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chaosandbubbles · 11 months

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And In Dreams, We'll Meet Again

Leon Kennedy X Reader

A/N: I have never played resident evil or watched anything other than random Leon Kennedy compilation videos but now I'm in love with him. I'm writing this for @house-of-kolchek who requested something angsty. I am not fully up on the lore of this game, so bear with me. I fell so much in love with this man that I am now going to watch playthroughs to bring you better content! In the meantime, I am very educated on Jason Kolchek and write for him a lot if you want to check me out! Also, I never write grief. I am usualy the fluff queen so this is new for me!

WARNINGS AND TAGS: Major character death, grief, angst, drug use, alcohol use, depression

Word Count: 2.6k

Main Masterlist

“AND how does that make you feel?”

How does that make me feel?

How does it make me FEEL?

How the fuck do you THINK it makes me feel?!

That’s what you would want to say, but you didn’t. You shut your mouth tight, jaw clenched as tears threatened to spring from the corners of your eyes. You pulled up your hoodie—his hoodie—around you, drawing warmth from it as your therapist stared at you with soft, unjudging eyes. You weren’t going to answer her question because it was a stupid-ass question, and she knew it was a stupid-ass question.

“Y/n?” She prompted again, and you turned your icy glare on her, tears spilling down your cheeks as her blue eyes met yours. Blue eyes. Just like—like—

“It makes me feel fucking horrible!” You snapped at her, drawing away from her gaze, from her hand that looked like it yearned to place on you a comforting touch. You stared out the window, at the rain falling down the glass, at the horribly ugly gray sky that swirled just like your tumultuous emotions. “It’s been a month— a month—since I lost my fiancè! How the fuck am I supposed to fucking feel?!”

Your therapist was quiet, looking you over, before her eyes landed on the Raccoon City hoodie that you still adorned. The one that had never been washed. The one that you never took off.

“Do you ever feel like maybe—just maybe—you’re not allowing yourself to move on?”

Your entire body burned at the question with anger. Or, maybe agony. Probably both.

“Fuck you!” You screeched as you got up from the couch, pulling your drawstring bag onto your shoulders and flipping her the bird as you made your way to the door. “It’s only been a fucking month since my fiancè fucking died! And you have the fucking nerve to say that I should be moving on?!” You scoffed at her, but you knew that she could see the tears that were streaming down your face, just as thick and heavy as the rain had suddenly turned outside.

“I don’t fucking need this,” you decided, your mind likely running as you thought of all of the other ways that you could get over this grief. “I don’t even want to fucking be here!”

“This therapy is mandated by your job!” Your therapist yelled as you ran out the door, making sure to slam it shut behind you.

“Yeah?!” You called back, glaring heavily at the terrified receptionist. “Ask me how much I fucking care!”

You would probably never set foot in that office again.

⛈️

THE next time you went to therapy, you walked in sullenly, looking ashamed and a bit embarrassed about your actions two months prior. You couldn’t even really say what you’d been doing the past two months, living life in a fog, grief overwhelming. You’d know you needed to go back to therapy when you started having lapses in your memory, and, here you were, unable to specifically recall a single thing that you’d done since…since…

“Why don’t we talk about what happened? That night?”

Your eyes shifted slowly to your therapist and you shook your head.

“No,” you responded sullenly, pulling at the strings of his hoodie. What used to be his hoodie… “No. I don’t want to do that.”

“Tell me what happened, Y/n.”

“I–it—!” You didn’t know why it was so hard to recall, or why it was so hard to put into words. “He fucking died, okay?! My fiancè died. What more is there to even say?”

“Do you want to talk about how your fiancè died?”

“No.”

Your therapist leaned forward then, arms in her lap, bland, semi-blonde hair hanging over a shoulder. She looked almost like the girl you both once knew, the girl you helped save— “You know, if you never talk about it, you’ll never get to the root of the real problem. You’ll never be able to feel better.”

You choked back a sob, hands clutching the ends of his hoodie when you said:

“Maybe I don’t want to feel better.”

⛈️

This session your therapist decided to try something different. Instead of bringing up that day, you’d spent the entirety of the session talking about everything else about…him. How you met, when you started dating, when he’d asked you to marry him.

“That day was happy,” you recalled, a gleam and a tear in your eye as you remembered how beautiful you looked in your bright yellow dress, how Leon had been so happy. Happier than he’d ever remembered feeling before. “He was so, so excited. I remember that. Him feeling so excited. I remember everything about that day.”

“Were you both excited?”

“Yes, I—I think we were both excited. And happy. So fucking happy.”

Your therapist smiled back at you and leaned back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with your answers. She was writing something in her notebook, her hair shorter than it had been before, you thought. And blonder.

“And thinking about that day, it makes you happy?”

Your veins turned ice cold as suddenly, all you could think about was the fact that the love of your life was dead.

“No,” you admitted, feeling the sobs begin to wrack your body. “No it makes me feel—I feel—”

“How do you feel?”

