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Invisible Smoke - Four

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he doesn’t run.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 10.9k

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED

A/N: I do not keep a tag list!! Life is still weird but thank you all for sticking with this little story of mine. I really appreciate all the kind words you sent on the last chapter. Only one more chapter to go!

Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, stalking, bodily injury, domestic abuse, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Also, Jake is a (stubborn) simp.

Someone had slashed your tires.

Well, you shouldn’t say someone. You knew who had done it. It didn’t exactly take a doctorate to read the context clues—but you were pretty sure your insurance would drop you if you put in another claim, so you begrudgingly prepared to pay the hefty towing fee to the nearest tire shop and fork over even more cash for four new tires. This was one of the few times you wished your little bungalow actually had a garage. And god, you were so tired of this. So tired of the mind games he thought he was playing with you. He thought he was clever. But it was all just so repetitive. You had half a mind to just wait, out in the open, to let him do what he wanted just so it would be over.

It had only been two days since the dog fight football game and the following get together at the Hard Deck. Two days since you caught Jake’s eye at the water’s edge and felt your entire chest twist. He knew now. He knew what you were hiding.

You hadn’t been able to read the look in his eyes but Bradley had taken you aside before you slipped away for the night and basically told you that Jake, for better or for worse, was wanting and willing to help. “Give him a chance, Punch. Don’t you think he deserves that, at least? And you deserve to be happy.”

“When did you become a fortune cookie, Bradley?”

But you wanted to believe him. You did.

But Luke had made you glaringly aware that you weren’t really capable of having a relationship aside from a handful of hours with someone who’d forget your name by morning. You had expected to feel some sort of relief in knowing that Jake hadn’t wanted to wash his hands of you after learning about Luke, but all it did was make you feel like you were painting an even larger target on Jake’s back. He really did want to play hero, didn’t he?

You pushed the thought away as you texted Natasha, telling her you’d be late for brunch and she was quick to tell you not to worry about the tow, she’d send one of the boys to get you to the tire shop. You were expecting Bob and his reliable GMC; he’d been invited to brunch as well anyway.

But a familiar Ford F-250 pulled up instead and Jake stepped out of the cab, looking like a GQ model in a tight Henley and jeans that hugged his thighs a little too well to be fair. He looked at your car and your destroyed tires for just a moment before turning his gaze to you. Your heart gave an answering leap but you tried to not let it show and rolled your shoulders back as he took wide strides toward you.

“Did he do anything else? Did you check your windows-”

“You shouldn’t be here.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could even pretend to think of a more polite greeting.

Jake arched an eyebrow before setting his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s just too damn bad, Punch. I am here and I’m not leaving until you tell me what's going on. Now, did anything else happen?”

You wanted to send him away. Wanted to keep him safe. But he was here. He was here and looking at you with those stupidly beautiful green eyes. “It’s just the tires,” you muttered, giving in. At least in this regard. You could handle everything else later.

Jake’s mouth set in a thin line before he moved to look at your tires again. He dug at one of the tears, the edge of his finger easily passing through the ruined rubber. “Jesus.”

Perhaps you should have been surprised when he turned back to the bed of his truck and pulled out a tire and then another and another until four new tires were stacked neatly beside your car. But you had a feeling Jake would always be three steps ahead of you. Infuriating.

“Please tell me you didn’t buy me new tires.”

“All right. I won’t tell you that.”

“Seresin, you can’t be serious. Tell me how much I owe you.”

Jake leaned forward just enough to steal the keys from your hands and popped open your trunk before handing them back. “I don’t want your money.”

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” you retorted as you followed him to the back of your car. “Tires are expensive! I can afford it. Just let me pay you! You’re already saving me money by not making me take a tow truck. And I might actually make it to brunch on time because of you, too. If you don’t give me an amount, I’ll have to guess.”

Jake moved the mat in your trunk and found your jack and tire iron and then gently grasped your hand that you’d set on the lip of your trunk and moved it before closing it. He then tugged you closer with that damn dimpled smirk and stared down at you with his stupid green eyes. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I will shove money into your pockets at the most inopportune moments and ruin every conquest you set your eyes on.”

But the threat fell flat as Jake’s smirk widened. “So, you’re planning on sticking your hands down my pants…repeatedly?”

Heat washed over you in an angry wave and you pulled your hands out from under his with a grimace instead of a snarl. “Only you would say something like that.”

His smirk continued as he stepped back and set the jack beneath your car and started to twist. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I’m paying for your drinks at the Hard Deck forever.”

“No.”

As he twisted the jack, your eyes were drawn (inevitably) to how his sleeves strained with his moving muscles. That shirt was fighting for its life and you were ogling him like a piece of meat (again). This whole situation was ridiculous! The man who’d tried to kill you twice had slashed your tires and you were flirting (possibly, maybe) with Jake like you didn’t have a care in the world. All of this was wrong. And incredibly stupid.

“Whatever. I’ll do what I want,” you lamely replied, hoping it sounded stronger than it felt.

“I’m sure you will, Punch.” Each word was dripping with something you couldn’t and wouldn’t name and you hated that Jake was able to easily have you smiling when he was there to fix a problem you created.

The tires were changed out within an hour and you invited Jake inside for a glass of water and asked if he wanted to tag along to brunch, it was the last you could do, right?

“I wouldn’t want to intrude-”

“You’re not intruding. Bob’ll be there, too.” The brunch had been an impromptu plan anyway, cobbled together while you’d worked on Natasha and Bob’s jet and listened to Maverick and Cyclone berate the Top Gun students who had started another fight on the tarmac (apparently having learned nothing from the dog fight football games). You’d just been happy your pilots hadn’t been caught in the crossfire this time.

Jake looked at you over his half-finished glass of water and you had to keep yourself from shrinking away from his gaze. His glass clinked against the linoleum as he finished and you tried not to notice how he licked his lips free of the last few droplets of water. “So?” You pushed out, trying to keep your voice level. “Wanna come along?”

Jake’s silence turned at something in your stomach and Bradley’s not-at-all true observation was echoing at the back of your mind before Jake’s smirk returned. “You’re going to try to pay for brunch, aren’t you?”

You hadn’t even thought about it but… “Well, I invited you, so-”

“No.”

You groaned, snatching the glass from him and setting it in your dishwasher as Jake chuckled behind you. “You’re being a child.”

Jake rounded the corner, pushing further into the kitchen behind you, and crossed his arms over his chest (and no you weren’t looking at his arms again). “Why won’t you let me do anything nice for you?”

You frowned and matched his stance and crossed your arms, too. “I let you do nice things. You came with me to Junior’s party with me.”

“After you drove me there and tried to have me take credit for your gift and you introduced me to that group of brass to help me with my career.”

“That was a coincidence.”

“But you still did it.” He stepped closer and you hated that it was instinctual to take a step back, too. “Want to tell me why everything I do for you has to be reciprocal?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting and your fingernails dug into the meat of your arm as you tried to keep your face neutral. “There’s give and take to everything. And I… You should just let me pay you.”

“I’m not gonna let you pay me, Punch. And you’re going to learn that not everything is a give and take. Who taught you that, anyway?”

God. You hated this. You hated these questions and the soft look in his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Jake scoffed.

“Why?”

You could see Jake’s jaw clench, tendons working and tightening. But as quickly as it started, it stopped. He just shook his head and the tense silence in the kitchen continued to stretch until it was finally broken by Jake’s next question. “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

And you knew what he was asking. And you wanted to hate that he was connecting dots that you had tried to erase. “What is there to say? You know everything now.”

“I heard it from Rooster, not you. It is your story, Punch.”

“Rooster knows it just as well as I do, I think,” you muttered with a shrug, trying not to shrink away from him. “What else is there for you to know?”

Jake stepped forward, enveloping you in the scent of his expensive cologne and tinge of jet fuel that seemed to cling to him as he closed the distance to stand at your side and brush his arm against yours. “I want to know everything. Haven’t I told you that?”

You gnawed at your lip for a moment before stepping away from the counter. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Luke was an asshole then and he’s an asshole now. I should’ve seen the signs, I get that. I do. But he was so good when he wanted to be. And after being an afterthought for most of my life, it was nice to pretend that someone was choosing me.” This was just pathetic. Stop talking. Stop talking. If he hadn’t thought of washing his hands of you before, he was surely doing it now.

“What do you mean you were an afterthought?”

You rolled your shoulders and turned just enough to look at him before glancing at the little clock above your oven. “Doesn’t matter now. But, if we leave in the next five minutes, we’ll probably beat Natasha and Bob to brunch. So, are you coming?”

The ride was mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant Phoenix had picked overlooking the water. But Jake knew you were thinking about telling him something else as you sat in his passenger seat, watching the road pass your window. So, he just told himself to be patient. Again. It was a bright spot to finally know what you looked like in his truck. God knows he’s imagined it more than he’d like to admit, like some lovesick teenager.

You were picking at your cuticles without taking your eyes off the passing scenery. Jake had never seen you nervous, not like this. Even when the Daggers had to ship out for a short deployment and you had to watch them all take off from the carrier, you didn’t act like this. He watched you lean forward just a bit and your eyes narrowed and then it clicked. You weren’t watching the world go by—you were keeping an eye on the cars following the truck in the side view mirror. You were making sure Luke wouldn’t try to run you off the road again.

Jake looked in the rear view mirror and saw sedans, coupes, and a handful of SUVs, and a smaller number of trucks. But not a single black charger. It was clear for now. But you still picked at your cuticles and didn’t peel your eyes from the window.

Jake reached out and set a hand over yours, stilling your picking. You jumped under the touch and Jake curled his fingers over yours a little tighter, trying to anchor you to something else a little less destructive. “We’re okay, Punch, all right?”

You looked at him and Jake hated that he had to look at the road for safety purposes when you searched his face for something. “For now,” you said in return, once again turning to look out at the cars.

Jake squeezed your hand again and didn’t let go even as you muttered the next handful of directions to the restaurant. He awkwardly shifted into park and took the keys out of the ignition after finding a spot in the steadily filling lot. Your shoulders were slumped as you turned back to him, face unreadable except for the pinch between your brows that he wanted to smooth with a brush of his thumb.

(Maybe one day.)

“All right. We’re gonna go in there, eat our weight in overpriced waffles and then I’m going to take you home and double check your windows and locks. Okay?”

Your eyes swept up to look up at him and Jake felt that familiar warmth starting to unfurl in his chest. Your thumb swept over his knuckles but he wasn’t sure if you were aware you were even doing it. “I can’t afford to buy you your weight in waffles.”

Jake barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re not going to buy me brunch. Stop trying.” He had to bite back the pleased smile he felt growing when he heard your gasp after he raised your joined hands and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“You are ridiculous.” Your voice was tight as it wheedled out from between your lips before you (slowly) pulled your hand from his and reached for the door handle. “C’mon. We need to get on the list.”

The air was tinged with the scent of sea salt and syrup as he followed you into the glass and metal building, already teeming with people. You were quick to give your name and group size to the hostess who said it would probably be a fifteen minute wait. Just as you turned to grab one of the oddly shaped bar stools near the door to it for your name to be called, Phoenix was striding in, too. She pushed her sunglasses up her hair before sweeping you into a hug with a loud kiss to your cheek. “I knew you’d beat me here.” Then her dark eyes dragged to Jake as he stood behind you. “Hangman. What’re you doing here?”

“He drove me,” you said. “I figured it would be fine.”

