#jake gray

Ceillings

Jake Gray x female reader

one shot

smut, teen romance, first time, fluffy

words count : 6,5

A/N: I’m French and it was really long and hard to translate it. Hope it will still be good. Enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing it.

story : You always have been his best friend. But what he didn’t know it’s that even you really love to be his best friend, you always wanted more. You were so damn in love with him that it was painful. Especially when Dakota was hitting on him like that. But whatever, you can handle it, right ?

———————————————————————

“Do you think he likes me?”

I wasn’t really thinking. I listened to Dakota as she stood in front of the mirror, putting on her makeup. I was lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to empty my mind.

I already knew who she was talking about. Besides, I knew exactly who we were going to see at that party and who had gotten into the habit of treating her like more than just a friend. I could never have said whether I thought he liked her or not. I supposed he probably did, but honestly, I never would have known how to define whatever it was between her and Jake. I knew they had already slept together. Well, she had been his first time. One night, after a few too many drinks, Jake had told me, and I had forced a smile, pretending I was happy for him. Truthfully, I would have rather never known, but whatever.

Anyway, that still didn’t mean Dakota seemed capable of putting a name to whatever relationship they had, and even less so Jake himself.

That was just how Jake was.

It always had been.

He was my best friend. He had always been my best friend. He was the one who had taught me how to ride a bike, but also the one I had gotten drunk with for the very first time. I knew him well enough to say he was a good person. He was kind, he always checked in on people, and he took care of the ones he loved with quiet attention.

Being clear, however, was never one of his qualities.

Not even close.

And I understood why Dakota kept wondering. She tried to hide how much it affected her. I was even sure she hid it incredibly well whenever she was around Jake and all the other boys who toyed with her. She wasn’t mean. She was just desperate to find someone who would love her. Every single time, it was the same story. She met a guy, she liked him, she slept with him thinking it would make him stay, and in the end he always made it clear it wasn’t going to be anything more.

That was exactly what had happened with Jake.

Much to my dismay.

Dakota was new, and we’d become really close friends. I had never thought it was necessary to tell her that Jake, besides being my best friend, was also the boy I had always been in love with.

So she saw him, she wanted him, and she had him.

And I watched it all happen in silence, without complaining even once.

What could I have done anyway?

I was the complete opposite of Dakota. I was nowhere near the kind of girl a lot of boys liked, nowhere near confident enough to approach them, and even less confident enough to believe anything serious—or even something meaningless—could ever happen.

Because I could have told myself I didn’t care and that I just wanted to have fun since we were only in high school. I could have found myself a cute boyfriend to keep me distracted. I could have.

But when every time a boy comes anywhere near you, all you can think is that he’ll never be your best friend, it’s hopeless.

So I mourned it.

I mourned ever having a boyfriend.

I mourned Jake.

And I forced myself to listen to Dakota and try to answer her without sounding fake.

“I don’t know. You know, Jake doesn’t really talk to me about that stuff.” I kept staring at the ceiling as though I’d find some way to put an end to this misery. Or at least some way to spare myself from having to witness it.

I was already crossing my fingers that if Jake finally decided to make things serious with Dakota, he wouldn’t do it in front of me.

“You’re his best friend. He tells you everything. He must’ve talked to you about me.”

I shrugged as if she could see me. She didn’t notice because she was too focused on putting on her mascara.

“He told me he liked you, but that’s all.”

I was telling the truth.

Jake didn’t talk to me about that stuff. He talked to me about his parents. About his life in general. About the things he liked.

But he never talked to me about girls.

And it wasn’t like I had any stories about guys to tell him either.

I’d only mentioned Dakota once, and all he’d said was, “She’s nice, don’t you think?”

Of course I thought she was nice.

I just wanted to know if he thought she was nice the way you think your math teacher is nice, or the way you think a girl you can’t stop looking at is nice.

But I never had the nerve to ask Jake.

So neither of us would ever have the answer.

“I think he likes you. He’s just an idiot.” I said it a little reluctantly.

Not because I was lying to her. More because I dreamed of being in her place. I dreamed of Jake liking me enough that I could have been his first time, or simply a girl he thought was pretty. Because he thought she was pretty. That much was certain. You’d have to be blind not to.

Jake wasn’t blind.

She turned around with a smile, and I hated every part of myself that was jealous of her. “You really think so?”

I nodded before turning my attention back to the ceiling.

I heard her chair swivel again, and out of the corner of my eye I saw she’d gone back to doing her makeup.

“I hope you’re right. I shaved my whole body just in case.”

That made me laugh.

Well, it made me laugh until I remembered she was talking about Jake. I tried to forget it. That was what allowed me to genuinely enjoy being around Dakota. If I thought too much about the fact that she liked Jake, I dreaded her. So I forced myself to forget it.

But I never forgot for very long.

And now it made me sick to my stomach.

———————————————

My head was resting on Jake’s lap. I stared at a spot in front of me. It felt nice. Peaceful. I figured the alcohol was finally starting to relax me. I hadn’t had enough to get wasted, but I’d had enough to feel calmer.

Better.

“So… would you rather be a fish or a bird?” Conrad’s question pulled a smile out of me, and Jake shot me a knowing look.

For him, it was the weed that was starting to kick in. Weed did a lot more than just relax him.

It made him ask the most random, completely baked questions.

Still, I wasn’t complaining. I actually thought it was funny. I liked feeling smart enough to seriously think about something that stupid. It made me feel interesting.

I glanced over at Jake, who looked like he was actually giving it some serious thought.

“A bird.”

I frowned at him like he’d just said the dumbest thing I’d ever heard.

“No way. A fish.”

I pushed myself up so I was facing him. You would’ve thought we were discussing classified government secrets.

“Being a fish sucks. And they’re ugly as hell.”

I took that almost personally. I clutched a hand dramatically over my heart and dropped my jaw, pretending to be offended.

“You can breathe underwater.”

He shrugged.

“A bird can fly.”

I was about to argue, but Jake beat me to it.

“They’re faster. You can get anywhere way quicker.”

He wasn’t wrong.

But I still wanted to defend my point.

“What’s the point of getting somewhere faster if you can’t even see most of the planet?”

He stared at me, looking completely confused. He probably thought I’d lost it. He clearly had no idea where I was going with this.

“The planet’s basically all ocean. Birds can’t go see what’s underwater.”

I actually watched him think about that.

Then I watched him change his mind.

“Okay. Fish are better.”

I gave him the look I always gave him whenever he admitted I was right, earning one of his trademark eye rolls.

“What kind of fish would you be?”

I laughed.

The questions just kept getting more ridiculous.

“I don’t know. But you’ve already got the smell.”

That earned me a middle finger and one of those stupidly charming smiles of his.

I liked nights like this. I never really liked loud music or dancing. I couldn’t dance anyway. And too much noise always gave me a headache. What I liked was ending up alone in some room with my friends. I liked hearing the muffled sound of everyone else having fun while we sat around having the kind of completely ridiculous conversations alcohol always seemed to create. It was nice.

Just like having my head on Jake’s lap.

That felt nice too.

“I think I’d rather be a bird.”

Conrad’s eyes were slightly unfocused as he lifted his beer bottle to his lips.

I settled back down exactly where I’d been before, resting my head on Jake’s lap again. I kept pretending it was completely platonic, just something best friends did, except every time I touched him, nothing about it felt friendly to me. It almost felt wrong.

I let him do it anyway, even though he had no idea what it did to me.

Jake definitely didn’t see it the way I did. He probably had no clue my heart always beat a little faster whenever I rested my head on him, or every time his hand absentmindedly settled on my stomach. There was nothing complicated about it for him. He just wanted somewhere to rest his hand. I happened to be there. That was all.

But in my head…

It was never just that.

I always made it into something more.

I was almost ashamed of myself.

“You’re basically already a bird with how high you are.”

Conrad forced a smile before mumbling a sarcastic, “Real funny.”

Jake laughed, the sound completely clashing with Conrad’s annoyed expression.

I loved hearing Jake laugh.

Especially when I was the reason he was laughing.

Suddenly Dakota stood up and looked at Jake.

“Hey… you wanna come with me and grab another drink?”

Jake opened his mouth, then looked down at me.

I sat up and leaned back against the wall behind me.

I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

Jake hesitated.

He kept looking at me, lips slightly parted. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or why he wasn’t answering her right away.