“I feel numb,” you interjected, and suddenly, your hands began shaking in what you thought was about to be a panic attack. Your breaths were coming in fast, shallow pants and you felt the overwhelming urge to scream. “I feel like—like I don’t exist. Like I’m nothing.”

The therapist tapped her pen against her notepad as she stared at you.

“Interesting.”

⛈️

“Let’s talk about the day that your fiancè died.”

“I already told you, I don’t want to do that,” you pushed back, leaning your back as far into the couch as you could without actually feeling it behind you. You stared at your therapist for a minute—having to look away from his eyes, so blue—and absentmindedly played with the ends of your hoodie. “I can’t remember much about it, anyways.”

“Still?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, watching as your therapist pursed his lips and shook his head. “Still.”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember that my fiancè died,” you bit back, uncomfortable feelings of grief and sadness instead of your comfortable numbness swirling around inside of you. “I remember that Leon is so far away from me, in a place I can never reach him. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I don’t want to hear anything,” your therapist insisted, and for some reason, you thought his voice sounded just a little bit deeper. Something was weird today. Something felt off. “And besides, I’m not the one who needs to know anything. You are.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” You questioned harshly, taken aback by how flippant and assertive he sounded at the same time.

“What do you think it means?” Your therapist responded cheekily and you scoffed, sick of these stupid games. Sick of these pointless therapy sessions that you probably wouldn’t even remember. You didn’t remember anything since—

“Whatever,” you hissed, staring out the window. It was foggy today. Just like your mind. You winced as something prickled at the back of it, something trying to convey some sort of message, or—or a warning, maybe. “Something’s…weird today.”

“Well, what did you do this morning?” Your therapist responded. You opened your mouth to respond, to tell him all about your morning, but the words got caught in your throat and you found yourself unable to respond. You tried as hard as you could to remember something, anything that you could have possibly done that day, but—nothing. Your mind was as cloudy as the weather outside.

“I—I can’t remember,” you admitted and your therapist hummed in agreement. Like he knew something that you didn’t. Something struck you as odd again, something felt…awful. You leaned in closer to him, eyes squinted as you examined his hair. Blonde, as usual. Eyes—scarily blue. Blue enough to remind you of—of—

“Something’s wrong,” you said again, clutching your chest. “Something feels really, really wrong.” Your therapist looked at you and scoffed.

“Well, your fiancè is dead, so, that doesn’t really surprise me.”

“No,” you argued, insistent that something had changed between your appointments. “Something is wrong with you. You’re…different than before.” And yes, that was it. Your therapist seemed…different. Something changed with him.

But what was it?! Had he cut his hair? Or lost weight? Or—no, something else. It was more drastically different than anything like that. What was it?

“Different?” Your therapist asked. “Different how?”

“You’re…you seem different than before,” was all you could manage to say, because your brain, for the life of you, could not figure out what had changed. All that was thought was that something fundamental was shifting here, and you didn’t seem to put your finger on it yet. “You seem like a different person.”

“Hmm,” your therapist responded, shaking his head, as if he were analyzing something. “Interesting, indeed.”

⛈️

“Tell me again.”

“I already told you,” you groaned, picking yourself up off of the couch and pacing around the room. “A thousand times. We met in the spring. At a festival. He was there as some bonafide security. He thought I was cute. He asked for my number. I gave it to him.”

“Great,” your therapist responded, a smile on his face. “Now tell me about the day your fiancè died.”

“I don’t remember!” You screamed back, sick and tired of this stupid, stupid game that your therapist seemed to be playing with you. You could somehow recall every single instance you’d had with Leon from…before…but you couldn’t remember—you couldn’t quite recall—

“Where were you that day?”

“On a mission!” You screeched back, fingernails digging so hard into your palms that it looked like they could draw blood. “I followed him there, I told him it was because I didn’t want him to go alone. I knew how to shoot, I could fight—”

“Tell me about the day your fiancè died.”

“I DON’T REMEMBER!”

“And why do you think you don’t remember?!” Your therapist was equally as aggressive now, standing up and matching your anxious, agonizing energy. “Why do you think that you can recall every specific detail about your lives together except for that day? The day that your fiancè died!”

“I don’t know!” You were sobbing now, sinking to your knees and clutching the fabric of your blood-stained jeans. Your—what? “I don’t know, I don’t know, I DON’T KNOW!”

“Yes, you do,” your therapist responded, and suddenly, his voice sounded familiar. Too familiar. “You do know.”

Appalled, you lifted your head and rose to your feet and when you saw the man who stood before you, you gasped.

No. What? How?!

“Leon?” Your voice was timid, afraid, and you were shaking as you looked back at your therapist, your therapist who wasn’t that at all but Leon Kennedy. Your fiancè. Your fiancè who— “But you—you’re not—you’re dead, you died—you?”

“No,” Leon responded sadly, looking down at your form. Blood, seeping through your shirt. Dripping onto your pants. Blood, blood everywhere— “No, I’m not.”

It all came rushing back quickly, hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“No,” you gasped, clutching at your chest. “Oh, oh no—”

“Tell me what happened,” Leon pushed and you were shaking your head, you were visibly upset, he could tell. You didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t want you to tell him.