“Of course it is,” Phoenix said, waving it away but Jake knew the gleam in her eyes. She wasn’t quite finished. “You two arrived together?” She asked, eyes bouncing between you and Jake.

“Ken fixed my tires. Figured I could treat him to brunch as a thank you.”

Jake had to groan at that, knocking his hand into your hip and earring a halfhearted swat at his arm in retaliation. “I told you, you’re not paying for me.”

Phoenix hummed and anchored her gaze on Jake and he fought the urge to stand a little straighter. “Yeah. That was awful nice of him. When you told me that the neighbor kid slashed your tires, I thought Hangman would be a gentleman and drive you to the tire shop. Not fix them himself.”

Neighbor kid. You had lied to Phoenix? Granted, her text had just said that your tires had been slashed and that you’d needed help—it wasn’t exactly filled with details. Jake had assumed that she had known. But that didn’t matter now and he plastered his well-used smirk on his face. “Well, I’m a-”

“Don’t stroke your own ego, Bagman.” She then glanced at something over his shoulder and smiled. “Bob just got here. Bob!” She threw up a hand to grab the WSO’s attention and he jogged toward the group when he spotted her. He nearly collided with a waitress and they both apologized—profusely—before going their separate ways. By the time Bob reached their little group, his face was a vibrant and familiar shade of red.

“Nearly swept that pretty girl off her feet, Baby on Board.” Jake braced for the hit he knew was coming and winced when Phoenix’s fist collided with his arm.

The group was seated soon after and Jake had to bite back a grumble when Bob was the one to pull out your chair for you when you reached the table. When Jake went to do the same to Phoenix, she hit him again.

Bob was nearly the shade of a strawberry when he realized the woman he’d nearly bowled over would be your waitress and nearly dropped his silverware roll when he noticed her striding over to the table. Food was ordered—both you and Jake ordered waffles while Phoenix wanted to try the brioche French toast and Bob wanted eggs Benedict with steak—and mimosas (and pineapple juice for Bob) were poured as Phoenix regaled the table with her run-in with a guy at the gym on base. The Ensign hadn’t realized Phoenix a) outranked him and b) wasn’t interested in bulging muscles and whatever the younger man could(n’t) provide. The interaction ended when Phoenix “politely” challenged him to a friendly competition to see who could handle more weight while doing hip thrusters. Phoenix started out with thirty pounds more than him and he called her a dyke so she had him barred from the gym and probably had a meeting with his commanding officers on Monday, too.

You giggled and tipped your mimosa flute into Phoenix’s before you both took a sip. It was good to see you smile like that.

The waitress came by a few minutes later with the food and she was quick to divvy up the plates but Jake watched her make sure Bob’s was the last plate and she stood at his side and carefully set it down, making sure to bend down just enough to brush against his arm. “Careful, the plate is hot,” she practically purred.

(Phoenix quickly had Jake’s laugh turning into a poorly disguised cough when she sent him a look across the table.)

“I’ll be careful. I can handle it.”

Then the waitress actually giggled and stood straight, setting her hand on Bob’s shoulder for just a moment. “I’m sure you can. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” She then turned and walked away with an exaggerated sway in her hips which Bob completely missed because he was busy unrolling his silverware.

The group watched him as he carefully cut into his meal and shoved a bite between his lips. He went to take another when he noticed the stares. “What?”

“Robert,” you started, voice strained to avoid a giggle. “She was flirting with you.”

His fork froze before it reached his mouth.”No, she wasn’t. She told me the plate was hot.”

Phoenix reached over and patted her back seater’s shoulder. “Oh, Bob.”

The other man’s blush returned and he shoved the bite between his lips. “How is telling me that the plate is hot flirting?”

Jake shook his head and fought a smile of his own. “Listen, do you like her?”

Bob chanced a glance at the waitress at the hostess booth and immediately ducked his head when she caught him and wagged her fingers at him with a wink. “She’s beautiful.”

“But?” Jake prodded, hearing a slight hesitation. He had always been good at reading people (you were an exception), and Jake had played therapist to a handful of the Daggers since he proved he could be someone other than Hangman. He wanted Bob to be happy.

“But I don’t know. She looks like she’d eat me alive.” He fiddled with his fork. “Can we talk about something else?”

Jake was the one who shifted the conversation to the insufferable group of Top Gun pilots that would thankfully be leaving soon enough. A friendly bet was placed on who everyone thought would actually get the trophy and Jake tried not to smile too much when Bob knocked his foot into his as a quiet thank you and you, seemingly unaware of Bob’s quiet gratitude, set your hand over Jake’s arm for a moment in your own show of appreciation. As soon as it happened, it was gone again.

That was okay. Jake was determined to have it happen again.

Brunch continued on and finished after another round of drinks and splitting a funnel cake that the waitress insisted they try. Jake was sure the woman pouted after not receiving Bob’s phone number when he signed his check but he wouldn’t mention it. Jake liked this strange bit of normalcy. With you. He even if both Bob and Phoenix made vague threats against his life if he hurt you. Jake was determined to have more of these moments with you. Even if you grumbled about Jake hustling to get to the truck before you so he could open your door.

The tension in the cab on the way to brunch was absent now and Jake didn’t even care when you teased him about his choice in radio stations—calling him a cliche for listening to early Tim McGraw. But you said it with a laugh and Jake had to laugh, too. He liked that it was you who brought up Bob and his interactions with the waitress.

“I want Bob to be happy. And he’s mentioned once or twice that he’d like to have a family.”

Jake thought for a moment before the perfect person popped into his thoughts. “I know a girl.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t trust your taste in women.”

And Jake had to laugh at that. Had to. You were his taste in women. But the person he had in mind for Bob would be perfect. “She’s a CPA. Wears glasses. And she only drinks ginger ale despite helping Penny with the Hard Deck’s taxes. And she’s the only person outside of Texas that I trust with my tax return.”

Your face scrunched and Jake knew you were thinking it over. “Just because they both wear glasses and have an affinity for Seagram’s doesn’t mean they’d be a good match.”

“Just trust me. It might take a minute to get her to look him in the eye-”

“She’s shy?”

“So shy. It’s adorable. And just what Baby on Board needs.”

You scowled at him but he knew you didn’t really mean it when you knocked your shoulder into his over the center console a moment later. He eventually pulled into your driveway and threw the truck into park before turning to you but you were scrambling out of your seat and up to your front door before he could even get a word in edgewise.

Oh.

Jake wasn’t sure if he’d ever been rejected as soundly as that before. But then he saw you waving him forward from your front stoop and Jake nearly clocked himself in the face with the seatbelt buckle as he hurried to follow you inside. He shut your door behind him, engaging just two out of the five locks as you hurried toward something just down the hall.

“Punch?”

“Just a moment!” You yelled in return.

Jake resisted the urge to settle on the couch again, like he’d done weeks ago. Everything seemed different now. You weren’t trying to push him away and he could hear you shuffling something in the other room and he was suddenly struck with a daydream of coming home to you, waiting for you to notice his presence and smiling when you saw him. “You’re home!” As soon as the vision came, it was gone, and Jake shook himself a little as if that would help him forget what he’d conjured up. What he’d wanted since the moment you first called him Ken, even if he never admitted it out loud.

You walked back into the living room and slapped something down onto the small table you had lining the back of your couch.

“Whatcha got there, Punch?”

Your answering smile was all teeth, like a cat who got the cream and Jake saw that it was a fifty dollar bill as it peeked from between your fingers. “Well, I added up how many miles it is from base, to my house, to the restaurant, then back to my house and then guessed on how many miles you get per gallon. And, you use premium gas, right? Either way, this should be enough for gas, but if you use diesel, this should cover it.” You slapped another fifty atop the first after pulling it from your back pocket.

Jake looked at the stack of cash and then back at you before he sighed, a long put-upon sigh that he knew was obnoxious but it was worth it when he heard you try to stifle a laugh. God. You were relentless.

“First, I don’t know how to break this to you, but you’re awful at math. Like, so bad.”

“Hey!”

“And second, I’m still not taking your money.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I’m being a friend, Punch. Friends drive each other around and help them when they need it. And I’m willing to bet-“

“I’ll take that bet.”

Jake continued on, ignoring you, “-that you wouldn’t expect to be paid back if our places were switched.”

You pulled your lips into your mouth for a moment and drummed your fingers against the money. “I lost that bet. Guess you’ll have to take the money.”

Jake groaned but he could feel a laugh starting to bubble in his chest. “You’re impossible.”

It was too soon to call this a victory, but you were sure you were closing in on one. He would take the money and then you could pretend to feel fine about everything he’d done for you. Sure.

“Actually, I have something you could do if you’re so hellbent on paying me back.” Before you could ask what he meant, he was unlocking your door and jogging out to his truck and pulling something out, tucking it behind his back as he returned. “Can you sign this for me?”

Then he dropped a purple book in your hand and your stomach dropped to your feet as you looked at the gold lettering across the cover. “You snooped!” You said, too embarrassed to be angry. You held the book up to your chest as if that would guard you from his knowing look or the embarrassment starting to churn your stomach.

“You knew I would! Why’re you surprised?” His smile was back and he took a step toward you. You took a responding step back until he was crowding you against your bookshelf, hands landing on the shelves on either side of your shoulders. And it could have been a threatening stance, an unnerving cage, but all you felt was safe. Safe as he blotted out the rest of the world and it was just you and him and your books in the quiet of your home.

You should not feel like this, you knew that. It was stupid and dangerous and you couldn’t stop it. What had happened to your resolve that you had just yesterday for keeping him at arm's length?

Your fingers drummed against the paperback and you hurriedly flipped it open when your eyes tracked down to his mouth. Oh. “Should I sign it ‘To Ken?’ Or-”

“Could you actually sign it for my sister Mia? She reads your books in her book club.”

“Oh.” Was all you could say. That was…that was actually really nice to know. You knew people read your books; Danny had framed a newspaper clipping showing your second book reaching a top ten spot one of the Best Sellers lists and had gifted it to you for your last birthday. They were mildly popular, you knew that. But to actually be confronted with the fact that someone you vaguely knew was reading your books was something else. You reached back and grabbed one of the pens you kept in a cup on the shelf. “Mia? She’s your oldest sister, right?” A quick glance up at Jake had your heart twisting. His look was too soft. Too happy.

“Yeah, Punch. That’s her.”

You took the time to write your pseudonym with extra flair and then added a heart next to Mia’s name, too. “Is this for her birthday or anything?”

“She’s…” Jake paused for a moment. “She’s just going through a rough patch right now. Your books make her smile.”

The pen stalled on the page for just a moment before you shoved at his chest to get him to back up just enough to grab at your ARC for your newest book and quickly scrawled, Wishing you expensive champagne and good memories! Happy reading! You then signed your name again and added a half dozen hearts next to Mia’s name at the top of the page. You slapped both books against Jake’s chest with a frown. “That book hasn’t been released yet, so I may get in a bit of trouble with my publisher if she tells anyone.”

Jake’s hands covered yours on the books and the toe of his shoe knocked into your socked feet as he moved closer, dragging your attention back to his stupidly handsome face again. “She won’t tell anyone but I know I’ll probably get an earful about how I got them.” His thumbs brushed against your knuckles and you would swear that you could feel it behind your ribs. “Where’d you get that name anyway?”

You almost snorted at the way he phrased that question, like you found it on the side of a cereal box. “My parents were obsessed with Stephen King—they actually met at a book club specifically for King’s books. My sister, Georgie, was named after the kid who got their arm ripped off at the beginning of It. And my brother, Danny, is named after the kid in The Shining, Danny Torrance.”

