let me clean you up.” He offers while climbing off the bed, pulling his boxers up, and stepping out of his jeans. Disappearing for a few moments, you hear shuffling in the en-suite bathroom, making you move into a sit-up position in bed. 

~~~~~

The warm water washes away the tension that had built a home in your muscles from your after-dinner escapades with Jake. While curled into a ball, the decent-sized bathtub allows you to sit between his legs as he cups water into his hands, letting the soapy liquid flow over your shoulders. 

“Tilt your head back.” The tenderness has returned to his voice, and you follow his instruction, letting your head fall back as he washes away the shampoo in your hair. His touch is careful, sweeping away the soaked strands of hair from your shoulder to press a firm kiss to the warm skin. “You did so well tonight.” 

You hum in response, your eyes closing and head rolling as he runs his hands along your shoulders, kneading away the tightness within them. His thumbs dig into the firm flesh, but he presses kisses along the sore skin to distract from the faint ache in your muscles. 

When he’s finished, he hooks an arm over your chest, pulling you against him to lean further back. Your head rests just below his chin, and you smile when you feel his lips press into your scalp, pushing a kiss into the wet hair. His demeanor has done another 180, completely differentiating from who he was just minutes ago. 

“You gonna behave from now on?” He asks, already knowing the answer. If it got you this, there was no way you would ever behave, and he knows that. But, there’s no fun in admitting that.

“We’ll see.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Phew, rough!Jake did a number on me, so I'm sorry for the delay in posting! Which is mostly a result of Tumblr crashing on my phone. Anywho! As always, I hope you enjoyed. I'm overdue for a sweet!Jake one shot... Perhaps that'll be next.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

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[gretasfallingsky]

voice so raw and delicious 🏴‍☠️⚔️

[thetidesthatturn]

I’m so sick what the fuck is this

[im-derty-dan]

okayyyy pretty boy 🖤

[sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine]

the boys & Thomas on Lenny Kravitz's tiktok!!

[thefalling-sky]

I can’t even explain what this means to me

[jakesleftankle]

X

[hailthegodsong]

Announcement || Masterlist || Taglist

HIGH RIFT PLAINS: Chapter 1

Word Count: 10.4k+

𓄀 A/N: Well! Here it is! This first chapter is maybe a little boring for some but I promise the next chapter it picks up with some smut and drama and stuff. I was suuuuuper nervous to post this so I hope you like my rendition of sexy cowboy jake

𓄀 Content Warnings: Mentions of loneliness, petty theft, mentions of deceased family, depictions of prostitution, thats about it folks!

Somewhere in Montana, May 1875

𓄀

The sun hung low in the vast, cloudless sky, casting a burnt orange glow over the rolling plains that reached far into the distance, vanishing softly into the horizon. Jake adjusted his hat, pulling the brim lower to shield his eyes from the glare and his skin from the sun. 

His horse, a bay mare named Bessie, moved at a slow, steady pace beneath him, hooves crunching against the dry, dusty trail. The wind was a mere whisper, stirring up occasional flurries of dust, but otherwise, the world around him was eerily still.

He'd been riding for hours, and his hips and legs ached against the steady rhythm of the saddle. In the distance, there was no sign of life and no movement apart from the sway of grass, and it had been like that since he’d set off from the last town. 

But Jake liked it that way. He wasn’t in a hurry. There was no reason to be, not out there. As a traveller and a salesman, he was used to days like this, where the journey seemed endless, and towns were few and far between.

He patted the side of his saddlebag, feeling the weight of his goods, pistols, gun parts, tools, and the gun oil that he always managed to sell to the more gullible folk. 

“Folks never know what they need 'til you show 'em what they can’t live without,” he muttered under his breath, the words from his father a familiar mantra.

Bessie huffed softly, as if in agreement, her ears twitching at the sound of his voice. Jake gave her a light squeeze with his heels, and she picked up the pace just a little. Somewhere out there was another town, a handful of ranches maybe, people he could talk to and trade with. He knew he was bound to find something soon, even if it was just a place to rest his head for the night.

𓄀

Finally, after what felt like days, but was only a few more eventless hours, Bessie reached a crest in the plains, revealing the faint outlines of buildings in the distance. A town, he realised and his lips curled into a half smile at the sight. 

He loosened his grip on the reins, giving Bessie the signal to descend the slope at a leisurely pace, her hooves kicking up large gusting clouds of dust as they neared the town’s edge.

As the beaten track slowly turned into a recognisable gravel road, he looked around, wondering if this town was a quiet, unassuming place, just like all the others he’d passed through. 

But that was just how he liked it— a town so small that folks relied on his services to maintain their inventory. He always liked to see how isolation had changed a town, letting them develop their own perks and customs different to the last.

As he neared the main street though, the town slowly came to life. Wooden buildings with sagging porches lined the road, their paint faded and cracked. A blacksmith’s shop clanged with the sound of hammer on iron, while a handful of vendors peddled their goods from stalls. 

Women in bonnets hurried along the boardwalks, baskets full of vegetables or cloth, their eyes darting to him for a moment before they returned to their business. Men leaned against posts or sat outside shopfronts, nursing afternoon beers, their conversations fading to murmurs as they watched him pass. 

His gaze swept the scene as he took in every detail, watching as the roughened hands of local shopkeepers sorted through their wooden artefacts, neatly setting them up to attract potential buyers. 

There was opportunity here, he could tell. These were people who worked hard and needed the things he had to sell. If he played his cards right, he could sell them just about everything he had.

Intrigued, he continued down the trodden path and further into what looked like the farmers markets, perched high on his horse as he peered down at the locals. 

Some men sold crops, grain and other farmed materials, while others sold their metal trinkets, varying from fire pokers to long rusted chimney pipes. There were women who held their own stalls too, mostly all selling cloth, bedsheets, and intricately embroidered materials. 

One woman though, he noted, was perched by a stall that seemed to be selling just about everything. Wild rags, fresh vegetables, leather riding boots, broad brimmed hats, jars upon jars of milk, and more that he couldn't see past the mess of the stall beside her.

You were speaking to a frequent buyer when he noticed you, giving him the allusion that you didn't know he was there. But you had been watching him since he approached the markets, immediately recognising that he was not from around these parts, and kept a wary eye out for him in suspicion. 

He only paused for a moment to eye you and your products, briefly inspecting the variety of jams you had stacked by the floor, but did not linger for too long before he gently tapped Bessies side with his foot, continuing his walk onward.

Once he reached the first saloon he could find, Jake swung off his horse, quick to stretch out the tightness in his thighs, and he stroked away the flies that clung to Bessie's side, her skin twitching at the feeling. He wandered around her, taking her by the reins and eyeing the dirty area down for a hitching rail. 

He felt anxious tying her up by the other horses, not yet comfortable enough with the locals to trust that they wouldn’t steal her. He had done his research though, and this state, like many others, outlawed horse stealing as a crime punishable by death. But he was smart enough to know that the law didn't stop many.

Alas, he tied her up reluctantly, just like he always did, muttering a quiet prayer under his breath to keep her safe. He used the knot his father had taught him, one that most people did not know how to undo. Jake knew Bessie was a loyal girl anyway, a loud girl too, and if anyone tried to take her, he would know.

An old man with wild, wiry, white hair and an auburn leather hat over his head sat on the steps outside the saloon, watching him as he left the bay. Jake noted the leather chaps on his thighs, and the orange dust that coated his face from a day of riding. Jake gave him a nod, the kind that was polite but not too familiar, and although recognising his gesture, the older man looked away. 

Ignoring the disrespect and returning his attention to the saloon, Jake listened as the tune of a piano filtered out the swinging doors. As he stepped in, he let his senses overwhelm him, glasses clinked in cheers and loud conversation echoed in the acoustics of the room. Further down, men sat perched at the bar, swaying in their drunken haze despite the early hours of the afternoon. 

This was the kind of place where the townsmen gathered after a long day to let loose— and to loosen their purse strings in the process. He'd ply his relationships here first, getting to know the men and making a name for himself, and set out into the marketplace in the morrow. 

Slipping onto one of the wooden barstools, Jake hailed down the bartender, ordering a whisky neat and sliding the coins over the table, the movements done so often that they had become automatic. 

“M’names Raymond,” the man beside him introduced, a slur accompanying his unmistakable accent, “But you can call me Ray.” 

He outstretched his dirt covered hand, indicating he'd had a long day on a ranch somewhere, and Jake took it politely, shaking firm. 

“Jacob,” he replied, keeping his hat tipped low as he sipped at the drink before him. “S’ nice to meet ‘chu.”

“Likewise. You new to town? I aint seen you ‘round here ‘fore,” he questioned, nursing his beer in his thick hands, thumb swiping at the condensation that had gathered on the glass. 

“Yes sir. Only stayin’ for a couple’a months. Here to sell some tools and such,” Jake explained, hoping to get his market into discussion amongst the local men. 

“Ah, a nomad then?”

Jake tilted his head at the label, “Of sorts.”

He grunted, “And where’re you finding a pillow to rest your head?” As Jake's gaze travelled high in thought, Ray spoke again, “You know… we’ve got some lovely ladies in town that’d keep you for a night at not too bad a price,” he advised, gesturing to the back corner of the bar. 

Jake leaned forward only slightly, peering into the dark corner of the bar, only illuminated by a single kerosene lamp, where a man sat by the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys in a fluid motion. 

Ray was clearly not referring to the pianist though, as Jake's eyes assessed the scarcely dressed women who flaunted themselves upon the men who sat nearby.

Jake barked out a laugh, “Careful, you’re sounding much like a procurer.”

But when Jaked looked back at Ray, he found that his eyes were lust taken as the ladies bent over, necks exposed as they threw their heads back in laughter, showing off the deep crevice between their breasts. 

Jake ticked his tongue, “Don’t be fooled by women o’ such, Ray,” he patted his back, “They just want their pretty penny by the end of the night.”

Ray turned back to Jake, grunting as he swung back the rest of his beer and shouted at the bartender to pour him another. Jake took his chance, knowing that Ray was on the cusp of being too drunk to be coherent, and drunk enough to fall for the temptations of gullibility. 

Maybe it was wrong, immoral, but Jake didn’t care. Everyone knew that the truth only got you so far.

“Say, you have much use for guns, Ray?” Jake asked, leaning slightly closer to him.

“O’course I do. I’m a farmer.”

As Jake opened his mouth to make a proposition, and perhaps his first sale in town, Ray spoke again. 

“But I won’t have any need for any if ye’r tryna’ sell me some. Could’n’ afford it. I can barely make my way as is. Hardly made a dollars profit this season,” he explained, and Jake frowned in sympathy. “But I’ll be sure to spread your name, Jacob. No use in the two of us scraping by.”

Jake briefly mourned the loss of the potential customer, but was reassured by his promise. Word of mouth truly was the best form of advertisement. 

“Why’s that? Farm and what not’s good out here, aint it?” Jake asked, abandoning his sales approach completely. 

“Usually, yes. But some’fin happened last season and none o’ ma crops made it through the summer. Er’one else's did, so I dunno what the shit happened to mine. ‘S turned me into a filthy criminal, it has,” he barked out a laugh, though Jake could tell he was far from happy, only masking the pain and stress of financial struggles beneath his humour and booze. 

Filthy criminal? Jake thought, not quite understanding the meaning behind Ray's insinuation, but mostly attributed his incoherency to the alcohol pooling in his gut.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck Raymond, I truly do,” Jake patted his back in sympathy. “Now, where can I find a place to sleep ‘round here? ‘Part from the beds of those fine ladies, ‘course,” Jake asked, smirking.

“Well, this old place ain't just a saloon, it’s a tavern too. S’ got beds upstairs for travellers like yourself,” he explained, and Jake peered up at the ceiling and pursed his lips. 

“Should do for a coupl’a nights ‘til I find a place more permanent. I’m hopin’ I can help around a ranch or some’fin like that in exchange for a place to stay,” Jake explained. 

“Well I wish you luck too then. Not too many people ‘round these parts would be willin’ to let some cowboy shack up in their place.”

Jake tipped back the rest of his drink and stood from his seat, “Well it’s a good thing I aint a cowboy, then isn't it?” he said with a smirk. 

Once Jake had left the saloon and untied Bessie from the wooden post, he settled into her saddle and spent the rest of the day exploring the new town. The leather saddle creaked under him as he adjusted his weight, feeling the familiar comfort of the practice despite the long hours. 

As they ambled through the streets, Jake marvelled at the town’s size. It was bigger than any he had come across before. The perimeters stretched out far beyond what he was used to, with sprawling neighbourhoods and a network of roads that hinted at a prosperous community.

He travelled across those dirt paths to explore the ranches nearby, assessing the homes and wealth of the locals. Every market, shop and farm he had come across seemed abundant in supplies, thriving in their economy. 

His thoughts turned to his own business, and he hoped that amidst the prosperity, the town might be lacking in gun makers, an opportunity he could potentially exploit. The thought gave him a small thrill, imagining the possibilities if he could tap into a market where his skills were in high demand.

By nightfall, Jake made his way back to the tavern where he had decided to stay. He paid for two nights’ accommodation, hoping that in the morning he might find a more permanent place to rest. The tavern was cosy, with the warm glow of lanterns casting a welcoming light over the wooden interior. Jake felt a sense of satisfaction as he settled in for the night, the day's adventures already weaving their way into his thoughts.

For dinner, he enjoyed a hearty steak served by a small front next door. Afterward, he tended to Bessie, making sure she was settled in a nearby stable with plenty of feed and water. And then he got some well needed rest.

𓄀

The next day, Jake spent his time scouring for customers, hopping off Bessie to speak with men on the streets who looked like the kind he usually struck deals with. The sun was already climbing high in the sky, beating down relentlessly, but Jake didn’t seem to mind. His eyes scanned every passerby with sharp focus, weighing his options. He knew his clientele well, their hardened faces, the way they glanced over their shoulders, or the worn leather of their holsters were often all he needed to know he’d found a potential buyer.

Throughout the day, he managed to score three sales, each one giving him a surge of satisfaction. Most were trades— spare parts, bits of hardware that were hard to come by in areas like this— but he took particular pride in his bartering, always able to coax a better deal out of his customers. 

Still, there was one transaction in particular that stuck with him. He’d sold a shiny new Samuel Colt pistol for fourteen dollars, one he’d only bought a week ago for far less. The gleam of the gun had been an easy selling point, its craftsmanship speaking for itself, but Jake’s way with words sealed the deal. The man had been eager to take it, and Jake had walked away with his pockets a little heavier, a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

By the time the sun began to lower, casting long shadows over the street, Jake was feeling good about the day’s success. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, the cool breeze that had begun to stir offering a much needed reprieve from the heat. He patted Bessie’s side, tying her up in a shaded spot near a saloon where she’d be safe, before turning his attention back to the town around him.

The noise picked up increasingly as Jake made his way deeper into the market, the hum of voices and the clang of metal and wood surrounding him. Stalls were bustling with people, haggling over prices and inspecting goods with careful eyes. 

He scoffed when he passed one particular booth, its shelves lined with second-hand boots. Everyone knew wearing someone's old boots was a sure way to invite bad luck into your life, and Jake wasn’t about to tempt fate, especially not with something as personal as someone's shoes. They held the miles of another man's journey, the hardships, and the wear. Better to leave those stories to someone else.

As he moved on, something shiny caught his eye. A flash of silver among a sea of worn leather and dusty trinkets. His pace slowed, and his curiosity got the better of him. He neared the stall, his gaze locking onto the object that had drawn his attention: a silver belt buckle, gleaming in the light. The craftsmanship was intricate, far more refined than the other items scattered around it.

Jake reached out, taking the buckle between his fingers, the cool metal sending a slight chill through his skin. He rubbed the front of it with the pad of his thumb, feeling the smooth surface give way to the detailed engravings. The buckle was flat and rectangular, but its simplicity was offset by the fine, almost mesmerising, designs etched into it. Patterns swirled along the edges, delicate and precise, and at its centre, the maker had carved a scene of a horse and rider, frozen in mid gallop.

He looked up at the seller, who was sitting by a table, etching illustrations into pieces of metal by lightly knocking a thin chisel with a hammer. 

“Excuse me?” he called out, and the worker paused to look at him.

“What is it, boy?” he asked, and Jake shifted at the name, noting that the man owning the store looked only a mere few years older than he. 

“How much for this buckle?” Jake asked, holding the piece up to show him. 

The owner squinted at the piece, “Ah, that one goes for two dollars.” 

Pricy, Jake thought. “Can you do a dollar fifty?”

The man narrowed his eyes at Jake, “A dollar and three quarters,” he corrected. 

“I’ll take it,” Jake decided, shoving his hand deep into the denim of his pockets and retrieving the currency. “Thank you kind sir,” Jake said as he took the buckle, slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. 

The man tipped his hat at him, taking the money and returning to his carving work. 

Though he wouldn't admit it, Jake's pace quickened when the hardware appliances began to morph into fruits, vegetables and domestic items, as his eyes began to scan the markets in search for one stall in particular. 

Women called out to him from where they stood, offering their goods with a flutter of their lashes, and Jake merely smiled and moved on, no longer falling for flirtation as a lure to empty his money belt. 

His thumbs hooked into the folds of his pockets as he listened to the lively sounds of chattering and banter. The scent of fresh bread and dried herbs mingled with the tang of leather and livestock, and Jake tried his best to shake away the feeling of comfort and nostalgia this town gave him. 

He found your stall easily, the voluminous selection of goods you were selling standing out against every other item being sold in the markets. He approached the stall, this time able to stop and assess your produce, assess you.

But to his confusion, you were nowhere to be seen, and your abundance of inventory seemed to be left completely unattended. 

He let his eyes scan over everything you had to sell, from the domestic goods like linens, bed sheets and socks, to the vast amount of produce you were selling. Rich colours of vegetables stood out amongst your market table, paper sacks of lentils below. 

As Jake walked around the sides of your shop, he eyed the leather straps and metal horse bits you sold, all seemingly new and handmade. By the back of the stall, baked loaves of bread were perched on wooden slabs, along with jars upon jars of jam. Multi coloured bandanas were strewn along the table cloth around the perimeter of the shop, and Jake's brows shot up in astonishment of your inventory. 

Curiously, he looked around the area in search of you, only just remembering what your face looked like from his brief look the day before. He spotted the head of your long hair from beneath and behind the counter. He wearily leaned over in confusion, and found you bare footed and crouched on the dirt, washing tomatoes in a bucket of clear water. 

He smirked at the sight and cleared his throat to get your attention, “S’cuse me Ma’am?” he added, gaining your attention from below. You dropped the tomatoes into the bucket of water and stood, meeting your customer at eye level while you smoothed your creased dress with your wet hands. 

“How can I help you?” you asked.

Jake grabbed a random kerchief from your table, “How much for a wild rag?” he asked with a smile. 

“Ten cents each.”

Surprise graced his features at how cheap you were selling them for. To his dismay, you quickly returned to your work, not sparing him another moment before picking up the tomatoes from the bucket below and bringing them to a wooden workbench where you dried them with a cotton dish rag. 

Not used to receiving such little attention, Jake called for you again, his voice carrying hints of nerves and uncertainty. 

“When were these harvested?” he asked, lifting up the first vegetable he could see, which happened to be a zucchini.

You merely glanced at him and the vegetable before answering, “‘Bout a week ago.”

Jake frowned as you refocused on your work. He had never been denied the attention of a lady like this, especially not one who was selling to him. He was suddenly a young boy again, fighting for the attention of the prettiest girl in town. 

Huffing, he watched as you worked away, consumed by your task and occasionally tucking hair from your fringe behind your ears. 

You were a very fair lady, Jake thought, and maybe that was why you didn't care much for his attention. Maybe you were too used to being proposed to by local suitors and were numbed to the repetitive form of flirtations they administered. Or maybe you were already married.

In desperation, he found himself eagerly trying to spot a ring on your finger, even nearly outright asking you of your status as your hands moved too quickly for him to see. He reprimanded himself at the thought, reminding himself of what he was truly here for. 

He wasn't here to get distracted, he needed to focus on making money, selling parts, and getting out of town, the weight of his goods replaced by gold. 

Deciding it was time to go, and to stop lingering by your store like a pervert, Jake bought two zucchinis and a dark brown wild rag from you, happily sliding his fare across the table in your direction before he made his return to the tavern. 

𓄀

The next day, Jake was restless, flying through his meetings with gun buyers in hopes to make connections, but unable to stop thinking about you. 

It bothered him so that you paid him close to no mind, and he had found himself tossing and turning all night at the plaguing thought. 

Once he deemed his day of work done, he hastily returned to the markets, this time with much more fervour. 

Once he made out your silhouette in the distance, again standing by your workbench and wiping vegetables down with a cloth, he straightened his shoulders and fixed his hair. He made sure his hat was on straight and his collar was flat against his chest before slowing his pace to a leisurely walk. 

He sauntered up to your station, making brief eye contact with you, and frowning when you paid him no mind, once again.

“Hello, again,” he greeted, a charming smile on his face. 

You peered up at him, squinting as the late sun shone from behind him, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” You tried not to smile at the look of offence on his face, of course you remembered him. 

He cleared his throat and raised his chin, “Yes I… bought a wild rag and some zucchinis from you yesterday,” he explained, trying to rejog your memory, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as the obscure purchase left his lips. 

“Oh yes, that’s right,” you said simply, before leaving him to return to your work of cutting square pieces of fabric to place over your jam lids. 