“Oh, no—” A sudden rush of intense grief, of horribly immense pain all over his body. No, no he didn’t want to remember—

“We were infected,” you recalled, suddenly calm, and your hands wouldn’t leave your chest. Your beautiful, beautiful hands. “We—we made Ashley get cured first, and then you insisted that I go, and—”

“No,” Leon suddenly insisted, and the therapy room was gone. You were back—back in that place, back in that chair—and you thought that there might be tears in his eyes.

“And you passed out. And when you woke up, Leon, I was—”

“No!” Leon was shaking, hyperventilating, as he clutched the table in front of him, looking very much like he was going to throw up at any minute. You looked back at him with sad, empathetic eyes—those bright, amazingly beautiful eyes that he loves so fucking much. Oh, fuck, those eyes—

“Leon, I have to,” you pressed, your voice broken with tears. “When you came to Leon, I was—it didn’t work on me,” you reminded him, and now he was clutching his head, trying not to hear, trying not to see it anymore. “I was too far gone, there was nothing that you could do—”

“NO!” And suddenly, he could see it all again. Ashley, sobbing over your dead body. Apologizing, telling him it didn’t work, your heart couldn’t take it—it stopped. He tried CPR. He tried everything but you—the love of his life, you—

You were dead.

“Leon, it’s time to wake up,” you told him, and your bright eyes were gone. Glassy, grey, dead—

“Wake up, Leon. Wake up, wake up, wake up—”

⛈️

“Leon? Leon, wake up—”

The man shot up with a gasp, sweat beading down his forehead and sticking his hair to his face. He turned to the side of his bed—it smelled like shit in his room, understandably so, he hadn’t left it in days—and he spotted Chris sitting there, eyes slightly worried.

“Fuck, man,” Chris gulped, watching him warily. “You were doing it again. The dreams.”

“And you had to fucking wake me up?!” Leon hollered at him, chucking an empty glass across the room, unflinching as it shattered across his carpet. “That’s the only time! That’s the only time!”

“That’s the only time—what?”

“That’s the only time I can fucking see her!”

Leon’s body wanted to wrack with sobs but he shoved it down, clutching his hair in his hands as he rocked back and forth, trying to calm his body enough to go back to sleep. Just go back to sleep. When he was awake, it was hell—all he could see was your dead eyes, staring up at the ceiling, your clothes stained with blood, and all he could feel was the horrible, terrible fucking pain that accompanied the knowledge that you were fucking dead.

“It’s not real, Leon,” Chris said softly and Leon let out a tiny sob, his heart clenching. He knew it wasn’t fucking real. Of course it wasn’t fucking real. “Imagining her as the one that’s alive, using drugs to hallucinate her living without you, instead—it isn't healthy—”

“Ask me if I fucking care.”

“And do you honestly think that these…scenarios, these daydreams that you make up in your head—Leon, do you think that those are going to fucking bring her back?”

Leon was quiet. He knew it wasn’t going to bring you back. Nothing could bring you back now. Nothing at all.

He heard Chris shifting beside him.

“We went through her apartment today,” he informed Leon and the man tried not to hear, tried not to care. “We found this. We thought you’d want it.”

His eyes moved without his consent and his heart broke when he saw it. Your favorite article of clothing. His hoodie. His stupid, old, Racoon City Police Department hoodie.

“Burn it,” Leon insisted, “or throw it away. I don’t fucking care.”

“Leon,” Chris pushed. “This was yours—”

“No!” Leon yelled, and it was coming back, the pain, the awful pain. “No. It’s not mine. It only used to be mine. It’s all only used to be’s, now. Throw. It. Away.”

And then he swallowed another pain pill and closed his miserable, blue eyes. You were waiting for him there, after all.

forever taglist: @house-of-kolchek @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @ageofbajabule

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x you #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x reader

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bubblesreplies · 2 years

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Call Me Jason, One More Time (NSFW, 18+!)

Jason Kolchek X Female Reader

Oneshot (LONG)

A/n: Hello everybody! Here I am back with this GIGANTIC MONSTROSITY OF A FIC I ACCIDENTALLY CREATED! It was a requested oneshot based on this ask. Anon, whoever you are, thank you for requesting! I'm so sorry for how long it took to put this out there, but your request really challenged me and I feel really proud of how I executed it. I hope that it's everything you wanted and more!! As always, please mind the tags and if I missed anything---especially anything insensitive or triggering---please let me know! Message if you want to be put on any of my taglists, for specific fics or for a specific character!