“And you? I don’t think I’ve read your name in his books.”

It was a fair enough question. King had dozens of books and Jake didn’t seem like the type to clamor for the newest release. “I was named by my grandparents after they discovered the reasoning behind my sister’s name. If my parents wanted to stay in the will, I had to have a name they picked. Of course, when my brother was born, my parents picked something a little more innocuous so they wouldn’t rock the boat again. But, anyway, to actually answer your question; I took my siblings’ names as a sort of thank you to them. Georgie became Georgia and I took Danny’s literary counterpart’s last name. And Georgia Torrance was born. I wrote most of my books when I had downtime on deployments. I took a chance and sent it off to an agent and I got a nice contract with a moderately respectable publishing house. It isn’t Stephen King money by any means, but I can upgrade my plane ticket to Business Class if I wanted to once or twice a year.”

“Your parents must’ve gotten a kick out of that.”

You tried to fight the sigh you felt growing in your throat but lost. You also lost the wherewithal to keep a single secret from him. “I don’t know. I don’t really talk to them.”

“What?”

“After Danny got sick, all of their attention was on him, which I understand. I do. But I was still just a kid who needed her parents every once in a while. But it was like I ceased to exist to them until they remembered I could help with the hospital bills. Georgie was already out of the house and getting her degree and would call but it wasn’t the same. I kinda gave up on having a relationship with my parents after they forgot about my rowing meet and I waited to be picked up for three hours before eventually just walking home.”

“Punch-”

And once you started, you couldn’t stop, like a can of pop shaken and bursting. “Danny was hooked up to like six different machines and was high off his ass and he apologized for all the…all the bullshit. I told him it was unnecessary. He was sick. I’m just happy he’s healthy again.”

God. You really knew how to ruin every moment, didn’t you?

Jake set the books on the shelf just beside your shoulder but was quick to lean over you again and you hated how Jake really was a certifiable blueprint for a romantic literary hero. You could write a single description of him in your next book and you’d know it would skyrocket to the top of the Best Sellers lists but you had been actively avoiding trying to piece together a story from your life. And, as if he knew you were debating something, the bastard actually propped his other arm up on the bookcase and leaned over you. Oh god. He was doing the lean and was going to ask you something about your fucked up childhood.

Shit.

Alarm bells were ringing in your head, letting you know that this moment could be disastrous. So, you decided to not let it go on any longer. “Jesus. Sorry. I really know how to kill a good time, huh? I think I’ve taken up quite enough of your time for the day. Let me know what Mia thinks of the books, okay?”

You ducked beneath his arm, intent on leading him to the door, but Jake grasped your hand and pulled you to a stop. “No, c’mon, Punch. Don’t do that again. Don’t shut me out. I’m happy you feel like you can tell me stuff like that, that you’re comfortable enough to trust me with that. Don’t pull away again. Not from me.”

You knew that if you looked at him right now, his green eyes would be wide and pleading. So, you just didn’t look. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now. I don’t know why you’re doing this, Jake.”

“Doing what?” He asked softly, as softly as his hand on yours.

“Buying me tires? Driving me around? Being…being this fucking nice to me all the time when I’ve only been a dick to you?” You asked as you felt your chin wobble. “Why?”

Jake was quiet for a moment. Just a moment. “You know why.”

“No! No, I don’t because…” You couldn’t finish the sentence because then it was real, it would be real and you didn’t know how to deal with that again. You looked up at him and tried to remember what you were protecting him from. Pulling your hand out of his, you set your hands on your hips. “Because you can’t.”

Jake’s shoulders rolled before his lips set in a thin line. “I do. And I know you feel the same.”

You scoffed and tried to ignore the warmth in your chest that he was right. He felt the same. Wouldn’t that just be the worst? “You really think that highly of yourself? You’re so sure that I-”

Jake leaned closer and the rest of your argument stalled. You could smell the mint on his breath from the stupid toothpick he was chewing on in the truck just beneath the warmth of his cologne. God. He was intoxicating. You almost hated him for a moment because every ounce of fight you had drained out of you. “Ken.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He moved closer. Closer. Closer.

His warm hand skirted up your arm until it settled against the gentle arc of muscle between your neck and shoulder and the other settled on your hip. You could feel each of his fingers pressing into your skin like a brand. Every breath he took brushed against your mouth and you licked your lips without a thought as he leaned even closer.

“Last chance.” You could feel his smile against your mouth, growing with each syllable.

And you had to smile. Had to because he was your Ken and this felt inevitable. Jake was inevitable. “Do your worst.”

He kissed you and it was instantly all consuming. Surely, he could feel your smile, too. You actually laughed against his mouth as your hands pressed against his chest. Jake pulled back just enough for you to see his smile before he kissed you again, catching your bottom lip between his and tugging to have you gasping. His stupid, perfect teeth nipped at the skin and he was quick to soothe the sting with a flick of his tongue.

Then you were moving backward, guided by his gentle movements, until your spine went flat against the wall beside your bookshelves. The kiss was all smiling lips and searching tongues as Jake held you tight. Everything was warm and tinged with the mint on his tongue and Jake Jake Jake.

His thumb pressed into the hinge of your jaw and he sighed against your panting mouth. “So fucking good.” His voice was hoarse and you could feel it curling in your stomach.

But your entire body seized when you felt his hand move to wrap around your throat as his mouth continued to work against yours. You couldn’t help it; you flinched. The kiss ended abruptly as you pulled back despite you not wanting it to end. But it couldn’t be helped. Not yet. You watched an array of emotions flash across Jake’s face before it settled on despair.

“Fuck.” The single syllable was wrenched from his throat as he took a step back and his hands fell back to his sides and left you cold. “Fuck, Punch, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I-”

“W-wait…I just…” How could you even phrase this without sounding unhinged? “I just need a moment.” Your next breath rattled in your lungs but you still reached for his hand and raised it again, moving it just enough for his fingers to encircle your throat once more. The roughened planes and angles of his hand had you shivering but you managed to drag your eyes up to his and tried to not show how nervous you actually felt. “It… you can, if you want. I’d actually prefer to have some good memories of something like this instead of-”

The rest of your rambling was cut off as his lips pressed against yours. The grip on your throat grew a little more insistent, a little heavier, but nothing stronger than just a simple weight, an anchor at your pulse. His other hand smoothed up your arm to curl over your cheek just as he pried your lips apart, delving into your mouth to steal the building whine from your throat.

Your heart hammered behind your ribs as you felt the warmth of Jake’s hand bleed through your shirt as his palm brushed the side of your chest. He moved forward and your legs instinctively parted to accommodate the thigh he was shoving between yours and your next breath caught in your throat when the denim brushed against the crux of your thighs.

“Fuck,” you hissed when Jake’s lips seared a path across your cheek and down your throat to bite at your thrumming pulse. You hadn’t even remembered when your hands had dropped to wrinkle his shirt again but you still pulled him closer as every nerve ending sparked. And then-

“Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen!”

Immediately, you pulled away from Jake with a grimace as ABBA’s song continued to fill the air. “Oh Jesus, that’s Natasha’s ringtone. She never calls.” You ducked beneath his arm for the second time tonight and pulled your phone off its perch on the kitchen counter and answered it as you heard Jake sigh. Turning to look at him, you saw his head drop to his chest for a moment before standing straight again and following in your footsteps toward the kitchen.

“I asked Rooster out and I think he thinks it is just as a friends thing and I want to bash my head against the wall.” Tasha screeched, words running together in a rush. She continued on, explaining that somehow she and Bradley had been roped into helping Penny restock the Hard Deck before opening today and Natasha had (finally) acted on her (reciprocated) feelings after Rooster had been his usually flirty self the entire time and then dragged Natasha to the piano and made her sing along to Elton John’s Your Song. Jesus.

You looked over at Jake to see him looking at you with another soft look on his face and a bit of pink in his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed to him.

He waved it away before stealing a quick kiss, too, that had your heart rate picking up again.

“Punch? You there?”

You pushed out a breath and shook your head as you pressed a hand to Jake’s chin, keeping him from doing it again. You could feel his self satisfied smirk against your fingers. “Yeah. I’m here. And, um, I don’t know. I think you’d be surprised with Bradley. He’s probably picking out his nicest Hawaiian shirt in preparation.”

Tasha groaned but you had to smile because Jake nipped at your fingers. “You think?”

“I do. It is gonna be great. I know it.”

She sighed, crackling the line, but eventually agreed. “He can’t be that oblivious right?” She asked, making you both laugh. “Also, don’t think I’m forgetting about you and Hangman coming to brunch together. We’re gonna talk on Monday.”

“You don’t forget anything, Tasha. I’m well aware.”

You eventually said your goodbyes after promising her you would talk to her on Monday and then dropped your phone on the counter again and your hand from Jake’s mouth.

“I never thought you’d be a tease.” His tone let you know he was joking but you also could have guessed with the smirk pushing at his mouth, too.

Your jaw dropped for a moment before an embarrassed giggle rippled out of you. “I said I was sorry! I was worried!” Biting your lip as you looked at him, you shook your head. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“It was quite the moment, huh?” His smirk had fallen to a soft smile despite his self assured words.

“Yeah, it was.” You didn’t even want to tease him now but then a small voice whispered at the back of your mind that it wasn’t a moment to him. After all, who would want-

“Steak or seafood?” He asked, knocking the rest of your thoughts right out of your head.

“What?”

“I have a list of restaurants that I want to take you to, if you’re willing to let me pay and bring you flowers.” The usual bravado that bled through all of his words wavered now. Was he nervous?

“Sounds like you’re asking me out on a date, Ken.”

“I’m trying here, Punch. So? Steak or seafood.”

Hope and happiness were blooming and twisting and growing within the confines of your ribs now. He wanted to take you out on a date. “I’m allergic to shellfish,” was all you could say through your smile.

“Steak it is. I’ll update my list when I get home.” He reached out and swept his thumb across the slope of your cheek and you found yourself leaning into the touch a little more. Jake seemed content to just hold your face in his hand for a moment before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple. “I should go. I want to do this right with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to wine and dine you, darlin’. Want to earn those lips of yours again,” he said as his thumb moved to press at the heated skin of your bottom lip. “You deserve it. And I want to be the one to give it to you.”

For just a moment, you worried that Jake would hear how hard your heart was beating. No one had ever said anything like that to you before. “Oh.”

This was different. Jake was different. You just had to give him permission to show you.

“I’d like that.”

He smiled and stepped back, hand dropping back to his side. “You’re a good friend to Phoenix, by the way. Bradshaw, too.”

You smiled again. “They’re good to me. All of you have been.” Slowly, you herded him toward the door, knowing he had a plan.

He stopped at the door, just after you undid the locks. “Does Phoenix know?”

You shook your head, knowing exactly what he was asking. “It’s hard enough to be taken seriously in the Navy as a woman. She had her own battles, Luke was mine. I always thought she was so strong and, for a while, I thought she’d just see me as weak if she knew what I’d put up with. But I know now that is an unfair thought. Tasha is and always has been one of my best friends and staunchest supporters. I should tell her, right? And maybe I will, after all of this is over. I don’t…I don’t want anyone else I care about to be wrapped up in this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” And you tried to ignore the sinking feeling that you had once again put Jake in Luke’s crosshairs.

But this time had to be different. It had to be.

Jake shook his head and cupped his hands at the back of your head before touching his forehead to yours. “We’re going to finish this, okay? We will.”