Shaking off the rejection like an annoying fly, he moved around the edge of the table, finding a position closer to you, trying his best to insert himself into your line of sight. His eyes flew over the cabbages you had on this table, and he leant his hip against the wooden slab casually. 

“Would you mind not leaning on that? The table is very fragile,” you advised, watching as it shook under the weight of his hip. 

He quickly pulled himself off and rubbed the heel of his palm against his brow, “Yes, sorry.” He wiped an invisible layer of dust off the table to keep his hands occupied, sucking in a deep breath. 

Jake's resolve was getting worse with every word you spoke to him, giving him mere breadcrumbs as he shamelessly begged for your attention. 

“Well uh, you’ve got quite the selection here… you make all this by yourself, or you got someone back home helpin’ you out?” he asked smugly, biting his lip as he awaited a response. 

You weren't stupid, and you could tell that this was his attempt at wooing you, first scoping your status to ensure you weren't married before he flirted with you. As if he hadn’t already been doing so.

“No, only me,” you explained, eyes trained on your task as Jake hummed at your response. 

Movement caught your eye from behind him, and you glanced up to see a man shovelling tomatoes from your table into a sack, clearly intent on not paying his fare. 

“Hey!” you shouted. 

Jake turned and spotted the man at the same time you did, who was now spinning on his heel to run, realising he had been caught. Without a moment's hesitation, Jake’s feet sprang into action, and he bolted after the man, kicking up dust as he sprinted through the street.

You watched him go, hearing the faint jingle of his necklaces and other small trinkets bouncing and clattering as he ran. The sight of him giving it everything, all to catch a tomato thief of all things, brought a small laugh to your lips.

It was hard not to find it amusing. This man, with all his intensity, was chasing after someone who’d managed to swipe only a handful of tomatoes. It wasn’t as if it would put you out of business. 

You knew it, and he likely did too. Still, something in him wouldn’t let it go.

Jake’s long strides ate up the ground beneath him, his muscles coiled tight as adrenaline surged through his veins. His focus was unbreakable, his eyes locked on the back of the man’s jacket, watching him weave and dart between the townsfolk. 

Every step seemed heavier than the last as his boots thudded against the dirt street, dust flying up with every pounding footfall. His breath came through clenched teeth, harsh and rhythmic, fueling his pursuit.

The commotion began to stir the crowd. People exclaimed in surprise as they whizzed by, a blur of frantic energy cutting through the town. Conversations halted, and baskets were dropped as a makeshift path opened up for the chase, townspeople scrambling to get out of the way, nobody wanting to get caught up in the chaos.

The thief, quick as he was, couldn’t shake Jake. His frantic, erratic movements only seemed to fuel Jake's determination. 

Jake’s breath came in short bursts, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he closed the distance. His heartbeat drummed in his ears, blocking out everything but the sight of the man just inches ahead of him.

Finally, Jake lunged, his outstretched hand catching the thief’s left shoulder. The impact sent both of them crashing to the ground in a heap, dust rising in a cloud around them. 

Jake hit the dirt hard, rolling onto his back with a low grunt, struggling to catch his breath. He lay there for a moment, his thumb pressed into his sternum as he tried to force the air back into his lungs, the wind having been completely knocked out of him.

As his breath finally returned in ragged gasps, he let his hand fall away from his chest, only to grimace at the sight that greeted him. A tomato had been squashed between him and the ground during the fall, leaving a wide, red stain smeared across the front of his white cotton shirt. He sighed, lazily wiping at the mess, chunks of tomato peeling off him and falling onto the ground like sad little remnants of the chase.

The thief, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble, scrambled to his feet, abandoning the sack of stolen goods in his haste. He threw one last look over his shoulder, a mix of disbelief and fear on his face, as if Jake had lost his mind for caring so much about a few tomatoes. Without another word, the thief disappeared into the crowd, vanishing between stalls and onlookers.

Jake groaned as he slowly pushed himself up, dusting off his pants with one hand while the other scooped up the abandoned sack. The orange dirt clung to his clothes, and as much as he tried to wipe it off, it seemed permanent as an attestment to his fall. 

His body felt heavy with the effort, each step back toward you a little slower, a little more laboured. 

The townspeople, who had been watching the whole affair, now stared at him with a mixture of judgement and curiosity. Jake pressed his lips together into a thin line, the heat rising in his cheeks, but he kept his head high. He tipped his hat at a few of the more bold onlookers, silently daring them to say something. They didn’t.

But all of it, the run, the fall, the ruined shirt, was worth it when he spotted you standing at your stall, watching him with amusement dancing in your eyes, biting your lip to hold back your laughter. 

His heart lifted a little despite himself, and he felt a flush creep up his neck as he approached, still clutching the sack. With a sheepish grin, he tipped the small bag of tomatoes onto your table. He hadn’t realised how few there were until that moment. Just two sad-looking tomatoes looked back up at you both.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Well, it would’a been three if one of ‘em hadn’t burst on my shirt,” he joked, glancing down at the red stain spreading across his front.

You giggled at the sight of him, his proud form now covered in tomato juice, and gave him a grateful smile. "Well, thank you for your effort nonetheless. Whether it’s two tomatoes or ten, I sure do appreciate it."

He straightened up a little, puffing out his chest. "Well, it’s poor taste to steal from a lady,” he said proudly, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow at him, folding your arms over your chest. "Oh? But you’d steal from a man, would ya?"

Jake cocked his head to the side, a slow smile spreading across his face as he licked his lips. “Well, I didn’t say that, now did I?”

You bit your cheek to stop from smiling too wide, your intrigue growing with each word he spoke. There was something about this man, with his easy charm and recklessness, that had a way of pulling you in. And you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you wanted to see what else there was to discover beneath that dusty exterior.

“Nightfall is near, so I’m due to close up. If you follow me back to my ranch I can get your shirt cleaned up,” you offered, feeling indebted to him for his efforts. 

“And who says I can’t clean it myself?” he challenged, testing your intentions. 

“As far as I’m aware, there ain't no running water inside that ol’ tavern,” you rebutted, beginning to pack away your things into baskets and sacks, before placing them onto your wooden supply cart. 

“Is that so? And what makes you think I’m staying at the tavern tonight?” he questioned, following you around the edge of the table.

You kept your eyes trained to your produce as you spoke, “Word travels fast ‘round these parts, Jacob.”

Startled, Jake smiled with intrigue. His ears heated at the fact that you knew his name, and something else heated at the sound of you saying it. 

“Well, you can call me Jake, if you like. It’s nice to meet you,” he introduced, removing his leather hat and pressing it against his chest politely. You looked up at him with a small smile, and returned the gesture by introducing yourself. 

Jake repeated your name, as if to see how the word tasted on his tongue. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” he complimented. “I might just take you up on your offer, d’you need a hand packing anything away?” he asked. 

“Yes actually, if you could lift the sacks of lentils on the cart, they’re a bit too heavy for me.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as Jake got to work lugging the heavier items onto your cart, leaving you to wrap up everything else in the meantime. With two sets of hands, the pack up was far quicker than expected, and soon you were both walking to retrieve your horses from the hitching rail. 

“You have a beautiful mare,” you complimented, watching as he skillfully untied her ropes from the fencepost. 

“Thank you, her name is Bessie. She’s a good girl,” he said, giving her a firm pat on her behind. She huffed and leaned her head down and to the side, directly beside his. He began to stroke her nose and she blew through her nose in affection. 

“This is Buck,” you said, unlooping his rope and walking him over to Jake, and you stifled a laugh when Buck's hoofs kicked up dirt onto Jake's boots.

Jake took in the sight of him. He was slightly smaller than Bessie, and his red dun coat shone in the last lights of the day. 

“He’s gorgeous,” Jake admired. “I like what you’ve done here,” he complimented, waving his hand over the braids you had weaved into his brown mane. 

“Thank you,” you replied as you both walked your horses by their ropes away from the hitching rail and back towards your stall, “He is a good boy too, but he can get a bit anxious at times. Calms him down when I play with his hair," you explained.

You attached the rear saddle straps onto the wagon and buckled the belts tightly, tying them in knots for good measure. 

“Alright,” you stated, clutching onto the horn of the saddle and slipping your food into the left stirrup. Bracing yourself, you heaved your body up with a groan, swinging your leg over Buck's back and plopping onto the saddle. The leather creaked under your weight, and you adjusted your position, making sure you were secure before giving Buck a gentle nudge.

Jake did the same, but with much more ease and fluidity. His movements were smooth and practised, a stark contrast to your own somewhat awkward effort despite the fact that you rode every day. You attributed your disadvantage to the layers of skirts you wore. He swung up onto his saddle with a natural grace that spoke of a lifetime spent on the horse. Once settled, he followed you as you walked off, your horses’ hooves crunching softly on the packed dirt road.

The ride was mostly silent, a comfortable quiet that stretched between you, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant call of a bird. You could feel Jake’s gaze occasionally shifting toward you from your right, but you kept your gaze forward, focusing on the path ahead. There was something about his attention that made you feel self conscious, though you couldn’t quite place why.

The sun was dipping lower in the sky now, casting a warm, golden light that made the world seem to glow. Your shadows grew longer, stretching out in front of you and bobbing with you as you bounced each step your stallion took. You sighed contentedly, savouring the feeling of the warmth on your back. It was a pleasant end to the day, the kind of simple pleasure that made the long hours worth it.

As you approached the ranch, Jake’s eyes scanned the area, taking in the sights with a careful look. His gaze swept over the landscape, noting the sprawling cropland and the various outbuildings that marked your home. It was clear that he was observing everything with a keen interest, absorbing the surroundings as if they might offer some insight into your life here.

Ahead, he could see your home. A subtle, but respectable building, made mostly out of wood and stone. After your fathers passing, you had decorated its exterior with lush herbs and flowers, often harvesting them to season your meals or add to tea. They took over your windowsills in a flourish, travelling down onto the stone bottom of your home that met the ground, spreading out onto the small garden out front.

Wrapped around you were flat plains of grass, one hundred acres of land to be exact. A quarter of that land had been dedicated to agriculture. Fields of wheat, cotton, corn could be seen in the distance and your cattle munched on the grass beside the fence posts you passed by, watching Jake and his horse curiously. 

You had also dedicated your agriculture to vast vegetable gardens, growing freely and mingling amongst one another in a mess of cabbage, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, broccoli, and other vegetables that you couldn't even name, their seeds passed on to you by trusted travellers before.

Beside your home was a small set of stables, enough to house your horse and any visitors you may have. Your pony, the only other horse you owned, aggressively preferred to stay in the fields with the cows, and was prone to bucking if you encouraged it to do otherwise. 

A clothing line with skirts, bedsheets and other fabrics hung across the front garen, washed in the sun's afterthoughts, and looking so beautiful amongst the rest of your home. 

Although a little run down, Jake thought as he noticed half of your front fence collapsing, your home was beautiful. As you both declined the shallow hill to enter your land, you pointed Jake towards the stables, a place where he could tie up Bessie safely, and where she could munch on some hay with Buck. 

You threw a sheet over the trailer of goods you were selling at the markets, keeping it protected from thieving animals in the night, strapping it down with long leather belts for extra security. 

Jake was mostly silent as he took in the exterior of your home, and you were too, fearing his judgement and hoping you hadn't left anything too embarrassing out on the clothing line or on your kitchen worktop as you showed Jake the way inside. 

Your home glowed in gold, as the sun shone through the windows and onto the wood, turning it a warm orange. You made your way inside, heading straight for the kitchen to fetch a bar of soap and a bucket, but when you turned around you realised that the room was empty. 

You wandered back to the front of the house, and found Jake standing warily by the doorway, peering in cautiously. 

“You can come in!” you assured, “Just take your boots off, you can leave ‘em by the door.” 

Jake smiled at you timidly, his cocky demeanour long gone now that he was under someone else's roof. Slipping his dirt ridden boots off and perching them by the front door as you said, he hesitantly followed you back through the house and into the kitchen. Dried herbs were hung from high wooden cabinets, and their aroma settled his qualms. 

As you continued to gather soaps in preparation, Jake looked out from your kitchen window at the ranch, where he could see your cows basking in the sun. 

Chickens ran around beside a small coop close to the house, and Jake could hear them clucking amongst the sound of birds singing in the nearby trees. A strong feeling of calm washed over him, warmer than the sun had been on his back earlier, but he was quick to brush it off. 

In and out, he repeated in his head, reminding himself not to get too comfortable. He was here to sell his goods, make a couple of bucks and move on.

“Okay, hand over your shirt, I should only be a minute,” you instructed, looking back over at him with a polite smile on your face. 

He stared at you wordlessly for a moment, as if processing what you had said, and was only snapped out of his daze when you cleared your throat. 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he blurted, his fingers nimble as they made to unbutton his shirt. A task so simple, so mundane, and so repetitive, had somehow never felt harder. 

Unknowing of his apparent nerves, you waited patiently until he unbuttoned it all the way, which wasn't far seeing as he only had the bottom few done up anyways. You tried not to stare at his tanned chest as he slipped the material completely off his body. 

You took it from his hands and carried it with you as you left the kitchen and walked to the porch, the padding of his feet on the floorboards the only indication that he was following you. 

“Please, sit,” you gestured to a wooden chair with white cushions on it, the one you always chose to sit on when you needed to decompress for the day. 

You crouched on the ground, and stretched his shirt out before you, assessing where the tomato stain was, amongst the rest of the dirt that had been smeared on it during his fall and submerged the shirt under the soapy water. 

You peered up at Jake through your fringe and watched as he sat awkwardly. He was feeling wildly uncomfortable at the impropriety of being alone in the presence of a lady, especially while shirtless. 

Jake took off his hat, and rested it on his lap against his front, giving him some reprieve from the feeling of his upper half being completely naked. He watched silently as you scrubbed the spot on his shirt with a bristly wooden tool soaked in water and soap. 

Soon, the sun warmed his skin, and he leaned back into the chair, sighing at the softness of the cushions and listening intently to the sloshing sound of soapy water, slowly being overcome by the sound of your gentle voice, humming a simple tune. 

Once you were finished, you stood from your spot, and Jake watched you with careful eyes as you stepped off the porch, your bare feet making contact with the soft grass below. You rung the shirt of most of its wetness as you moved toward clothing line. He stared as you rose to the tips of your toes to reach the line, pegging the shirt on neatly so that it didn't crease and was in direct exposure to the last light's of the sun. 

“There we go,” you said, wiping your hands on your skirts and returning to Jake on the porch, “Hopefully it dries by nightfall, ‘s a dry day today, not much wetness in the air.”

Jake hummed, “Thank you very much. It’s very kind o’ you, to do that.”

You smiled, “‘Course. Can I fetch you some tea?” you offered and he agreed politely, thanking you again. 

Jake stared out at the ranch as you fixed each of you a cup of tea, letting his mind wander to other things, memories of his past escapades. 

Never would he have guessed he would end up in a place like this. He was used to sleeping on the floor most nights to find his way, and never found himself being served a cup of tea by a beautiful woman. The same woman who had just washed his clothes for him at that. 

“Here ya’ go,” you said, placing his cup into his hands gently, before taking your place in a soft seat beside him, looking out at the same view he had been watching before. 

Jake thanked you again and took a sip, brows rising in surprise at the rich flavour, “Can’t say I’ve e’er had this ‘fore. What is it?”

“It’s called wild rose hip tea. One of the local natives gave me a branch of the dried herbs, told me it stops you from gettin’ sick. And I must say, I ain't been sick since I started drinkin’ it,” you explained, sipping the warm liquid and humming at the tangy fruity taste. 

He nodded his head with his bottom lip jutted out in admiration for your story, “‘S good.”

You both sat in silence for a few beats, listening to your chickens cluck as they wandered freely around your garden.

“So, traveller,” you started, and Jake raised a brow. “How long do you plan to stay here in town?”

He sighed, “Well, I ain't got enough to stay at the inn for another night, so I’m to find a new bed to hold me for a couple’a months as soon as I may.”

“And what about tonight?” you asked in concern. 

He smiled, “Guess I’ll just have to find a warm tree to settle under. Bessie’ll keep me company.”

You sat with yourself in deep thought for a few moments. You knew better than to invite a stranger into your home, let alone a dodgy traveller. But from the limited time you had spent with him, you felt no disparity towards his genuinity. 

You usually had a good judgement for things like this, and your gut hadn’t turned at the thought of offering him the spare bedroom. 

“It gets cold ‘round here at night. I have a spare room you can take for the next while,” you offered. His eyes shot up in surprise at your offer. He shuffled in his seat, his eyes softening for a moment as he glanced toward the house. He shook his head.

"I appreciate the offer, Ma'am, but I can’t impose on you like that. This is your home, your space. I ain’t meant to be in the way."

"You wouldn’t be in the way at all. The house is big enough for the both of us. I’m sure you’ve been travelling for days, you could do with a proper bed."

He looked away, a small smile tugging at his lips, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

"I’m fine out here, really. Don’t need to make no fuss on my account. A man gets used to the sky after a while."

You crossed your arms, feeling the cool night air press against your skin as the sun began to set behind the horizon.

"How about the couch, then? It's comfortable enough, and I won’t bother you."

Jake scratched the back of his neck, shifting again and clearly uneasy with the idea. "Couch still feels too close, Miss. I ain’t one for overstayin’ my welcome, especially not under the roof of a lady."

You sighed softly, realising he was too proud, or maybe too respectful to accept anything that felt too intimate.

"Well, if you’re that set on it, I’ve got a small bed in the barn. It ain’t much, but it’s better than sleeping outside." 

You watched him carefully as he took in the sound of your offer, “Part of my fence is collapsing, you could fix it as payment for your stay,” you added, hoping it would sway his decision. 

Why you had become so insistent on him staying was beyond you. 

Jake’s eyebrows lifted, and you caught the glint of relief in his eyes, though he tried to hide it. "Now that sounds more like it. I reckon I could take you up on that,” he agreed, flashing a charming grin your way. 

You nodded, though a small tug of guilt pulled at your chest. The barn got cold at night, nowhere near as warm as the house, but he seemed so determined to keep his distance.

Sensing your discomfort, Jake tried to lessen your woes, "You’ve been more than kind, thank you for all your help. The barn suits me just fine, promise. A roof over my head’s more than I’m used to these days."

You nodded slowly, still feeling a bit uneasy, but you respected his choice nonetheless.

“I can start on your fence first thing in the morrow, I saw it on our way in, so you don’t gotta show me the way.”

You blushed at the thought of him seeing how poorly maintained you had kept your land after your fathers passing, “That bad?”

He cocked his head and clicked his tongue, “I’ve seen worse. Nothing to worry ‘bout Ma’am, I’ll have it sorted for you in no time.”

Jake stood from his seat with a sigh, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. 

“I best tend to Bessie soon, she gets restless when it comes to her dinner,” he laughed lightly, and you stood too. 

“Yes, you’re right, Buck’ll be needing some dinner by now too.”

You hopped off the porch and over to the clothing line, taking his shirt and rubbing your fingers over the now white spot that the tomato had stained. 

“Only slightly damp by now,” you said, offering his shirt back to him. 

He thanked you, expression softening with gratitude as he slipped his shirt back over his body, buttoning the bottom few up. 

“You have a lovely home here,” Jake complimented, as you wandered back to the stables, carrying buckets full with a mixture of hay, grain and water. 

“Thank you.” A weight in your stomach sunk in at his complement, as you knew your time on this homestead was limited. You shook away the thought quickly, knowing that there was nothing worse than to brood over things that couldn’t be changed. 

“I don’t think Bessies had a meal as good as this in a long time,” Jake laughed as you reached your horses, dropping their dinners in front of them. 

You took a dandy brush off the wall and got to work grooming Buck as he ate, the rhythmic strokes of the brush calming both him and you. His coat, matted with dust and flecks of dirt, resisted at first, but soon enough, the shine began to return. 

Jake, standing a few feet away, patted Bessie’s side affectionately, his rough hands moving over her sleek coat. You couldn't help but be a little envious of the way she had maintained the smoothness of her coat throughout the day, even after the long ride. Unlike Buck, who had somehow managed to collect dust and dirt despite spending most of the day tethered to a hitch, Bessie looked as if she had barely been touched by the elements.

Jake gave Bessie a satisfied nod, his voice low. "She always keeps herself clean, no matter what we get into." His hand lingered on her neck, rubbing circles into the spot where she liked it best. You glanced over, watching how she leaned into his touch, her contented snorts mixing with the soft sounds of the barn.

"You’re lucky," you muttered with a half smile, running the brush over Buck’s side with a little more vigour. "Buck ‘ere’s like a magnet for everything. Dust, mud, you name it. He’ll find it."

Jake chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Maybe he just likes keepin’ you busy."

You laughed, “Seems like it.”

The barn was quiet again, save for the sound of the horses munching on their dinner, the occasional stomp of a hoof or swish of a tail. The smell of hay and leather filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the horses. Darkness had begun to creep in, and you could barely make out Jake's face in the dim light. It felt peaceful here, a small, shared moment of stillness after a long day.

"You got a way with him, though," Jake started again, breaking the silence you had created, glancing over as he leaned against Bessie. "Takes a good hand to get a horse lookin’ as calm as he does now."

You felt a warmth in your chest at the compliment. "Well, he’s a good boy when he wants to be," you replied, scratching Buck’s ears, "Just has a mind of his own sometimes."