WARNINGS AND TAGS: NSFW MINORS DNI!!!!!, Sex (oral sex fem receiving, p in v), sexual talk and sexual situations, female!reader, medic!reader, only woman on the base scenario, set AFTER house of ashes, Jason is awkward, over-protective Jason, Jason has PTSD from house of ashes, unhealthy communication, sexual tension, insubordination, sex jokes, rebellious!reader, shooting, violence, canon-typical violence, blackmail, love confessions, angst, fluff, humor, Jason is a boob guy, sexism, swearing, dom!Jason, sub!reader, semi-public sex, mentions of house of ashes, fit!Jason, Jason singles reader out multiple times, reader has long-ish hair, Jason is sort of an idiot, sassy!reader, arguing, stuck in a closet together trope, bondage, mild bdsm, brief mentions of a war, mentions of police, FBI, original characters, name-calling, taking anger out on people who did literally nothing to you lol, consent is sexy, idiots

Word Count: 18k (yes, you read that right)

Main Masterlist

2005

TWO YEARS AFTER THE HOUSE OF ASHES

THE air tasted salty in your mouth as you breathed it in, fresh, humid, and bright this morning in Indiana. Your very first official station with the Marine Corps. You had to fight back your eyes watering as you stepped off the helo, your eyes catching the gaze of what would be your new home for the time being.

You’d be the only woman on base—a fact that was just as exhilarating as it was terrifying—and you’d made sure to straighten up your uniform and outfit before taking even a single step off of this helicopter. You sucked in a sharp breath—the men twenty feet ahead of you, staring and smiling at you was incredibly intimidating—and you took your first tentative steps toward them, an excited smile across your face. You held tight to your suitcase and your medkit, and knowing that they hadn’t ever had a medic on base, you were anxious.

Here I am, Dad, you echoed inside of your head, knowing with every fiber of your being that he could hear you, wherever he was now. I made it, finally; just like you. I’m going to make you proud.

“Private L/n,” a man greeted you, thrusting his hand towards you and you shook it, a bright smile on your face. “Welcome to camp, Marine. I’m Sergeant Nick Kay.”

“Sergeant Kay,” you repeated with a nod and a salute. “You can call me Y/n.” Your eyes followed the line of soldiers, some of who were elbowing each other and whispering, looking you up and down like they hadn’t seen a woman Marine in their lives. Maybe they hadn’t.

“Normally Lieutenant Kolchek would be out here to greet you, but he had some business to attend to and sent me,” Nick explained, sending a warning glare to the other soldiers who were watching the two of you. “He’ll be happy to hear you’ve arrived safe and timely.”

“Oh,” you mildly replied, a tight smile on your face as you watched the other soldiers disperse, still watching you carefully. “So, being on time is important to him, then?” Nick side-eyed you a little bit, opening the door in front of you and gesturing for you to walk in.

“Being timely is important to any Marine, L/n,” he enforced, and you winced, mentally berating yourself already. Way to go, Y/n, saying something completely stupid within the first five minutes of arriving here. Amazing.

“Right, yes—of course,” you reiterated, letting Nick—Sergeant Kay—lead you down the winding hallways of the camp. “Um, so, where’s my room? Or the medbay? Or do you need me to do—”

“Relax, Y/n,” Sergeant Kay chuckled, taking your suitcase swiftly from your hands and shaking his head. “I’m aware that this is your first command, but you have nothin’ to worry about. Both Lieutenant Kolchek and I have worked with women on base before, and while we ain’t ever had a medic, I can only imagine that it’ll be a welcome change all around.”

You smiled gratefully up at him and he led you up a big flight of stairs, stopping in front of a door with your name on it. “I know it might be awkward, at first, being the only woman on base, but I hope you find that these are a great group of boys here. Although, if you should have any problems, your room is right in between mine and Lieutenant Kolchek’s. Both of us are here for you, should any issues arise or anything happens to you. Alright?”

“Yes sir,” you responded, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as your anxiety finally began to truly catch up with you. “Our Lieutenant, then—he’s a good one?” Nick beamed at your question and nodded, opening up your door and gesturing for you to walk in.

“One of the best, ma’am,” he answered, nodding towards your open door. “We’ve scheduled you some downtime to get settled in, but be downstairs in an hour to meet with Lieutenant Kolchek about your specific assignments. Good luck, Y/n.”

You swiftly nodded at his words, taking your room key from his hands, and smiling at him as he walked away. Well, so far so great, you mused. Sure, you’d said a couple of really not well thought out things, but nothing that he could really hold against you. Everything could be chalked up to nerves—which, it was—and you were pretty certain that, now that you had an hour to yourself, you could take some time to unwind and be ever-professional for your Lieutenant.

Unfortunately, the second you’d laid down on your tiny cot, it was lights out for you.

You woke up sometime later, eyes blinking wearily and limbs stretching and popping from the uncomfortable position that you’d accidentally fallen asleep in. With one last yawn, you looked over to the dingy, old alarm clock that lay on the desk next to you, squinting as you took in the time.

“Oh, fuck!” You screeched as you hauled ass out of bed, straightening up your uniform and practically jumping out the door. You’d been stressed and tired, accidentally fallen asleep when you should’ve been unpacking your stuff, and now you were five minutes late for your meeting with your new Lieutenant.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought to yourself as you rushed down the hallway, ignoring the pointed stares and whispers from your fellow Marines as you did so. Of course you’d managed to fuck up the single most important task you’d gotten since arriving here, and you were certain that your new Lieutenant—who Sergeant Kay had already fucking told you was a stickler for timeliness—was not going to be overly willing to overlook this stupid mistake. Even if it was completely out of character for you.