I looked down, feeling stupid.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Now I felt even more stupid.

He still hadn’t taken his eyes off me, and before standing up he nodded toward me.

“You want anything?”

I quickly shook my head without looking at him.

It was stupid.

I was avoiding him because I’d just remembered there was something going on between him and Dakota.

But, how could I even forget?

It was just that whenever I was around Jake, I got so caught up in him that I stopped thinking about everything else.

Now that I remembered…

I just felt pathetic.

I watched them walk away, and right before they disappeared through the doorway, Dakota slipped her hand around his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Jake smiled.

My chest tightened.

“You’re an idiot.”

I looked over at Conrad, surprised.

I acted like it didn’t bother me, answering with a sharp tone, but he was right.

And the truth hurts.

“And you’re stoned.”

He leaned farther back in his chair.

“Yeah. I’m stoned. Not blind.”

I pulled my legs up against my chest and rested my forehead on my knees.

It wasn’t nearly as nice as leaning against Jake.

But whatever.

Jake was with Dakota.

“So what exactly did you see?”

I sounded indifferent, but I wanted to know. I already thought I knew what he meant. I just wasn’t sure. And I hoped I was wrong. Because I’d rather keep my crush on Jake to myself. It was my secret. Nobody was supposed to know. Especially not Conrad. He was exactly the kind of guy who’d tell Jake. And that was the last thing I wanted.

“I see the way you look at him.”

He paused.

“Like you’re some puppy he dumped at a highway rest stop.”

The comparison stung.

But he was probably right.

It pissed me off that he’d noticed.

“I look at him normally.”

He raised an eyebrow, making it painfully obvious he didn’t believe me for a second.

“If you say so.”I hated that answer. I wanted him to believe me.

Instead, he was making it pretty damn clear he wasn’t buying a single lie coming out of my mouth.

I started hoping he was high enough to forget this conversation by tomorrow.

“You know what’s really stupid?”

I was hanging on every word.

“No. Enlighten me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“The stupid part is Jake feels the exact same way about you.”

I laughed.

A bitter, mocking laugh.

It hurt because I wanted that to be true more than anything.

I was in love with him.

I just wasn’t delusional.

“No, he doesn’t. He likes Dakota.”

Conrad laughed this time.

“He doesn’t give a shit about Dakota.”

I stared right back at him, convinced I was right.

You’d have to be deaf and blind not to see Jake had a thing for her.

“Oh yeah? Then why’d he fuck her?”

Conrad went quiet.

He actually thought about it.

I knew I was right.

His silence proved it.

“That didn’t mean anything.”

I brushed the comment away, convinced he just couldn’t admit I’d proved him wrong.

“Fucking someone means something.” Conrad didn’t answer. I looked at him sadly.

The alcohol wasn’t exactly helping me hide how miserable I felt about any of this.

Ironically, I was almost begging him with my eyes to come up with something—anything—that would prove me wrong. I’d have loved to believe him. I’d have loved to believe Jake really didn’t give a shit about Dakota.

But Conrad had nothing left to say.

Because I was right.

It felt like winning and losing at the exact same time.

“Well Jake’s an even bigger idiot than you are.”

It wasn’t enough.

He knew it.

So did I.

I stood up.

“I should go.”

He frowned.

“Why?”

I sighed, trying to think of an excuse that wouldn’t make it painfully obvious it was because Jake had left with Dakota.

“I’m tired.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

I was tired of all of this.

Conrad tried to stop me, but he’d obviously smoked way too much because he completely lost his train of thought and just let his head fall back against the chair with a grimace.

I grabbed my bag off the bed and left.

————————————

I was standing there like an idiot in the middle of the crowd. I hated this. There were too many people, too much noise, and it was way too hot. I kept getting shoved every time I tried to move forward, and I was starting to feel like I couldn’t breathe. That was exactly why I usually stayed off to the side.

Especially since I was putting myself through all this for almost nothing.

I was trying to decide whether I should say goodbye to Jake or not. I wanted to because he was my best friend, and I always did, but Conrad’s words still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

He’d fucked Dakota, he liked her, and I was pathetic.

I forced myself to push through the crowd a little farther until I spotted him near the table covered with drinks and half-empty pizza boxes. But what caught my eye wasn’t the food.

It was how close he was standing to Dakota.

They were practically pressed against each other, and the blonde’s hand rested lazily against his chest.

I gave up on interrupting them and turned to leave when a hand suddenly grabbed my wrist.

I spun around, startled, and found myself face-to-face with Cole Walker, a guy from school. He hadn’t even said anything yet, but I could already smell the alcohol pouring off him.

“Damn… you look really hot tonight.”

Maybe I should’ve felt flattered.

Instead, like every guy who wasn’t Jake, he filled me with nothing but disgust. Then again, Cole Walker also had a reputation for being a complete asshole, and even though I didn’t know him well enough to say if it was true, I was more than willing to believe the rumors. So at least I had another excuse besides Jake for not being interested in him. I pulled at my arm, trying to get him to let go of my wrist, while muttering a quick thanks, but his grip only tightened.

“You want a drink?”

The longer I looked at him, the more obvious it became that he’d already had way too many himself.

“No. I wanna go home. Let go of me.” He let out a dry little laugh, and a knot started forming in my stomach.

Something about him felt completely wrong, and his fingers wrapped around my wrist were starting to burn against my skin.

I wanted him to let go.

“Come on. Quit acting like some little prude. Have a drink.” I tensed up, realizing he really wasn’t planning on letting me leave.

His eyes were locked on mine with this unsettling determination, and there was something in them that made me sick to my stomach.

“I’m not thirsty. Let go of me.” As I said it, I yanked harder, but he squeezed my wrist even tighter and pulled me toward him.

He was hurting me.

“What the fuck is your problem? I just wanna get you a dr—”

“What part of let go of me don’t you understand?” For a second, I didn’t even understand what had happened.

In the blink of an eye, my wrist was free, and Cole was clutching his jaw with a grimace.

He glared at Jake, who was now standing between him and me.

When I noticed Jake’s knuckles turning white around his clenched fist, I realized exactly what had happened.

Jake had punched him.

Cole flashed him a vicious grin, ready to hit him back, and the crowd immediately started backing away to watch the show.

Jake dodged the first punch without much effort. Cole looked a little out of it probably because of the alcohol and probably because he’d just been punched in the face.

But the second time he swung, he landed it.

I flinched at the sound of the impact.

My best friend narrowed his eyes, stunned for half a second, before he started throwing punch after punch at him.

Someone yelled, “Fight!” Like it was the coolest thing that had happened all night. I silently cursed them.

There was nothing fun about a fight.

Especially when Jake was the one in it.

“Jake! Stop!” I was basically yelling into the void because he ignored me completely.

The fight finally stopped when one of Cole’s friends grabbed him and pulled him back before things got even worse. But that didn’t seem to calm Jake down.

He looked ready to hit him again.

I grabbed him by the arm, making him turn around to face me.

I was ready to tear into him, to give him the kind of look that told him he was acting like a complete idiot and that this whole thing was unbelievably stupid.

But the second I got a good look at his face, I realized how bad he looked. His lip was split open. Blood was running from his eyebrow. His cheekbone was already turning red. Every bit of my anger disappeared the moment I saw him.

My voice came out softer.

“Please, Jake. Let’s go.” He hesitated for a second, but I felt him relax just a little. He was still breathing hard, and I could almost feel the adrenaline still racing through him.

He looked back at Cole one last time.

“Go fuck yourself.” Then he followed me out.

————————————

I held the cotton gently against the wound, which still made Jake flinch. I whispered a sorry, trying to hurt him less. I grabbed his chin so he would stop moving around.

I focused like it was open-heart surgery.

But focusing on his injury kept me from focusing on him and the way he was looking at me while I was treating him.

“Did you call your mom?” I nodded. “Yeah. She said it was fine.”

I had insisted on walking Jake back to his place. After the fight, I felt kind of guilty. It was because of me that he had hit him, and therefore because of me that he was hurt. And I refused to let him go home alone. His dad was probably asleep, and the guilt was eating me up too much for me to go back home.

He had then asked me to stay over so I wouldn’t get home too late.

So I agreed.

Anyway, whenever I was with Jake, my mom let it slide. He had a reputation for being a pretty good influence, unlike Conrad and Dakota. My mom really liked him for that and she knew him really well.