He chuckled, but remained mostly quiet. 

“So, where have you travelled from, Jacob?” you asked, keeping your voice light, though the question held a deeper curiosity you couldn’t quite shake.

He sighed through his nose, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of miles and years. Before responding, he glanced away, the lines in his face tightening for a moment as though he was trying to remember.

“I wish I could tell you, to be honest. I came east, but I never stay long enough to learn a town's name.” His voice was low, almost distant, like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

A flicker of sadness crept over his soft features, the edges of his usually guarded expression loosening as the words escaped. It was brief, just a moment, but you caught it. A vulnerability that vanished just as quickly as it appeared. 

He straightened his posture slightly and shifted his gaze to Bessie. The way he looked at her, you wondered if he found solace in the simplicity of her presence. A horse didn’t ask questions about where you’d been or what you’d lost.

You frowned, your brow creasing as his answer weighed on you more than you expected. “Do you like it like that?” 

Your words were gentle but pressing, trying to understand why someone would choose a life of such constant wandering. The thought of never having roots, never knowing the names of the places you passed through, seemed lonely.

He hesitated, his mouth opening slightly as if he had something to say but wasn’t quite ready to speak it. His jaw tightened, and you could see the battle going on inside him, between what he wanted to admit and what he felt he needed to keep to himself. He was quiet for so long that you thought he might not answer at all.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice rougher this time, like gravel shifting underfoot. “Sometimes I think I do.” He paused, his thumb tracing the brim of his hat, still not meeting your eyes. “There's a freedom in it. Never being tied to one place, getting to do whatever the shit I wanna,” he chucked dryly. “ But…” he trailed off, as if unsure whether to finish the thought.

“But?” you prompted softly, taking a step closer, still brushing Bucks coat to maintain a level of casual appearance despite your curiosity.

His gaze flicked to you briefly before he looked away again, back to Bessie. “But sometimes, it’d be nice to stay. To stop wondering where the next road leads, where I’m to end up the next day… where I’m gonna sleep for the night. Even if just for a little while.”

The words hung between you, heavy with the weight of what wasn’t being said. You could see it now, the weariness behind his eyes, the kind that comes from being a man always in motion but never really going anywhere.

It was the kind of tiredness that wasn’t just about lack of sleep. It was the kind that came from being alone, even when surrounded by others.

You wanted to ask him more, to dig deeper into the layers of his past, but something about the way his shoulders tensed told you to hold back. Instead, you gave him a small, understanding smile. “Well, you’ve got a place here for as long as you like, even if you only decide to stay for a little while.”

Jake didn’t say anything right away, but his posture softened just a bit, and for a moment, you thought you saw the corners of his mouth lift, barely, but it was hard to see in the dark. It wasn’t much, but it was something, acknowledgement, maybe even a little gratitude.

“Alright Buck, that’s enough,” you laughed softly as he began licking the inside of the bucket, big teeth nibbling at the wood in search for more. 

You lifted the food bucket, earning a frustrated stomp from Buck. 

“Oh you big sook, I think you’ll survive.” You patted his neck and opened the stable door to leave. 

“I’m going to prepare your bed place in the barn, do you know where to find me once Bessies finished eating?” you asked Jake, who stared at you from across the room in admiration. 

“Yes, I believe so. Are you sure you aren’t in any need of help?” he asked. 

“Yes, I’ll manage. Thank you,” you praised, “Would you like to join me for dinner afterward?” you offered, waiting in anticipation as he thought your request over. 

“No, I couldn't possibly take more from you than I already have.”

“What will you do for supper then?”

Jake patted a small satchel he had brought in with him, “Got some leftover travellin’ food right here.”

Unsure if he just preferred spending his time alone, or if he was trying his best to maintain his gentlemanly honour, you respected his wishes, muttering an ‘alright’ and taking one last look at the three of them before stepping out of the stables. 

The walk to the barn was cool, and eerie. The moon had taken stark replacement for the sun in the sky, casting your ranch with a dim, cool glow. You took a kerosene lamp and a box of matches alongside fresh bed sheets from inside your home, lighting the lamp while you walked to the barn and setting it on the floor when you arrived. 

The barn was a bit worse for wear, no longer housing the family of pigs that it did many years ago, and the silence was unsettling. 

Shaking the feeling, you bunched up your skirts and crouched to the floor where a small, thin mattress sat against bales of hay. You looked around in search for something to frame the mattress on, feeling too guilty to let Jake effectively sleep on the floor. 

You lumbered wooden crates across the floor of the barn, dragging up tufts of dirt and hay in the process, before you settled it in the corner, throwing the light mattress on top.

Shaking out the folded sheets, you breathed in the smell of clean laundry and tucked them over the bed properly. You wouldn't admit how much you struggled to fit the cover over the feather duvet, almost getting lost in the darkness as your head was consumed by the bedsheets. 

Alas, you managed, and tucked the end of the sheets in to keep any warmth from escaping. 

You stood back, hands on your hips as you blew a stray piece of hair from your face and took in your work. It would have to make do. 

Jake's footsteps fell heavily outside, and you wondered if they were to warn you of his approach, afraid to creep up and scare you in the otherwise silent night. 

“Wow,” he appraised, taking in your domestic work as he stepped into the dimly lit area. “This’s far nicer than I was expecting.”

You wondered if he was joking as you looked back at the measly setup, but when you looked back over at him, the look of gratitude in his eyes was unmistakably genuine. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. When you freeze half to death in the night, my couch’ll still be empty if you need it,” you offered, voice soft under your nerves, brewing from his burning gaze. 

As you moved to walk past him, he gently stopped you with a soft hand on your arm, the roughness of his skin shocking in contrast to the smoothness of your own. 

"Thank you, Ma'am, for your hospitality. I won’t forget your kindness."

“It’s no bother, truly… It um, gets a bit lonely ‘round here too sometimes,” you expressed, rather shyly.

His eyes held empathy for you, unbearing understanding of how you felt. He could only imagine how you struggled, living day by day to come home to an empty home. How you worked endlessly, and for what? 

Jake didn't need to say anything to show how he understood, to show how he truly heard you. Instead he nodded, eyes boring into yours in silent communication. 

With one last look, you turned and walked in the dark back to the house, hugging your torso in the cold. 

You ate supper alone, hoping Jake wasn’t as cold as you felt, and wondering if you would be crossing a line if you returned with heavier blankets to warm him up in the night. Deciding against your pressing thoughts, you washed your dishes and went straight to bed. 

Meanwhile, Jake lay awake, munching on the chewy chunk of stale bread he was sure he bought over a month ago. He stared up at the high ceiling in thought, recapping his stay here, which had seemed much different so far from any other town, and it was all because of you. 

He rolled over and put out the kerosene lamp, pulling the covers up to his neck and letting the distant sound of your cattle wandering and mooing lull him to sleep. 

𓄀

Tag List: @allof-mylove @hailtheaeon @demolitiondanchipsversion @stardustthread @sirjaketkiszka @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @jazzyfigz @katuschka @i-choose-the-road @alantern-inthenight @scarabsinthestardust

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[ageofjoshua]

Jake Kiszka One Shot: First Ride

Jake returns from tour, and during a heated night together, he gently teaches you something new, deepening your connection.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Jake x Fem!Reader

Warnings - smut, vaginal penetration, light dominance, guidance, cursing, mild breeding kink undertone

Disclaimer - short one shot, excuse any errors and let me know if i missed any warnings!!

MasterPost

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

You and Jake had been tangled up in each other all night.

He was finally home from tour, and there was a lot of catching up to do — so much, you’d both lost track of how many times you’d given in to each other, neither of you showing any signs of stopping.

Jake’s hips moved in a steady, slow rhythm now, both of your bodies glistening with sweat in the soft, silvery glow of the moonlight spilling through your window. The room felt heavy with heat, with want.

“I’m gonna come again…” he growled, voice low and rough against your ear.

A soft moan slipped from your lips as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, keeping him buried deep. But then — he suddenly stilled, pulling away just enough to kiss you breathless before slipping out and leaning back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, blinking at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

That familiar, teasing grin tugged at his lips.

“Come here, baby. I wanna see you ride me.”

Your stomach fluttered, nerves twisting with the heat still lingering between you.

You hesitated — because truthfully, you’d never done that before. It was one thing you had absolutely no experience with, and now your heart was pounding for a whole different reason.

You sat up fully, inching closer to him, but hesitated just beside him.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured with a soft smile.

Slowly, with nerves making your movements hesitant, you swung your leg over his lap, hovering there without fully settling down. His hand found your waist, the other wrapping around himself to guide to your entrance.

“Uh, Jake?” you said quietly, your palms pressing to his chest.

“Mhm?” His eyes met yours, warm and patient.

You opened your mouth, but the words caught. You felt silly — ridiculous, even — for having to admit it. Jake had taken control so many times before, so many positions, but never this one. And now, sitting like this, you were suddenly afraid you’d disappoint him.

“I… I don’t really… I’ve never, um…”

The words tangled, refusing to form.

“I don’t know how to do this…” you admitted softly, eyes dropping to avoid his.

But Jake’s expression wasn’t disappointment — not even close. He let go of himself and reached out, gently tilting your chin so you’d look at him, his gaze warm and reassuring.

“Hey,” he murmured with a small laugh, “it’s okay, baby.” His thumb brushed your cheek. “Look at you… all flustered.”

You groaned, pulling your face away and covering it with your hands, running your fingers through your tangled hair. Jake just grinned and caught your hands in his, holding them.

“I can show you.”

You glanced at him, raising a skeptical brow.

“You can show me?”

“Yeah,” he smirked.

Both of Jake’s hands settled firmly on your waist, guiding you into place.

“Sit on it, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, eyes locked on yours.

You reached down, lining him up carefully before slowly sinking onto him. His grip on your hips tightened, a sharp breath escaping his lips as he felt you take him in.

“All the way, pretty girl…” he coaxed.

You nodded, moving down inch by inch until he was fully inside you. A soft sigh fell from Jake’s mouth, his thumbs stroking your skin.

“Okay… now just follow my lead, yeah?”

You gave him another nod, ready.

“Just like this…”

Jake began to guide your hips in slow, deliberate motions, his breath hitching as he watched you move above him. You followed his gaze, trailing down to where your bodies were joined, the sight alone sending a wave of heat through you.

He squeezed your hips a little firmer, urging a quicker pace.

“That’s it… just like that.” His eyes flicked back up to yours. “Think you can take it from here?”

You nodded, breath shallow and quick.

With a satisfied smirk, Jake let his hands fall away from your waist, giving you full control.

You started to move on your own, finding a steady rhythm as your hands pressed against his lower stomach to help guide your momentum. Your eyes stayed locked on his face, searching for any sign that you were doing it right—relieved to see the way his jaw clenched and eyes darkened with pleasure.

After a moment, his hands slid up your thighs, settling once again at your waist.

“You can ride me like this too…” he murmured, gently shifting your movements into slow, circular rolls. The new angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and a moan slipped out before you could stop it.

Jake’s lips curled into a smirk, clearly pleased, and he kept guiding your hips.

“And like this.” His grip tightened just slightly as he bounced you up and down on his length, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing through the room with every motion.

A loud moan tore from your throat as your hands flew to his, lifting them from your waist—you were ready to take control. With confidence growing, you began riding him again, your pace more determined.

Jake’s eyes locked on you, filled with admiration and desire as his hands gripped your thighs tightly.

“Fuck, Y/n…” he groaned, his voice ragged.

You rolled your hips slowly before bouncing on him again, this time faster—deeper.

“Shit!”

In a sudden, heated motion, Jake wrapped an arm around your waist and flipped you beneath him. Without missing a beat, he thrust into you harder and faster, his rhythm ruthless.

You gasped, back arching, a loud moan escaping your lips as the bed creaked wildly beneath you. Anyone nearby could probably hear the chaos.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…” he growled low in your ear, never slowing down.

You could tell he had no plans of stopping anytime soon—and that only made you crave him more. You were in for a long night, and you wanted every second of it.

[gretavangroupie]

Imber

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 21.5k

Warnings: Camping Jake, Cursing, Alcohol, Arguing, Pining, Angst, Severe Weather, Kissing, Graphic Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Fluff.

A/N: I had a thought and couldn't let it go. Special thanks to @gretavanmoon and @builtbybrokenbells for always supporting me and listening to my rambling voice memos. Love you both.

You watch as the familiar white Jeep pulls into your driveway, a cloud of dust filling the air as the car shifts into park. It’s only seconds before Clara is bounding out of the passenger door, running up to meet you on your porch.

“Clara…” you say, a suspicious look on your face.

“Josh said he wanted to tag along since he’s home…I couldn’t say no! Don’t be mad!” she whines nervously, knowing good and well this was supposed to be a girls weekend. 

You squint your eyes at her and let out a faux huff of annoyance, “It’s fine,” you say, sending her a playful smile.

“Are you sure?” she asks, bending down to help you grab your camping supplies. 

“Of course, Clara. I was just kidding around. You know I love Josh, and I know you hardly ever get to do stuff like this together. In fact, if you two want to just go, I can stay–”

“No way. You’re absolutely coming! Don’t start!” she shouts, slinging your duffle bag over her shoulder. “Let’s get you loaded up and on the road.”

The two of you spend the next few minutes organizing your things into the trunk, tetrising a few items until the trunk door would shut. You climb into the backseat, taking up residence next to the cooler packed with food for the weekend. 

“Hi Y/N! Thanks for letting me crash your camping trip!” Josh says, turning around in the driver's seat to flash you a smile. 

“Of course! I mean, if I knew that you were going to be home we could have planned like, a whole thing. It’s really no big deal. The more the merrier!” you answer, feeling Clara’s hand reach back to squeeze yours in thanks.

“Just a little break, only three weeks or so then we are back to it. Germany next,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at you in the rearview mirror. 

You listen to him and Clara talk about the next leg of his tour, seeing the city start to taper off outside the car window. The trees are growing thick and the signs of humanity are next to none. 

“So where exactly are we going on this camping adventure, Clara?” you laugh, never really discussing a location in your earlier planning. 

“We’re going out to Leiper’s Fork, have you ever been there?” Josh answers.

“No, but I’ve heard of it!”

“Yeah, it’s a super cool little spot. Super secluded and gorgeous this time of year. Been out here a few times,” he says, letting his hand move to rest on Clara’s thigh. 

“How did you even find this? I feel like we are in the middle of nowhere!” you laugh, letting your eyes focus on the multicolored trees out the window. 

“Oh this is Jake’s spot. He’s always out here. Likes to come out here to write,” he pauses, turning to look at Clara. You can sense the nervous energy in his voice,  “He’s um, he’s actually going to be joining us.”

“Oh?” 

You feel a rush of panic wash over you. To say that your relationship with Jake was a bit rocky would be an understatement. You weren’t sure if there was ever really one thing that started it, one thing that made him dislike you so much, it just kind of evolved into what it is. You always seemed to find yourself in the same room as him, at the same parties with him, and attending the same shows, thanks to Josh and Clara. Though, neither of you ever bothered to speak to each other, let alone acknowledge the other's existence. It turned into an unspoken feud, filled with harsh whispers and judgemental glances, letting Josh and Clara be the buffer between the two of you. 

The thought of him joining you this weekend had you wishing you never agreed to the trip in the first place, and you know that they waited until you were this far out of town to break the news to you. 

“It will be fine babe, don’t worry. He will keep to himself like usual,” Clara says, sending you a guilty look. 

“Clara…”

“She’s right. He is different when we come out here. He might even be nice, who knows,” Josh laughs. It eases your anxiety just enough and you find yourself agreeing to this set up.

“Alright, it’s fine. I mean, it’s only two days anyway.”

–

The three of you spend most of the afternoon setting up your tents, wrestling the skinny fiberglass poles through the brightly colored fabric in fits of laughter. You took up shop beneath an old Oak tree, hoping it would provide a bit of shelter from the sun and the wind. Clara and Josh set up their tent just across from you, closer to the car and the fire pit. 

You organized your things in your tent, listening as Josh got chairs set up around the fire pit. He and Clara pulled the cooler from the car, tossing you a beer and as the sun started to dip in the sky, you talked about dinner and made plans for tomorrow's adventures. 

It was nearly sunset before you heard the rumble of tires as Jake’s Jeep pulled up to the campsite. You all snap your heads in his direction, seeing him jump out of the drivers side with a smirk on his lips. 

“Glad you could join us,” Josh teases. 

“Can’t rush these things,” he counters, nodding his head to Clara as a hello. His eyes flick over you and you watch as the expression on his face changes. His jaw tightens and his lips flatten into a thin line. A grumble of something leaves his lips in a whisper, and you don’t even have to hear it to know what he said wasn't pleasant. 

You look away quickly, turning your attention back to the vegetables you were cutting up for dinner. He turns back towards his car, gathering his things from the trunk as he continues to gripe incoherently. 

You focus on Josh and Clara, who are working on their own dinners, trying to keep the conversation flowing and ease the obvious tension. 

Jake tosses his things to the ground, preparing to set up his tent next to yours. You don’t dare tell him that it’s yours, and he doesn't dare ask. You continue to fill the tin foil with vegetables and meat, letting them marinate just long enough to get the fire started. 

“Jake, let’s go,” Josh says, motioning him over towards him.

“Go where,” he asks. 

“Need to gather firewood and I’m not making Clara carry it,” he says. Jake nods and gets up, jogging over to meet him. The two of them disappear into the thick woods, leaving you and Clara by yourselves at the campsite.

“This is going just great, wouldn’t you say?” you taunt, elbowing Clara from your camp chair. Her gaze is completely fixed on her phone, her eyes frantically flicking around the screen. 

“Hello? Earth to Clara?” you continue, still unable to break her away from her phone. 

She gets up and walks around, holding her phone to the sky in hopes of strengthening her signal.

“What's up, is everything okay?” you shout, starting to feel a little nervous. 

“Yeah, um, it’s fine. I think? I don’t know. I just got a weird text from my sister, and now I don’t have any service,” she says, biting at her bottom lip. 

“You can use mine if you want, I don’t know if my service is any better though. We are kinda in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s– It’s fine. I think,” she says, sitting back down in her chair next to you. 

“Anyway, what were you saying? Sorry, I suck,” she says, turning to look at you apologetically.

Just as you go to speak you hear the crunching of leaves and sticks, and see the shadowy figure of the two men returning with an arm full of firewood. 

“Well, nothing now,” you laugh, motioning to Josh and Jake. 

“Oh, okay, later?” she asks, hoping you will fill her in. 

“Yes, later,” you mumble.

Josh and Jake step up, tossing the wood into a pile next to the fire pit. “That should be enough for two days,” Josh says, dusting his hands off on his jeans. 

Jake’s eyes meet yours, only for a second before storming off to his car. You shake it off and try to focus on Josh as he builds the fire in front of you, using an obnoxious amount of lighter fluid in the process. 

“Clara he is going to light us all on–”

Her phone ringing interrupts you, grabbing her attention as she rushes to answer it. She stands up and walks away towards the car, and you watch as her demeanor shifts into panic. Your eyes meet Josh’s, both of you feeling uneasy about whatever is happening on that phone call. She rushes back over to you, her face fear stricken and her hands visibly shaking. 

“Josh, we have to go! We have to go right now!” she shouts, frantically rushing around and grabbing things from inside their tent.

“What? Clara, what's going on?!” he asks, trying to calm her down. 

“Ashton! She’s going into labor! She’s on her way to the hospital right now! She wasn’t due until next week! I don’t know, I don't know! But we have to go right now!” she says, pulling out of his grip and continuing to grab her things and throw them in the car. 

“Oh shit! Okay, yes, yes we can go, um…” he pauses, looking over towards Jake at his tent and you sitting in the chair in front of him, “Fuck, um…Y/N, do you uh, want to come with us, or–”

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I had no idea or I wouldn’t have– fuck, you should just… stay, enjoy the campsite and just relax. I’m so sorry I promise I will make this up to you!” Clara cries, her nervous energy transferring to you. 

It’s mere seconds before her and Josh are jumping into his car and pulling out of the campsite, abandoning their tent, their dinner and the rest of their belongings. 

Fuck.

You stand up from your chair, processing what exactly happened as you stare at the roaring fire. 

“Where uh, where did they go?” Jake asks, appearing from his tent as he hears the car peeling out of the campsite. 

You turn to look at him, shocked that he even spoke to you, while also realizing that now it’s just the two of you. Alone.

“They– Clara’s sister is having her baby. Early. They just…left– I–”

“Left?” he asks, “Like for good?”

“I…think so…” you answer, watching as he drags his hand across his face. The hem of his flannel lifts in the process revealing the tiniest peek at his tanned torso, so you quickly divert your eyes before he notices your staring. 

“Of course,” he gripes, kicking at the pile of firewood. He mutters something under his breath and you feel a wave of embarrassment at the thought of him dreading being around you this much. 

He huffs out a breath and turns to you, “Well, do you want to stay here or–”

“I mean, do you want to stay?” you question, shrugging your shoulders noncommittally. 

“I have no issue with staying. I know you were only here for them, so if you want to leave I promise it’s not going to hurt my feelings. I’m used to being out here alone anyway,” he says, his tone a little clipped. “Prefer it.”

“Are you going to be mad if I do want to stay?” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You let your eyes meet his for a few seconds, both of you looking at each other as he thinks of his answer.