You pushed open a door that had the name Lieutenant Jason Kolchek written on it, red-faced and out of breath, and completely embarrassed. As soon as you fully entered the room, the man across the table whipped up, his nose previously studying a thick book, something that looked like a history tome.

You were a little embarrassed to admit it, but the very first thing that you noticed was how hot he was. Chiseled jawline, rich brown hair, caramel eyes—that were currently staring at you with a disapproving frown.

To be fair, you were pretty sure that you saw Jason check you out, as well; his eyes briefly did a onceover down your form, and he gulped in a way that looked a little bit painful. Your eyes wandered down, too, checking out his gigantic textbook: Vampires: A History. You were still spacing out, shocked in his bizarre choice of literature, but you were soon snapped out of it by his next words.

“Private L/n, I assume?” Lieutenant Kolchek’s voice was dry, dark, and bland. As if he had better things to do than sit here and talk with you. You were immediately put off, and about to speak your mind about it, when you immediately remembered your place…and his.

“Yes,” you answered, clearing your throat nervously and taking a seat across from him. He eyed you sharply, his brown eyes following your every move. You watched him right back, not intimidated by his gaze, and waited for him to continue speaking.

“You’re late,” he responded with a scoff, leaning back in his chair and raising an unamused eyebrow, glaring down at you mistrustfully. “S’posed to be here about ten minutes ago.”

Your cheeks flared red and you stared down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. Reminding yourself to be strong and assertive—you were a woman Marine, after all, and you couldn’t afford to be submissive—you looked up again, into Lieutenant Kolchek’s eyes and nodded.

“I apologize, sir,” you started confidently, unwavering under his steely, hard eyes. “I… didn’t realize how tired I was when I arrived, and I made the mistake of lying down on my bed, so I accidentally fell asleep—”

“L/n,” Jason interrupted you, holding out a hand to stop you from talking. “With all due respect, I don’t need your excuses. I just need you to be better.”

Well, wow; you’d been here for all of two hours and you were already falling behind your peers. Fucking awesome.

“Um…yes, sir.” That stinging at the corner of your eyes was not tears of embarrassment. Nope. Absolutely not—not right now, no. You were fine, absolutely fine, and you would not let anything like this get to you. “Sorry, I promise that this isn’t a reflection on my medical expertise—”

“Your hair,” Jason suddenly interrupted, and you jumped, startled. He seemed completely transfixed; brown, deep eyes full of some sort of strange wonder fixed on the strands of hair falling down and around your face. As if he were mesmerized by it, bewitched by the way your hair grew and placed itself on your head.

Thinking he was about to comment something nice about it—or maybe tell you you’d somehow gotten something stuck in it—you raised a hand up to your head, confused.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” you responded, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. “My hair…?”

Your voice seemed to snap Jason out of his trance, and he startled too, his awestruck eyes clearing and becoming sharp once again.

“It’s down,” Jason snarled, springing up from his seat in frustration, turning around and running a hand down his face. “Did’ya even read the dress code before you became one of us, L/n?! Hair needs to be cut or worn the fuck up.”

Whoa; you had no idea how you making two tiny little mistakes—like sleeping in a little bit later and accidentally wearing your hair down—warranted this kind of anger, but you were officially pissed off yourself.

“I think I can find that medbay myself,” you hissed back, rising up from the seat you’d taken and hastily throwing your hair back into the Marine-approved hairstyle. “Thanks for…whatever the fuck this was, Jason.”

You heard his hands slam down onto his desk rather than saw it, and you whipped your head towards him your eyes meeting his and both of them hardening.

“Marine, you will address me by my title,” Jason growled back, leaning on his palms in what you assumed was an attempt to intimidate you. You didn’t take the bait, instead leaning your own palms on Jason’s desk, on the inside of his, leaning in until your noses were practically touching.

Nobody moved. Not even a fucking muscle.

“Fine,” you agreed, not even sure how this entire meeting had spiraled so far out of control that you were practically defying your Lieutenant. Your eyes found their way down to his lips of their own accord—plump, firm, wet. You licked your own lips, looking back into his eyes. “Whatever you say, Lieutenant Kolchek.”

You turned on your heel and walked away without so much as a second glance; however, as you exited the room, you could see Jason’s reflection in the door’s window.

He shivered.

* * * * *

“YOU know, you’re actually pretty cool, Y/n,” Johnny Cusack, your closest and simultaneously most annoying friend on base commented.

You looked up from the paper you’d been absent-mindedly doodling on, waiting for Lieutenant Kolchek—ugh— and Sergeant Kay to make their appearances and brief you all on the new training happening for the rest of the month.

“Uh, yeah?” You agreed, slightly offended at his observation. “That’s, like, that’s not a secret, though—you know, it’s the actually part I’m getting stuck on, here.”