Enough to let me stay the night at his place last minute.

I looked at his wound and started wondering if he needed stitches. I wasn’t exactly knowledgeable about medical stuff and I couldn’t tell if it did. I found steri-strips in the little first-aid kit he had grabbed for me and carefully applied them.

“It’s not necessary, you know? It’s really nothing.” I gave him a look telling him to shut up.

“Nothing? Are you serious? You got beaten up.”

Looking at him, you could tell he didn’t care at all. I was way more annoyed than him about the situation.

“He was way more messed up than me.” He smiled proudly.

I stepped back and closed the kit since I was done. I stood up to put it on his desk and came back to stand in front of him. I stayed standing while he was still sitting on the edge of his bed looking satisfied.

I looked at him with a disapproving expression.

“He deserved it.” He said it in a softer, more sincere tone.

I knew he thought what he did was right. He had defended me, and deep down, even though I wasn’t into violence and hated fights, I owed him. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through it if he hadn’t stepped in.

Still, I thought the fight was stupid.

“You shouldn’t have hit him though.” He frowned and shook his head, almost annoyed. “He was being pushy. And he’s an idiot. He wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Seeing him on my side like that made me shiver.

I would never admit it, but seeing him defend me felt a little too good. I acted like I thought it was ridiculous, but deep down, a part of me was touched.

I knew Jake would always defend me, because I was his best friend.

I wish he didn’t defend me just for that reason.

I liked being his best friend though, obviously.

But part of me wished he had fought Cole for another reason. That his reaction had been driven by jealousy instead of friendship.

“He would’ve eventually backed off.” He let out a laugh that wasn’t funny at all. He was laughing because he thought I was ridiculous. “That’s not the kind of guy who gives up.”

I could tell he wasn’t going to budge.

And deep down, that wasn’t what I wanted anyway. I liked that he insisted on the fact he had done the right thing by helping me.

It made me feel important.

It’s pathetic.

“I’m sorry I ruined your thing with Dakota.”

The sentence sounded fake the moment it left my lips but I was pretty sure Jake wouldn’t notice.

I hated myself for saying it out loud. I said it against my will, just to remind myself he was with Dakota and there was something between them. I needed to bring her up constantly to remind myself she had the place I wanted. It was every time I was alone with him.

Like now.

We were alone in his room, it was late, poorly lit, only his desk lamp lighting the space.

My heart was racing too fast. My mouth went dry whenever his green eyes landed on me.

I needed to come back to reality.

I needed to remind myself he liked Dakota and I was just his best friend.

It looked like he was trying to read me.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

I already regretted insisting. I couldn’t help it, I needed to bring it up to remind myself I wasn’t her.

“Yes, because of me you had to leave and—”

“We don’t care about Dakota.”

His tone was firm, almost cold, and I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or just didn’t understand why I kept talking about her.

“I tried to sound casual and playful even though it felt like it was tearing my throat apart to say it. “You do care about Dakota.”

He stared at me in a way I couldn’t read.

“What are you talking about?”

I was hurt.

He was acting like he didn’t get it. I wondered if he preferred pretending it wasn’t true or if he just didn’t want to talk about it. Either way, I took it badly.

“You like her, don’t act like you don’t.”

He looked at me like I made no sense.

“Nonsense.”

“Stop pretending!” I sounded desperate or annoyed, I didn’t know which. Either way, it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be indifferent. But I was too tired to hide my emotions. “You slept with her Jake.”

He opened his mouth, still shocked.

“It meant nothing.”

I laughed bitterly. “It does mean something!”

He stared at me coldly and stood up to face me. I had to look up at him, trying to keep my confidence. “Yeah, because you were there, so you clearly know exactly what it meant.”

He was right.

I wasn’t there. I had no right to assume anything.

But not knowing was exactly what made me torture myself with thoughts like that. I was consumed by the idea that he had been with her and it made me irrational.

I knew it.

But I couldn’t stop it.

“If it meant nothing, then you’re an idiot just like Cole Walker.”

His expression changed. He tensed.

“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

He was right.

So right it made me sick.

I had to step back away from him. His presence was suffocating me. Or maybe it wasn’t him. It was me. What I was saying. I was talking too much, saying stupid things, and I couldn’t stand the way he was looking at me.

“I know.” I sounded desperate now. “I shouldn’t be involved in this.”

I was trying to excuse myself. Hoping we’d move on and he’d forget I’d just made a scene over something so stupid.

But I could see from the way he looked at me that he wasn’t going to forget.

“So why do you?”

I expected him to be harsher.

But his tone was so simple and calm it caught me off guard.

And I couldn’t answer.

I didn’t.

I looked down, biting my lip, praying he wouldn’t push it, even though I knew him too well to think he wouldn’t.

“Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” I was at my breaking point. I had never felt so pathetic.

He moved closer and I stepped back.

I couldn’t be near him. I felt like I was messing everything up.

I was messing everything up.

“Tell me it’s because it matters to you.”

My heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t the question that broke me.

It was his tone.

He sounded desperate.

I tried to rationalize it. Tell myself I was imagining things. It was ridiculous. He had no reason to sound like that.

But then he spoke again and I couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Please, tell me it matters. Tell me it affects you.”

He was begging.

“Yeah. It matters.”

I had to say it twice to realize I had actually said it.

Jake stared at me.

“It matters so much that thinking about it makes me sick.”

“Why?” he whispered.

I hesitated.

Then I thought screw it. I might as well say everything.

The words just came out.

“Because I wish it had been me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I felt like I had just destroyed everything between us.

I exhaled, realizing I had been holding my breath.

Then in a split second, Jake’s lips were on mine. I didn’t understand what was happening. My hands went to his neck, his hands to my waist.

It felt unreal.

But it was real. It was him. It was Jake.

His lips tasted exactly the way I’d imagined they would. The only difference was that, instead of being soft and tender, it was more passionate. As if the waiting had made him rough. He was incapable of being any gentler.

"I wish it had been you, too."

I felt myself drifting.

A small sound escaped me as his lips moved to my neck and his hands held me tighter.

When he lifted his head, his gaze was burning. Something between desire and admiration. Maybe love.

I wished it was love.

That was what drove me.

I wanted him, and I was head over heels in love.

"It didn't mean anything."

Now I believed it. I wanted to believe it. And I let myself believe it because he was convincing.

"Every time she touched me, I was thinking of you."

My mouth went dry.

The sensation that washed over my lower belly was new to me. I was discovering feelings in places I never imagined. I felt hot. Too hot.

I craved him as instinctively as I breathed. I wanted him to touch me in places that were completely off-limits.

I was almost ashamed of it.

"Is that true?" I whispered the words.

It sounded like a challenge.

He moved his hand up to my face and caressed my cheek with a tenderness that made me melt. He leaned in close to my ear; I could feel his warm breath against my neck.

"I can prove it to you, if you want."

I nodded.

He pulled back to face me. His face was so close that our lips were almost brushing.

But he stayed just millimeters away, never closing the gap.

"Say it."

I was still breathless, even though he wasn't kissing me anymore.

"Prove it." I paused. "Please."

Without another moment of hesitation, he kissed me again. This time it was soft, slow, and less hungry—but far more sensual. His tongue sought mine, and I didn't regret for a second having turned down every other guy who had ever tried to make a move. No one else could make me feel the way Jake did.

He was in a league of his own.

Before, it had just been a thought; now, I was absolutely certain.

"Jake, I’ve never..."

"I know."

He moved lower. He had to bend down to reach my neck because he was so tall.

"Have you ever touched yourself?"

The question made the blood pulse faster through my veins.

I couldn't believe he was asking me that. It was Jake—he was kissing me, and he was asking if I’d ever touched myself.

And the worst part?

It made me soaking wet.

I wasn't a saint. I was a virgin, but not asexual. Of course I’d touched myself.

"Yes."

He swore under his breath—"Shit."

He guided me toward his bed, and I was too aroused to really register what I was doing. Or rather, what I was about to do.

"When I do it, I imagine it’s you."

My back hit the mattress, and I stared intently at him. I’d never heard anything so arousing in my life.

"Me too."

He positioned himself over me and picked up where he’d left off, though with more ease this time. His hands roamed over my stomach. They’d slipped under my T-shirt, and the direct contact of his palm against my bare skin made me shiver.