Again he rubs his hand over his face, shaking his head, “No, no I won’t be fucking mad– I just– Do you want to fucking stay, yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay. Then we’ll stay,” he says, lowering the sound of his voice. His eyes flick around your face for a few seconds before turning to look at the fire. You can tell he is agitated, but when is he not?

“Jesus, he always uses too much fluid,” he gripes, turning his attention to the flames. “Pyromaniac.”

“Well, I guess we can throw these on?” you say, picking up the tin foil packets. 

“Yeah yeah, um, just set ‘em there,” he says, looking up to you from his crouched position next to the fire pit.

“Do you…want a drink or something?” you ask, feeling the awkwardness between you growing quickly. You can feel the hostility pouring off of him, and getting a drink seems to be you only escape plan.

“What’s in there?” he asks, looking over towards the cooler. 

“Beer?” you pause, “I don’t know, Josh packed it.”

“Whatever’s in there is fine,” he says, tossing the foil packets onto the flames.

You make your way to the cooler, grabbing two icy cans and returning to your chair to see Jake sitting in the one on the opposite side of the fire pit. You hand the can to him, seeing a side smile pull across his lips as he nods his head in thanks. 

“Got something stronger in the car if you want it,” he smirks, popping the tab on his can.

The small sliver of a smile nearly takes your breath away. “Oh, um, no this is good. Thank you though.”

It’s quiet between the two of you, both of you sipping at your beers as you watch the fire in front of you. You want to say something to him, start a conversation, maybe even chip away at his tough exterior, but you know that comes with risks. Risks you aren't willing to take while stranded in the woods for the next two days. 

It’s him though, that strikes up a conversation, but it’s not to make small talk, it’s to get answers. 

“Why do you even want to stay if Clara left?” he asks, bringing his can to his lips. 

You take a second to think about it, “Well, because I bought all this camping stuff, mostly. I’ve been looking forward to this little trip. I like being in nature, and I don’t get to do it often enough. Going in the woods alone as a woman isn’t exactly the safest either. So yeah, it sucks they had to leave but I’d rather be here than back at my place staring at my camping supplies sitting at my front door.”

“No other reason?” he asks, lowering his voice a little as he pokes at the foil packs with a stick.

You shake your head slowly, “Not that I can think of, no.”

He scoffs and flips the packets over before sitting back in his chair. You can feel him judging you, and the silence as he snickers at you confirms it. 

“Don’t be like that, Jake. You wanted to stay, too.”

“Yeah, but I come out here all the time. This is my damn spot,” he snaps.

“Well excuse me for intruding! I can call a fucking cab but I don’t think they will find me out here!”

“Jesus, relax,” he groans, “You know what? That's your problem. You’re too…you’re too uptight.”

“I’m uptight?!” you gasp, “What about you?! Mister, brooding misunderstood rockstar, can't stand to be in the same room as a person that doesn't fall at his feet and sing his praises,” you bark. 

“No, see, that's where you’re wrong. I’m not brooding or misunderstood. The people that I want to know me, know me just fine. I just don't put my feelings on display for everyone I meet. I have a certain way I like to live my life. And if that comes across as brooding and misunderstood, then so be it.”

“You know, you’re insufferable sometimes…” you grit.

“Well thank you for your input. I’ll be sure to put that in my diary later,” he snickers. 

“Do you have any respect for anyone?” you shout from across the fire.

“Of course I do. Those who earn it,” he says, raising his eyebrows. 

“You’re so–” you pause, grunting in frustration when you struggle to find the words.

“Sorry I have standards, sweetheart,” he says, taking another long pull of his beer. 

“Standards? What is that supposed to mean?” you shout, feeling yourself getting a little worked up. 

He glances up at you over the fire, “I don't let just anyone come into my life and get all up close and personal. You have to earn that. Which means my standards are a little higher than most.”

You cut your eyes at him, “Why are you like this? All cold and cryptic…I don’t even know what I did to make you dislike me this much.”

His eyes are dark and unyielding, his lips turning into a smile as he laughs, “I never said I dislike you. You just don't like how I present myself because it goes against what you’re used to. You're used to easy going guys, who let you do anything you want because you’re pretty. Not guys who are a little closed off and reserved. You don't want a little bit of a challenge.”

“Who said I even want you at all?” you bite back.

“You didn’t need to say it, sweetheart. You’re easy to read,” he says, sending you a smug grin. 

“Well, find a different book.”

“You’re also a smartass,” he says, leaning forward to pull the foil packets from the fire with a stick. He carefully opens up the hot foil, and checks them to make sure they are cooked through. His eyes flick up to yours, “Hungry?”

“Yeah, I am,” you say begrudgingly, leaning forward to reach for the foil wrapped food. You unroll the foil and reach for the plastic forks, offering one to Jake. He takes it with the raise of his brow, casually picking at the food in the silver wrap. 

“Explains a few things,” he mutters with a smirk. 

“Is this how this is going to be? Are you just going to dig at me all weekend until we go our separate ways?” you ask, starting to feel a little fed up.

“You tell me. Is that what you want?” he asks, biting a carrot from his fork. 

“No, I want us to just get along the best we can. I want this to be at least a little enjoyable.”

He looks at you for a moment and seems to soften a bit. “Fine,” he says, “So what would you like to talk about then, sweetheart?"

You roll your eyes at the pet name you’ve adopted, “I don't know, what do you enjoy talking about? Pretend it's not me. Tell me about life on tour or something.”

He nods and picks at his food, seemingly thinking for a minute before he speaks. “Well,” he begins, “The tour has been good, a few bumps along the way. We hit some bad weather in Huntsville that delayed one of our shows for a night, but other than that it was a good run. I think everyone is holding up fine.”

“What about you, though. Are you holding up fine?” you ask. 

He seems taken aback by the question. He looks at you with a surprised expression, almost as if it’s the first time someone has asked him about himself. He looks down at his food and is quiet for a moment before mumbling, “Yeah…I’m fine. Why?”

“I don't know, you just seem...agitated with everything lately. Every time I see you, you just seem quiet.”

He looks up at you again, holding eye-contact for a minute. He is tempted to deny it, to tell you everything is fine, but he doesn’t. Maybe there’s a part of him that wants to be honest with you. The other part terrified of letting you see through the walls he has worked so hard to build up.

“That’s just how I am,” he says quietly. He glances up at you and then back at the fire again, “That’s how I present myself. And it’s always been that way. It’s how people expect me to be most of the time and I don’t blame them. Most of my music is written about heartache and struggle whether personal or not. It’s everything I am. But I’m fine, sweetheart. I’m always fine.”

You shrug your shoulders, not wanting to pry anymore, feeling satisfied with the little bit he’s allowed you,. “Okay.”

The two of you eat in silence for a few more minutes, the wind starting to pick up, as the leaves rustle behind you. Jake seems to have softened a bit since your earlier banter, and you wonder if he is feeling a little guilty for his hand in the taunting. 

He looks at you again with a raised eyebrow, “What about you, then? Are you fine?”

He’s asking about you? 

“I mean, yeah. I think I'm fine. There are some things I wish were different, but that's life,” you offer, not wanting to delve too far into things. Not that he would care anyway. 

He seems a little taken aback with your response. Not that it surprised him that you have personal problems, but he wasn’t expecting you to be honest with him. Almost anyone else would have painted a perfect picture and made themselves appear significantly better than they actually were. There was a moment between you two when the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the chirping of Cicadas before he quietly spoke again.

“What do you wish were different?”

“Ahh, it’s nothing really. Just sometimes I wonder if I am where I am supposed to be. You know, the normal stuff,” you say, offering him a smile.  

He looks at you for a beat and nods slowly, seeming to take that in. “I don’t think anyone truly knows if they’re where they’re meant to be. One of the mysteries of life, I suppose.”

“What?” you nod, encouraging him to continue. “What were you going to say? You look like you wanted to ask something.” 

He suddenly looks uncomfortable, looking back into the fire and away from you. 

“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head as if dismissing whatever he was just thinking and stands up. He walks towards the treeline with an unreadable expression on his face, and you wonder what he could possibly be thinking. The wind sends a shiver through you, and you decide to grab the s'mores ingredients from the cooler before he comes back. If he comes back. 

He walks away, disappearing into the trees as he goes to relieve himself. He stands there for a moment, his breath coming out in visible puffs in the cool night air. He runs a hand through his hair, swearing under his breath as he replays your conversation. He hates that you can break him down so easily, that you seem to understand him better than he understands himself, and worse that you even care enough to ask. 

He zips up and turns to head back towards the tent, feeling frustrated and conflicted. He knows he's being unfair to you, knows that he's acting cold and distant for no good reason. But he can't help it. It’s all he can do. He doesn't want to get close to people, doesn't want to let them in. Especially not you. 

You work quickly trying to place the marshmallows on sticks, finding it to be a lot harder than you thought. With a little elbow grease and a dream you shoved the sticky blobs on the ends of the sticks, dangling them gingerly over the open flames. 

With both hands occupied it's hard to shield your arms from the cool wind that is dancing through your campsite. A chill rises to your skin despite the warmth of the fire. You quickly forget about it though as you see Jake reappearing through the treeline. He walks up with his hands in his pockets, his eyes studying you as you roast the two marshmallows. 

“What are you up to now?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“I mean…Roasting marshmallows, what do you mean?” you ask, confused as to why he was confused. 

His eyes roam over you and a small smirk appears at the corner of his mouth. He leans a little bit closer to study what you’re doing, laughing under his breath.

“You’re going to burn them, sweetheart.”

“No I’m not. I know what I’m doing, thank you,” you quip, rotating the sticks. 

He laughs and shakes his head, “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up with a mess of black, gooey, sugar.”

He moves a little closer behind you, until his chest is mere inches away from your back. His voice drops to a teasing whisper against your ear. “But, by all means, continue.”

If the goosebumps weren’t already taking up residency on your body, they would be now. He takes the chair next to you this time, instead of his previous one across from you. You don’t question it, and he doesn’t mention it, so you leave it at that. 

You watch as the marshmallows start to puff up, knowing they are done and ready to be put on the graham cracker, but that's when you realize you only have two hands, and this is in fact, about to go south quickly.

“Here, hand one to me,” he says, grabbing the stick from your hand. “Put that one together, and then do this one.”

You work quickly to assemble the marshmallow, chocolate and graham cracker, your fingers growing into a sticky, sugary mess as it starts to deflate. It’s melting the chocolate perfectly, and you think you may have just made the perfect s’more. The wind starts to whip a little harder, blowing your hair around your face just a little too much. Jake hands you the stick back, letting you assemble the other s’more, trying to push your hair out of your face with your wrist. 

From his spot next to you, you can feel his eyes on you. Watching you struggle, giggling a little under his breath as you fight through the mess of hair in your eyes. 

You place the chocolate on the cracker before trying to position the marshmallow on top, a huff of frustration falling from your lips as you push your hair back with the side of your arm. “Fuck,” you growl. 

You hear him laugh again, but this time it's accompanied with him standing up from his seat. You turn your head and watch as he pulls a black hair tie from his finger. His fingers brush against your neck for a moment, gathering your hair into his fist and pulling it up into a quick ponytail. It is an unexpectedly sweet and careful gesture on his part, taking you completely by surprise. 

He steps back and looks over you, now with your hair out of the way. “There,” he says, taking his seat once more.

“Th–thank you,” you squeak out, still reeling over the feeling of his hands on your skin. 

There is a beat of silence between you where he just looks at you. His eyes drift from your face down to your fingers and the gooey mess you had created from assembling the s’mores. 

He suddenly snickers,“You’re a mess, sweetheart.”

You shrug your shoulders and offer him the perfect s’more, reaching for your own and sinking your teeth into the melty goodness. You were right, it was perfect. Probably the best you’d ever made. Screw him for saying you were going to burn it. 

You turn to look at him, ready to see his reaction to the perfectly made treat. He bites into it, staring at the fire as he chews, swallowing down his first bite before he turns to you. 

“You know, I kind of hate these,” he smirks. 

“What?” you ask, taking another bite. 

“I never have liked them. My whole life, really.”

“Then why– Why are you eating it? You didn’t have to eat it,” you say, suddenly feeling guilty. 

“I dunno. I want to. I guess ‘cause you made it for me.”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach, watching him intentionally take another bite as he settles back in his camp chair. There is a new tension floating in the air now, it's less uncomfortable and more heavy with things unsaid. 

He turns to look at you again, his face glowing in the orange fire light, “It actually isn’t terrible. I will admit.”

“So what you’re saying is that you love my cooking?” you tease.

He laughs, as he swallows his last bite, “Well, I didn’t say that. The fact that you call this cooking is questionable.” His tone is teasing, and you watch as he licks a dribble of chocolate from his thumb. It causes more of a reaction within you than you ever anticipated, and again you thank the wind for causing the goosebumps. 

“I think I have some paper towels  in the car, I’ll be right back.” he says, standing and walking over to his car. You can hear him digging around in his trunk as you stare off at the trees in the distance, trying to make any sense of the feelings rushing through your body right now. Why is he sort of sweet? Why is he sort of really sexy when he’s not being an asshole?

A flash in the trees catches your eye, snapping you from your thoughts and raising your blood pressure. You stare intently, watching for it again, hearing Jake approaching from your left. You see the flash again, accompanied by two others, and a smile crosses your face. 

Jake steps up behind you, tossing a thick flannel in your lap as he takes his spot next to you, offering you a handful of wet wipes to clean your sticky fingers. You glance down at the shirt laying across your legs and turn to him in surprise.

“Noticed you were cold, that's all.”

You clean your hands the best you can before sliding the thick flannel shirt over your arms, letting the warmth and the smell envelop your senses. This was not helping with the thoughts you were having a few minutes ago. You turn your sights back to the trees, watching the little orbs buzz around overhead.

“Fireflies…” you whisper, watching a few zaps of yellow buzz around in the old Oak trees.

He hums as he sees them light up, “They are in all of the trees out here. One of my favorite things,” he admits.

“Jake?”

He turns to look at you, nodding for you to continue. 

“Why do you come out here alone all the time?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

His expression darkens slightly as he hears the question, and he is quiet for a moment before answering. “It’s just peaceful I guess,” He shrugs and looks out into the darkness of the trees instead of you. “Not everyone is cut out to be around people all the time.”

“You don’t ever get lonely?”

A beat of silence passes and he glances back at you. This time, his usual smirk has disappeared and is replaced by a more serious look. He doesn’t answer the question, but there is a look in his eyes that makes you think maybe he is more lonely than he wants to let on.

“I’m comfortable with my own company,” he says quietly. The fire is still smoldering in front of the two of you, the flames gone now, leaving a pile of glowing embers snapping and popping as they work to extinguish themselves. 

You pull the sleeves of his flannel over your hands, catching his attention and pulling a tiny smirk to the corners of his lips. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to focus on the fireflies again. It feels nice sitting with him like this. Just talking, no witty remarks or snappy comebacks. Just two people, talking. 

“Don’t you ever wish you had someone to share this with, though? Your spot?” you ask, giving him a playful grin.

He watches you for a moment, considering the question. There is a part of him that wants to be defensive and cold, shutting you out and telling you he doesn’t want that. But the look in your eyes and the softness of your tone tells him he can’t lie to you about this. He breaks eye contact momentarily, his gaze falling downward to his hands in his lap.

“Sometimes…” he mumbles under his breath. 

You aren’t sure why, but that goes straight to your heart. Sure he said he was fine earlier, but now you’re starting to see that maybe that isn’t completely true. It’s quiet for a moment, and you spend each second gathering up the courage to continue the conversation.

He glances at you again, this time having a look on his face that says he wishes he hadn’t confessed that to you. He suddenly becomes much more uncomfortable, trying to cover it up by acting nonchalant, adjusting his position in his chair and fidgeting with the fire. He clears his throat and looks to you again, “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

It catches you off guard. Him not only abruptly ending the conversation, but the rest of the evening. You know he is right, you probably should go to sleep, but part of you feels like the conversation is unfinished, and you think he knows that, too. 

“Oh, um, okay. Yeah, you’re probably right.” you say, standing from your chair with a stretch. You can feel his eyes on you, burning holes into your skin. “Is the fire going to be okay?”

He laughs a little, nodding his head, “Yeah, yeah. Just embers now. It will smolder out in an hour or two,” he says. 

You nod your head and pull your flannel covered arms across your chest tightly. You start to make your way over to your tent, your mind flooded with the vision of him just moments ago, soft and glowing in the firelight. You look back at him, still standing at the fire, watching you walk to your tent. He nods with a smirk and starts walking toward his own tent. Before going in, he looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“Night.”

“Night, Jake,” you answer, reaching for the zipper. He nods and watches as you step inside, waiting until you’re safely inside before he lets out a deep sigh.

He can’t quite put his finger on why he suddenly feels so off-kilter. You’ve shaken him in a way no other has been able to. There was something about that conversation earlier, you asking what he wanted. How he was doing.  How he feels. The way your features softened as you listened to him and made him want to tell you the truth. He didn’t like how it made him feel, like every falsity he had built up about you in his mind was exactly that. He had spent so long pushing you away and talking you down to himself that now, here, where he can’t escape you, he is faced with the fact that you’re exactly the girl he thought you were, and everything he has always known deep down is true.. 

Inside your tent, you rummage around in your duffle bag looking for something to sleep in. As you pull an old t-shirt from the bag you pull his flannel from your body, setting it aside while you change. You don’t know why, but you find yourself reaching for it again and layering it over your shirt. You pull it to your nose to breathe it in now that you’re alone in the confines of your tent. It smells of smoke and tobacco, a sweet earthy undertone pulling you into its spell as your eyes flutter closed.

You can hear him zipping his tent, the faint glow of his lantern casting a shadow of his figure against the tent fabric. You hear the buckle of his belt as he pulls it from the loops on his jeans, and you do your best to look away. But with the smell of his cologne invading your senses, you claim temporary insanity and watch as his shadow pulls his shirt over his head and slides out of his jeans. You swallow heavily as you watch his shadow settle down into his sleeping bag and turn off the lantern.

You do the same, turning off your headlamp and getting inside your sleeping bag, doing your best to get comfortable. Even though the air is warm, the ground is cold and you shiver slightly.  It’s difficult to get comfortable in the new environment and you find yourself rolling over and shifting around a lot, almost matching the state of your brain. Eventually, the sound of the cicadas lure you to sleep, and as your eyes shut it's a soft, fireside Jake that is on your mind. 

—

The birds chirping in the tree above you wakes you. Your eyes crack open and you immediately notice the cool chill in the air. You sit up and yawn, stretching out your limbs and buttoning the buttons on the flannel for a little extra warmth. As you step outside of your tent a cool fog envelops you, causing you to shiver. You see a small fire has been built in the fire pit already, so you gather that Jake is already awake.

You make your way to your camp chair, noticing it has been wiped of the dew already, and is ready for you to occupy it. Your eyes search the foggy landscape for any sight of him, finding him standing at the tailgate of his Jeep fiddling with something. He catches sight of you, and nods, motioning that he will be over soon. 

Minutes later he is approaching with two camp mugs filled with what you can only assume is coffee. The steam is swirling from the tops of the mugs blending in with the fog surrounding you. 

“Morning,” he says, offering you the blue speckled mug. 

“Morning,” you smile, accepting it from his hand. “You have all the accessories, don’t you?”

He smiles, and nods gently, “I’m very serious when I commit to things.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“It is.” His gaze travels over you for a moment. He can’t help but appreciate just how good you look in the morning. The messy hair and the sleepy expression, combined with his flannel, you’re practically driving him insane.

“Do you think we will be able to see the sunrise through the fog?” you ask, sipping at the black coffee.

He squints thoughtfully out into the fog, taking in the thickness of it. He can’t see anything through the haze and honestly doubts you will be able to see much of anything.

“Hard to say,” he shrugs. “Depends on how long it hangs on.”

You nod in understanding, returning to the quiet morning, listening to the chirping of the birds in the distance. “You know it is really beautiful out here, I see why you come out here.”

He smiles a little, appreciating your change of attitude from last night.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said with a hint of a smirk. He glances back out into the fog where everything is hazy and unclear. “It’s nice and quiet here. No one around for miles, other than us of course. I like that best of all.”

“You know, I might even come back here one day,” you smile, feeling your chest grow warm at his last words. 

He suddenly looks surprised that you’re considering returning. He usually had a comeback for anything you said, but for this, he was quiet for a moment, considering your words.

He glances around at the surrounding area, the trees and shrubs all covered in the dense fog. He feels almost defensive about you seeing this place as beautiful. It was his place, his special place, and he wasn’t sure why he felt so weird that you were appreciating it. He falls silent for a moment as he watches you enjoy the surroundings, sipping the coffee he made for you as you sit in his flannel. The peaceful look on your face as you look out into the fog causes his chest to feel warm. He would never admit it, but he wants to bring you back here as often as you want to come.

He clears his throat and looks back at you. “Maybe we can take a walk before it clears up.”

You can feel the blush creeping up your chest, your cheeks burning at the thought that he might actually want to spend the day with you. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that. Anything cool to see out here?”

He takes a moment to think, rubbing his fingers against his lips, “There’s a pretty decent hike to a creek not too far, we could go that way. Only if you’re not scared of a little wilderness along the way,” he smirked.

“I’m not scared,” you answer, raising a brow in challenge. 