Johnny only laughed at your fumble, ruffling your hair much like an older brother would a younger sister, despite being much younger than you. You glared at him, retying your hair back as you anxiously checked the door for Lieutenant Kolchek.

“Relax, he ain’t here yet,” Johhny reassued you, watching as your chest fell in exhalation.

“You know I don’t need another write-up on my record,” you reminded him, sneering at the past few instances in your mind. You’d been here for three months now, and it seemed that whenever you had the misfortune to be in the same room as Lieutenant Kolchek, he would find a reason to write you up, a reason to kick you out of the group for a little bit while you’d be stuck cleaning bathrooms or doing extra paperwork. Usually with some poor sap of a Marine who’d gotten caught up in the butt of your joke, or snickered at you when you got in trouble.

You had no idea just what you’d done to deserve it, but Jason absolutely hated you. That much you knew. Whether it was the fact that you were a woman, or that you were green in the field, you had no fucking idea. All you knew was that he seemed to be much harder on you than he was on everybody else, and it was pissing you off.

“You just gotta ride through it, ‘til you ain’t the newest Marine here anymore,” Johnny insisted, a statement you’d heard from him only about a million times before. “They’re always harder on the new ones. Wanna make sure you can handle bein’ here.”

“Oh, yeah?” You hissed back, your pencil pushing harder on your doodle in your frustration, breaking the tip. “You really tryin’ to tell me that Jason isn’t any harder on me than he was on any of you?!”

“He was hard on us!” Johnny insisted.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t hard on you,” you growled back, shoving his shoulder slightly with the palm of your hand to get his attention. “But was he as hard on you as he is on me?”

You were furiously sharpening your pencil with your dinky little sharpener, and you finally looked up at Johnny when he’d been silent for too long. His lips were pursed, his nose scrunched, like he was thinking back on something.

“Well, maybe not as hard,” Johhny admitted. “But, I don’t know, Y/n—maybe it’s just ‘cause he doesn’t see medics as real Marines.”

“That’s ridiculous—!”

“Or, maybe it’s ‘cause he just ain’t ever had the chance to see you in combat,” Johnny finished, throwing an arm around you and resting it there. “Gotta earn that respect, Marine.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled back, continuing your absent-minded doodling on your itinerary. “Like it’s my fault we haven’t ever been in a warzone. Trust me, if we ever were in a warzone, Kolchek would be lucky to have me there with you. I’m a damn good doctor—”

“It’s not like you help the situation, either,” Johnny reminded you, with a sharp look on his face. “You’re always eggin’ it on, makin’ jokes at his expense or blatantly ignoring basic rules. It’s almost like you like the attention from Jason, Y/n—”

“Are you insinuating what I think that you’re insinuating?!” You interrupted, your voice rising in pitch as you threw your pencil down onto the table, throwing Johnny’s arm off of you and jabbing his chest with a sharp finger. “‘Cause you better fucking not be, Cusack, I’ll kick your ass!”

Johnny laughed back at you, throwing his arms up in defense and shaking his head at you. “Alright, alright! I’ll quit teasin’ you about your annoyingly obvious crush on Lieutenant Kolchek!”

“There is no ‘annoyingly obvious’ crush on Lieutenant Kolchek!” You screeched, placing your heel on the front of his chair and pushing him over, watching as he scrambled to catch himself before he hit the ground. You stepped over him, legs on either side of his body as you reached a hand down to help him up, despite being the one that pushed him over.

“Okay, Y/n! Geez! Whatever you—”

Of course, Jason would choose that exact moment to enter the room, a slew of Marines including Sergeant Kay following behind him. He eyed the two of you suspiciously, studying Johnny lying on the ground and you, standing suspiciously over the top of him, your chest in his face. Jason’s eyes turned sharp as they landed back on you and his lips pursed.

“Oh, fuck me,” you whispered, hanging your head down as Johnny finally took your hand and helped himself up.

“The two of you better not have been doin’ what it looks like you were doin’,” Jason snarled, his eyes squinting all the more as Johhny bumped into you on his way up, hands grabbing onto your waist for support as he stumbled.

“Shit—uh—no, Lieutenant Kolchek, I-I— I would never,” Johhny stuttered, pushing away from you as if you were a parasite. And on fire. “We were just— I mean, I—my chair—”

“Alright, Casanova,” you hissed back at Johnny, shooting him an unappreciative glare. “I’ll take this from here.” You stepped around your friend, arms crossed over your chest and raising your chin so that your eyes could level with Lieutenant Kolchek’s. “As you can see, Lieutenant, I am currently fully clothed and intact, so whatever you think you saw, you’re wrong. And you need to get your eyes checked.”

“Excuse me, Marine?!”

“Unfortunately, while I am a doctor, I’m not an eye doctor, so you’re gonna have to struggle with your piss-poor vision until you can find one,” you finished, taking a step closer to Jason, keeping your eyes locked with his, feeling the rush of adrenaline flood your veins.

Maybe Johnny was right; maybe you sort of did like making trouble.

Jason glared right back at you before he scoffed, breaking eye contact quickly and shaking his head.