His hands moved upward while his kisses trailed downward. I tilted my head back, the pillow cushioning the movement. His fingers caressed the skin just beneath my breasts, and I swallowed hard.

"Oh, really?"

At that, he ran his thumb over my nipples through my bra, drawing a moan from me.

"Fuck, yes..."

He quickly pulled off my T-shirt and studied me intently. I should have felt self-conscious, lying beneath him like that.

But I didn't.

I almost forgot that I didn't like my body and that no one had ever seen it before.

It wasn't just anyone.

It was Jake.

"You’re perfect."

I never thought I’d hear those words from him—describing me, in a moment like this. It gave me the confidence to pull off his T-shirt in return, which made him smile.

He was perfect.

I had to force myself to look away.

He noticed, yet his smile never left his face.

"Can I?"

I nodded as his fingers went to the button of my jeans. He slowly lowered the zipper, and I had to stifle a gasp as he slid them down with practiced ease.

He tossed them aside with our other clothes.

I grazed his chest with my fingers and felt him revel in the touch. I moved lower, then lower still, until I reached the buckle of his belt.

But he stopped me.

"Not yet. I’ve got things that are way more fun for now."

I felt like I was fighting for air as he pressed his lips to mine, then my jawline, lingering on my neck and the skin above my breasts, before finally planting a kiss right on my nipple through the fabric. He kept going—moving above my navel, then below it, then right above my panties. He positioned himself between my thighs, and the sight made me let out a sharp, audible breath.

He slid his arms under my legs and kissed the inside of my thigh. My fingers dug into the sheets, even though he wasn't yet where I truly wanted him to be.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slowly slid them down my legs.

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

It was even worse when he spoke. "You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. You’re gonna make me cum just by the sight of you."

Just when I thought he couldn’t turn me on any more, he proved me wrong. I thought nothing could top a line like that, but he showed me otherwise when he planted that first kiss exactly where I wanted it. His tongue made an obscene sound, and I was unable to hold anything back.

He slowly licked my clit. Then he picked up the pace, only to slow down again. It was driving me out of my mind. And it got even more intense when he added a finger, arching it to perfection.

I’d touched myself before, but I’d never felt anything like this—and certainly not this quickly.

I was already on the edge, even though he’d barely started.

I couldn't say if it was just because it was Jake, or because he was genuinely skilled.

Probably both.

He made a sudden movement that made me incredibly sensitive, and my fingers tangled in his hair. Hearing him groan in response, I realized it was the most melodious sound I’d ever heard in my life.

The heat building in my lower belly intensified, and within seconds, my back arched as I moaned something that must have sounded like his name.

He slowly moved back up, retracing his path, kissing every inch of my skin as if he were worshipping me.

It was addictive.

My vision was a little blurred, my mind hazy.

"You taste like heaven, baby."

I’d barely finished coming when that same sensation stirred in my belly again.

He had that effect on me.

My fingers found his belt buckle again. "Can I now?"

It made him smile.

"Please, go ahead."

I didn't need to be asked twice.

In a flash, his jeans joined the pile of clothes accumulating beside the bed.

He paused, looking at me with a more serious expression. He was trying to detect the slightest trace of hesitation on my face, and I knew he wouldn’t find anything. I didn’t have an ounce of hesitation.

He reached for his nightstand, and I watched him pull out a condom, anticipating what was about to happen.

He tore the wrapper open with his teeth, and my heart began to race.

I studied his every move.

But when my eyes landed on his cock, I wasn't so sure anymore—not because I didn't want it, but because it was so long and thick.

"If you don't want to, I'll stop."

I looked up at him.

"I do want to. It’s just... I’m not sure it’ll fit."

He chuckled at my remark, and I tried to suppress the smile he’d drawn out of me because I wanted him to take me seriously.

His expression shifted, becoming more reassuring.

"Trust me, it’ll fit."

He positioned himself right at the entrance, and despite my apprehension, I felt a desperate, vital need to have him inside me.

"If it hurts, tell me. I’ll stop."

I nodded.

He paused for a moment, and we locked eyes. I think we were finally realizing that this was really happening.

Then he slowly slid inside me, drawing a moan from my lips. He wasn’t too fast; he was gentle and tender. I felt a bit tense, but the pleasure washed away the slight discomfort I’d felt at the start. I could feel him, and it wasn’t just physical.

It was him.

It was Jake.

It was real.

He studied me closely, and seeing no wince of pain, he gently picked up the pace. His thrusts were irregular yet precise—a deliciously exquisite torture. He repeatedly hit a spot that made my eyes roll back in my head. I couldn't feel my legs anymore; I couldn't feel anything but Jake.

His hand found my clitoris, and the overstimulation was my undoing. Every thrust was accompanied by a moan I couldn't suppress.

He started moaning too. He was more restrained, but that simple sound made me climax.

A violent wave of pleasure swept over me.

He followed close behind.

He kept going until we were both completely spent and gasping for breath.

I couldn't think straight.

He gently withdrew and lay on his side, catching his breath.

I stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to gather my wits and fully take in everything that had just happened.

"I'm in love with you."

My heart skipped a beat. I turned my head to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling too, as if he hadn't just said the most significant thing imaginable.

"I'm in love with you, too."

I moved closer to rest my head on his chest. He welcomed me into his arms, and it felt so natural that I could have forgotten things hadn’t always been this way. He was still Jake—still my best friend—but he was also the guy I was in love with, and it felt like the most normal thing in the world.

After a moment of silence, Jake spoke.

"You know, it’s true—I did sleep with her. But making love to you confirmed what I already knew. It didn’t mean anything."

My fingers lingered on his chest as I etched every word he’d spoken into my memory. I didn’t even really feel that jealousy that had been eating away at me just hours before. It didn’t matter anymore.

"Why did you sleep with her?"

It wasn’t a vicious question. It was just a genuine question, asked simply to understand.

"Because I was a bit drunk and thought you didn’t care."

He paused.

"And maybe I was hoping for a reaction from you."

That remark made me smile, and I looked up at him.

"Well, it worked."

He smiled back.

"I’m glad."

I rolled my eyes, but the smile never left my lips.

I felt nothing but a sense of complete fullness.

It was soothing.

now playing - tear you apart . she wants revenge ᯓ‎♪

jensen masterlist // main masterlist

all works are fem!reader or fem!character unless otherwise stated.

oneshots - 1k+ words

-

drabbles - less than 1k words

-

headcanons

-

dividers by @saradika-graphics // updated ; 02 / 07 / 26

Burning neon

Jake Gray x reader

Parties were never really Jake Gray’s thing.

Too loud. Too crowded. Too many drunk idiots looking for trouble.

But when you convince him to go with you for one night, he agrees — mostly because he can never say no to you.

Everything is fine at first.

Until some guy at the party refuses to take the hint that you already have a boyfriend.

And when his flirting turns disrespectful, Jake’s jealousy and protectiveness finally snap.

What starts as a tense confrontation quickly spirals into a brutal fight in the middle of the party, leaving you terrified that Jake’s anger might get him seriously hurt.

Warnings: Heavy angst, jealousy, protective Jake, emotional comfort, bruised knuckles, possessive tension, and soft fluff afterward.

A/N: Let me know what you think 🫶

Requests are open 💞

Music pounded through the house hard enough to shake the walls.

Colored lights flashed across sweaty bodies packed tightly into the living room while laughter and shouting echoed from every corner.

You leaned against the kitchen counter with a red plastic cup in your hand, smiling softly as you watched Jake Gray across the room.

He looked deeply uncomfortable.

Honestly?

It was adorable.

Jake sat slouched on the couch near the wall, dressed entirely in black as usual, his jaw tense while people pushed past him every few seconds.

The dark eyeliner around his eyes made him look intimidating enough that most people avoided bothering him.

Except you.

You walked over smiling.

“Having fun?”

Jake looked up at you immediately, his expression softening in seconds.

“There you are.”

Your heart melted a little.

“You look miserable.”

“I am miserable.”

You laughed quietly.

“You agreed to come.”

“Because you gave me that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that makes me incapable of saying no to you.”

You grinned.

“That’s not my fault.”

Jake rolled his eyes affectionately before pulling you between his knees, arms wrapping loosely around your waist.

The music faded into background noise instantly.

That always happened with him.

Like the entire world got quieter whenever he touched you.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

Jake nodded against your stomach.