You nodded and smiled despite it all when he pressed another quick kiss to your forehead—it was like he couldn’t stop kissing you. And you weren��t about to complain. “Get home safe, Ken.”

You watched him get into his truck and waved as he pulled out and you knew he was telling you to lock your doors through the windshield. Your phone rang again just as he disappeared down the road and you knew by the way Jerry Lewis blared that it was now Bradley calling.

It had only been two days since Jake kissed you and had promised you a date. Two days and it was like the entirety of Top Gun was trying to keep you apart. You barely saw each other after he got roped into helping Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson into looking over the files of the next hopeful batch of aviators who could be called to San Diego. But it was fine. Sure. It wasn’t as if you could walk in holding his hand; you were still in the Navy and there were still protocols and rules you needed to follow. You had a feeling you and Jake would be breaking a lot of them.

You were kept busy with repairing Harvard’s jet after he managed to land safely after a bird strike. Your lunch breaks and evenings were spent talking to either Natasha or Bradley about their upcoming date-not-date while not revealing that you knew what the other was thinking. You did, however, mention to Bradley that Rueben and Mickey had started a betting pool about how long it would take Bradley to admit who he was in love with after Mickey spotted him with a pad of paper during lunch which was apparently filled with a speech about loving someone for years. You then spent the next hour workshopping the speech he was going to say to Natasha. It was beautiful and heartfelt and filled with analogies you tried to trim down (gently). He was still, annoyingly, assuming that their dinner on Wednesday was not a date in Natasha’s eyes but he was still going to try to confess his feelings and hope for the best.

You knew he’d be over the moon with how Natasha would react.

As Wednesday bled into Thursday, you were nearly dead on your feet but you’d been watching Natasha and Bradley all day, trying to decipher how their date had gone by their body language. You drove home that night without many answers but your phone rang just before you pulled down your street and quickly answered when Natsha’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello?”

“He said he’s in love with me!”

“Hello, Tasha. How are you? I’ve had a great day. How was yours?”

“Oh, shut up!” She laughed. “I’m freaking out! He said he was in love with me—has been for years, apparently—and all I did was kiss him afterward. That’s not fair, right? I also need to have a speech. I can’t let him win this. I want to do a PowerPoint.” You had to mute your phone at that so she wouldn’t hear you snort. Everything was a competition. “Do you have that picture of me and him from Mav’s birthday last year?”

“I do,” you said, knowing exactly which one she was referencing. It was of Bradley and Natasha at the piano. Bradley had just led everyone through a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ for Mav and there was still a flush on his cheeks. Natasha was right next to him in a stunning blue dress and smiling at him. It was the picture you promised to yourself that you would show at their wedding. You rushed inside, pinning the phone between your ear and shoulder and hurriedly shut the door behind you before darting toward your bedroom without bothering to turn on any of the lights—you said you’d drop it off at her apartment as soon as you’d found it. You were going to be in and out. You flopped onto your stomach, overturning the small mountain of pillows you had at the headboard, before grabbing at the storage container beneath the bed frame. You hauled it up and onto the bed and flipped the lid. To your chagrin, your “filing” system was essentially nonexistent when it came to photos and you started to sift through them as Natasha continued to talk, telling you about the date she’d planned and laughing about how much Bradley had stumbled over his speech.

God, it was so nice just to hear her laugh. They were going to be happy together. You knew it.

A door opened and closed slowly in the distance—your neighbor must’ve finally sprayed his door with WD-40 because it didn’t creak. Good. It only took him three years. But your heart nearly stopped when you heard your neighbor’s door open a few seconds later and its distinctive creak filled the night air. Something thumped down the hall and your spine went rigidly straight, still holding the phone to your ear as blood roared in your ears. You hadn’t locked the door. You had been inside for less than five minutes and you hadn’t thought it was necessary–you would have been leaving again soon anyway.

But you should have taken the time. A careless, stupid mistake.

The noise came again and sat up on bed, spilling the pictures in your hold onto your blankets. “Punch?” Natasha asked, pulling your focus. “You still there?”

“I…I think there’s someone in my house,” you whispered. Every part of your body was telling you to run. Right now. But where could you? Your house had one door and the person was in your living room.

Natasha was quiet for just a moment before whispering, “I’m gonna call the cops, okay? You hide.”

“N-no,” you hissed. “Don’t hang up. Stay with me.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stay on the line with you, but-”

The line went dead with three terrible beeps and you wrenched the phone away from your ear to see ‘Call Lost - Try Again?’ written across the screen. No matter how many times you tried to call or text, nothing went through. The little icon at the top where you usually saw the lines denoting your network was now just a terrible X. The network was either down or whoever had come into your house had turned on a jammer. And you knew which was more plausible—but god, you had never wished for a network outage more.

Slowly, you slid off the bed and into the hall just as you heard the distinctive sound of a boot hitting the corner of your coffee table. Someone was in your house.

Mia had loved the books. Apparently her book club had ooh’d and ahh’d over the signed book but she had, as Jake knew she would, kept the copy of your newest book a secret but had rattled off her opinions to Jake. “And I can’t believe you know her!” She squawked on the other end of the line. It had been so good to hear the smile in his sister’s voice again. It was priceless. Jake had also evaded any questions as to who you were–it wasn’t his secret to tell–but he hoped that you’d be the one to tell Mia sooner rather than later.

It had been a good day. For the most part, anyway. He would have preferred to have had more than just a small smile and wave from you for the last few days, but he could be patient.

When Jake’s phone chirped with a new message, he’d expected something from Javy, keeping him up to date about the conversation he was hoping to have with his girlfriend’s father. The ring Jake had helped Javy pick out was burning a hole in his pocket and Jake hoped that his best friend would be able to plan a cool as fuck bachelor party and then make sure the whole wedding goes smoothly.

And maybe he could ask you to be his date. He could dance with you and make you smile and-

Any happy thought he had evaporated when he looked at his phone.

Someone broke into Punch’s house! I’m calling the cops!

Jake was in his truck before he could even think to type out a response and sped toward your house as the group chat started to explode with a barrage of texts he didn’t read. He knew who had broken in. There was only one possible answer.

Jake just hoped he’d get there in time.

You needed to get out of the house…or at least get to something you could use as a weapon. The baseball bat you kept near the bookshelves could work, right? Slipping further down the hall, you tried to tell yourself that you could get out of this.

Creak.

You clapped a hand over your mouth as you pressed your spine to the wall, trying to quiet your breathing.

Step.

He was in your kitchen. You knew the sound of hard soled shoes on the uneven tiles. Could you make a run for it? Could you trap him in the laundry room? That had to be your only option. You turned the corner into your living room and your stomach fell to your feet.

Luke was standing in your kitchen. Knife in hand. Waiting for you. He looked almost exactly the same as he did the last time you saw him. His brown hair was still cropped short. His brown eyes were still narrowed and cold. His clothes were rumpled designer brands. He hadn’t changed. And that was terrifying.

You dove for the baseball bat, curling your hands around it before you turned and swung blindly. The bat cracked against his arm and Luke yelled, low and guttural as he staggered backward for a moment. But then he was lunging forward and grasping at the bat to wrench it out of your hands. He threw it across the living room and it smacked against the wall, shattering the glass in two frames before knocking them to the floor with a terrible crack. You couldn’t go for it again. There was no way past him now.

You should have aimed for his head.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, baby?”

You cringed at the nickname but didn’t take your eyes off the knife in his hand.

Luke didn’t wait for an answer to his question before barreling on. “And look what you’ve done. Got all those nice pins on your shirt, moving up in the ranks, and…” he paused as a smirk slithered across this mouth, “you got my dad’s money. A nice little nest egg.You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? And you didn’t have to work for any of it.”

He took a step forward and you took one back, ankle colliding with your coffee table.

“And what about me? I’m so glad you asked!” He snarled. “I’ve been dishonorably discharged. And you want to know why?”

“I had nothing to do with that, Luke. W-we had an agreement, remember? I keep my mouth shut and you…you were supposed to stay away from me.”

Luke’s tongue clicked against his teeth before he waved the knife. “You had everything to do with it. That LoA in my file was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I could’ve been given another chance if you had just kept your mouth shut when I told you to back in the-“

“I didn’t say anything. You were going to get Bradley killed!” The words bubbled out of you before you could think of the repercussions.

Luke was on you in a flash. The tip of the knife pressed over your sternum and you could feel it with each labored breath you sucked in between clenched teeth.

“He would’ve been fine! I know how to do my job! You ruined everything and then took my dad's money!” The knife pressed closer closer closer. It started to tear through the thin material of your shirt and shallowly cut your skin. The whimper you felt blooming in your throat died when you saw the gleam in Luke’s eyes.

Before you could even stop to think of an alternative, you threw your hands up and caught the knife. The edge sank through the delicate skin between your fingers and into your palm but you didn’t recoil. Couldn’t. You were only able to drag the knife down, the tip cutting against the skin just above your stomach.

Fresh pain bloomed across your face and it took you a moment to realize that Luke had slapped you. And then he did it again, making sure to send your head flying backward to slam into the wall hard enough and have stars dancing in front of your eyes. Your grip almost fell, loosening a fraction, and just for a moment everything was silent.

Just a moment.

You’d never be able to describe the pain that bloomed as Luke moved and drove the knife in, slotting it between your ribs and twisting with a vicious flick of his wrist. Your next breath stalled just behind your tongue as every nerve ending exploded with heat and teeth and a terrible popping sensation bubbled beneath your skin. “L-Luke…”

He pushed the knife deeper as he pressed his cheek to yours in an echo of the hugs he used to give you. “I used to miss you, you know. Did you miss me? I treated you so well. I was good to you. So good. I gave you everything.” The knife rocked back and forth and you felt the ridge of it with each movement. You felt all of it. Your grip faltered against the knife gain but you knew you couldn’t drop your hold.

He would kill you.

“And you had to ruin it. You ruined my life.”

“L-Luke…”

“I need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me you know what you did. You had this coming. All of it.”

“I didn’t,” you wheezed. Your chest was collapsing in on itself like you had a boar sitting on your sternum.

“Say it! You don’t get to play victim this time. You were the one who ruined my life.”

“You were a d-drunk! I did all that work for you until you told me you’d kill me if I made you l-look bad again!” Each word was a crack against your ribs, sharp and biting, but you couldn’t stop. This would be your only chance to say this, you knew it. If you were going to die tonight, you were going to let him know what you really thought of him. “You…” You sucked in a breath that only served to make you ache. “You only got through basic because your daddy bribed someone. You only got into the Navy at all because he made a phone call to someone after you failed the ASVAB. You…you fail at everything you do. You were a shitty AD. And you couldn’t kill me.” Blood dribbled out of your mouth and you felt it slid down your chin. “Twice. So you better make this count.”

Luke’s teeth glinted in the low light and he ripped the knife out only to plunge it back in. You felt the blade scrape against the edge of your hip as you let out a scream that fizzled out to a gurgle as more blood filled your mouth.

“I’ll make it count!” Luke seethed as he drove the knife deeper and pushed you into the wall.

Everything burned. Everything ached. And all you could do was scream as your knees knocked together, strength dribbling out of you with each frantic pulse of your heart.

Luke leaned forward to press his forehead against yours and the knife twisted. “Do you feel it, baby? Do you feel me inside you?” His breath smelled of the expensive cognac you knew he liked to guzzle and rolled your stomach.

“Luke.” You didn’t want to die looking into his eyes. You didn’t want to die at all, but you weren’t going to have your last earthly memory be of Luke and his cold eyes, so you shut your eyes as the tips of your fingers started to tingle.