“Y/n, I ain’t got time for your shit today,” he replied, bending down to set Johnny’s chair upright and gesturing towards it. “If the two of you would kindly take a seat, we have some news to go over regardin’ some assignment changes.”

You yawned—you weren’t trying to piss Jason off, although you couldn’t help but feel like it would be an added bonus if you did—and it got his attention enough that he turned back towards you, his eyes falling quickly toward the piece of paper he’d laid out for you on the table.

“Y/n, is that—” he groaned, running a hand down his face and his teeth clenching as he stared at your now-decorated itinerary. “Did you seriously color all over your itinerary?!”

All you could manage to do was grin cheekily back at him, picking up the paper and pointing a single finger to a nicely decorated, drawn-on doodle of a party hat, with a piece of shit underneath it.

“Do you like it?” You asked, your eyes studying him for any and every reaction that he would give you. “That’s you, Jason; the Party Pooper.”

There was a collective sound of Marines holding their breaths—and their laughter—in. You heard, rather than saw, Johnny’s head hitting the desk with a groan as he desperately tried to unassociate himself with you.

Jason’s jaw was clenched so tightly now that you thought he might shatter his own teeth.

He leaned in close to you, hands resting on the table behind you as his face became insufferably close to yours.

“As I said before, I ain’t got time for your shit today, Y/n,” Jason whispered darkly, his brown eyes staring intensely into yours. “Remember your damn place Marine; to you, it’s Lieutenant Kolchek. Call me Jason one more fuckin’ time—see what happens.”

That really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.

* * * * *

“NAH, man, I swear—couple years back, they was bumpin’ uglies,” Ricky insisted, as you all sat around the round table, a deck of cards laid out amongst all six Marines. “Sergeant Kay and his Colonel’s wife. Swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

“I smell bullshit,” you argued back, pretending not to notice all of the men watching your hands with fascination as you expertly shuffled the deck of cards. “Nick’s way too nice for that.”

“Shit, Y/n, don’t let the Lieutenant hear you call him Nick,” Johnny hissed in warning at you, pointing his finger across the room at Jason, who was having a cold one with the Sergeant Kay in question. There was actually a smile on his face. Who knew he had it in him?

“He can’t hear me,” you replied nonchalantly, shooting Jason a smile when he happened to pass his gaze over you. He quickly looked away, turning back to Nick seriously as they discussed what looked to be something much more grim than your current conversation.

“Ah, good old Lieutenant Kolchek,” Matthew, one of the cruder Marines, cut in. “That man has a stick so far up his ass. He could benefit from some good old-fashioned no-pants dancing.”

You all snickered quietly at that, so as not to draw any attention from the man in question.

“Yeah, he’s definitely a hard-ass,” Ricky agreed. He turned to you then, chewing on a toothpick as he smiled. “Definitely hates you, Y/n.”

“Or maybe he just has a hard-on for making me miserable,” you remarked instantly, causing the men at the table to laugh in an uproar. “Y’know, maybe that’s his thing. Maybe he beats one out to the thought of me cleaning bathrooms while he’s alone in his room.”

“Hey, now there’s an idea!” Matthew chimed in again, leaning across the table with a gleam in his eyes as he stared straight into your apprehensive ones. “Maybe you should take one for the team, Y/n. Let him get down with you.”

You only snorted back, even though you were more affected by his words than you let on, the image of you and Jason twirling together in a bunch of ivory sheets playing rent-free in your mind. “And, by that you mean…?”

You were playing dumb—Johnny knew it by the sound of his groan—but the rest of the men at the table leaned back in their chairs uncomfortably, not wanting to have this conversation with—gasp!---a girl.

Matthew saw right through it though, a glint in his eye as he leaned in even closer to you, daring to stroke the back of your hand with his pinky finger. “Oh, you know what I mean, Y/n— you could let the Good Lieutenant practice his bedroom rodeo.”

You laughed out loud at that, using the motion of your body to pull away from Matthew’s touch. He was cute, you liked flirting, and let’s be honest here—you hadn’t gotten any since you arrived here on base—but he was absolutely not your type.

Your type, unfortunately, was sitting across the way with a stick up his ass.

Still, you wondered if this little flirting could be a bit of a release for you—or, it could backfire and create even more unnecessary sexual tension—but you leaned into it regardless, shooting a stray gaze towards Jason’s table.

He was watching you.

With a smirk, you turned back to Matthew as you said, “What, you mean like a little foxtrot uniform charlie kilo?” The men laughed at that again, all except for Johnny, who sent you an exasperated glance, begging you to quit while you were ahead.

“Yeah, a little wettin’ the willy,” Matthew replied, his own chuckle escaping his lips at the ridiculous phrase. You giggled too, about to throw another one in, when one of the quieter men decided to join in.

“Using a telescope to explore the black hole?”

“Takin’ the skinboat to tuna town!”

“Wam, bam, thank you ma’am!”

“Drivin’ Miss Daisy!”

“A visit from old one-eye.”