“Better now.”

God.

You loved him so much.

Then suddenly—

“Damn.”

A male voice interrupted sharply nearby.

Jake’s arms tightened immediately.

You turned slightly to see an unfamiliar guy standing there holding a beer bottle loosely in one hand.

He looked you up and down openly.

“You’re way too pretty to be wasting your night over here.”

Your smile disappeared instantly.

Jake went completely still behind you.

“He’s not wasting my night,” you replied calmly.

The guy barely even acknowledged Jake’s existence.

“That your boyfriend?”

Jake slowly stood.

Tall.

Quiet.

Dangerous.

Something in the atmosphere shifted immediately.

“Problem?” Jake asked flatly.

The guy smirked.

“Not unless you make it one.”

You touched Jake’s arm gently.

“Jake—”

“I’m just talking to her.”

“She said no,” Jake answered coldly.

The stranger laughed.

“She can answer for herself.”

Your discomfort was growing quickly now.

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly.

That should’ve ended it.

Should’ve.

Instead the guy stepped closer.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

Jake’s jaw clenched so hard you could actually see the muscle twitch.

“She said no.”

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Tenser.

The guy finally looked at Jake properly now.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Wrong question.

Very wrong question.

Before you could react, the stranger grabbed your wrist lightly.

Not aggressively.

But enough.

And Jake snapped instantly.

His fist connected with the guy’s jaw so hard the sound cracked through the kitchen.

Everybody screamed.

The stranger stumbled backward into the counter, knocking bottles onto the floor.

“Jake!”

But Jake was already moving again.

Pure fury in his eyes.

The guy swung back this time, catching Jake across the cheek hard enough to split his lip.

That only made things worse.

People scattered around them as the fight exploded fully now.

Punches.

Shouting.

Furniture crashing.

Your heart pounded violently.

“Stop!”

Nobody listened.

Jake slammed the guy against the wall once more before several people finally dragged them apart.

Jake was breathing heavily now, blood running from his mouth while rage still burned in his expression.

You rushed toward him immediately.

“Jake.”

The second he looked at you, the anger cracked.

“Did he hurt you?”

His voice sounded frantic underneath the fury.

“No.”

Jake grabbed your arms gently anyway, checking your face like he needed visual confirmation.

“Did he touch you?”

“Only my wrist.”

His expression darkened again instantly.

“Jake,” you whispered softly. “Look at me.”

He did.

And suddenly you could see it beneath all the anger.

Fear.

He was scared.

Scared someone made you uncomfortable.

Scared he hadn’t protected you fast enough.

Your chest tightened painfully.

“You scared me,” you admitted quietly.

Jake’s face immediately fell.

The guilt hit him instantly.

“I know.”

The party around you had become distant background noise now.

People whispering.

Watching.

But Jake only looked at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely.

Blood stained his lower lip.

His knuckles were already bruising.

And somehow he still looked more worried about you than himself.

You reached up carefully, touching the cut on his mouth.

Jake winced slightly.

“You idiot.”

A faint breath of laughter escaped him.

“Yeah.”

Your eyes softened.

“You can’t just nearly kill people every time somebody flirts with me.”

“He grabbed you.”

“He was drunk.”

Jake’s voice lowered dangerously.

“He touched what’s mine.”

Heat rushed instantly to your face.

Even injured and furious, he still managed to say things that completely unraveled you.

You sighed softly before pulling him closer by the collar of his jacket.

“I chose you, Jake.”

His eyes flickered.

“Nobody else.”

The tension in his shoulders finally eased slightly.

Then you kissed him.

Slow.

Gentle.

Despite the split lip and adrenaline still flooding through both of you.

Jake melted immediately, one hand sliding protectively against your waist.

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I really hate parties.”

You laughed quietly.

“I noticed.”

Jake glanced toward the broken kitchen behind you both.

“…Think we should leave?”

“Definitely.”

And honestly?

Curled up together in his apartment afterward, ice pressed against his bruised knuckles while he held you against his chest—

That was always going to be better than the party anyway.

Wet Dreams

Jake Gray x Fem Reader

** 18+. Sensual/Sexual Content. Angst.**

WC: idk grab some snacks.

You and Jake had been best friends since sophomore year of high school, and now you’re both at the same college together. The two of you practically did everything together, I mean from him picking you up to go to class, to going to grab a quick coffee, to the parties the two of you would go to.

It was a simple friendship really, two long term best friends. Though, in reality, there was something much deeper, mostly from Jake.

The night started off normal, just you and him hanging out in his dorm after a night of partying. Your head was resting in his lap, with the birthday present you'd gotten him earlier that day—a bottle of wine.

“Pass me the bottle, would ya?” He'd asked, reaching a hand out before taking a swig. It tasted like shit, but to be fair so did most wine.

“Mm, good, right?” You grinned, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

“Mm, so good,” He replied, leaning his back against the edge of his bed, his fingers threading gently into your hair.

That's when it took a turn. You bit your lip, giving his body a not-so-subtle once-over before speaking, your voice low.

“Yeah.. but not as good as you, handsome.” You murmured, shifting upwards into a sitting position until you were straddling his lap.

Before he could react, your lips were on his, kissing him softly, slowly, deeply, as your hand moved across his chest, and down… down… down…

His breath hitched, and he felt himself hardening against your thigh as your hips began to grind against his, your tongue sweeping into his mouth as a soft moan was swallowed by the kiss.

Things were escalating, quickly, and before he knew it his hips were meeting yours with every slow, deep thrust, feeling your warm, soft skin against his, your sweet moans in his ears as his hands roamed across the soft planes of your body. Your bodies moved together, feeling the pleasure build and build.

“Oh- Jake… Jake...” You moaned, your eyes closed in ecstasy as he worshipped your body, connected so intimately.

“Jake!” You yelled, snapping him back to reality with a shake of his shoulder, standing over him where he'd passed out drunk the night before.

His eyes fluttered open, sleepy, horny, and hungover. There was a certain hardness in his boxers—the only thing that was actually real in his dream. There is no way he had a wet dream about his best friend..

“Get up, it’s almost noon.” Walking away from his bed where you were standing over him. Holding a garbage bag, picking up empty cups and bottles from last night.

Jake groaned, throwing an arm over his face as the sunlight stabbed through his skull. His mouth felt like cotton, and his body ached—mostly below the belt.

He watched you through half-lidded eyes, moving around quietly in that effortless way of yours. The garbage bag crinkled as you tossed another cup into it.

“Fuck...” he mumbled, sitting up slowly and wincing at the pounding behind his temples.

He rubbed his jawline where stubble had grown overnight and sat up slowly—the movement making him wince at both body and mind for what that dream implied about him lately: how often he thought about you when no one was looking.

His eyes dropped to your back—the curve of your spine under that tank top—and quickly looked away before guilt kicked in harder than the hangover did.

Without thinking (and still very much hungover), he blurted out, “...Did I do anything weird last night?”

“Uh—no, why?” Your back still to him as you continue bent over, picking up more cups and bottles.

Jake swallowed hard, staring at the back of your head like it held answers to the universe.

“Uh… no reason,” he said too quickly, voice rough from sleep and wine. He cleared his throat.

He hated that dream. Hated how real it felt—the warmth of your lips, the way you moved on top of him—how right it was in a stupidly perfect fantasy world where you actually wanted him like that.

But reality? You were just his best friend. His quiet, sarcastic best friend who’d known him since sophomore year. The one who called out his bullshit before anyone else could even process it.

And here he was—hard as hell this morning—not because of some random girl—but because his brain had betrayed him with dreams about you.

He swung his legs over the edge of bed and grabbed a hoodie off floor, along with a pair of jeans. “...You wanna go get food?”

Turning to face him a little quickly, your classic small, pretty, teethy smile on your face. “Yeaaaahh—duh,” dropping the garbage bag on the floor. “Hurry up and put your pants on.” You mutter walking past him out of his room, not without stealing a subtle glance down, “Might wanna cover that up.”

Of course you notice, of course you do.

Jake froze.

Did she just—?

His face burned, hotter than the hangover could ever make it. He looked down at himself—yep. Still very much affected by that stupid dream.

He yanked his jeans on in record time, nearly tripping over them as he hopped one foot into a pant leg like an idiot. The hoodie went on next, zipped all the way up to his chin like armor against your teasing gaze.