“You bring a bathing suit?” he asks, tipping back the last of his coffee.

“Of course,” you laugh. 

“Good, I’ll meet you back out here in say, fifteen?” he says, standing from his chair.

You nod and both make your way back to your tents, changing into your bikini that you fully did not prepare to wear in front of a man, let alone Jake. You pull a pair of denim shorts and a cut off tee over top, grabbing your hiking boots and your backpack as you make your way back out to the camp chairs. 

Jake is still in his tent, so you use the time to lace up your boots and pack a few snacks into your bag. It’s not long before Jake is stepping out, in a pair of red swim trunks and a black button down, barely hanging on to his tan frame. It seems a strange ensemble for hiking, but he is unlike any other man you knew, and it kind of just fit.

He joins you at the chairs, putting on his own hiking boots. You feel his hand reach over to check the tautness of your shoestrings, grabbing your attention. 

He looks up at you from his bent over position, “Just making sure they are tight enough, don’t need you getting blisters before we even make it to the trail head,” he smiles. 

With your bag packed and your sunglasses perched on your nose, the two of you set off into the treeline, leaving your camp behind in search of adventure. You head down the winding trail that is lined with overgrowth on either side. You can tell that not many people walk this path, and you wonder how Jake even found it in the first place. The thick brush and branches scratch at your legs as you trudge on, but you welcome it. This is what you wanted, after all.

He walks just a step behind you, watching your feet as you walk along the trail. He can’t help but notice how your legs look in your denim shorts, and he does his best not to stare. Not that you would notice. 

You turn around to look at him, noticing him a few strides behind you, “You gonna keep up with me Kiszka?”

He scoffs playfully, a bit miffed at that comment, “I’ve walked this trail a hundred times, pretty sure I can handle it.”

He takes a few quick steps to catch up to you, walking next to you now rather than a few steps behind. His shoulder brushes against yours as he walks, catching you both by surprise. 

“Why am I leading the way anyway if you know where we are going?” you tease. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “You’re not ‘leading the way’ sweetheart, I’m guiding you.”

You huff in annoyance, “Guiding me? I’m not a dog…”

He smirked, thinking about how you definitely weren’t as obedient as a dog. You were much harder to control and a hell of a lot more stubborn.

He suddenly snickered and said, “Never said you were, I just don’t trust you not to wander off.”

“And go where? You’re all I’ve got out here!” you giggle, the words leaving your lips before you consider the weight of them. 

He snickered again with amusement, though his heart skipped a beat when you said that. You were all he had as well. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his swim trunks as he walked next to you, avoiding any more of the shrubs that were trying to grab onto him.

“There’s plenty of places to get lost around here if you wander off the trail. That’s why I’m making sure you don’t drift away too far.”

“Why would I want to?” you ask, a hint of flirtation evident in your tone.

He picks up on your flirty tone, letting a smirk pull across his lips. He glances over at you with a look in his eye as he registers what you meant by that comment.

“If I didn't know any better I would say you're enjoying spending time with me, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Jacob,” you quip. 

He snickers and glances over at you again, seeing that look on your face he's all too familiar with. “I don’t have to flatter myself, sweetheart. You’re the one getting all flirty.” He grins.

“Flirty? I’m not being flirty,” you lie.

He snickers again, seeing through your lie immediately. “You have a terrible poker face,” he says. He walks closer to you as he speaks, his leg brushing yours as you walk. 

You feel a chill run down your spine at the contact and you wonder if he feels it too. You decide to change the subject, worried that this conversation may have you backed into a corner. 

“Tell me how you learned to play guitar so well,” you ask, hoping he will be willing to accept your topic change. 

He lifts his gaze to the trees as he contemplates your question. He hadn’t thought about it in a while, but he still remembers those nights all too well.

“Practice, mostly. Spent hours and hours alone in my bedroom just practicing until my arms were sore and my hands locked up. But how do you know that I play well? You watch me, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, letting your hands push away a few branches, “I mean, you have to play pretty well if you're selling out arenas…”

He lets out a scoff and a smirk. He was used to people complimenting his skill but for some reason, hearing you do it makes him feel a little flustered.

“I suppose so, but you didn't answer my question,” He chuckles.

“What, have I watched you play? Of course I have. I've been to a few shows with Clara.”

He seems surprised by your confession. In that moment, he begins to wonder how many times your eyes have sought him out through the lights and over the crowd.

He clears his throat and says, “Clara dragged you out to them?”

“No, I went willingly,” you admit. 

There’s a moment of silence as he processes what you just admitted. For some reason, the thought of you going to one of his shows because you wanted to go was making his heart pound a little harder in his chest.

He looks at you with a smirk to mask how thrown off he was by that.  “How come I never saw you backstage?”

You look at him with a confused look, "Did you ever look?"

Something about that question stung. The way you said the words so casually felt like a knife through his chest. He shakes his head as he responds, “No. No, you weren't there. I would remember.”

“You're right. I never went back with Clara after the shows. Didn't want to put myself in that position. I mean, that's your space, ya know? And you and I can barely be in the same room together. We haven't even had a civil conversation until, well, right now.”

He stays silent for a moment, processing your confession. After a minute he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “I never wanted it to be like that sweetheart.”

You huff a laugh, “Your actions over the last, oh I don’t know, two years have shown otherwise.”

He grimaces when you say that, knowing that you’re right. He knows he has been a jackass to you, but for some reason hearing you confront him about it was causing a strong pang of guilt to flare up deep within his chest. He tries to shrug it off and maintain his cool, but even he can’t deny that your words were hitting him right where it hurt. 

The two of you walk for a few moments in silence, the only sound being the crunch of branches and twigs under your feet. He glances over at you, watching the way your face looked as you focused on where you stepped along the path, and he suddenly blurts out a question.

“Why is it so easy for you to make me feel guilty?”

What?

You snap your head to look at him, “I don’t know, you tell me?”

He lets out a scoff and shakes his head, pushing a limb out of the way to let you pass. “You’ve just got this way of bringing out sides of me that I don’t understand,” he grumbles.

“What do you mean?” you ask, feeling a wave of nerves wash over you. 

He falls silent as he considers how to explain what he means. It’s a hard thing to describe. It’s more than just the way you make him feel things he doesn’t usually feel around other people. It’s more than just the way you look at him, or talk to him, that makes his heart beat harder. It’s more and he knows it.

“It’s nothing, nevermind,” he pauses, “We’re here.”

You decide to let it slide, not wanting to push him into a bad mood. The two of you walk up to the edge of the rocky creek, taking in the sights. There’s a small waterfall trickling over the rocks to your right, leading out into a swimming spot and you almost moan at how appealing a dip sounds after that hike.

Jake stands just beside you, his gaze skimming over the water. He takes in the rushing sound of the creek as it flows past the large rocks and branches. He’s secretly looking at you out of the corner of his eye, watching you stare out at the creek just like he did the first time he saw it. He takes a moment to just watch you. The way your hair looks in the sunlight is catching his eye, the way your lashes flutter as you blink, the look on your face that’s soft and calm. Watching you out here in this setting is making all sorts of different emotions swirl around inside him, but he just can’t bring himself to name any of them.

“This was worth the hike,” you say, turning to meet his gaze. 

He keeps his eyes on you as you admire the creek. The way the sunlight dances against your skin makes you look as if you’re glowing. He can’t pull his eyes away from how goddamn good you look and how peaceful you seem despite everything that had happened between you two.

“Yeah. I suppose it was worth it, wasn’t it?” He agrees reluctantly.

You pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in your bikini top and shorts. You know you want to jump in, but you will wait for him to go first. 

He’s completely caught off guard by your actions, his eyes growing wide. His gaze instantly travels down to take in your bare torso, raking over your skin and lingering for just a beat too long. He immediately clears his throat and looks away, shifting uncomfortably as he feels an unfamiliar pang of heated desire in his stomach.

“You ready to swim?” he asks. You unlace your boots and leave them on the embankment, turning to look at him as he does the same. 

“Very,” you say, nodding towards the water.

He takes a moment to compose himself and avoid staring at you while you are basically half-naked. He pulls his own shirt over his head, revealing his tanned chest and arms, and sets it down beside yours on the bank of the creek.

He dips a toe into the water cautiously to test the temperature. It’s a bit cold, but it feels refreshing on his skin after all the walking you had done to get here.

“Good, let me show you why we really came here,” he says, motioning for you to follow him up a footpath. You quickly kick off your shorts and follow after him, curious as to where he is taking you. As you reach the end of the small dirt path your eyes land on the old rope hanging from the branch of an Oak tree.

“No, no way,” you stammer. 

A mischievous smirk quirks up on his face as you look at the rope. He can tell that you’re nervous just by the look in your eyes. But he would be lying if he said that he didn’t find it cute.

“Oh come on, what happened to ‘I’m not scared’?” he teases. 

“I’m not! But this is different!” you whine. 

He walks up to the rope, grabbing a hold of it and giving it a few solid pulls to test how sturdy it is. He glances over his shoulder at you to watch your face, seeing the anxiety there in your expression.

He smirks and motions towards the creek below him, “See that spot down there? It’s perfect for jumping. It’s safe. I’ve done it a hundred times. I promise.”

“I don’t know,” you say, biting at your bottom lip. 

He grins as he watches you bite your lip. Seeing you looking so nervous and cute was making his heart twist. He steps closer to you, still holding the rope in his hands. He smirks and cocks an eyebrow. “I’ll go first, okay?”

You nod and watch as he wraps his hands around the brown rope. He turns and looks back at you with an excited expression, “I’ll see you down there?”

“Okay,” you murmur, watching as he gets a running start and flies through the air before dropping down into the creek with a splash. You run to peer over the edge, watching him come up from the water with a shake of his hair. He smiles and waves you down, practically begging you to join him. 

“Come on, you can do it! I–I’ll catch you! Promise!” he shouts, “Jump, sweetheart!”

You let out a deep breath, gathering all your courage as you wait for the rope to stop swinging so you can grab it. As you reach for it you hear him cheering, still floating in the water where he landed. 

“Jump!” he yells, smiling up at you as he treads in the water. He grins as he watches you dangle from the rope, nervous to let go and jump into the water. “You’re gonna be fine! Just let go and I’ll catch you. I promise,” he yells.

With that you run, jumping off of the rock with the rope clutched tightly in your fists. Time almost seems to slow down when you jump, your body floating through the air and for a moment, it feels exhilarating.

“Let go, now!” he shouts, and so you do.

Jake waits with his arms open wide, watching as you fall down towards him from above. He can see the mixture of fear and courage on your face as you plummet towards him. He braces himself as you fall into his arms, catching you as best he can in the deep water. He pulls you close to him, his hands gripping your bare waist as your bodies press together. He can feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he holds you, your chest against his and your faces just inches apart. He can feel your heart pounding as he looks into your eyes.

The moment you’re in his arms, something within him snaps. All of a sudden, everything feels heightened. The feel of your body against his, the way you’re looking at him, the sound of your breathing as it slightly catches in your chest. The air between you seems almost electrified and he can feel the tension brewing in his gut.

“You caught me,” you breathe, recognizing just how close the two of you are. 

He can’t help but smirk and let out a low chuckle, still holding you against him. “I told you I would.”

You can feel your body pressed against his, the wet fabric of your bikini sticking to your skin. It’s making your brain go fuzzy and your skin tingle in a way you can’t explain.

“Thank you,” you whisper, neither of you making a move to let go of each other. 

He swallows, the tension between you feeling almost palpable. His pulse is pumping, and his breath catches in his throat as he holds onto you. He wants so badly to press you against him further and hold you tighter. Closer.

He couldn’t help glancing down at your lips, his gaze drifting down from your eyes to linger there just for a moment. You let your tongue dart out over your lips, swiping away the water dripping over them. 

He lets out a low, deep breath as he watches you. That small action has his heart racing even more, and every instinct inside him telling him to bring you closer. To claim your lips with his and taste you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he whispers in a hoarse voice.

“Dangerous for who?” you question, biting on your lip.

He raises an eyebrow and chuckles, his grip on your hips tightening just slightly. He pulls you in closer, and you know he can feel your nipples hard and wet against his chest. Your bodies are pressed flat against one another, the cool water from the creek dripping down from your skin and onto his. He can feel your heart pounding against his chest and his pulse thrumming in his veins. 

He leans his head down so that his lips are mere millimeters away from yours and whispers huskily, “You. For you, sweetheart.”

Suddenly he releases his grip on you, swimming on his back further down the creek. Your heart is still racing in your chest from the contact. You felt something just now, and you know he did too. You feel a sick feeling in your chest at the loss of his touch. You tread water for a moment as you watch him swim away, feeling the coolness of the water against your skin and the sun beating down above you. Your mind is racing and you’re trying to process all of the different emotions and sensations that he stirred up within you just now.

Jake turns, breaking the surface to look back at you. “You coming?” he calls out to you with a smirk.

You nod, starting to swim towards him, taking notice of the smile on his face and the small dimple in his cheek. For some reason you feel the need to be close to him, you want his hands on you again, and you think maybe he does too.

He watches as you swim towards him, your body moving gracefully through the water. He can feel his heart rate increasing as he watches you approach, and he has a sudden urge to reach out and pull you against him. But instead, he composes himself and continues to tread water as you swim up to him.

He grins as you get to him, his gaze drifting over your body. “Took you long enough,” he teases.

“Where are you taking me, anyway?” you taunt, treading water next to him.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

You shrug your shoulders in the water, and with that he spins around and starts swimming further down the creek, moving towards a more secluded area. He glances over his shoulder at you as he swims, making sure you’re following him. He swims over towards the bank, pulling himself up on a collection of flat rocks. It’s a nice shady spot, and you can tell the rocks will be warm to the touch. 

He looks back at you, extending his hand to help pull you from the water. You take it, letting him pull your wet body up onto the rocks with him. He keeps hold of your hand for just a moment longer than necessary, hoping you didn’t notice, but of course you do. 

“This,” he pauses, “Is my favorite place.” He grins and motions for you to sit down, taking a seat himself. Once you’re settled, he looks out at the creek that flows past you. 

“I found it a long time ago. No one’s ever here. It’s like a little hidden treasure, I don’t even know if anyone else knows it’s here,” he says with a smile. “Actually, you’re the only person I’ve ever shown this to.”

“What? No one else?” You question. 

He shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “No one. It’s my little secret hideout.” He looks over at you and grins, his eyes taking in your figure sitting next to him. “I guess now it’s our secret hideout.”

“Oh, ours now, huh?” you tease, turning to look at him as the sun hits his cheeks. 

He laughs, his eyes still wandering over you, taking in the way the water is dripping down your sun kissed skin.

He takes a deep breath and nods, “Yeah, ours. No getting out of it now,” he says with a smirk.

You decide to push the envelope a little, swallowing nervously as you speak, “Wasn’t really planning on it.”

He grins, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he hears your flirty tone. He shifts his body towards you, his gaze drifting over your face and then down towards your chest and legs, still damp from the water.

He raises an eyebrow at you and responds in a low voice, “Good. I don’t think I’d let you, anyway.”

You decide to let the conversation end there, your pulse pounding as you look at him, the droplets of water drying on his chest. He’s hot, and you know that he knows it. The smirk on his lips hasn’t left since you made your way to the rocks and you can feel the tension between the two of you growing by the second. 

He swallows, feeling his heart begin to beat quicker as he looks at you. He wants so badly to reach out and touch you, but he holds back, knowing that doing so would probably drive him over the edge. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. He’s not used to feeling this out of control when he’s with a woman. Normally he’s the one in charge, the one in control. But there’s something about you that makes him feel like he’s losing his grip, like he’s teetering on the edge of something new and different, and he can’t help but be drawn to it.

He shifts his body closer to you, his gaze fixed on your face as he speaks. “You want to swim some more or do you want to head back?”

“What do you want to do?” you ask, truly feeling like anything would be fun as long as it was him you were doing it with. 

He grins at you, the sparkle in his eye betraying his true desire. He wants to touch you, to pull you against him and feel your body pressed against his. But instead of saying that, he shrugs, “I’m good with whatever you want. Can’t promise we won’t find ourselves in the water again, though.”

With that you push up off the rocks and dive back into the creek, pushing the hair from your face as you resurface from the water. You splash the water up at him, soaking him and causing him to jump. 

“Oi!” he shouts, a bit of an accent peeking out from somewhere. 

“What’s wrong Kiszka? Can’t handle a little innocent splashing?” you taunt, trying to lure him into the water. What you don’t expect is for him to jump to his feet with a vengeful look in his eye. 

“Oh you just wait, sweetheart,” he pauses, charging towards you, “We will see how innocent–” 

You cut him off with another playful splash, drenching him again.  

He wipes the water from his face, shaking his head as if you have pushed him too far, “Mmhm, okay, now you’ve done it.” 

He jumps into the water next to you, wrapping his arms around you as he drags you beneath the surface. He pulls you down with him, holding you tight around the waist as you sink beneath the surface. The feeling of your body against his is intoxicating, and he revels in the sensation for a moment before popping back up and pulling you with him.

As you break the surface, he keeps his arms wrapped around you, holding you against him as you gasp for air. He grins, his smirk returning as he looks down at you. “Payback’s a hell of a thing, sweetheart.”

You push playfully at his shoulders, feeling his hands still holding your waist. A wicked grin is on his lips, and you're certain you’ve never seen someone so beautiful. He laughs as you push at him, not loosening his grip on your waist one bit. He can feel the way your body feels against his, soft and warm in stark contrast to the coolness of the water.

“Watch yourself, dove,” he warns, his smirk growing wider as he looks down at you. “You’re playing with fire.”

“How do we keep finding ourselves here,” you breathe. 

He looks down at you, his eyes locked on your face as he holds you in his arms. You feels the tension between you building, the heat of your bodies close together making your heart race in your chest.

He takes a deep breath, letting out a low chuckle as he replies, “I dunno, sweetheart, I sure don’t know.” His hand moves up to tuck a lock of your wet hair behind your ear. It feels like he wants to say more, but stops himself, settling for something else instead. “You want to head back?”

You feel a pang shoot through your chest, you don’t want to leave this spot, not now, not ever. “Sure,” you answer, and you wonder if he feels the same. 

He nods, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He had hoped you would say you didn’t want to leave, that you wanted to stay here just as much as he did. But he doesn’t argue with you, and instead just starts swimming towards the bank. 

“C’mon, it’s starting to get dark anyway, we should get back.” he says, letting you follow behind him. 

You find your belongings right where you left them, but the thought of putting clothes over your wet bikini has you cringing. Instead, you shove them into your backpack, holding Jake’s shirt up, silently asking him if he wants it. He shakes his head as he ties his boots, his hair still dripping down his back. You put on your own boots and sling the backpack over your shoulders, taking one last look at the creek you’d never forget. 

“You ready?” he asks, starting down the path. You nod and follow behind him, the trail lit by the perfect afternoon sun. Your hair is drying in waves around your face, much the same as his. 

He leads the way down the trail, his boots crunching on the ground below. His mind is wandering as he walks, stuck between the memory of holding you in the water just moments ago and the thought of possibly never doing it again. He sneaks glances at you out of the corner of his eye, admiring the way the sunlight is casting warm rays over your hair and face.

“Thanks for bringing me here, Jake,” you say, giving him a soft smile.

He turns to look at you, a small smile on his lips. He’s a little surprised at your sudden show of gratitude.

He shrugs a little, “You’re welcome. I come here whenever I need a break from things. It’s nice to have somewhere peaceful to escape to…” He trails off and looks away for a moment before continuing. “And nice to have someone to share it with.”

The two of you walk in content silence for most of the trail, the sun starting to dip lower and lower into the sky as the minutes pass. You notice a few clouds overhead, and thank them for a reprieve from the sun. You can feel yourself growing more and more tired with every step and before you know it you’re falling behind Jake. 

It’s as if he can hear your footsteps slowing behind him, and he stops walking, turning to look back at you. You’re several feet behind him now, your steps much more weary than they were earlier.

He raises an eyebrow as he looks at you. “You good, pretty girl?”

Your heart hammers in your chest at the pet name, but the fatigue is setting in so quickly you pay it no mind. “I don't know, I think so. I am just so exhausted suddenly.”

He sees the fatigue etched on your face, the way your steps are slowing down. He takes a step back towards you, concern evident in his eyes.

“You want to stop for a minute?” he asks, his voice softer than usual.

“How much farther is it? I can probably make it,” you ask. 

He takes a moment to think before responding, his eyes scanning over your face and your tired expression. He can tell you’re exhausted, but he also knows that you’re stubborn and determined to get back. “About another half mile, maybe a little less,” he replies. “You sure you can make it, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine, let’s just keep going,” you say, starting to walk again. It feels like you’re carrying a bag of bricks on your back, but you push through. 

So he silently falls into step beside you, watching like a hawk for any sign of your energy giving out on you. But that's when it hits him, "What if I carried you?"

“Carried me?” you ask.

He looks at you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Yeah, carried you. I could give you a piggyback ride the rest of the way.”

“Jake, no…” you whine, deep down loving the idea. 

He laughs aloud at your protest, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, come on, sweetheart, you know you want to. I can see it in your eyes. I bet your legs are going to give out on you any second now.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, feeling hesitant, but he is offering.

He grins, seeing the wheels turning in your head. “I'm sure. C’mere.” He motions for you to turn around, holding his arms open for you to climb onto his back.