The screech of a siren broke through the haze of your mind. You had to laugh but that, too, was cut short when Luke pulled the knife out and rushed toward the window to see the night sky filled with red and blue lights. You crumpled. Your hands slapped against the floor for just a moment before you slumped in a heap against the carpet as your arms gave out.

You vaguely heard your front door slam against the wall and knock another picture from its perch. There was an answering sound of glass shattering before warm, rough hands gently grasped at your shoulders. You struggled for just a moment when your scrambled brain thought Luke had come back to make sure you were dead. Unfocused eyes barely registered Jake kneeling above you.

“Punch? Punch, c’mon darlin’. There you are.” His voice was muffled but you felt yourself smiling anyway as everything started to prickle like you’d pinned your limbs beneath your weight for too long. The smile quickly died when Jake’s hands clamped down over your wounds and a surprised yelp punched out from between your teeth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I gotta stop the bleeding.”

“I-it hurts.”

“I know. I know it does. But it’ll only hurt a little longer, all right? You gotta stay awake for me. The cops are almost here.” His grip tightened. “We’ll get you fixed up and-”

“Where’s…Luke?” Was he still in your house? Would he hurt Jake?

“I don’t know, darlin’. He’s gone. We’ll find him, okay? We’ll find him and he’ll never do this to you again. But I need you to stay awake.”

Black dots were pushing their way into your line of sight, blotting out Jake’s worried face. “Ken…Jake…I wanted to get steak with you.”

Jake pressed harder and you could only whimper. “We will go get that steak. It’ll be the best date.” His voice was muffled, like you had shoved your head under water. And you struggled to hear him at all.

“Promise?” You asked, blood on your teeth.

“I promise.”

You smiled, despite it all. And then you were gone.

#Jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #tgm #female reader

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princesssmars · 10 months

Text

unexpected

an ellabs x black!streamer!reader

some times your viewers expect you're in a relationship, and one time you spell it out clearly for them.

wc : 1.860

contains : reader is feminine ! the picture is more lightskin but all shades can read <333 ltlvc reference

a/n : coming up with chat usernames is so hard what the fawk??? but yeah while i ignore trolls the ones under these tags were pissing me off so i wrote this for my fellow black girlies <333 i hope u enjoy :)

lets get one thing out of the way, you loved being a streamer. now that you had a good following of a few thousand regular watchers, you were more than financially stable, got to do something you enjoyed as a job, and even made a few new streaming friends.

but when it came to those friends, every content creator knew simple friendships could stir up drama. you had heard of many cases of friendships being strained or ruined because of this job. more specifically because of the fans.

which is why you took an oath to leave finer details like relationships out of your work. if you did tell a story about that time you and your friends nearly got kicked out of a local mall's journey's, you would keep descriptions of friends brief and blank, even resorting to calling people "friend number one, friend number two..."

luckily most of your fans were more than understanding that you wanted to keep some of your life private.

most of them.

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case one : the first p.o. box

it was another po box opening stream you decided to start early in the day, wanting to show and appreciate chat with the things they got for you.

lululemonsz : babe i hope its a new keyboard urs is on a iv drip !

wariolover96 : open it open the box OPEN IT

shelovedantee : damn is there a bomb in it hurry up

you laughed looking at all the people in chat begging you to open the current package in your hand.

"everybody chill out. look, im gonna open the first one now."

you quickly got a pair of scissors to cut off the packing tape on both ends, hurrying to pull the cardboard from its place.

the chat started speeding up when your mouth fell open in shock, slowly reaching in and pulling out the keyboard. it was sleek, mechanical, and your favorite color.

biiiigpoo : omg isnt that thing like $250?

lululemonsz : this as the first gift is CRAZY

ilovestardewmc1237 : one of your viewers is in love with you

you couldn't even respond, turning the keyboard over and back again to admire the details of it. out of the corner of your eye you spot a little yellow sticky note at the bottom, bringing it up to read it without letting the camera see. once you got to the end, your eyes widened and you quickly moved on to the next gifts.

but the light reflecting from your window and monitor was enough for chat to see a few letters on the note. after that, your fandom quickly began talking of a person named "A" who had not only the money to get you crazy expensive keyboards, but was also able to fluster you with a small note.

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case two : the search history.

every so often, your mods would host little events on your stream. these could include giveaways, shitty chat therapy, and little games for everyone to play. today it was a challenege : the more bits people donated, the crazier stuff you had to do for them. it was all pretty tame, and the end goal was one you didnt think you'd manage to hit.

never doubt the power of charisma and a pretty face, because after only three hours you manged to reach that two thousand dollar mark, and chat was raving at what you'd have to reveal next : your search history.

ariagatorr : damn this lowkey invasive 💀

devonchcgo22 : and we dont give a fuck

plantsnparsnip : right open that shit up

"i hate yall, do you know that? like genuinely." you groaned, slowly movied your mouse to open your chrome history.

there wasn't much for chat to bully you about thankfully, just some light teasing about how much you use pinterest and asking what it was you bought on etsy. and just when you thought you were done, someone had to open their big damn mouth.

pian0picass0 : wait a minute why did you open ellies stream THREE times ????

chat started moving faster as they read the comment, everyone asking you to open the stream and show them what was going on. sucking your teeth and denying them as you had shown them what they wanted!

after quickly wrapping up the stream and giving your thanks and goodbyes, a portion of viewers went on a manhunt for any ellie who was streaming at the moment.

once clicking on the stream, they found it was just a casual stream with ellie. she was obviously pretty, but was super laid-back in her jeans and converse as she strummed some songs on her guitar.

"oh hey, welcome to the stream i guess. any requests? i was gonna practice some radiohead because my friend asked for it."

pian0picass0 : hey ellie! do you know who (y/u) is by any chance?

"'sup casso. uhhhh no i dont think i do. did she send yall over here? maybe ill check her channel out."

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case three : the enhanced dm's

"everybody shut the fuck up and lets start this stupid thing."

this was it, one of your biggest streams of the year. and also the most fun. and most aggravating.

the gist was simple. you and 5 other streamers were thrown into a discord call and whoever lasted the longest through the sleep deprivation and challenges won a heap of cash.

what the hell was it with you getting screwed over by challenges?

it didn't seem that bad. the host, a close friend of yours, told you to share your screen so everyone could decide something to tweet from your twitter.

now, your friends in the call didn't notice what was on your screen when you shared it, and if they did they didn't say anything. but never doubt the perseverance of your crazy ass viewers, because one took the liberty to see exactly what you were saying in that split second they could see your dm's, because they swore they knew that profile picture...

abby : don't worry you'll do fine

abby : you're not gonna get embarrassed by any of the challenges

abby : i hope

y/n : seriously

abby : come onn you know i'm rooting for you <3

y/n : aww thanks bee

abby : yup. for the whole event i'm gonna be your personal cheerleader ^3^

y/n : oooo you gonna put on a uniform for me?

abby : don't push it.

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case four : the voice chat slip up

at this point, there was no point in acting like you didn't know the two streamers.

the first was abby. mostly posted fitness, health, and lifestyle videos on youtube, but would occasionally go live on twitch to talk with her fans or stream herself working out at the gym.

(you may or may not have admitted live that you found her by watching a few of her workout streams. whoops.)

and then there was ellie, a gaming streamer who was known for being chill and quiet when playing music but as loud as a plane engine when playing cs:go. don't even get her started on cod.

but luckily you'd manage to convince her to play some games with you on your latest stream! some stardew, maybe some overcooked. even if she kept burning all of the damn food.

leave it to ellie williams to always surprise you, though.

when you hear the du-dum of the discord join noise, your face lights up and your mouth opens to greet ellie before she beats you to it.

"ok, babe, which game we playin first?"

to make a long story shot, your chat went ballistic and you gave a stern talking to the red head after the stream ended.

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case five : the instagram post

most of the time you leave most of your notifications off to avoid your phone sounding like a constant alarm. but you're guessing your recent endeavor of babysitting your cute but horrifically grabby nephew screwed you over, because before you know it the sound of dozens on instagram notifications are waking you up and pushing your bonnet from where it slipped down your eyes before unlocking your phone.

at first it seems like a normal picture abby posted, standing in front of a mirror in her living room , flexing her arm and covered in a thin sheen of sweat after an apparent workout session. ever the show off.

but when you zoomed into a blip of color in the background, your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see it.

its you and ellie, you sitting in her lap while she showed you some stupid meme on her phone she said reminded her of you.

the post was only thirty minutes old but already had a few thousand comments, the previes of 'OMG?????' and "no fucking way" giving you a hint to what people were thinking.

you turned off your phone, tossed it back on the nightstand and went back to sleep.

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case six : the joint stream

y/nsstan69 : not an unscheduled stream ??? is it judgement day ???

onlycuntz : "ft surprise guest" girl we aren't stupid

you had to hide the smile from appearing on your face as you read through the comments of your chat. you knew some of them were probably smart enough to know what was going on. the three of you hadn't really been discrete in the days following abby's slip up post, and viewers jumped at the chance to point you out in the background of some of her workout videos. and to point out how you were staring at her.

assholes.

so, here you sat in the comfort of your cute gaming chair ready to tell chat the big news with your special guest.

"so, i bet some of you are wondering why im streaming off schedule, but i had something big in my personal life that i wanted to tell you guys! in a few minutes my gest should be here..."

your voice trailed off as you kept your eye on chat, seeing a bunch of comments that you werent expecting from this big announcement.

motionpickers : lmaooooo are they serious

lululemonsz : she's gonna be so pissed

you begin to turn around in your chair when two pairs of lips press a kiss to each of your cheeks.

"you guys are so unserious."

"and you are so bad at hiding things." ellie pulls up and extra chair and rolls it up to yours so her knees touch yours. she tugs your hand into hers to sit on her lap, ignoring when you pinch her with your nails.

"ignore her. we could tell what you were doing and figured we should all do it together," abby is on your other side, resting her hip on the arm of your chair. "so, go ahead. it's pretty obvious already."

"wow, thanks for the support you guys."