By the time he shuffled out of his bedroom—still pale and groggy with messy hair and dark circles under his eyes—you were already by the door putting your shoes on.

“Okay,” he mumbled, voice still sleep-rough but softer now around you—the way it always got when things felt normal between you two: easy. Comfortable. “...Where we going?”

You’re finishing putting your shoes on as you look up at him, “iHOP.” Walking over, snatching his keys from him. “And I’m driving.” Typically he would be the one to always drive the two of you, anywhere. But with how hungover he is right now, no way were you letting him drive anywhere.

Jake opened his mouth to protest—I'm fine, I got it—but the second you snatched the keys from his hand with that quiet authority, he knew better.

You weren’t being dramatic. You were right.

He hadn't even had coffee yet and his stomach was churning like a washing machine full of bricks.

Without a word (a rare thing for him), he just shuffled behind you, as he slipped on sneakers by the door.

When you reached for it first—pulling open the front door into blinding morning light—he squinted hard and instinctively stepped closer to your shoulder like shade.

“Thanks,” he muttered under breath—the smallest admission of gratitude before following you out toward his old Jeep Cherokee in silence.

You drive a little slower than you usually drive, the rare occasion you do drive, you do tend to drive a little fast. Now? You’re being considerate since you know how it is when you’re hungover, too quick of movement and you’re nauseous—seconds away from puking and you feel like you’re spinning. Humming very very faintly to the rock music that’s playing on the radio.

Subtly taking glances at him. God—you hate to admit it since you’re best friends but damn—he makes hungover look good. That messy look he has right now—wrinkled hoodie, jeans, sneakers, messy hair—it’s sooo… him. Jake looks hot as fuck right now even if he is slightly pale and looks like he’s on the verge of death—he looks fuckin good.

Jake, on the other hand—taking similar subtle glances at you while you were driving. The classic, she looks first when he’s not looking and he looks back at her just as she looks away. There was an unusual softness to how you glanced at him when you thought he didn’t notice, different from your usual sarcastic, teasing nature.

It made something flicker in him—a small spark beneath all that hungover fog. Awareness. Affection? Something more?

The hostess greets the two of you, guiding you both over to a booth next to a window in a far off corner. Once more, the not-so subtle, subtle glances at one another over the menus. Trying to focus on his menu, to figure what he wants to eat but he couldn’t. He was too busy noticing you. How you kept peeking over the top of your menu like a spy on a covert mission. And every time, you’d quickly look back down when he lifted his eyes.

It was… weirdly flattering? Not that Jake would ever say that out loud. You were never obvious with affection or attraction—not to anyone—but right now? With how often your gaze flicked up to him and then snapped away like nothing happened?

Yeah. That wasn't just friendship vibes anymore.

The waitress takes your orders, all while dropping off some coffee and waters for the two of you. While adding some cream and sugar into your coffee, because who drinks straight black coffee, Jake’s breath hitches. The way you so effortlessly look so pretty. Absentmindedly going about, stirring in your creamer and sugar. He’s known you for years, as his ride-or-die best friend—the one he called at 2AM, when he messed up on a date, the one who called him out on his bullshit. He never noticed these kind of things before—the small details about you that weren’t sarcasm or eye rolls, but right now?

These details were everything.

“You were acting weird this morning.”

Jake froze.

Oh shit.

He hadn’t realized you’d noticed—really noticed—how off he was acting. The awkwardness, the weird tension, the way he couldn't look at you for too long without his face heating up.

And yeah… okay. He had a hard-on when you woke him. Not just normal morning wood either—that was something else entirely because of that damn dream about kissing and grinding with you.

But now? Now it felt like getting called out by your best friend over coffee—with no escape route in sight.

He swallowed hard, then lifted his coffee to hide behind it for half a second before setting it back down slowly.

“...Was I?” he said finally—playing dumb on purpose even though guilt flashed across his face like lightning.

“You just drink too much or what?” Taking a sip of your coffee, testing it to see if enough creamer and sugar was added. One of your eyebrows slightly raised at him.

You wouldn’t admit it first—you finding him hot. Not in a million years.

Jake met your raised eyebrow with a blank stare—like a deer in headlights, but very aware of how guilty he looked.

“Nah,” he said quickly, then cleared his throat. “I mean… yeah. I drank too much.”

Liar.

He took a big gulp of coffee—not because it tasted good (he hadn't even put anything in it), but because it gave him something to do besides stare at your face or think about the fact that you were sitting right there, looking cute as hell with your slightly messy hair and judging expression.

It wasn't the wine or beer making him weird this morning—it was the dream. It was you. Straddling him in that fantasy world where everything felt allowed and real instead of just… forbidden because of what they actually were: best friends who never crossed lines.

But how do you even explain that without sounding insane?

So he deflected—the classic Jake move—and took a long sip of black coffee to buy time while avoiding eye contact like his life depended on it.

You lower your mug, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

Is he seriously bullshitting you right now? Just before you can say something, the waitress comes over with your food, setting it down in front of the two of you. Giving her a small thanks, you look back over at Jake.

Yeah—fuck, he’s hot. Look away, look away. You look down at your plate and just start eating.

Jake grabbed his fork immediately, grateful for the distraction. Food was safe. Food didn’t talk back.

He speared a huge bite of his pancake and shoved it in his mouth—chewing slowly, eyes fixed on anything but you: the wall behind you, the salt shaker on their table… literally anything.

But every time he dared to glance up?

There you were—eating quietly like always—and somehow even that looked good? The way your lips pressed against your coffee mug earlier? How delicate your hands looked holding that tiny fork?

Jesus Christ.

He was losing it.

This wasn't just about last night's dream anymore. This was becoming a full-blown crisis where he couldn't stop noticing things about you—the little things that used to go completely unnoticed before this weird tension started creeping in out of nowhere.

Twenty minutes or so, the two of you are back out in the parking lot.

“You okay to drive?” Please say yes, please say yes. You hated driving, realistically, that’s why Jake always drove the two of you everywhere.

He gave a small nod at your question, gently taking the keys from your hands, fingers brushing just for a moment against yours, “Yeah I’m good.”

The Jeep rolled into the driveway, tires crunching on gravel.

Jake shifted it into park and turned off the engine—the music cutting out abruptly, leaving a sudden quiet between you two. That same tension from earlier had crept back in during the ride: unspoken, thick like fog.

He glanced over as he unbuckled his seatbelt—your forehead resting against your hand, yoh still faintly humming to the music. You looked… relaxed? Contemplative?

And God, you were beautiful when you weren’t being sarcastic or rolling your eyes at him for something dumb.

Without thinking (because clearly his brain wasn't working right today), Jake just stared for half a second too long—until reality kicked in and he realized: Oh shit.

He quickly got out of the car to hide how flustered that glance made him feel. You following suit, quickly going back to what you were first doing this morning, cleaning.

Jake watched you move through his living room—efficient, quiet, cleaning up the mess from last night’s party like it was your job.

He felt a pang of guilt. Here you were, doing all this for him—driving him to IHOP when he couldn’t function, making sure he didn't drink and drive… and now cleaning?

You never acted entitled or expected anything in return. That's why everyone loved you—and why Jake had always relied on you so much.

But right now? The way you bent over to pick up a pizza box with that calm focus… something about it made his chest tighten again.

He took off his hoodie—finally feeling less like death warmed over—and tossed it onto the couch.

You weren’t asking him anything about this morning anymore. Not pushing. Just cleaning quietly—the way you always did when things felt awkward or tense between friends who were also kind of… more?

With a sigh (quiet enough that only he could hear), Jake finally walked over to help—grabbing an armful of pizza boxes off the coffee table without saying anything.

You glance over at him as he starts to help clean. After a few minutes of you both cleaning. You set the garbage bag down and cross your arms over your chest, turning and looking at him across the room. You can feel it, this weird unspoken tension between you, since this morning. You let out a sigh. “What are you doing?”

Jake froze, halfway through crumpling a soda can.

Your voice—calm but firm—cut through the quiet like a switch flipping on. He turned to look at you, arms still holding the trash.

And there it was again: that tension. The one he’d been ignoring since breakfast. Since last night’s dream. Since… well, since everything started feeling weird between you two for no logical reason.

He swallowed hard and dropped the can into the bag with a soft thud before straightening up.