You feel his arms wrap around your legs as you climb onto his back, feeling the warmth of his skin against your chest. You practically melt into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as your nose brushes against his hair, still wet from the creek.

He grunts a bit as you climb onto his back, the weight of you against him sending a wave of warmth through his body. He wraps his arms tightly around your legs, securely holding you in place, and is suddenly acutely aware of how close you are to each other. He can feel your breath on the back of his neck and the way your chest is pressed against his shoulders, the sensation making his heart beat a little faster than usual.

“Are you sure this is okay?" you ask, splaying your hand against his chest.

He takes a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of your hand on his skin. He nods, his voice a little huskier than usual. “Yeah, it's fine. Don't you worry ‘bout a thing, sweetheart.”

He adjusts his grip on you slightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

You walk like that for a little bit, your body quickly succumbing to the rhythmic bouncing from every step he takes. You find your eyes growing heavy, and your head starting to droop, and before you know it, your head is resting on his warm shoulder. 

He can't help but smile to himself as he realizes you've fallen asleep on his back. He adjusts his grip on you, trying to keep you as secure as possible as he continues walking down the trail, humming softly and feeling oddly content with the situation he has found himself in. 

It feels like seconds have passed before he gently taps your leg, waking you up as he speaks. “Hey, sleepyhead. We made it.”

He waits for you to regain your bearings and loosen your grip on him before carefully lowering you down from his back, his hands lingering at your waist for a moment longer than necessary.

“That felt like two minutes, tops,” you giggle.

He laughs, a soft chuckle that makes his chest vibrate. “Yeah, you passed out pretty fast there,” he pauses, “You hungry? I’m starving.”

“Starving,” you answer, maybe a little too quickly. 

He laughs again, the sound still as charming as usual. “Yeah, figured as much. Let's get something going.” 

He makes his way to the cooler, opening it up and pulling a pack of hotdogs from inside, “This looks like it,” he smiles, “Let me get the fire going and we will be cooking in no time.”

“Thanks for carrying me, Jake. Sorry I fell asleep on you,” you say, lowering your voice a little. 

He grins as he sets the hot dogs down, looking up at you. “No problem. And no need to apologize for dozing off.” He glances up as he strikes a match, igniting the kindling. “It was kind of...cute.”

Cute? Oh.

A strong gust of wind blows through the campsite, taking both of you by surprise, tossing a camp chair to its side. 

“Damn,” he says, moving to pick up the chair. He looks up to the sky, the clouds growing heavy and darkening. “We may be in for a bit of rain.”

“Tents are waterproof, right?” you ask nervously.

He chuckles at your question, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Yeah, sweetheart, tents are waterproof.”

“Don’t laugh at me!” you whine. 

He grins, enjoying your playful pout. “I can't help it, you make it too easy.”

He looks at you again, the fire casting a warm glow over his features. “How about you go change into some dry clothes, these hotdogs will be done soon.”

You nod and head into your tent, stripping out of your bathing suit and pulling a t-shirt over your sun warmed skin. You add a pair of leggings and his flannel before stepping back out and seeing him assemble the hotdogs. Your stomach is growling, and you quickly realize you hadn’t eaten all day. 

He looks up as you come out of your tent, his eyes lingering on the way his flannel covers your form. He can feel his heart skip a beat at the sight of you in his shirt, but quickly composes himself.

He grins as he sees your expression, your hunger evident. “Ready?”

You nod as he hands you a paper plate, taking the seat next to you at the fire. The air is cooler than it was last night, and the humidity is growing by the second. Both of you quickly eat, very few words shared between the two of you. 

You both toss the paper plates into the fire, making quick work of cleaning up. He disappears into his tent for a few minutes, emerging in warmer clothes. His cheeks have a pink glow from the sun today, and you can’t help but think it makes him all the more pretty in the fire light.

“So what do you think, you gonna make us s’mores again tonight?” he asks, crossing his feet on the ledge of the fire pit.

You turn to look at him, “What? I thought you didn’t like them?”

He laughs softly, turning to look at you, “I like them when you make them,” he says, his confession warming your chest.

“Are you getting soft on me, Kiszka?” you tease, standing up to grab the ingredients from the cooler.

“Me? Soft?” he scoffs, pretending to be offended. “Never in a million years, sweetheart.”

He grins, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk, betraying his feigned annoyance. He grabs the two sticks from last night, holding them out to you as you place the marshmallows on the ends. This time you give him his own stick to hold, both of you twirling the sugary puffs in the flames. 

He carefully twirls his own marshmallow in the flames, occasionally stealing glances at you as you do the same. The air is quiet, save for the crackle of the fire and the distant sound of crickets, a rumble sounds in the distance but you both ignore it.

As the marshmallows puff up, you pull them from the fire, placing them gently on the graham cracker and chocolate. They melt perfectly and again, you offer him his first. He takes it from your hand, biting into it quickly, as you do the same. 

“Truly, I think it’s something about you,” he admits, taking another bite. “They just taste better when you do it.”

“It’s all in your head,” you laugh, licking marshmallows from your finger. His eyes watch as your tongue swipes over the digits, his throat bobbing as he swallows back his nerves. 

A yawn falls from your lips as he looks at you, the earlier exhaustion creeping up on you again. 

“You look tired, sweetheart.”

“I am, it just hit me out of nowhere again,” you admit. 

He chuckles softly, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Yeah, I can tell. You’ve been fighting it for the past twenty minutes.” He looks at you intently, studying your expression in the firelight. “Wanna call it a night?”

“What about you? I don't wanna leave you out here all by yourself?”

He shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “Don't worry about me, sweetheart. I can handle myself.” He looks at you, a hint of playfulness in his gaze. “Besides, I don't mind being out here alone. It’s peaceful this time of night.”

“You sure?” you ask, a hint of guilt in your tone. 

He grins, his gaze unwavering as he looks at you. “Yeah, I'm sure. I'll just hang out until the fire smolders and enjoy the quiet out here before I head in.”

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to tuck you into the tent and hold you against him all night. But he keeps that last thought to himself. 

“Okay, well, thanks again for today. For showing me your secret place. I had a lot of fun with you," you say, clutching the cuffs of his flannel in your fists.

His heart skips a beat at your words, the sincerity in your tone making his chest ache. He looks at you, his gaze softening as he takes you in. “Don’t mention it, dove. I had a lot of fun too.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod with a bashful smile, “Goodnight, Jake.”

He smiles at you, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he replies. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He watches as you disappear into your tent, his eyes fixated on the flaps even after you’ve gone inside. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he looks back to the fire.

He sits there for a while longer, his thoughts consumed by images of you. He can practically still feel the way your skin felt against his, the weight of you on his back as he carried you down the trail. He can still picture the way you looked in his flannel, your eyes tired but still filled with a spark that sent shockwaves through his body. He wanted you, and he always had.

Despite his best efforts he found the feelings that he pushed down for so long had resurfaced with a vengeance, briefly making him question whether they were ever really gone at all. He’d  made up a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t want you, letting it show in his harsh words and hostile demeanor, all the while letting you root your way deeper and deeper into his heart with every caught smile and laugh. He’d done such a good job pushing you away that he started to believe the lies he was telling himself over the last two years. Although, that all came to a screeching halt the minute he decided to let you in last night. The minute you showed him that you wanted to know him beyond surface level, and the minute he realized you were everything he told himself you weren’t.

Inside your tent you are snuggling down into your sleeping bag, replaying the day over and over. The way his hands felt on you, the smile you drew out of him, all of it. You wanted to run back out there and beg him to join you in here, but you know you can't. 

You can hear the fire still crackling, and the sway of the trees in the wind. Thunder is rumbling in the distance, growing closer and closer. You zip the window flaps on your tent for good measure, but that's when you hear it. The sound of a guitar, softly strumming in the breeze. You can tell he is trying to play quietly, but part of you wishes it was just a little louder. 

You don’t recognize the song, but it's soft and sweet and twists your heart in two. You want to know the name. Did he write it? Is it even a real song yet? Instead you lay there, letting the music his hands are producing play you to sleep, wishing every night could be like tonight.

—

A crash of lightning pulls you from your sleep, the sound of the nylon ripping overhead, pulling a scream from your chest. Rain starts to pour into your tent, drenching you and all of your belongings before you even have time to process what's happening. You pull yourself out of your soaking wet tent to see the storm raging around you. The trees whipping wildly through the wind, and the rain falling so hard you can barely see. You turn to look at your tent finding a tree branch laying across the fiberglass poles, effectively ripping the top of your tent. 

“Shit!” you scream, trying to pull your soaked belongings from inside. Jake must have heard the commotion, pulling on his boots as he rushes over towards you.

“What’s going on? What happened?” he shouts, dripping wet from the pouring rain. His eyes are panicked as they search yours for an answer. 

“The tree! A branch fell and ripped my tent, everything is wet! I–”

He grabs your arms, pulling you a little closer to him, “Are you okay?” he asks, not caring about the tent. You came first. 

“Yes, yes! I’m fine, I just– my tent!” you cry, feeling overwhelmed. 

He curses under his breath, the sight of your slashed tent and your wet clothes fueling the anger inside of him. "Damn it," he shouts, trying to keep his cool as he surveys the damage. “Okay, look, just, go get in my tent. I’ll be there in a second.”

You nod graciously and head over to his tent, unzipping the flap and stepping inside. It’s much larger than yours and is filled with real camping equipment. It’s warm, and is lit with a lantern. You see his things laying neatly by his bag, and you do your best not to drip water onto everything. 

Jake watches as you head towards his tent, disappearing inside and zipping the flap behind you. He lets out a breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair before he turns back to your tent. He grabs the offending branch, tossing it aside before he starts to gather your items from inside. He carefully picks up your belongings, dashing over to his car and tossing them in the backseat. His boots are caked with mud as he makes his way back to his tent, leaving his boots outside as he joins you inside. 

“I tried to salvage your stuff, but everything is soaked. I put it in my car to dry out but…” he pauses, wiping the rain off of him as is drips down his face. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, realizing that both of you are wet and freezing now. He has the same realization as he crawls towards his bag.

He nods in response to your gratitude, his fingers digging through his belongings to find a dry shirt for you. He pulls out a plain t-shirt, the fabric soft and well-worn. He turns back to you, handing you the shirt as his gaze flits over your soaked form. 

“Here, put this on for now,” he says gruffly, trying to keep his train of thought focused on practicality and not how good you look wearing his clothes. “I just need to change into some dry clothes and then you can go back to sleep.”

“What?” you question, unsure of his logic. 

“I’ll change and then I’ll go sleep in my car, you can take the air mattress,” he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world that you’d get the better accommodations. 

“What? Jake, no. I’m not taking your tent and making you sleep in your car. No way.” you say, putting your foot down. “I’ll sleep in your car.”

He sits there, stunned at your words. He wasn't expecting resistance from you, expecting you to happily accept him taking the brunt of the damage.

“No, Y/N. Absolutely not. You’ll be much warmer here with the sleeping bag and the air mattress. You’re shivering, you’re not sleeping in the cold ass car,” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, I’m not letting you sleep in the car,” you argue. “We can just– both share the air mattress. I’m fine with it if you are.”

He looks at you incredulously, his brain short-circuiting at your suggestion. The thought of sharing that small space with you, of being that close to you in the dark, is both tantalizing and terrifying. He opens his mouth to argue again, but the words get stuck in his throat. He swallows hard, his eyes flicking over your figure again. He wants to protest, to say no and keep his distance, but the look in your eyes dares him to argue.

“Fine,” he relents, his voice gruff and reluctant. “But only if you're sure you're okay with it."

“I’m okay with it Jake,” your voice softer now.

He nods, his eyes searching your expression to be sure you mean it. You nod again and he understands. He digs into his bag again producing a pair of worn gray sweatpants, handing them to you with a gleam in his eye. 

You take the sweatpants from him, your fingers brushing against his for a moment. It's a brief contact, but it sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He turns to give you a bit of privacy, despite seeing you half naked already once today. You quickly strip out of your soaked clothes, shivering from the cold air on your bare skin. You pull on the sweatpants, the warm, soft fabric enveloping your legs. You pull the wet shirt from your body and toss it to the ground before putting on the t-shirt that smells exactly like him. 

“Okay, I'm good,” you say, your voice soft.

He turns around and his breath stutters at the sight of you in his clothes. The sweatpants are a little baggy on you, the legs pooling around your ankles. The t-shirt clings to your curves, the fabric stretched tight over your chest. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his body reacting to the sight of you more than it should.

He swallows hard, trying to keep his cool. “You look–” he starts to say, his voice cracking slightly.

“Warm?” you smile, suddenly feeling a bit shy. 

He manages to nod in response to your question, his voice gravelly when he speaks. “Yeah,” he says, his eyes flickering to your face for a moment before darting away again. “Warm."

You turn to offer him the same privacy, listening as you hear his wet clothes hit the ground. He is quick to change, pulling on a pair of boxer shorts and a black long sleeve t-shirt. 

“All good,” he says, moving closer to the air mattress. You try not to stare at him in his boxers, but it’s hard not to. 

He motions towards the air mattress, and you crawl towards it, positioning yourself on one side as he takes the other. You notice that you must be occupying the side he was previously on, seeing a book and a water bottle sitting next to your head. 

He crawls onto the air mattress beside you, the small space suddenly feeling much smaller with the two of you in it. He tries to keep some distance between you both, not wanting to get too close and make you uncomfortable.  The air in the tent is thick with tension, the heat of your bodies so close together in the small space. The rain continues to pour outside, falling harshly against the nylon of the tent.

He can hear your breathing, the sound of each intake of breath filling the silence between you. He's acutely aware of your presence beside him, your body just inches away from his, and he is doing everything in his power from pulling you into him.

“Were you reading?” you ask, trying to fill the silence. He looks surprised that you've spoken, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment. He'd been caught up in his thoughts, lost in the feeling of being so close to you in the small space.

He nods, gesturing towards the book next to your head. “Yeah, I was.” he says, his voice a little gruff. “It's a pretty good book.”

“What's it about?” you ask, rolling to face him.

He takes a moment to remember the premise of the book, his mind still a little clouded with the feeling of being so close to you.

“It's um, it’s a crime thriller,” he replies. “It's about a detective trying to solve a series of murders in a small town. It's pretty intense, actually.” 

You giggle, “I wouldn't have taken you for a thriller novel kind of guy.”

He raises an eyebrow at your response, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And what kind of guy did you think I would be?” he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“I don’t know. Maybe a biography guy? History maybe?”

He chuckles at your response, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Biographies and history, huh? I mean, I read those too,” he says with a smirk. “But I like a good thriller from time to time.”

He glances over at you, his eyes trailing over your features as you yawn. He reaches over and turns off the lantern, leaving the two of you in darkness with the sound of the rain. 

“You tired?” he asks, his voice a little softer now. 

“Yeah, a little, but that kind of woke me up. I can't lie,” you answer, shivering a little as you lay on the air mattress. Jake seems to notice and immediately sits up, unzipping his sleeping bag and tossing half of it onto your body. His movements are quick and practiced, his eyes flickering to your face to make sure you're covered up.

He lays back down, his body now closer to yours under the shared cover. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of his heart. The silence hangs in the air again, the sound of the rain outside the only noise breaking through the tension between you. He can hear your breathing beside him, your body so close to his under the covers. He's acutely aware of the feel of your body heat radiating against his skin, the proximity of your bodies igniting a spark inside of him.

He tries to keep his eyes trained on the ceiling of the tent, but they keep drifting back towards you, taking in the way your hair fans out around your face as you look at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. 

You slide your hand up to rest on his cheek, warm and stubbly, “Thank you for coming to save me,” you breathe.

His breath hitches in his throat at the feeling of your hand on his cheek, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. He leans into your palm, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the warmth of your touch making his skin tingle. He opens his eyes, looking over at you with a mixture of surprise and something else. Something...soft.

“I'll always come save you,” he says, his voice low and gentle.

Your eyes flick down to his lips, pink and full, before meeting his dark brown eyes again. “All this time I thought you hated me.”

He swallows hard, his eyes fixed on yours as he hears your words. He can feel the tension coiled tight in the space between you, the atmosphere thick with unspoken desire. He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering over your face as if he's searching for something. 

Finally, he speaks. “I don't hate you,” he says, his voice low and soft. “I’ve never hated you, I always liked you. Too much, probably.”

“What?”

He takes a deep breath, the words spilling out of him before he can stop them.

“I never hated you, sweetheart,” he repeats, his voice softer this time. “I always liked you, maybe a little too much. I remember when Josh met Clara, he told me that you, specifically, were off limits. Of course at that point it was already too late. I swear it just made me want you more. I knew I couldn't go against him, though. I knew he had his reasons. I just...I didn’t know how to deal with it, being around you and not being able to have you, so I pushed you away. It was the only thing that worked.”

His eyes meet yours, his expression vulnerable and open. “It was easier to be cold to you than to be myself and fall for someone that I can't have.”

“Jake,” you breathe, sliding your thumb against his cheek. He closes his eyes at the sound of his name on your lips, feeling your thumb glide along his skin. It feels like electricity zipping through his body, igniting every nerve ending all at once. He turns his face towards your touch, his cheek pressing into your palm as he revels in the feeling.

“He didn’t even tell me that you were going to be on this trip. He knew I wouldn’t have come if I knew you were going to be here, too. He knew I wouldn’t subject myself to that. Honestly, I was doing okay controlling myself, until today.”

“Today, at the creek…” you continue. 

His eyes flutter open, his gaze locking with yours as he hears you mention it. The memory of that moment floods through his mind, the sight of your body in the water burned into his brain.

He swallows hard, his throat dry as he nods in response. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Today at the creek,” he repeats, his voice hoarse. 

You nod your head and bite your lip as your mind replays its own memories. 

He shifts his body subtly closer to you, the heat between you growing with each passing moment. He can feel the tension building to a fever pitch, the air thick with desire and need.

“I wanted to kiss you, sweetheart. I really did. I almost did. Touching you like that, fuck. You letting me carry you back. Just sitting by the fire with you. It’s the best day I have had in a long ass time. Didn’t want it to end, but I knew you were exhausted. I wanted to tell you tonight, but things just didn’t work out. I figured it was probably for the best,” he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Your hand drops to his chest, the warmth of his skin evident through his t-shirt, “I wanted you to kiss me, Jake. I wanted your hands on me, everywhere. In fact, I never don’t want your hands on me,” you say, feeling his hand nervously slide up and over the curve of your waist. 

He listens to your words, disbelief and desire warring within him as he realizes you feel the same way he does. He swallows hard, his hand on your waist trembling slightly as he absorbs your words. He slides closer to you, his body now pressed snugly against yours under the covers. Your faces are so close that he can feel your breath on his cheek.

“Well fuck me, sweetheart,” he growls. His eyes rake over your features, taking in the way your pupils are dilating with desire, the flush on your cheeks and the way your breath hitches when he moves closer to you.

He’s never seen you look so beautiful, and the realization that he’s the cause of it makes his heart swell in his chest. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispers, his voice barely louder than a breath. 

“Jake,” you beg. 

His heart clenches at the sound of you begging for him, the need in your voice nearly driving him mad with desire. He wants to hear you say his name again and again, to feel your body against his and your skin under his hands.

He leans closer to you, his breath warm against your neck as he speaks. “Say my name again, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

“Kiss me, Jake,” you plead, unable to wait a second longer. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. At your words, he crashes his lips against yours in a desperate kiss, all of the tension and desire between you finally igniting in a blaze of passion.

His hands roam over your body, exploring all the curves he’s wanted to touch for so long. He kisses you deeply, his tongue teasing the seam of your lips, seeking entry into your mouth.

He shifts his body over yours, pinning you to the air mattress as he continues to kiss you hungrily. His hands slide up your body, fingers tangling in your hair as he holds your head in place, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth.

He moans lowly, the sound muffled as his body presses flush against yours under the covers. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, the sensation driving him mad with desire. 

Your hands snake around his waist, sliding beneath his shirt, and pulling it up and over his head. He lets out a sharp breath as he feels your hands on his skin, the feeling of your fingers against his bare flesh sending a shiver down his spine. He breaks the kiss for just a moment, pulling back just enough to let you yank the shirt over his head and toss it aside.

He takes a moment to admire your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes trail over his now bare torso. He grins at the hungry look in your eyes as you take in his muscular chest and stomach. 

“Don’t look at me like that sweetheart, it’ll get you into trouble.” he warns.

“I like trouble,” you say, drinking in the sight of him as he pins you to the air mattress. 

He laughs at your response, the sound deep and gravelly in his chest. “You would,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips. “I think that’s why I like you.”

He leans back down to capture your lips in another kiss, his bare chest now pressed against yours. He runs his hands up and down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips beneath your sweatpants.

As he kisses you, he slips his thigh between your legs, pressing his body even closer against yours. He runs his tongue along your jawbone, trailing kisses along your neck as he moves down to your throat.

He sucks lightly at your pulse point, nipping at the sensitive skin before soothing it with his tongue. His fingers reach for the hem of your t-shirt slowly dragging it up over your body.  “Take this off for me, dove,” he whispers.

You lift up, letting him drag the old, threadbare shirt over your chest. His eyes take in the sight of your bare skin in the low light of the tent. His breath stutters at the sight of your body, the way the light dances across your curves making his throat go dry.

He lets out a low moan as he looks at you, his hands roaming freely over your bare skin. “Goddamn,” he says, his voice thick with desire. “You’re gorgeous.”