"anytime, hun."

uhuhstasia : i literally cant tell whos luckier

niatargaryen : IS ANYBODY ELSE FREAKNG OUT

ilovestardewmc1237 : is it appropiate to say i called this

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader x ellie #ellie x reader x abby #abby #ellie #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou x reader #fem reader #streamer reader

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happyk44 · 7 months

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i started writing this in my drafts weeks ago but didn't continue much farther than the first sentence - probably put it down to do something else and then passed out lmao. anyway after scrolling past last night wanted to continue it but can't be effed to scroll through my drafts rn (i save everything to my drafts to tag and queue later and my drafts ar like over 250+ rn)

anyway percy who becomes obsessed with finding this grim reaper he saw the night his mom killed his step-dad. he was an abusive asshole and percy helped his mom stage the scene to look like someone gabe owed money to came knocking. they don't have much in terms of expensive shit - just the TV and playstation. it's an old old model that one of percy's classmates was going to throw out as he wasn't into the games he had with it anymore and was getting the latest version for christmas.

it was nice that he gave it to percy with only a fraction of the cost in hand and a promise to give him the rest over time. percy paid him off every monday. it took sally weeks to pay it off, percy chipping in by donating cans and glass bottles he found lying around. the games were old and a little childish, but it was the only entertainment percy had aside from sally's old and crappy laptop that gabe hogged with online poker games.

so it sucked to watch sally dump it into an empty trash bag. it's small, she'd said. the tv would be too big to carry out without causing suspicion, even in mind-your-business new york city, but the playstation, her shitty laptop, and gabe's cell and wallet were things that could be dumped into a bag with no one giving a second look. percy crawls out the fire-escape grateful their shitty apartment building doesn't have cameras. he has to use a couple boxes to really rise himself enough to stuff the bag under the other bags. sally walks out the front door and they go have a late dinner at a nearby cafe.

then go home an hour later and scream in surprise at gabe's dead body in the bedroom, still warm from the heater in the corner boiling up the room that sally promptly unplugs.

percy doesn't think much about WHY his mom was so specific about how to clean his blood off the kitchen floor, about how to stage the scene, about moving gabe's body into the bedroom, about pulling him like he had been then letting him fall flat. heating up the room to keep him warm and fresh, while keeping the window cracked open so the heat doesn't stay by the time the police arrive.

he writes it away as her being a reader, a writer. maybe murder mysteries had been on her mind lately. maybe she watched too many cop shows. maybe she'd thought about this so many times she perfected it. his mom was not a repeat killer. gabe was her first time. her only time. and it was fine.

he sucked.

it's sitting in the chair, feigning distress but not too much, talking to a cop about the scene while he stares off into the air when he sees him. the boy is young, dark-haired and pale-skinned. he's startled by the presence, cutting off in his explanation about how people often came banging on the door for money gabe owed them. how he kept his poker winnings in the now open and empty safe in the bedroom. he wants to draw attention to the boy, but no one else seems to notice him.

he watches idly as gabe is carried out the front door in a body bag. then disappears towards the bedroom.

percy stands and mutters something about wanting to see his mom. the cop guides him to where she's sat on the bed crying thick tears. the boy is there. no one else cares that he's there. the boy reaches out and gabe's body shimmers into view. he's a visage of how he'd looked right before he died - the wide-eyed shock, tensing of his shoulders, mouth open wide because he'd been shouting at percy, threatening him.

he didn't realize how much like his mom he was until gabe fell flat with a knife sticking out of his throat. his mom standing behind him breathing hard. she'd squatted beside his head, pulled out the knife. stared at it. then stabbed stabbed stabbed until gabe's chokes turned to wispy gasps and his wispy gasps disappeared.

"four stab marks," his mom had said. "hopefully that won't look like overkill. but make sure to mention how many times people came screaming at the door just in case."

gabe's white glowing form dissipates into a ball in the boy's hands. he pulls out a baggie from his shoulder bag, then dumps gabe into it with a grimace.

he does suck, percy thinks. be annoyed.

the boy steps away. his eyes catch percy's. percy's arm tightens around his mom's shoulders as he looks into the endless void that is the other boy's eyes. flashes of his own death catch his mind. lying flat on the ground, weakly asking for help, and a dark-skinned man with black angel wings standing above him whispering, i'm sorry, but it's time to go.

then the boy looks away and disappears into a shadow.

grover believes him when he tells him about it. that's the thing percy loves about grover. the mystical and paranormal are easily believed. grover's parents are hippie-like green witches. percy doesn't really get it but has surmised from grover and visiting their house it means they really, really like plants.

"grim reaper," grover calls him. "or a psychopomp. collectors of the dead."

he lists a bunch of names from various cultures until percy cuts him off. "are any young boys?"

grover shrugs. "i mean life is bigger than what the stories tell. there's more people, more humanity. atheists even. where do they go? who collects them? there's definitely more gods and spirits than we think these days. it's not like they all stopped fucking just because the stories ended. there are definitely more gods than we think."

percy doesn't know what to do with that. grover asks him a lot of questions about the boy. but it's hard to answer them. they can't find a culture he could belong to, a way to summon someone without a name. the kid was young, dressed normal in black clothes with a normal black messenger bag. there were no signs of culture, religion, belonging.

he could've blended into a primary school playground easily.

"maybe you need to kill someone," annabeth suggests. the conversation arises a year or so after they first met and befriended her - a new addition halfway through the school year, a few months after gabe's unfortunate death. following a CPS check, her biological mother decided to take charge of her. annabeth spent a lot of time grumbling about her family in california while also missing california ("it's familiar, new york is not, i don't miss my step-mom, i miss the comfort of routine") and bitching about her bio mom's obsession with her grades and extracurriculars.

it takes some campaigning but the three of them manage to create an afterschool club in the new school year for her to find some time to chill and relax and get school work done. it took a lot longer to convince her mom to let her join their "magics and mystics club" - some nonsense about how it'll make her stand-out in college applications.

percy highly doubts any college is looking too closely at middle school extracurriculars, but what does he know? he's either lasting until graduation with grover and annabeth, or getting his GED and dropping out to immediately book it to the first basic entry-level job he can find. school already sucks ass, but his barely medicated ADHD and severely dyslexic ass already twaddles the line of a C average. What's the use of hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt that's only growing frantically from interest and a degree he barely achieved with the lowest grades required to shake the hand of someone he's never interacted with?

annabeth spends most of her time in the club doing her homework, while percy gets reeducated on grover's witchy stuff. their club advisor is the drama teacher who only checked in at the beginning of that first meeting then dipped for the drama club. grover's putting together a presentation on the history of mysticism while percy glues pictures to poster board. annabeth will present their stuff. the three of them doubt anyone will care if they did anything productive with their club, but annabeth's mom will so they do their best to make it fancy as fuck.

she already doesn't like either of them.

in the spare times that annabeth isn't doing homework or studying for another class, they talk about the spiritual and paranormal, magic and whatnot. so percy mentions his experience with the reaper.

and annabeth's first suggestion is murder. it's hilarious. grover knows the truth but annabeth only knows the lie. percy makes a note of it in his head. maybe he'll hint around the truth. they're close, but there's still time needed between the two of them. the worst she's told him is about the spiders in her bedroom. but nothing about what kickstarted a CPS investigation and her subsequent arrival into his life.

"maybe he's a murder reaper," she says. she's intellectual, doesn't believe in the mystic magic stuff but tolerates it for grover. "so he only comes around when there's been a murder."

"i don't think reapers are split up by types of death," grover argues. "and even if they were, why would a little kid be sent to deal with murders?"

annabeth crosses her arms. "maybe he's not a kid. maybe he just chooses to look like that."

they get into a weird half-argument, half-civil discussion. to her credit, annabeth doesn't bring science into it. they both descend to the computers and the books grover brought in from his house to search through to prove whatever point they've landed on.

percy is too busy cutting out paper to glue to poster board. and thinking about the murder aspect. he doubts that murder matters. he's pretty sure grover's right, but he likes keeping his balls so he doesn't say. annabeth is probably right too. magical beings are always capable of changing form. maybe little kid is just easy. who would be afraid of going somewhere with a little kid. or a dog.

but death is needed to see the reaper again. percy doesn't live with anyone dying. and he's too young to volunteer at the hospital. besides death is random isn't it? everyone was convinced that their classmate who got diagnosed with stage four cancer was going to die but she returned a year and a half later missing a leg but recovering. and the gym teacher who ran marathons and was known for his obsessively healthy eating habits died of a heart attack over the summer.

and even if he hovered around people on the verge of death, it didn't mean he was going to be there when they died.

but murder? definitely. he'd be right there because it would be his fault.

at that, he dashes the thought away. murder is wrong. he can't kill people just to see a reaper he saw but never spoke to. it's not like he has any questions about his death. he'll die when he dies. dying isn't scary to him. what's scary is dying before his mom and leaving her childless and mourning. but death itself? he's unafraid.

but inside burns a deep need to see the reaper again. not even to talk to him. just to lay his eyes on that night sky hair and porcelain skin. then he'd be satisfied and the need would go away.

maybe.

probably.

hopefully.

it's on his sixteenth birthday that he sees another reaper. it's not the boy he's looking for. he's disappointed. he shouldn't be. he should be more concerned with the dead man lying in front of him.

the letter opener is sticking out just below luke's left armpit. it hadn't killed him. it was too delicate for that, and the spot wasn't vital enough. but it had shocked him enough for annabeth to shove him away in disgust. he fell back, tripping over annabeth's shoes, and smashed into the glass coffee table.

"shit," annabeth breathes. she doesn't notice the reaper - a slender arabic man appear from the darkness and pull luke's soul of his chest with thin hands. he pushes his hands together and the soul vanishes. then he turns into a dog, or... something like a dog, and disappears back into the shadows.

it's take a few minutes to figure out how to stage the scene. they get rid of the letter opener and shove a piece of broken glass into the spot. this time he doesn't escape through the window. just walks out of the room, calm and detached, and sits in his mom's car. when the police arrive, annabeth, crying thick tears, tells them that he had fallen over while she was getting her things ready after percy came to pick her up.

it's not technically a lie. the police wish him a happy birthday when he says he came by to pick annabeth up from her study session because they were going to do laser tag for his birthday that afternoon. when they don't arrest him in the weeks that follow, he relaxes. and considers his options. he googles arab dogs which is an odd search term but brings up jackals and anubis. cool, he thinks. he tells them both about it afterwards. despite the death, grover is excited. annabeth is less impressed.

"i would've noticed, i was there too," she huffs.

"maybe they don't like you because you're a nonbeliever," grover fires back.

is percy a believer? he's not sure. he knows that what he sees is real. if he was suffering from delusions or hallucinations, surely he'd be seeing them a lot more than twice over the course of four years.

"what if i asked them?" he suggests. "to make themselves visible to you?"

"planning on being around another newly dead guy soon?" annabeth asks with a laugh. grover snorts. but percy remains silent and serious so their amusement shifts to concern

grover leans in close. "percy-"

"just bad people," he cuts in with a solemn whisper.

"you can't be judge, jury and executioner," annabeth hisses. "what you think is bad is not always universal? think about jim crow laws or slavery-"

"annabeth," he cuts in before she can go on an historical tangent. "i was hoping you'd help actually."

it doesn't take long for her to click together what he wants out of her. she glares at him. "percy," she snarls through clenched teeth. "i'm not swishing my ass to entice seedy men for you to murder so you can maybe have a hallucination to process death."

"okay, okay." conceding, he raises his hands. "it was dumb, i'm sorry. i just... really wanna see this kid again. sorry."

annabeth watches him carefully the rest of the day. grover doesn't. he knows what percy is, even if he doesn't agree. so it's not too surprising to start seeing grover scrolling through the newspaper on his phone. he startles every time percy spooks him when he's reading. then laughs it off, swats at percy, and keeps reading. it's the obituaries that percy sees the most, but sometimes articles about a death.

whatever he's looking for, some kind of proof it's percy, he must not find because he doesn't say anything. but it's grover, percy's soulmate. so he's sure the slow side-eye that he gets some mornings are a knowing side-eye.

percy doesn't look at the newspapers. if he's gonna get caught, he'd rather be surprised about it other than worrying and getting sloppy.

it's hard to find truly shitty people from first glance. he doesn't have the patience to observe. just slight insomnia that keeps him up until one in the morning prowling the streets. he hovers around in his old neighborhood, where the cameras are for show and shitty people live. it's still difficult. he doesn't want to go around hurting innocent people. less so because he cares, but more because it would disappoint grover and annabeth and his mom. he can't disappoint them.

he does see reapers, including the one who will one day take him, but never the boy. percy tries to envision him older, but even then none of them match. he does try to speak to them, but they ignore him. he wonders if it's some kind of weird curse. he can see them but they can't. sometimes the ignorance seems intentional, but he can't really tell so other than a few short sentences that always go ignored, he gives up and heads home.

some days he wakes up and is certain the police will come for him. but they never do and so he gives it a few days or a couple weeks and head back out again. they're opportunity kills. random and haphazard. he keeps mittens on, which looks normal in the fall and winter, but sketchy over the summer. to counteract his want to see that reaper, he signs up to be a counselor for a summer camp. grover joins him. annabeth is dragged off to university summer classes by her mom. her emails are miserable. percy wonders aloud to grover if annabeth would be happier if her mom was dead. grover eyes him flatly and says he doubts it.

percy gets assigned to the little kids who tell him all kinds of family secrets. some are funny. some are not.

it's not that hard to get into the camp's directory and write down in poor handwriting and with tons of struggle the names and addresses of these secrets. it's not a lot, which is great. but it's more than it should be and come summer's end, he has his start for the fall.

it's clear grover knows what percy's planning. he was there after all when a little secret got whispered too loudly. but all he says is, "sometimes kids get things wrong." the newspaper on his phone comes back into play after summer ends. but he still says nothing, even when glances at percy from the corner of his eyes.

it's two years of scattered kills before he sees him again. the kid is older now. he looks about fourteen, maybe fifteen. but percy knows it's him. he's the only one who makes eye contact. this time percy doesn't see his death. but he sees the endless void.

purgatory, he thinks, before he blurts out, "i've been looking for you." the teen tilts his head and smiles, small, gentle. the sight of it slams hard into percy's ribcage and sinks messy into his heart. "what's your name?"