“...Helping,” he said simply—too simple. Like an idiot answer from someone who didn’t want to admit they were nervous as hell right now because their best friend was staring at them like she expected answers about his weird behavior this morning.

His hands slid into his pockets after tossing in another cup—avoiding eye contact again because God help him if he had to actually talk about feelings out loud right now.

“No, you moron,” You roll your eyes, “I meant why are you acting weird.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed.

Moron. Right. That stung—but honestly? He deserved it.

He finally looked at you, really looked—your arms crossed, eyebrow slightly raised in that “I'm not playing this game" way you had when you were done with his bullshit.

And yeah… he had been acting weird. No point lying about it anymore.

For a second, he just stood there—mouth slightly open like words weren’t coming out right—because how do you even explain this?

“I had a super hot dream about making out with my best friend and now I can't stop thinking about her?”

That sounded insane. Pathetic even. Like something from a bad rom-com script no guy would ever admit to feeling unless they wanted to ruin everything forever.

So instead of answering honestly…

He exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered, “...Sorry.”

You let out a soft but sharp short sigh. Looking down for a second, uncrossing your arms. Now you feel bad, words coming out sharper than intended.

You look back up, “No—,” your “no”, your classic half hearted apology since you don’t know really how to do those, but it sounds as if your saying “I’m sorry”.

“Just—why are you being so weird?”

Jake saw the shift in you—the tiny softening after that sharp sigh. The way your arms dropped, how your voice lost its edge when you said “no.”

He knew that tone. That was your version of an apology—quiet, awkward, barely there.

And damn… it made his chest ache.

You weren’t good with feelings either—not out loud at least. Just like him.

He took a small step forward across the messy living room floor—trash still scattered around them—and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Okay,” he started quietly, voice lower than usual. “I'm... weird 'cause I had this dream last night.”

A pause.

“...About you.”

Your eyebrows furrow just slightly, lip curling ever so slightly as you look at him. Knowing that can only mean one thing. “What do you mean, you had a dream about me?”

Jake’s throat went dry.

The look on your face—curiosity, maybe a hint of suspicion, lips slightly curled—made his stomach flip. This was it. The point of no return.

He couldn’t back out now.

“It was… like,” he began awkwardly, eyes darting to the floor for half a second before forcing himself to meet your gaze again. “We were… together.”

Together. As in kissing. As in touching. As in that slow-grind kiss you initiated after the wine bottle passed between you…

But saying all that? Out loud?

Nope. Not happening yet—not with how flustered he already felt just admitting this much. His face burned as flashes of it came back—the kiss, your body on top of him, the way your hands felt on his chest… Nope, not saying “and then we were making out and grinding on each other”, out loud to his best friend's actual human face in reality like an idiot with zero chill.

Opening your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so you shut it, just to reopen it seconds later. “What do you mean we were “together”?” Your head dipping forward just slightly.

Jake’s breath hitched.

The way you leaned in—slightly—head tilting forward like a confused, skeptical puppy… it was killing him.

He knew exactly what “together” implied. And judging by the deep furrow between your eyebrows? You were either about to laugh in his face or punch him for even suggesting this kind of dream.

But he couldn’t lie now. Not when you were looking at him like that—waiting, demanding answers with just one question: “What do you mean?”

His voice dropped lower, rougher from nerves as he finally said it. “...Like… kissing. We kissed.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

His hands stayed firmly in his pockets—as if hiding them would make him less nervous about your reaction.

You give a small, slow nod. “Rightttt…” Your eyebrows possibly furrowed even further, “So we kissed?” Skeptical. Almost as if an unspoken, “that’s all we did and you’re trippin over it?”

Jake’s ears burned.

That look on your face—the slow, skeptical nod like “Oh? Just kissing? Really?”—told him you weren’t buying the full truth. And honestly?

He hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet.

The dream didn't stop at a kiss. Nope. It went way further—your hands sliding down his chest, grinding against him, moaning his name…

But he couldn't say that out loud without spontaneously combusting from sheer embarrassment.

So instead of explaining it all (which would require describing every graphic detail), Jake just… nodded back weakly and cleared his throat like an idiot caught in a lie he never told but implied anyway.

Then—because apparently words failed him today—he added quietly, “...Yeah.”

As if “we kissed” explained everything about why he’d been weird all morning.

“So—,” You take a half step closer. “You’re being weird because we kissed in your dream?” Knowing he’s not telling the full truth. You know there’s more to it than just kissing.

Jake’s heart slammed against his ribs.

You took a step closer—a half step—but to him, it felt like a full-on invasion of personal space. Your eyes were locked onto his, sharp and knowing, like you could see right through the thin layer of bullshit he’d been throwing up since this morning.

And yeah… you weren’t stupid. You knew dreams didn’t just stop at kissing.

They never did.

Especially not with how things had escalated in that fantasy world—the grinding, the heat between you two…

He swallowed hard again—throat dry—and looked down for a split second before forcing himself to hold your gaze.

“...Okay,” he admitted quietly. “We… did more than kiss.”

There. Said it.

No details given (because God forbid), but the implication hung thick in the air between them:

That dream went places no best friend's mind should ever go when they're supposed to be platonic as hell.

Slowly nodding your head once as you let out a little short huff in almost disbelief, looking down as you speak. “We had sex.” A blunt statement. You look back up and over at him, still across the room, as you cross my arms over your chest.

Jake didn’t blink.

The second you said “we had sex”—calm, blunt, like stating a fact—his entire body tensed up like he’d been shocked.

It was one thing to think the dream. Another to have it out in the open… with you saying it first. Like it wasn't some dirty little secret buried in his subconscious.

And now? Now you were looking at him again—arms crossed, face unreadable but not angry (thank God), just… processing?

He couldn’t tell if that huff of disbelief meant:

“No way.”

Or:

“That's actually messed up.”

Either way—the air between them changed. Thicker. Heavier.

He didn't say anything for a long moment—just stood there across the room from you, heart pounding wildly as reality crashed down:

This wasn't just about a weird morning anymore.

This was about how much that dream affected him... and what came next.

“Yes or no, Jake?”

Jake’s breath caught.

You weren’t yelling. You weren’t laughing. You were just… asking.

And the way you said it—so blunt, so quiet, like this was a serious question with no room for jokes or deflection—made his stomach drop.

No more hiding behind half-truths or vague answers.

Yes or no?

It wasn't an accusation. It wasn't teasing either. It was straight-up: “Was that in your dream?”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, then nodded once—small and firm.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, voice low but clear as day. “...We did.”

Two words that changed everything between them in an instant—the admission hanging there like a grenade with the pin pulled out.

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek letting out a soft huff, looking up slightly to the ceiling, blinking a few times. There’s no way, your best friend of how many years now? Just admitted that you fucked in his dream and woke up with a hard on from it. You don’t even know what to say. You know for one you’re not disgusted or anything, not upset, should you be? I mean, you’re supposed to be best friends? Realistically, you’re flattered.

Jake watched you—the way your eyes flicked up to the ceiling, how you pressed your tongue against your cheek like you always did when deep in thought.

He could see it. The gears turning behind those light brown eyes. The quiet storm of feelings he probably shouldn’t be reading into… but couldn't help noticing anyway.

Was that disgust? Confusion? Anger?

No—you weren’t mad. He’d know if you were mad.

But the soft huff, the tongue pressed to your cheek… that wasn't rejection either. That looked more like someone trying to process something they never expected—something big, and messy, and weirdly flattering (if a little terrifying).

And then there was him: standing across from his best friend—the girl who'd known him since sophomore year—who had just confessed he dreamed about them having sex... and now waited for her reaction with bated breath.

His hands stayed clenched slightly at his sides—not nervous anymore so much as… hoping.

You look back over at him. Eyes slightly narrowed, arms still crossed. “So—you wanna fuck me?” A small teasing sarcastic smirk growing to your face, trying to hold back a laugh.

Of course you’re going to tease him over this, if you can’t express your own feelings about him right now then you’re sure as hell gonna tease him about his.

Jake’s face instantly flushed—bright red, from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

That smirk. That teasing sarcasm. The way you said “you wanna fuck me?” like it was a joke but also… not entirely?

It hit him like a truck.

And okay—yes, in theory? After that dream? He’d be lying if he said no part of him hadn’t thought about it. But hearing you say it out loud with that stupid little half-smile on your face?

He wanted to die. Or kiss you. Maybe both at once.