His hands trace the curves of your breasts, sliding down over your waist and to the waistband of your sweatpants. His eyes lock onto yours as his hands move down your body, his touch searing against your skin. He teases at the waistband of your sweatpants, his fingers tracing soft circles against your hip bones.

He can feel the warmth of your body beneath his palm, the way your skin twitches in anticipation under his touch sending a jolt of desire through his body. “Can I take these off?” he whispers, his voice rough with need.

“Please,” you beg. 

He grins at your response, the sound of you begging awakening something primal in him. He slides his hands into the waistband of your sweatpants, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he slowly starts to pull them down your legs.

His eyes never leave your face as he exposes more and more of your body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation. Once he's removed the offending article of clothing, he lets his gaze roam over your body once again. His eyes trail over your bare skin, taking in the way the light from the storm outside casts shadows over your curves. He reaches out, his hands tracing over your legs, his touch gentle and reverent.

He can feel the heat radiating from your core, the way your body responds to his touch making him ache with desire. He leans down, pressing kisses over your stomach and hips, his lips roaming over your skin like a man starved.

You can hardly stand it, the feel of his lips on your skin is making you feel insane, “Touch me, Jake,” you plead. 

He lets out a low groan at your words, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. He leans back, locking his eyes with yours as he reaches for your hips once again, gripping them firmly.

“I'll touch you, baby,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “As much as you want. Where do you want my hands, sweetheart?”

“Everywhere, Jake. I told you,” you beg. 

“That’s quite the request, darling,” he says, the sound of the air mattress echoing as he repositions himself as carefully as possible. Your hands tug at the waistband of his boxers, eliciting a laugh from his chest. 

“Impatient, baby?”

“I just want you, Jake.” you confess. 

“I want you too, sweetheart, you have no idea,” he whispers, his eyes locking with yours.

He pushes his boxers down, kicking them off somewhere in the tent as he moves back over you. He braces himself on his forearms, his body pressed flush against yours again as he looks down at you. You get a wicked gleam in your eye, hooking your leg around his, and twisting until you are over top of him, straddling his waist. 

He grins up at you, his eyes raking over your body. “Well I’ll be damned, look at you,” he says, a note of surprise and arousal in his voice.

You give him a proud smile, sitting happily on top of him, enjoying the view below. You can feel how wet you are as it coats your inner thighs, and you know he is privy to this as well as the light reflects from your thighs.  

“You look so damn good on top of me,” he says, his voice rough and low. “Like you belong there. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

“You’re fucking hot,” you counter, brushing the hair off of his face. 

He lets out a laugh at your words, a grin spreading across his face. “And so articulate too,” he teases, his grip on your hips tightening as he speaks. His hand moves towards your center, his thumb brushing lightly against your clit. 

“Jesus,” you whine, his touch sending you soaring. 

“Not here, love,” he smirks. 

You grind yourself against him, a moan falling from his lips, “What was that you were saying?” you ask playfully. 

“Oh shit,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you continue to move against him. He opens his eyes, locking them with yours as he tries to compose himself. “Don’t tease me sweetheart, it’s unbecoming.” he says, his voice rough.

You lift up to your knees, hovering over him enough to grab his length in your fist. A hiss leaves his chest at your touch, his jaw falling open as his eyes lock on yours. You drag his tip through your wetness, his eyes growing impossibly darker at the sensation. 

“Fuck me,” he pants, “Listen, if we’re gonna do this, I want to go slow. I have fucking dreamed about this moment. That and if I fuck you how I want to fuck you, we will pop this air matress. That will be for another time.”

You nod as you slowly sink down over him, taking every inch he has to offer. “Another time, huh? What makes you think–”

He delivers a pointed thrust up into you, stealing the air from your lungs. 

“That. That’s what makes me think, sweetheart,” he answers, grabbing your hips and helping you start to move on top of him. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you whine, feeling him stretch you out so completely. So fully. 

He lets out a low growl at your words, the sound filled with desire and need. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice low and gruff.

His hands grip your hips even tighter as you move above him, his fingers digging into your skin as his body responds to your movements. “You feel so good, sweetheart, better than I imagined.” he groans, his eyes locked on yours.

You start to move your hips in a wave pattern, his length hitting you right where you need him. A cry leaves your chest as you toss your head back, feeling his hand move to support your lower back. The heat of the tent combined with the friction between you is making things even hotter, both of you growing sweaty and breathless as you move against each other.

He lets out a low moan, his hands moving up your body to grip your shoulders tightly. “Christ, baby, you’re a fucking dream,” he groans, his body arching up against yours as he snaps his hips up to meet yours. 

“Harder, Jake,” you plead. 

He lets out a sharp gasp as you say his name, his eyes darkening with desire. “Harder?” he asks, his voice thick and rough. “You want it harder, sweetheart?”

“Please, baby,” you whine.

He lets out a low growl at your plea, his hands tightening on your shoulders. “Yeah sweetheart, I got you.” he murmurs, his voice low and guttural. “Give you anything you want.”

You lean down letting him capture your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he pulls you closer against him. His hips buck upwards with more force now, his body moving against yours with increasing intensity. Your stomach is burning with need and you know it won’t be much longer until you burst into flames. 

“Don’t stop, baby, please,” you cry out, feeling your stomach growing hot. He lets out a muffled groan at your words, his hands gripping you tighter as he continues to fuck you. 

“God, you feel incredible,” he gasps, his mouth moving to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His hands move towards your ass, his fingers gripping into the supple flesh as he thrusts up into you. Your skin is slick with sweat and arousal, the lewd sounds filling the tent with the sound of the rain. He can hardly contain his moans now, matching your energy in the small tent.

“Sit up, I want to look at your tits while I fuck you,” he growls. 

You hear a hint of dominance fall from his lips and you can’t help but to obey. You sit up, straddling him again, as he leans up on his elbows to watch you. 

He lets out a guttural moan as you do as he asks, sitting up above him and giving him an even better view of your body. He runs his hand up your thigh, his eyes locked on your face.

“You like this?” you say, swirling your hips in a figure eight. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “I like this a lot.” His hand moves to cup at your tits, bouncing as you continue to fuck him. “You’re so fucking wet for me, baby.”

“I always am,” you say, biting at your bottom lip as you try to stave off your orgasm. 

He smiles at your response, his hands still gripping your thighs. He leans up again, capturing your lips in another intense kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he pulls you closer against him. He bites at your lower lip, his teeth grazing your skin softly. The feeling of his teeth on your skin pushes you over the edge, and you’re sure he can feel you tightening around him. 

“I’m close, baby,” you whine. 

"Yeah?" he asks, his voice thick with desire. "Gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

He slides his hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it slowly and insistently. “Come for me, baby,” he whispers, his mouth moving to your ear. “Come right on my cock, just like this.”

“Come with me, Jake,” you beg, feeling his lips connect to the side of your neck. 

He lets out a low groan at your words, his body shuddering as he nears the edge. “Yeah...yeah I'm there sweetheart, I’m right fucking there,” he gasps, his hands gripping you tightly as his body moves against yours. “Say you’re mine, baby.”

Just the thought of him wanting to claim you as his sends you over the edge, your body giving in to your orgasm as you fall apart on top of him. “I’m yours Jake. Yours.”

He lets out a deep, guttural moan at your words, his body shuddering as he loses himself in your arms. “That’s right sweetheart, you're fucking mine,” he gasps, his voice ragged. “Mine and no one else's.”

He holds you close as he comes, his body shaking and shuddering against yours. "Fuck," he groans, his grip on you tight as he rides out the waves of his own release, hot as it spills inside of you. 

“Jake, fuck,” you pant, finally coming down from what is probably the best orgasm of your life. 

“God you’re fucking sexy,” he pants, “Jesus Christ. Incredible, actually.”

“You’re incredible,” you smile, lifting up and off of him. His hands don’t leave you though, not wanting you to stray too far. 

He grins at your words, his arms tightening around you as he holds you close. “You give me too much credit, sweetheart,” he says, his voice gruff and spent. “We just fucked on an air mattress,” he laughs.

He leans back and looks at you, a satisfied smile on his face. “God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that,” he admits, his eyes roving over your face.

“Probably as long as I have if I had to guess,” you smile. 

He lets out a low chuckle, a grin spreading across his face as he nods. “You'd be right about that,” he says, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. “I've wanted you for a long time, sweetheart. Longer than I care to admit.”

“Well you have me now?” you say nervously.

His expression softens at your words, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, I do,” he says softly. He cups your face in his hand, his thumb tracing over your cheek. “And I'm not letting you go. You're mine now, sweetheart.”

“I think I always wanted to be,” you confess.

He grins at your words, a possessive glint in his eyes. “Yeah?”

You nod sweetly as you reach for your clothes, the chill returning to the tent. You hand him his shirt and his boxers, pulling his sweats and t-shirt back over your body. He watches as you dress yourself in his clothing, a satisfied smile on his face. 

“You look so fucking hot in my clothes, please never try to give them back,” he says, his eyes raking over you with a smile. 

You giggle and shake your head, watching him pull his own clothes on before crawling back onto the air mattress. You snuggle into his side, feeling his arms wrap around you. He pulls you closer against him, nuzzling his face into your damp hair, his breath hot against your neck.

He lets out a content sigh, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as he holds you close. “I could get used to this,” he murmurs, his voice soft and sleepy.

“Oh, no, I thought you liked camping alone,” you tease with a giggle.

He laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Yeah yeah, shut up,” he says playfully, giving your side a squeeze. He snuggles into you more, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply. “Don't get used to me wanting your company,” he jokingly warns you.

“Oh yeah? Want me gone by morning?” you taunt, letting your fingers trace shapes into his stomach.

He grins against your skin, his arms tightening around you. “Oh, I don't know if I'll wait that long,” he teases back. He presses soft, gentle kisses along your neck and shoulder, his lips moving slowly over your skin. “I might just kick you out now.”

“Ahh, there you are. I was wondering where you went. You were being far too sweet.” you tease.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you. “Oh? You prefer me mean, is that it?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. He gives you a playful nudge, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I can be an ass if you want, sweetheart. It really is no problem.”

“No, no. I think I'll keep you just like this.” you say nuzzling under his chin. You listen to the steady beating of his heart, feeling your eyes grow tired. He runs his fingers through your hair, a soft, soothing gesture meant to lull you to sleep. He grins slightly as he feels your breathing begin to slow, knowing that you're on the verge of sleep. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, his voice soft and low.

“I am now,” you whisper. 

He lets out a soft chuckle at your sleepy response, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head, his fingers resuming their gentle caresses through your hair. 

“Then close your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice even quieter now. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Goodnight, Jake,” you breathe, slipping quickly. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his fingers continuing to gently massage your scalp as he feels you slowly drift off to sleep.

—

You wake the next morning finding that the sun hasn't risen fully yet, and the air is chilly. You’re warm though, wrapped up in Jake beneath the sleeping bag.  He feels you stirring next to him, a smile spreading across his face as he feels you wake up. He's been lying awake for a little while now, just watching you sleep and enjoying the feeling of you in his arms.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with sleep. 

“Morning,” you answer, turning to look at his tired face.

He grins as you reply to him, his arms tightening around you. “Sleep well?” he asks, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

“So good. Did you?” you ask with a sleepy yawn.

He chuckles softly, his chest rumbling against your back. “Yeah, I slept great,” he replies, his voice still rough and gravelly. He shifts slightly, pulling you closer against him and nuzzling his face into your hair. “Best night's sleep I've had in a long time.”

You smile as you roll into him, placing a kiss on his warm chest.

He lets out a low groan at your kiss, his body shuddering slightly as he feels your lips on his skin. “Careful, sweetheart. You keep doing things like that and we'll never get out of this tent.”

“I’m kinda sad that we have to leave today,” you say, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. 

He smiles down at you, his eyes soft and tender. “Yeah, me too,” he admits, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It's been nice having you all to myself. Don't want to share you with the rest of the world, now.”

You giggle against his chest, a warmth washing over you as you feel his fingers moving lazily against your skin, “Ugh, the rest of the world, don’t remind me…”

“Actually, speaking of, Josh texted me,” he says, a chuckle leaving his chest. 

“Did he?”

“Yeah, said he hoped we hadn’t killed each other because neither of them had heard from us since they left,” he smiles, pulling you tight against him. 

You gasp, realizing he’s right, “Shit, I– I totally forgot about them.”

He laughs, his chest rumbling beneath you, “Yeah, I did too. I guess we were just– a little preoccupied,” he grins. 

“Do we tell them?” you ask nervously. 

He considers it for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face, “I mean, yeah, we probably should,” he pauses, “They don’t need the details, but I think they should know.”

“Won’t Josh be mad?” you ask, scared of his answer. 

He laughs at your question. “Yeah, absolutely he will. He'll give me one of his long winded lectures about being nice to you and treating you right. Make some threats about what he'll do if I hurt you. You know, the usual.” 

You nudge him with your elbow, “Maybe that isn’t a half bad idea,” you tease.

He laughs, feigning offense. “Hey now, don't side with him,” he says, giving you a playful nudge in return. He pulls you closer against him, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “But seriously, I don't think Josh will be too surprised. I think he's always known something was bound to happen between the two of us whether he wanted it to or not.”

“I’m glad it finally did.”

He grins, his eyes locking on yours. “Me too, sweetheart.” He pulls you closer, his body enveloping yours as he holds you tightly against him. “I just wish we had more time alone together,” he says, his voice suddenly serious.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“I mean, once we leave here it’s going to be different, you know? We’ll have the band, tour, media, friends, all of it. I just– I know it’s a lot to deal with. You’ve been around Josh and Clara, you know how it can be. I just– I want you around, but I don’t want that to scare you away.”

You smirk at him, “It’s not going to scare me away, Jake. I just want you to be really sure this is something you want to get into right now.”

He looks into your eyes, his expression serious. “I’m sure,” he says firmly. “I know it’s not going to be easy. I know there will be challenges. But I’m sure about you. About us.” He takes your face in his hands, his palms cupping your cheeks. “You’re all I want. Nothing else matters.”

You nod your head in his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm, “Okay, then I’m in if you are.”

His eyes soften as you kiss his palm, a smile spreading across his face. “I'm more than in,” he says, his voice low and gruff. “I don't want you to ever doubt that. I'm yours, sweetheart.” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly and holding you against him. “And I plan on showing you just how much I want you, every single day.”

“Well, everyday until tour starts back up, right?” you tease playfully. 

He laughs, shaking his head at your taunting, “Yeah, alright, smartass,” he grins, giving you a playful pinch on the side. He rolls over on top of you, his body pressing you down into the air mattress as he looks down at you with a smirk. “Don't worry, I'll make up for the lost time.”

“Oh, tempting…Maybe on a real bed? Not an air mattress?” you smirk. 

He chuckles, his eyes raking over your body, "Is this your way of asking me to take you home with me, sweetheart?" he grins.

“Unless you’d like a redo on my twin size,” you quip.

“Baby, have you ever been on a tour bus?” he giggles, pressing kisses to your neck.

You shake your head, laughing as his fingers tickle into your ribs, “No.”

“Mmm, you’re in for a real treat.” He grins down at you, his eyes glinting with desire. "Yeah, I think a real bed sounds like a good idea. And a real shower."

“A shower…” you breathe, the idea sounding desperately appealing. 

He laughs, noticing the way you react to the idea. “Yeah baby, a shower. A big, hot shower with actual water pressure. And a nice bed with sheets and blankets and the best feather pillows you’ve ever laid your head on.”

“Mhmm, maybe we should pack up now and get there immediately,” you giggle. 

“We should.” He presses his lips to yours again, warm as they linger there, “To be continued,” he says, pushing up off of the air mattress and stepping out into the sun. 

You spend the rest of the morning packing up the campsite, tearing down your tents and loading them into his car, sneaking glances at each other every few minutes. Jake works to organize everything into the small trunk, with the addition of your tent and Josh and Clara’s. You drain the cooler as he closes the trunk, dusting his hands off on his pants. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yep! Just this and we are all set,” you shout. 

He walks over to you, grabbing the cooler and walking it back to his car with you in tow. He opens the passenger side door for you, gesturing you inside, before joining you on the other side. 

“You know, I really am kind of sad to leave,” you laugh, “I never thought I would be saying that, but–”

“It’s a magical place,” he smiles, “S’why I come here so much.”

“Maybe we can come back?” you ask, tilting your head against the headrest. 

“Oh definitely,” he answers, “Whenever you want, sweetheart.” His hand comes to rest on your knee, his thumb stroking against your skin as he navigates the car out of the woods and back towards the road. You give him a warm smile, feeling the air conditioner bring chills to your skin. 

“Hey, I was um, I was serious about you coming home with me,” he says, taking his eyes off of the road to meet yours in a quick glance. 

“Oh, I mean, I would like that. If you’re really sure,” you answer nervously. 

He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze, a smile coming to his lips, “I’m really sure. I want to be with you as much as I can before I leave. Want you in my bed, my shower, the whole house really. All of it. I just want you.”

You blush, his words sending a shockwave through your system, “Okay.”

He grins widely, “Good.” He squeezes your thigh, his palm hot against your skin. “Should be home pretty quick, now.” 

“It is Sunday funday, right?” you giggle. “But, I guess that's kinda everyday for you, isn’t it?”

“Very funny,” he taunts, his expression growing serious, “But yes. It is,” he answers, grabbing your attention as you turn to look at him. He sends you a playful wink as he pats your thigh, letting out a deep breath that almost seemed like he was relieved. 

“Let me make you dinner tonight,” he says, keeping his stare focused on the overgrown highway. “Real dinner.”

“Oh, real dinner, huh?” you tease, placing your hand over top of his. “I feel like I vaguely remember hearing about you being a good cook, but I can’t remember for sure.”

He laughs, “What else have you heard about me, baby?”

Just as you go to answer his phone rings through the car speakers. You can see on the display that it is Josh calling him, and he glances to you before accepting the call. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

“Dude, are you two alive? What the fuck is going on?” he asks, a tone of sarcasm in his voice. 

“Yeah we are alive. You know there’s no reception out there. Kinda the reason I go,” he says, hoping to jog his memory. 

“So you didn’t kill each other, that’s great news.” Josh says, and you can hear Clara laughing in the background.

Jake looks over at you, his eyes silently begging the question of if he should break the news to him. You take a minute to consider the risks but decide there really aren’t any. You nod eagerly at Jake, watching as he nods back in understanding. 

“Hey, uh, you two busy tonight?” he asks, his one hand gripping the steering wheel. 

“Not that I know of, why?” he answers. 

“Well, we are just now on our way back. Need to unload, shower, all that. How about you guys come over for dinner tonight? I’m cooking,” he says. You can sense the nerves in his tone, his face serious as he waits for Josh’s reply. 

“Um, yeah yeah that should be…good. You said we… Is… there a we?” he asks, his voice a little quieter. 

“Just come over tonight. Both of you. Just got some things to tell you,” he says, a smile pulling across his lips. 

A huff leaves his lips, “Things to tell me?”

“Hi Josh!” you say, speaking up on the call. 

“Holy shit, hey Y/N,” Josh answers, a hint of bewilderment in his voice. 

“See you tonight?” you ask, hearing him gasp in shock. You can hear him pull the phone away from his ear, doing his best to cover the microphone with his hand, “Holy fuck, Clara you were right. It happened,” he says in a mumbled mess. You know he did not intend for either of you to hear it, but you did.

“Josh?” Jake says, pulling him back to the call. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, “Sorry, yeah– we will definitely be there.”

“See you tonight, Josh?” you ask, lacing your fingers with Jake’s, feeling his warm hand in yours. He leans over and kisses your cheek before settling back in his seat.

You listen to Josh laugh through the speakers, sighing as he speaks, “Yeah, I guess I will see you tonight.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

xo, N

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[hailtheaeon]

[sirjaketkiszka]

Jake Kiszka One Shot: Best Friend’s Brother

When your boyfriend breaks up with you, your head falls on the nearest shoulder; Jake’s.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Mentions of heartbreak, self-doubt, a hint of angst, fear of loneliness, sweet Jake <3, fluff, and that’s all, folks!

(Let me know if I missed any!)

Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors and grammar mistakes.

a/n— Here’s to my fluff lovers! Apologies to the individual who requested this one shot nearly three weeks ago, I hope I did your request justice! Shoutout to the beta readers who provided feedback and reassurance so I could finish quicker. Enjoy!! <3

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You had nowhere else to turn.

The tears sting your eyes as they keep falling, blurring your vision while you lift your closed fist, gently pounding on the door of your best friend’s apartment. A moment of doubt passes, realizing how late it is and that you haven’t even bothered to call before showing up unannounced. 

Your body shivers in the cool breeze of the late-summer air, your arms crossing over your chest as you wait patiently, with your back slightly hunched to preserve all remaining body heat. Rushing over here, you hadn’t thought to wear a heavier jacket, and honestly, you didn’t know it would be this cold. Without thinking, you knock again, letting your arms rest at your sides as your fists grip anxiously at nothing. This was a mistake, you thought to yourself.

The surrounding stillness is deafening; a gentle swish of wind blows past, carrying the dewy scent of the quickly approaching fall. In the distance, tires tread across the gravelly roads, the muffled crunch becoming white noise. The melancholy symphony of crickets is a reminder of the sleeping world around you; a reminder that Josh is, in fact, asleep. Reluctantly, you cut your losses, ultimately giving up and taking a mental note to return tomorrow. 