"what's yours?" the teen fires back, turning away from percy and collecting the pulsing orb into a little baggie like before. his voice is enchanting, smooth and crystalline. there's an edge of an italian accent in it.

"percy," he says without hesitation. "jackon. percy jackson." he shakes his head. "perseus, actually, but everyone calls me percy."

the teen laughs gently. the sound is haunting. somewhere in percy's subconscious he knows the sound should scare him. but instead he just craves it more. "well, perseus jackson, my name is nico."

nico, percy thinks. in his head, the name is surrounded by hearts like a schoolgirl writing out the name of their crush in a movie. "that's really pretty," he says aloud. mentally he slaps himself. that's really pretty? that's stupid.

but nico just laughs again. "thank you." he steps over the dead body and touches percy's face. "perseus was a quite the soul when he was collected." his fingertip ghosts down percy's cheek, leaving light phantom tingles behind. "will you be?"

then he dissipates into shadows, leaving percy with a heavy craving for his ghostly touch and hauntingly enchanted voice.

#percico #percy jackson #nico di angelo #annabeth chase #grover underwoood #happy talks pjo #my writing #my fanfic #maybe i'll add more to this later #i was thinking about adding jason to it but i wanna stick w/ percico and i don't wanna accidentally talk myself in perjasico #also how the fuck do i keep starting posts w/ the intention of it being a short ramble of thoughts and then turn it into a thing

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chronicallykiki · 7 days

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FUNDRAISER EVENT Guide Dogs 250 Challenge

From 24th April to 16th May, I'll be taking part in a fundraising campaign for Guide Dogs!

"Every day 250 people in the UK are told they’re losing their sight. It can be devastating. People with a vision impairment are more likely to encounter depression, loneliness, and unemployment. Guide Dogs helps people with sight loss live the life they choose, but we need vital funds to do this. That’s why we need you to be a game changer and take on the 250 Challenge." - Guide Dogs Website

During this time, my Challenge is for streams to be at least 250 minutes long. I also plan to donate an extra £1 for every sub to my channel. And! I've set up a few goals, with incentives to look forward to:

Level 1 Goal £250 : If we hit this, I will sponsor one of the puppies! Level 2 Goal £500 : If we double our 250 goal, I will sponsor two of the puppies!! Level 3 Goal £750 : If we manage to triple our 250 goal, I will sponsor all three puppies!!!

Links: My Twitch Channel My Fundraiser Page Guide Dogs Website 250 Challenge Sponsoring A Puppy

youtube

Streaming for 250 minutes (just over 4 hours) doesn't sound like a challenge for most, but for a spoonie like me, who can't regulate their energy levels, it sure can be!

I'll do my best, but in the event I'm unable to meet the 250 minute minimum, we'll have to think of a fun forfeit or something (be gentle).

Regarding the sponsor puppies, the first will be chosen at random, and the second will be via a poll on my fundraiser page.

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mrsparrasblog · 1 day

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Seducing Price

Okay so this is like a excerpt from my very first ff Nigtmares become true solider, I think this fanfic is to big to post on Tumblr, but I still wanted to post at least one of my favorite scenes from it.

Pairing: John Price x Reader ( I perspective tho, Readers callsign is Sunshine)

TW: Oralsex, seduction, Cum play , body worship , John Price on his knees for you

I went to the training center; my training uniform was in the washer, and I just hoped I didn't have some rookies who barely finished their puberty in the hall since I put on just a green sports bra and yoga leggings that hugged every curve of my body—leaving absolutely no place for imagination.

To my surprise, John was in the gym lifting weights, only wearing a tight compression shirt and grey sweatpants—oh no. I smiled and greeted him.

"No one's here, lovely. You can greet me properly." He pressed me against his sweaty body, kissing me with pure passion.

"Training your arms today?"

"Full body," he smirked, flexing his arm muscles. I giggled at this act—behind all this Captain exterior, he was just a man.

"How much do you lift?"

"250 lbs. What are you training today, lovely?" I swallowed hard; that explains a lot.

"Just some flexibility and stretching."

"Like yoga?" his voice sounded hoarse.

"Yes."

"Explains the outfit."

"You don't like it?" I asked him teasingly.

"A bit distracting." I gave him another kiss and went to a corner where I started to go into the downward-facing dog, wiggling my ass in John's direction.

"Sun," he said, scolding me while pushing the weight to the side.

"What?"

"Stop being a tease."

"I'm not a tease."

"You are."

I rolled my eyes and went to another position, John's eyes still lingering on me. He pulled the heavy weights, groaning deep, his hoarse voice only sounding more extreme. Now he is being a tease. But two can play that game.

"Can you spot me, love? I want to try a bit more on the bench press."

"Of course." We danced around each other for hours in the gym, teasing each other, sharing hidden touches when someone was near. When a rookie came in and tried to flirt with me; the jealousy in John's eyes was immaculate.

"You behaved nice, John," I chuckled.

"Wanted to rip that muppet apart." I went over to John, pressing my hand against his chest while he sat down, my legs fiddling between his spread legs.

"A bit close, love."

"Do you mind?"

"A bit."

"John, can you help me with sparring?" I asked him nicely.

"Oh lovely, you don't know what you're asking."

We began to spar, and to my surprise, he didn't take it easy on me. He didn't underestimate me like Soap and Kyle do; he didn't make dumb mistakes, and so I landed on my ass every time.

"If you wanted to bruise my ass, you could have just asked."

"Fucking minx."

He pinned me down, his knee pressing into my thighs a bit too close to my sweet spot, earning a little moan. He let go of me, looking at me like I'm crazy, so I pinned him down and sat down on his lap, pressing my hips against his erection, while leaning down to kiss him. He grabbed my ass and deepened that kiss before pinning me down and standing up. He helped me up, and I thought he would initiate something, but he didn't.

After the spare, he went away quickly, leaving me alone and flustered in the training center. I was weighing my options. I could go into my room and take care of the problem for myself, or I could just take a cold relaxing shower.

I grabbed a bikini from my room, towels, and my favorite shower products and went to the community shower stalls, hoping I would still catch him there.

I went down and removed my clothes, the sound of water falling against the stall, made me hope John was there. I went with my bikini for the sake of catching anyone else than John there.

But there he stood completely naked under the shower; his brown hair was black and damp because of the water; he was muscular like I thought, but not lean like Kyle or Keegan; he had these thick, delicious muscles. His dog tags clung around his chest, and his chest was covered with hair, making him look more masculine than I could take.

My eyes wandered down. He had a prominent V line and a fucking happy trail that made me rethink my complete life choices. It was followed by soft black curls between his thighs. and the most beautiful dick I ever saw.

I always laughed at people who said they were beautiful, but wow, I just wanted to kneel in front of him and suck him dry. He was big, maybe not the longest I had, but definitely the thickest I ever had, with prominent veins and a red inviting tip. He wasn't circumstanced, which only added to his appeal. I planned to seduce him, not the other way around.

"Sun, what are you doing here? This is the man's shower room."

"Community shower, "I corrected him, sneaky.

"No, you have a room with a shower because you are the only woman on base."

"But it's bonding to share a shower with your comrades."

"If you take a shower with Soap-"

"I won't do it; I don't want them to be hurt."

"Sun-"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Fuck"

"Something wrong?"

"Anyone could walk in here."

"Is that a problem for you when someone else sees me like this? I'm pretty covered up."

"For how long?"

I slowly started to remove my bikini top, freeing my breasts from the tiny fabric, my nipples already hardening under the friction of the water. Then I removed my bikini thong, throwing it in John's direction, who caught it with ease and couldn't stop staring down at my naked body like a predator who saw his prey.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "To be caught like this, your cunt wrapped around my cock?"

"No, sir, I only want to take a shower in peace," I said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"Then stop teasing me," he growled, pulling me against him. His cock pressed against my stomach. "You've been teasing me the whole day, and now you're even walking in my shower."

"I'm not teasing you, sir."

"You fucking are," he snapped, losing his patience. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back roughly, forcing me to look into his blue eyes. "I've been hard for you all day," he whispered fiercely.

"You say it like it's a bad thing; it's natural, you know."

"It's not," he groaned. "It's fucking heaven." He pushed me against the shower wall, pinning me there with his body. His cock rubbed against me, leaving a wet trail of pre-cum on my skin. "You're making me lose my control, love."

"Why don't you give me what I want, John?"

His eyes flared hotter than a blowtorch at the thought of giving in to me. He knew exactly what I wanted. "Because for once I want to make it right, I do not want you to think I only want to fuck you."

"John please" He couldn't resist my pleas any longer. He lifted my leg and wrapped them around his waist, positioning himself at my entrance. He looked into my eyes, seeing the need and desire burning there. "You want this?" he asked, his voice rough with lust.

"Yes, John, I want you."

"Fuck, lovely, you make me lose any self-control."

"John, I know you want more than just sex; you do not need to prove anything to me."

"You're wrong," he growled, his eyes burning with passion. "I don't need to prove anything to you. But goddammit, I want to show you how much I fucking adore you." He lets me go and get back on the ground, trying his hardest not to just take me right now. He started to shower normally again as if nothing had happened between us.

I slowly started to soap up my body, putting the soap over my hard nipples and releasing a soft moan as my shower gel fell to the ground by accident. Of course, I bent over. Picking it up revealing a perfect sight of my glistering cunt to him.

John couldn't help but stare at my ass as I bent over, his cock twitching with desire. He forced himself to turn around and grab a towel, drying off his body fast as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

"Why are you already leaving, John?"

John turned around slowly, his eyes burning with raw passion. "Because I'm trying to be the man you deserve," he growled, "and that means controlling this damn cock of mine." He pulled me into his embrace, his erection pressing against my stomach.

"You are the man I deserve, John; you've always been the one I want."

"Say that again, lovely," he groaned, kissing me deeply. His hands roamed over my body, squeezing my ass and pulling me even closer. He broke the kiss and gazed into my eyes, his own filled with desire and love.

I wrapped my arms around him and deepened the kiss.

"God, you taste so fucking good," he murmured against my lips before trailing kisses down my neck and collarbone. His hands slowly roamed over my boobs, caressing them and slowly planting kisses on them. He spent a bit too much time sucking on my nipples; this man surely had an oral fixation.