“W-What?” he stammered—actual words failing him for once—and then immediately looked away because oh God, this was mortifying and hilarious and terrifying all at once.

You were teasing him! You were absolutely mocking him right now while internally wondering whether or not this changed anything between them forever.

A few more steps towards him, raising your eyebrows slightly, “You, wanna fuck me?”

Jake’s pulse skyrocketed.

Each step you took toward him felt like a drumbeat—slow, deliberate, dangerous.

You weren’t backing down. You were pressing in. That smirk? Still there. Lips slightly curled at the corners like this was the funniest thing in the world to you: your best friend short-circuiting over admitting he fantasized about sleeping with you.

And now? Now it was all out in the open—and somehow… worse than ever because here you were, saying it again on purpose just to watch him suffer.

He opened his mouth—maybe to defend himself? Maybe to say something smooth for once?

But nothing came out except a weak, “...I mean...”

Then silence.

Just two of them standing across from each other—the tension so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife—as Jake stared into your teasing eyes and realized:

There was no way out of this unscathed.

You narrow your eyes slightly. That same smirk playing your lips but a little more sly. Taking another step towards him, closer now to where you have to slightly look up at him.

“Sooo you dont, wanna fuck me?” A hint of sarcasm but also a little bit of genuine interest. Tilting your head just slightly to the side.

Jake’s breath hitched.

You were closing the distance—actually, genuinely stepping closer—and now you were tilting your head, that sly smirk sharpening into something more dangerous: half-teasing, half-probing… like you weren’t just messing with him anymore. Like there was actual curiosity underneath.

And God—you had to look up at him. Enough for Jake to feel the height difference in a way that suddenly felt… intimate?

His heart pounded so loud he swore it echoed through the quiet apartment.

That question—“Soooo... you don't wanna fuck me?”—with that sarcasm laced with something real? It short-circuited his brain entirely.

For a second? He forgot how to speak English entirely.

Then—without thinking (because clearly his body took over)—his eyes dropped from yours... down to your lips.

Of course you notice his eyes flicking down to your lips. You take another small step towards him, having to tilt your head back just a little more to look up at him fully. Just about an arms reach from him now.

Head still tilted, “I’m waiting for your answer.” Crossing your arms against your chest.

Jake’s throat went dry.

Your arms crossed again—not in anger, not in defense, but like a challenge. A dare.

I'm waiting for your answer.

And you were so close now—close enough that he could see the tiny flecks of whatever in your eyes. Close enough to catch the faint scent of your shampoo mixed with coffee from earlier.

His gaze lingered on your lips—they looked soft. Slightly glossy from whatever balm you always wore without thinking about it.

The air between them? Thick. Charged.

He knew this moment was teetering on something huge—something that couldn’t be taken back if it happened…

But then again… maybe he didn’t want to take it back.

With his heart slamming against his ribs and every nerve ending firing at once?

Slowly… hesitantly…

Jake leaned down.

You push your hand to his chest, not in a rude manner but softer. You let out a little laugh as you move my head back slightly from his.

“So you do wanna fuck me?” Teasing, flirting. That same small sly smirk, your head moved back just slightly but still looking up at him.

Jake froze.

Your hand pressed gently against his chest—not pushing him away, not shoving him off—but stopping him. Just for a second. Like you were testing the waters… or teasing the absolute hell out of him.

And that little laugh?

Oh God, that soft, quiet giggle—it went straight to his stomach in a warm rush.

He didn’t pull back entirely—still bent slightly toward you from almost-kissing distance—but now he was hovering there like an idiot with your palm flat on his hoodie-covered chest and your smirking face tilted up at him like this was all one big joke to you.

But it wasn't funny anymore—not really—for Jake anyway. Not when every cell in his body screamed “kiss her.”

So instead of answering with words (because what could he even say?), Jake did something stupidly bold:

He caught your wrist—the one resting on his chest—and slowly lowered it between them.

Jake held your wrist—gentle, not forceful—for a heartbeat. Then another.

The air between you was electric now, all teasing and sarcasm giving way to something quieter… heavier.

He could feel the pulse in your wrist under his fingers—steady but maybe just a little faster than normal? Or was that him imagining things?

Without breaking eye contact (which took actual effort because damn, you looked good up close), Jake lifted his other hand slowly… reaching toward your face.

His thumb brushed lightly against the corner of your lip—the one curled slightly from that smirk still lingering on it—and for once?

No words. No jokes. Just two people standing inches apart, hearts beating too loud for their own good.

Your smirk softens into something else, more like an “Oh shit he’s actually gonna kiss me”, but in a good way cause I mean, well, you wanna kiss him too. Your eyebrows lightly flicker into a furrow at that thought.

Jake saw the shift in your expression—the smirk melting into something softer, more surprised… open.

And that tiny furrow of your eyebrows? Like you were processing: “Oh. Oh wow. He's really about to do it.”

His stomach flipped.

He didn’t give himself time to second-guess or panic—because if he did, he’d chicken out entirely and ruin this moment forever.

So instead?

He closed the gap.

Slowly at first—testing, almost—as his lips met yours in a kiss that started soft. Gentle. Careful, like you might pull away any second and call him an idiot for trying this with his best friend of all people.

But it wasn't awkward—not really—not when your mouth felt so warm against his.

You lean up into the kiss, matching him. Your hand finding its way from his wrist back onto his chest.

The second you kissed him back—really kissed him back—leaning up into it, soft and sure—the world stopped.

Jake’s breath caught, his lips parting slightly against yours as the kiss deepened on its own. Your hand stayed on his chest—not pushing away anymore, just there, warm through the fabric of his hoodie.

And God… you kissed like you. Not aggressive or desperate—just sweetly curious at first, then matching his rhythm perfectly. Like this was something natural. Something that should’ve happened forever ago.

He didn’t overthink it now—not about being best friends or what this meant later or if anyone would find out—but all he felt was this:

Your lips moving with his.

The quiet intimacy of finally kissing Jake Gray after years of friendship and dumb unspoken tension.

So naturally? He slid one arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

When he pulls you closer, your hand on his chest snakes up to the back of his neck. Your other hand replacing on his chest. Your heart nearly doing a backflip in your chest, like this can’t be real. Maybe this is your wet dream about him?

No, no, it’s real. Very much real.

Jake melted into the kiss the moment your hands moved—one sliding up to cradle the back of his neck, warm and possessive, while the other settled firmly on his chest again.

Oh.

That touch? Your hands on him like this? It sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn’t some dream replay anymore—this was real. You were kissing him. Your fingers tangled lightly in his hair at the nape of his neck, and that small pull?

It made him groan quietly against your lips.

The sound escaped before he could stop it—a soft, involuntary noise from deep in his throat—and then suddenly everything felt more intense:

The way you kissed him so perfectly despite never having done this before (had you?).

How close you were now that he’d drawn you flush against him.

How fast both their hearts were pounding.

He kissed back harder—not aggressive or messy—but with growing hunger… like maybe they’d been holding back for years without even knowing it.

You nearly smile into the kiss when you hear and feel that stupid little groan from him. Your hands staying where they are. You mimic the kiss, just as hungry as he is. It’s definitely sensual, thick, and lots, and lots of finally pent up tension being released.

The kiss turned deep—lips moving in slow, hungry sync, tongues brushing once… then again… testing the waters like they’d been waiting for this forever.

And honestly? They had.

All those late-night hangouts. The dumb jokes. Sharing fries at diners. Falling asleep on his couch after movie nights—all of it had led to this, right here: two best friends finally kissing like their lives depended on it.

Jake’s hands wandered—one still locked around your waist, holding you close; the other slid up your back beneath your shirt (accidentally at first), fingers grazing warm skin just above your hipbone.

He didn’t rush though—not entirely—even as the tension between you thickened into something downright sinful. Every touch was deliberate now: soft nips of lips, teasing pulls with teeth that made him shiver when you did them back…

This wasn't a mistake anymore.

This felt inevitable.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒

ALRIGHT guys, sorry for writing a book and being MIA for so long. I lost my spark 💔 but i’m back for now. hope u guys enjoyed this long little story about jake. just got around to watching this movie and it was surprisingly good in a bad way?? might be one of my new top favorite movies (not just because jensens in it… okay maybe.) anyways let me know down below if you want a part two or are interested in more things jake gray.