Just as you take a step back from the door, you perk up and stop your movements when you hear the faint footsteps behind the heavy wood. Thank God. 

However, your optimism fades when the door swings open, revealing the last person you would want to see at a time like this. Quickly wiping the streaming tears from your blotched cheeks, you fix your posture, sniffling and peering over his shoulder. You don’t bother to greet him, having all manners fly out the window. 

“Is Josh available?” You rush out.

“No, he’s asleep right now–” Jake’s voice is irritated, understandably so, but his mouth shuts when he dissects your appearance; flushed cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and a nose that would beat Rudolph in a competition. He’s equally disheveled, most likely having just woken up from your knocking. His hair is tousled, and he’s sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a thoroughly worn t-shirt with a stretched neckline. His eyes are squinting, likely adjusting to the overhead light of the outside hallway. “Is everything okay?” His eyes soften, along with his tone. 

“Oh, um,” You divert your gaze from his watchful eyes, “I’m fine.” You should’ve known Josh would be asleep by now, it’s nearly 3 am and he has work in the morning, but you still feel disappointed by the information relayed. While Josh would 100% want to be woken up, and would willingly stay up until the sun rises, you’re unwilling to put that responsibility on him. If there’s one thing about you, you refuse to be a burden. Sure, Josh has never made you feel like one, but regardless, you’re willing to wait to avoid messing with his sleep schedule.

Jake pulls you from your thoughts, “Are you sure–”

“Just tell him to call me when he wakes up, please.” Cutting him off, you turn away, ready to make a run for the flight of stairs to your right. 

“Hey…” Before you can step away, his fingers wrap around your wrist, halting your movements. “What happened?” His voice is as interrogating as it is concerned, and his face is stern, pushing for more information than you’re willing to give. 

“Just…” Your eyes focus on his unwavering hand, keeping you in place. Hesitating, you consider telling him. “I’d rather speak with Josh– I’m sorry for bothering you this late. You should go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” He repeats, “You’re no bother, I promise.”

“I’m sure, Jake.” You dismiss him, unfamiliar with his sudden concern. While you’ve been friends with Josh for years, you and Jake never got around to getting to know each other. So, his insistent apprehensiveness is new to you. It makes you skeptical– unwilling to confide in him, even though you probably should. “It’s nothing, really.” 

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” His tone is bordering on vexing and his persistence maddens you. Why does he want to know so badly? 

“Jake.” Your voice wavers, attempting to be a warning, but nearly cracking like the front you’ve put on. The warmth of his palm pierces through your already heated skin, and while your thoughts contradict the words that leave your mouth, you haven’t pulled away just yet. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you.” 

“I just want to help–”

“I’m fine, Jake!” Your raised voice startles both of you, his eyes wide and mouth parted, unable to respond. With your heart pounding in your chest, your pulse blares in your ears from the rising heat that settles in the crooks of your neck. Silence falls and a tinge of guilt settles in your lower stomach. “I’m sorry, that was… rude of me.”

“No. Don’t apologize.” He shakes his head, dropping your wrist and stepping back a half-step. “I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sorry.”

“Jake–” You step closer, and for a reason you can’t quite place, you don’t want him to leave you just yet. 

“I’ll let Josh know you stopped by.” He’s closing the door now, his eyes locked on yours for a moment before drifting to the floor. 

“Jake, wait.” You plaster your hand against the door, preventing him from closing it. He stops, looks at you, and waits for you to continue. His features are unreadable; relaxed, but simultaneously tense. Letting out a deep sigh, your eyes find the ceiling of the apartment hallway, unable to look him in the eyes. “My boyfriend and I broke up.” 

“Oh,” His face softens, and he opens the door fully again, making your hand drop to your side, “I’m so sorry.” The look on his face disturbs you. It’s a look you never thought you’d receive from him; pity. He actually feels sorry for you. Sure, Jake isn’t a complete asshole, but you’re not close. This is odd. And yet, you feel the comfort radiating off his stature.

“Yeah, well, he broke up with me.” Your name rolls off his tongue in an empathetic whisper from your further elaboration and clear upset in your tone. Without a second thought, Jake steps through the threshold and wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a consoling hug. The force of his affection causes a small oof to huff out of you, and it takes a moment of initial shock to pass before you reciprocate. Despite the unfamiliarity, you welcome his warmth and feel the tension in your muscles melt as you allow yourself to slump against him. His arms adjust, gently pulling you against him in a firm hold, providing support to your trembling frame. 

Your hands interlock behind him and you take a deep breath, your eyes involuntarily closing as tears threaten to resurface. But, when you inhale deeply, his attractive scent fills your senses and overcomes you. It only adds to his solace; manly, musky, smoky, and vaguely of cinnamon and various spices. You fight the urge to hum when it infiltrates your lungs.

“Come inside.” His voice vibrates against you, pulling you from your racing thoughts. “We can talk about it.” 

“Oh, that’s okay, really.” You chuckle nervously as you lean back to look at him, still holding onto him. He doesn’t let go either. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Please?” He reasons with you, tilting his head, his eyes begging, “At least sleep over and wait until Josh wakes up. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

The offer is appealing. And he is right— you shouldn’t be alone and certainly don’t want to be. You genuinely enjoy this side of Jake; caring, worrisome, and considerate. It’s not that he’s never been those things before, but he’s simply your best friend’s brother. You question why you never considered being his friend as well.

“Fine. I’ll stay.” It truly didn’t take much convincing. You’d either decline and return to an empty apartment for the rest of the night, or accept and potentially spend time with Jake. It’s better than being alone, so you clearly opted for the latter. 

He smiles softly at your submission, unwrapping his arms from around you, and guiding you into the apartment. Stepping aside to let you walk in, he shuts the door behind you. You’ve been in this apartment thousands of times, some even without Josh present, but you can’t shake the awkward feeling overcoming you. Usually, you and Jake coexist, not acknowledging each other. That’s not an option now, as he steps around you and walks over to the couch, taking a seat. 

“Come here.” He pats the spot next to him.

Without any protest, your body gravitates toward him, sitting next to him with just mere inches of space between the two of you. His eyes are watchful; aware of every micro-expression, muscle twitch, and breathing pattern. You feel… seen.

“Jake, I appreciate you letting me in, but really, you don’t have to do this.” You assure him, letting him know there’s still a way out of this conversation. “I’m okay with waiting for Josh.”

“I know I don’t have to… I want to.” His expression is serious, his eyebrows furrowed with determination, to let you know that he’s genuine, “You’re Josh’s best friend and, by extension, I care about you. Josh would do the same.”

He’s not wrong. Josh wouldn’t have let you leave even if you tried to run, though, Jake wouldn’t be that extreme. 

Your shoulders slouch and your bottom lip begins to quiver, remembering the traumatic events that occurred just hours before. It doesn’t take much persuasion for you to pour your heart out to Jake; laying out every single minute detail of your boyfriend— well, ex-boyfriend— breaking your heart.

Jake looks horrified with his eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared in pure indignation. He doesn’t interrupt you, though. Instead, he silently listens, letting you essentially word vomit. It isn’t until you finish talking that you realize tears have gathered just below your chin from the constant stream leaving your watering eyes. 

“I’m sorry, that was a lot.” You let out a small chuckle, using the sleeve of your sweater to wipe away the trail of tears. 

“Don’t apologize.” He reaches out to rest a hand on your knee. His form of comfort seems to be physical touch—he and Josh are similar in that way. “So, you’ve told me everything, but how are you?”

“I’m—” You have to think for a moment. Angry? Yes. Sad? Absolutely. “Disappointed in myself.” 

“Oh, come here,” His voice is gentle as his hands land on your shoulders and pull you into him. He scooches closer so your head can fall onto his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. His arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you close, while his hands cradle the back of your head. “Why?” His tone is curious.

“I don’t know, it’s just…” You sigh, closing your eyes and hiccuping into his chest. Great, here come the tears again. The fabric of his shirt soaks every fallen drop, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “What if there was something I could’ve done better?” You whisper.

Jake mutters your name, his arms constricting to hold you in a firmer grip, “Listen to me, him breaking up with you… that is not a you problem. Do you understand?” His low voice rumbles in his chest, emanating a comforting vibrating sensation against your cheek. 

“But—”

“There is no ‘but,’” His stern words cut you off, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him from your immediate defense, “I know you. You’ve been nothing but kind to him. And I know him.” You forget that Jake has met your ex-boyfriend a few times. Mainly through passing, but it never takes anyone long to realize how shitty he was. “He never deserved you.”

“It’s just…” You think of your next words, feeling embarrassed by the vulnerability you’re presenting to Jake. He stays silent, letting you collect your thoughts, and you sigh, “What if he’s right…?” Your trembling voice is barely audible.

“What?” Jake shifts, leaning back so you’ll look at him. His face is blurry, courtesy of the tears that gather on your waterline, but his features are riddled with concern. 

“What if…” You sigh again, and your shoulders slump in a silent sob, “What if no one wants me?” 

It’s a real fear you’ve dealt with for, well, however long you were with your ex. The beginning of your relationship was pure bliss, as all honeymoon phases are. However, by the one-year mark, arguments became a daily routine. Then, your second anniversary came around, and well, you had hoped it would get better. It never did. 

Josh did try convincing you to break up with him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice how unhappy you were with him. However, the longer the relationship lasted, and the more your self-esteem dwindled while being with him, you figured… no one else would ever love you. Not like him. If you can even call it love.

You’ve been out of the dating pool for years now, and the idea of having to restart frightens you. You started dating your ex when you were young, but now that you're fully into adulthood, the dating scene is different. 

“Someone will want you.” Jake’s voice is unyielding. His expression is serious. “And someone is going to love you. The way you should be loved. Okay?”

“Okay…” Surprisingly, his words do provide a sense of relief. He seems so sure when he tells you these things; as if he knows personally that they will happen— like he’ll make them happen.

“Good.” His hands move to the sides of your face, and your pulse quickens when he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead and placing a soft kiss against the creased skin. The intimate gesture startles you, but a gentle wave of disappointment settles in your gut. What were you expecting? You chalk it up to your overwhelming emotions and incessant need to forget this night ever happened— a night where your heart has been shattered by a man who never deserved the chance to begin with. “Do you want to lay down until Josh wakes up? He’s working an early shift, so he should be awake fairly soon.” Three hours to be exact.

You gently nod, your face still cradled in his hands; they’re soft and warm, despite the callouses that formed as a result of his passion, and they’re just barely applying pressure to your tear-stained cheeks. Lowering his hands, he stands up and waits for you to do so as well. 

“What?” 

“Just follow me, please?” When you hesitantly stand up, he places his hands on your shoulders, shifting you in the direction of the bedrooms and bathrooms down the hall. He guides you toward them— the main bathroom is at the end of the hall. You assume he’s taking you there, so you can freshen up and rid your face of the drying tears. And you’re correct.

Stepping into the bathroom, he turns the light on and you’re met with your reflection. Jeez. Somehow, your hair is a mess and your eyes are beginning to swell from the sheer force of crying. Your overall appearance is… puffy. 

“I look terrible.” You say in disbelief, letting out a pathetic chuckle. 

“Oh, stop it.” He looks at you through the mirror’s reflection, “Sit.” He gestures to the bathroom counter.

Doing as he says, you turn around and hop onto the counter, sitting beside the sink and facing Jake. He steps forward, crouching down into the cabinet beneath the sink, grabbing a washcloth, and soaking it with cold water. You expect him to hand it to you, but he steps before you, standing between your open legs. The position is intimate, and entirely compromising if Josh were to walk in. With pure focus on his face, he brings the washcloth up to one of your cheeks and gently wipes the tear-stained skin. The coldness of the cloth soothes your flushed cheek and your eyes flutter close from how nice it feels. His breathing is shallow and he’s close enough that you can hear the air exhaling from his nose. He continues to the other cheek, making sure to swipe the cloth along your jawline, nose, and chin. You’ll never understand what has warranted such care from Jake, but it’s best not to question it now.

When his actions stop, you open your eyes and nearly jolt when you realize how close he is. His expression is conflicting, and his eyes scan your features, but he steps back when he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“All done.” He clears his throat, giving you enough space to slide off the counter. Turning to look at yourself, your face is much less red, and even a little less puffy. It makes you wonder how many crying girls Jake has had to comfort, and unfortunately, it’s a thought that surprisingly discomforts you. Coming up behind you, his hands gravitate to your hair and his fingers softly run through the strands, being careful not to tug. He flattens any imperfections and pulls it all behind your shoulders, “See? Not terrible at all.”

His eyes catch yours again, and your eyes hold his for a moment before you smile, “Thank you, Jake.” 

“Anytime.” He returns a smile, “How about some sleep?”

“I am pretty tired.” You admit, turning around to face him. Jake nods knowingly, snaking his hand behind you and resting it on your lower back. You’re entirely capable of heading to the couch yourself, but who are you to deny a helping hand? 

Jake guides you out of the bathroom, turns the light off, and walks with you down the hall. You’re sure to be quiet when you walk past Josh’s room, feeling unsettled by the fact that he has no idea you’re even here. While you’re coming closer to the living room at the end of the hall, Jake turns you to his bedroom. Before you can utter a word of protest, you’re walking through the threshold and Jake is flicking the switch to turn on the lamp in the far corner of his bedroom. 

The bedroom is dimly lit– the covers in slight disarray from him leaving his bed to answer the door. Like Jake, his room is dark, comforting, and, for lack of a better word, mysterious. The decorations on the walls and surfaces don’t give away much about him, other than the fact that he’s fascinated by pirates, oddly enough. In the opposite corner of the lamp, there are guitars presented on stands, and an amp just beside them. You’re stunned, feeling as though you’re intruding on a private part of his life. 

To you, your bedroom is your sanctuary. Only a select few are permitted to tread such confidential territory. It’s not like Jake has a “Stay out!” sign attached to his bedroom door, but still, this feels like a rite of passage. A look into his life outside of what you’ve always known.

“Jake—”

“Relax,” he chuckles from behind you, figuring how you might interpret this gesture. “You can stay in here while I sleep on the couch.”

Well, that’s awfully generous. “Jake, that’s kind of you, but you’ve already done so much for me. I can sleep on the couch— I promise it’s fine.”

He waves you off while stepping around to approach the bed, as a way to say “Don’t be ridiculous.” Fixing the covers, he pulls them back and motions to the open spot. “You deserve comfort. Not the couch.”

Your feet shuffle in his direction, gravitating toward the plush mattress. “Okay…” You’re uncertain, but Jake’s expression softens you, “Is it really that comfortable? I’d argue that the couch is pretty damn close.”

“Only one way to find out.” He smirks, happy to see sparks of your snide self coming to the surface. Playfully rolling your eyes, you kick off your shoes and sit on the bed, turning to push your legs under the covers and lay back against the soft mountain of pillows. 

“Oh my…” The words shutter from your lips, genuinely surprised. The sheets are still warm from his previous laying in them, and it only adds to the overwhelming comforting sensation. 

He chuckles, his lips flashing his satisfied smile from your involuntary reaction. 

The air from the pillows and mattress deflates, creating a molding sensation, and hugging your every curve. It’s… heavenly. Perhaps all that crying made your body incredibly sore and tired, but that’s quickly a distant memory when you're practically melting into Jake’s bed. 

Jake pulls the covers over you, engulfing you in a heavy plush comforter that’s saturated with his scent. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you nuzzle deeper into his pillows and grip the edge of the comforter, pulling it up just below your chin.

“What’d I tell you?” He laughs, his eyelids relaxing to admire how comfortable you look in his bed. 

“You were right.”

“Music to my ears.” He teases, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, “Get some sleep, okay?” 

“Okay…” While you can sleep, and you are tired, you hate watching Jake turn to leave, reaching for the light switch and sparing you one more glance. “Jake–” He freezes, his fingers resting on the switch, looking at you over his shoulder. “I’m not tired.” You lie.

“Oh.” His hand falls, and he turns around, stepping toward you, “But you said– Is there something wrong?”

“No, I–” You what? “Can you stay with me?”

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. You feel stupid for asking such a question. This entire situation felt unreal; when you came here, you had hoped to confide in Josh, but here you are. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” It was a ridiculous request, he’d never agree. “You don’t have to–”

“I’ll stay. Scoot over.” His words frantically cut you off and his legs move in stride, making you move over quickly. He pulls back the covers and slides in effortlessly. Although, when he settles underneath the comforter, he only leans against the headboard. His legs lay before him, and he peers down at you, “Come here.”

Without thinking, you shift closer, watching him cautiously as he uncovers his lap and pats his thigh. It’s a position you’re familiar with, especially with Josh. The two of you would take turns resting your heads on each other’s lap to rant about various topics. It’s your form of therapy. Though, this feels entirely different with Jake. It is as if you’re entering unknown territory, one you can’t return from.

Still, you rest your head against his thigh, which happens to be pleasantly muscular. It takes a moment before you both relax, silence deafening the room and amplifying your steadying breaths. You hadn’t thought this far before foolishly asking him to stay, but you were unwilling to return to acquaintances with Jake.

“Thank you,” you cut through the silence, your voice quiet, “for being so kind.”

“Of course.” He stares down at you, his eyes settling on the side of your face while your cheek rests against him. You can hear his hand shuffling, although you’re unsure where until you feel his soft touch glide along your hair, pushing the strands back from your face. The act is soothing, your eyes closing to revel in the feeling. His fingers drag along your scalp, applying gentle pressure and a quiet hum settles deep within your chest.

Confliction pulls at your thoughts; just hours ago you were being broken up with and now you’re lying in another man’s bed. Truthfully, a man you hadn’t paid much attention to in the past years. To be fair, it was never on purpose. Your ex-boyfriend was never fond of male friendships; Josh was hardly an exception. You silently curse yourself for missing out on Jake. He’s just as sweet and kind as his twin; selfless, generous, and attentive. All traits he’s presented in just one hour. You imagine the years you could’ve spent experiencing it first-hand. If only you hadn’t spent them pushing him away for the sake of your ex. 

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You mumble. 

“Why? For what?” His movements halt, and your eyes open, your head turning to look up at him. His eyebrows are synched, riddled with concern.

“Not being your friend sooner.” You confess, now reflecting on all the times he obviously tried, but you were dismissive. “Listen, if I was ever mean to you–”

“Don’t.” He stops you, shaking his head and resting his hand against the cheek that once rested on his lap. “Don’t do that. You’ll only upset yourself further.” 

“But–”

“There is no ‘but.’” He repeats his earlier phrase. “We’re friends now. We have time.” 

Although he and Josh are certainly twins, they feel so… different. The connection that’s forming with Jake frightens you; it’s unknown and uncharted. With Josh, your friendship was immediate and effortless. With Jake, however, this newfound friendship doesn’t feel very friendly. Something tells you that the way you both say the word “friends,” it’s foreign and not entirely what you want.

Think realistically, you tell yourself. Perhaps sleep deprivation is manipulating your thoughts. For God’s sake, you’re emotionally vulnerable and the wounds are still bleeding. 

“I know, but,” Despite his disapproval of the word, you use it anyway, “we could’ve had more time.” And had Jake been fully integrated into your life sooner… Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe if you had met Jake before him…

“Hey.” his voice softly protests, and he lifts your head from his lap, moving to your level and laying right beside you. He lays face-to-face with you, examining the hills and curves of your face, accentuated by the dim lighting from his warm-toned lamp. He sighs, absently bringing his hand to your face and brushing the loose hair behind your ear, “I promise, it’s okay.” 

You nod, taking his word for it, even though you still feel unease and uncertainty. Sliding his hand just behind your head, he guides you to rest on his chest as he turns onto his back, staring intently at the ceiling. Your cheek molds against him, his body heat reddening the soft flesh, no doubt. Chasing comfort, you sling your arm over his waist and you’re surprised by how natural the position feels. Your leg intertwines with his, settling between them, as his arm wraps around your shoulder. His heart pounds in his chest, and regardless of his calm demeanor, his pulse is racing. 

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“I wish I knew you were this great sooner.” You laugh weakly against his chest, feeling him pull you in closer. 

“Me too.” He admits with a sigh, subtle disappointment lacing his tone. 

A comfortable silence falls, the only sound being the faint pounding of his heart and gentle exhales through his nose. Your eyelids grow heavy, your mind only focusing on the pattern of his breathing and the beat of his heart. A large yawn overcomes you, and you sigh deeply as it exits your lungs, your eyes settling on the open door. 

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“The door’s open.” You point out.

“That’s okay.” He turns to follow your gaze.

“What if Josh sees us like this?” With some explanation, he wouldn’t care, but a heads-up wouldn’t hurt either. You can only imagine how disconcerting it’ll make Josh feel if he were to walk in on his best friend cuddled up with his twin brother. If you had given it more thought, and hadn’t let your emotions dictate your every decision tonight, you would’ve been more cautious. However, Jake shuts down that thought. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’m not moving.” He decides, and when you look up at him, his eyes are closed. You decide to do the same, paying attention to the way his heart rate slows as he relaxes and, in turn, relaxes you. Jake’s arm holds you firmly, and your hand slides from his waist to his chest, resting against the solid flesh. Sleep follows shortly and engulfs you both in a comforting embrace.

Thump-thump.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Taglist & tags:

@hailthegodsong @demolitiondanchipsversion

[gretasfallingsky]

Off to the grocery store, darling. Noon will see my return.