I moaned softly as he stimulated my breasts. Johns's fingers traced delicate patterns on my stomach, making their way lower toward my soaked mound. His breath hitched as he finally found what he was looking for: my wet, swollen clit. "You're so fucking beautiful, the most beautiful woman on earth, do you know that?"

"Mhm, John, please."

"Your beautiful eyes, your smooth skin, and those gorgeous tits that fill my hands so perfectly," he whispered before teasing my clit with his thumb. "I want to devour you whole."

"Stop it. You make me crazy, John," I whined.

"I never stop complimenting you, especially when you're getting so flustered easily." He slowly starts to press one of his thick fingers into my puffy hole. But I wanted him to feel good, so I removed John Fingers from my sweet spot and fell on my knees for him, wanting to suck him off.

"What are you doing, lovely?" He lifted me from my knees. "You never been with a real men before? You always come first." With that, he pinned me against the shower and started to spread my lips again. "Didn't Keegan take care of your sweet cunt properly, always leaving you unsatisfied?" He circled his thumb on my clit while slowly pressing his thick fingers into my pleading hole again.

"John," I moaned his name; it felt so fucking good. His calloused fingers only added to the friction.

"That's it, lovely; scream my name." His voice was deep and husky as he began to pump his fingers in and out of my tight, wet hole. His thumb continued to rub my clit in circles, driving me wild with pleasure. "so fucking tight."

"John, please, I'm close." I felt embarrassed at how fast he got me to my height.

"Cum for Daddy, my beautiful Sun," he growled, kissing my neck. "Show me how much you love it." His fingers moved faster, pressing deeper as he teased my clit harder. "That's it, sweetheart. Let go". John held me tight, his hands pressing firmly against my hips as I rode out my orgasm. When my body relaxed beneath him, he pulled his fingers out of my slick pussy and gently kissed my neck. "That's my good girl," He licked my juices from his finger, moaning in pleasure.

"Can you give me a second one, lovely?"

I nodded slowly, completely drunk from my high.

"Good girl." He pushed my legs apart again and knelt in front of me. I never had a man who fucking kneeled in front of me; it had something alluring, especially when he was my fucking superior. He planted kisses on my thighs, leaving love bites on them marking his territory. John started to lick my sensitive lips, his tongue darting in and out of my hole, teasing my entrance.

"God, you taste like scotch feels."

"What?"

"Addicting, burning, and fucking exquisite." He had his things with words, making me clench around him all the time when he said the sweetest praises as if I were a goddess to him.

His other hand went to my clit, rubbing it gently before starting to pinch it between his fingers.

I pulled on his wet hair, pressing his tongue only further into my throbbing hole, his beard giving me sensations I never felt in his life, always coming close to my clit making me flinch from passion and pain at the same time.

"You like that, huh?" He chuckled against my flesh, loving the way I moaned and bucked beneath him. "You want more, don't you?" He continued to lick and suck on my clit while pinching it gently with his fingers.

I whined and shook and was barely able to stand straight. He held me in place, supporting my body weight and making me feel safe as he ate me out like a starved man. He licked every drop of me, not letting one sip of my delicious nectar go to waste. His moans vibrated against my clit and I asked myself if he enjoyed it even more than I did.

"That's it, my sweet girl," he murmured, his voice vibrating against my sensitive skin. "Cum for me again." His fingers slid deeper into my pussy, curling to find that perfect spot inside me.

"Oh my god, John." With a final flick of his tongue, I came hard, my juices running along his tongue, and he took them greedily, his tongue lapping up every last drop. He groaned as he felt my walls clenching around his fingers inside me. When I finally stopped shaking, he pulled away and grinned, "That was fucking fantastic; taste so divine almost made me cum from just your taste."

His beard was full of me, and his blue eyes still looked hungry at me. I wanted to return the favor so much; he just gave me the best orgasm of my life. I slowly moved my hand to his throbbing length. John let out a moan as he felt my hand on his length. "Oh, fuck, Sun," he still removed my Hand.

"Give me one more orgasm, and you can have my cock all you want, sweet girl," he said, looking at me with a serious expression.

"But John," I whined. I wasn't sure if I could take another one.

"No, but John, you asked for this, remember?" His fingers found their way again to my overstimulated clit.

"John"

He continued to tease me, circling my clit with his fingers as he leaned down to capture one of my nipples in his mouth.

"Mhm, please, too much, John."

"You can barely take it, can you?" He chuckled around, biting down on my nipple. "Just one more push and I'll give you what you want." He moved his fingers a little faster, his thumb pressing harder against my clit.

I shook under him, completely senseless and overstimulated. "That's it, my beautiful girl," he whispered. "Let go and cum for me." His thumb flicked over my clit as his fingers pumped into me.

"Almost there, I'm so proud of you," he moaned, my inner walls clenching around his fingers. "So tight, so fucking good." He thrust his fingers in and out of me faster, his thumb circling in tight circles.

"I'm going to cum John." From my face fell happy tears. God, am I crying?

His eyes softened as he looked at me. "Let go, love; I've got you." He pressed his thumb more firmly against my clit and started a firm rhythm with his fingers inside me pressing against my G-spot. "Cum for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you shake with pleasure."

I came screaming his name; the whole base probably heard this - my juices are spilling over his hand. His mouth left my nipple to capture the sweet sounds of my pleasure. "Fuck," he groaned, "you're so beautiful when you cum." He went down on his knees and started licking me clean.

"John, what are you doing?"

"I want to taste you," he murmured against my skin, his tongue swirling around my folds. He pushed two fingers back inside of me and started a slow rhythm as he licked and sucked on my abused clit. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"I thought you said only three." I whined; I couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't he be more selfish?

"I lied," he said with a wicked grin. "But only because I want you to cum again." He continued to finger me while his mouth worked on my clit, determined to make me come once more. "I can't help myself; you taste fucking divine."

I was so overstimulated that I came in Seconds. He was pleased with my response, his arousal growing as he tasted my sweet nectar. "Fuck, Sun," he groaned against my skin. "You're so fucking responsive." He slowly pulled away, his fingers leaving me feeling empty.

"Let me take care of you now, John, please."

He helped me down on my knees. "Tell me if it gets too uncomfortable, okay?"

"Please," I whispered as I wrapped my warm, soft lips around him, taking him deep into my mouth. I removed my lips from him and started to lick the precum away from his slit, tracing down his cockhead and kissing the veins on his cock. "The most beautiful dick I've ever seen."

John's breath caught in his throat at my words. He groaned lowly as I licked him clean and kissed his cock. "Fuck," he gasped, "you're going to drive me insane."

I just smiled and continued to worship his dick with small kisses. He reached down and gently guided my head, urging me to take more of him into my mouth. He couldn't believe the feelings coursing through him; the desire to feel my lips wrapped around his cock was almost overwhelming. "Goddamn," he whispered, "

I heard his plead and took him deeper almost completely, my nose tickling against his curls. John's hips began to thrust gently into my mouth, his hands tangling in my hair. "Fuck, love," he moaned, "you were made for this." He got closer and closer to the edge, his cock throbbing in my warm, wet mouth.

I bobbed my head up and down while playing with his full balls, squeezing them a bit. John groaned loudly, arching his back as he pushed deeper into my mouth. "Shit," he panted, "you're amazing." I fastened my pace, taking everything He gave me while gaging a bit because of His massive thickness.

He could feel me gagging on him, and it visibly only turned him on more. "Take it, love," he growled, "take every fucking inch." He thrust harder into my mouth, his pubic hair tickling against my face. He gripped my hair eagerly, not trying to hurt me but guiding me as he fucked my face. "Can I cum inside your throat, lovely?"

I nodded enthusiastically.

"Good girl," Price whispered before grabbing my face roughly. "Look at me when I cum." He groaned as I felt his cock pulsing, thick streams of cum shooting out into my throat. I looked at him with pure admiration and tried to swallow every sip of his cum as if it was the most delicious thing I had in my whole life. His cum was, in comparison, good, not salty; it tasted rich and bitter.

His hips were bucking wildly. "Fuck, Sun," he moaned, "you're incredible."

After his orgasm, I removed my lips with a loud pop, and then I started to lick the remaining cum drops of his dick while moaning. John's eyes fluttered shut as he felt my tongue swipe over his cock, savoring every last drop of his cum. "God, Sun," he breathed out, "you did so good for me, beautiful girl." His eyes softened with pure admiration.

He helped my wobbly legs up, drying and cleaning me up under the shower. It felt magical as he massaged the shampoo into my hair and washed my hair; it had such a romantic feeling that I felt truly worshiped. I put the body wash on his chest, playing with his hair, and looking at his scars, kissing them down. "Oh, love," he smiled, and I giggled, putting my head against his chest, and he wrapped me in a big bear hug.

"John? I want more." He turned off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around me.

"More?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "You want me to fuck you?" His voice was low and husky, filled with desire.

"yes "

John smiled slowly. "Oh, love, I want nothing more, but I want to make it right, okay? After our third date, okay? It will be perfect, I swear, and I will show you how a man makes love to the woman he truly desires" He kissed my forehead. He was one of the guys to say make love, and a giggle escaped my mouth. I kind of liked it.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic."

John chuckled softly. "You know me better than that. But when it comes to you, I want it to be right. Our third date, agreed?" He wrapped the towel around his waist, pulling me close.

"Can we at least cuddle?"

"Of course, your room or mine?"

"yours"

"Perfect love." He helped me put on my yoga pants on my wet skin.

"And how do we get out without someone noticing?"

"I think after you screamed like this, it's too late with the descrition."

"Shut up, John!" He kissed me, while caressing my face with his thumb. He was so different from his Captain exterior, almost vulnerable around me.

We left the shower, trying not to draw any attention, and we didn't. Well, until the tall frame of Simon appeared next to us, showing us a death glare through his mask, but not saying a word since John was his superior.

His room was a bit bigger than mine and a lot cleaner, almost sterile, between some pictures and books. It smelled like tobacco and vanilla, and I could get used to that scent. He lay down on the bed, and I removed his shirt.

"I thought only to cuddle."

"I just want to steal your shirt; it smells so good."

"But then I do not have a shirt," he chuckled.

"Well, who cares? It looks better on me anyway."

"I suppose it does." He handed me his shirt, watching as I put it on. The fabric clung to my curves; the shirt was a bit too big, fitting me like a dress.

"You are beautiful," he said.

"You spoil me rotten with your compliments."

John leaned in, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss. "I can't help it," he whispered against my skin. "You deserve to be spoiled." He trailed more kisses down my neck and collarbone before nipping at my earlobe playfully and hugging me tightly, almost manhandling me with his sheer size.

"My legs are sore because of you. If you make me run tomorrow in training, I'll die." Maybe this was my free-of-running card."

He pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh really? Well, maybe I'll make sure to take it easy on you tomorrow." He grinned wickedly, knowing full well that he would likely push me to my limits.

"You never take it easy on anyone."

He laughed, leaning in to kiss my nose. "That's because I never want anyone slacking off. But I promise, I'll make sure you can keep up." He smirked.

"Mhm, maybe you give my thighs a massage; it would make me happy."

Price raised an eyebrow at my suggestion, amused. "You want me to massage your thighs? Consider it done." He sat up and reached for my legs, starting to knead the muscles gently. I rubbed his hair gently while he massaged my thighs, and after he placed his head on them, cuddling with the soft flesh, both of us fell asleep.

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