“Okay, okay!” You interrupted in a fit of giggles, throwing your hands up in surrender. “You know, maybe I’ll take y’all up on it, after all—I could invite Lieutenant Kolchek up to my extremely tiny room, guide him over to my even smaller cot, and have myself a hot beef injection—”

“And just what in the fuckin’ hell is goin’ on here?!”

You weren’t sure if Jason’s voice sobered you or just excited you more, but you turned around in your chair, suave as ever, with a big, painted smile on your face.

“Oh, y’know,” you answered with a faux yawn, stretching your arms and extending your rib cage in the process, showing off the girls. “Just a little Marine talk.”

“Is that so?” Jason questioned quietly, steely, his hands clenched into fists as he leered down at you. “Y/n, go finish the paperwork we all started today. Alone.”

“WHAT?!” You rose from your seat then, absolutely pissed, as you gaped up at Jason’s impassive face. “Are you fucking kidding me, Kolchek? Why me?”

“Because you were makin’ highly inappropriate sexual comments about a fellow soldier,” Jason replied, deadpan. Emotionless. “I ain’t kiddin’, Y/n. Paperwork. Now.”

“No, this is moronic!” You fought back, your voice hitting a note of hysteria. “I wasn’t the only one making sexual innuendos, we all were—”

“Did I stutter?” Jason bellowed back, pointing an aggressive finger out the door. “Paperwork, Y/n. Now.” You hesitated for a moment, tears springing to the corners of your eyes and your nails digging crescent moons into the palms of your hands. “Do as you’re told, Marine!”

You pushed past Jason angrily, bumping your shoulder harshly into him as you stalked out of the room, heading to the office to finish everybody’s job.

You made a resolve, right then and there:

Lieutenant Jason Kolchek was not interested in you.

Quit trying.

* * * * *

IT was hot outside.

Really fucking hot outside.

You all were finally getting a much-needed break after a long day of physical training, the last day of training for the week. Finally; you’d worked way too damn hard trying to prove yourself, and you were paying for it, now. You were exhausted, starving, and hot.

You were all in more casual wear today, and you had found a stolen moment alone, beneath a tree in a darkened area of land. Taking the time to yourself, you undid the first few buttons on your tanktop, letting the tip-top of your rounded breasts show and glisten under the little ray of sun shining down on you. A long, glistening bead of sweat slithered in between your two mounds and you let it, throwing your head back and letting your hair down to give your aching head a rest.

You sighed

“Y/N!”

Your brief, stolen moment of peace, quiet, and relaxation was taken much too quickly, and you startled, jumping from your spot in the shade, your breasts bouncing as you did so. Your eyes opened upon none other than Lieutenant Jason Kolchek, and his eyes were having a very hard time retreating from your exposed, shining breasts.

An idea formed in your mind—potentially a very bad idea, admittedly, but Jason was right here in front of you, and he couldn’t stop staring, mouth agape, practically a line of drool falling out of it.

You reached a hand up and, testing the waters, swiped a line of sweat off from the tops of your breasts, watching Jason’s eyes grow wider as he watched, unable to tear his eyes away from your body.

As if he were being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water, Jason startled himself, tearing his eyes viciously away from your breasts and over to your face. His breath was fast and hot, his hands shaking, and his eyes were wide and scared, maybe even slightly ashamed of whatever thoughts lie beneath them.

You grinned, knowing you had not only shocked him, but you had unraveled him as well. Now you knew just how affected by you he actually was.

Jason’s eyes whipped over to you, and he covered them with a hand, downcasting them to the ground as he physically recoiled away from you.

“Marine—dress code,” was all he said, but his words were strangled by a choking gasp as they made their way out of his throat. As if he himself didn’t even want to say it, or maybe he just didn’t know what to do. He was almost malfunctioning just from the sight of you; you’d thrown him completely off his guard, made him nervous, and he was affected by you. Or, at the very least, by your body.

You could work with that.

Grinning eagerly, you re-did the buttons of your tanktop, watching Jason slowly remove his hand as you did, his eyes warily watching you do up your shirt and pull back your hair.

“Is that better, Lieutenant?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes innocently up at him even as you leaned forward, putting what was left of your showing chest on display.

Jason gulped, visibly and audibly, and he shook his head.

“That’s a week,” he answered hoarsely, walking backward away from you on shaky legs. “That’s bathrooms for—for a week.”

And then he was gone.

* * * * *

JASON seemed to be avoiding you.

Ever since the dress code incident.

It’d been nearly a week since you last saw him at all, let alone heard any word from him on anything that you should be doing. You hadn’t even done the bathrooms like you were supposed to, just to test the waters again, and you still didn’t hear anything from him.

Something was wrong.

It wasn’t until late one Saturday night when you were getting ready to go to bed when you heard a bloodcurdling scream that you realized just how wrong something actually was.

You immediately jumped into action, dressed in only tight spandex and a sports bra you’d been using to sleep in, snatching your lengthy medkit from the side of your bed and rushing out the door of your bedroom.

The base was in chaos.

You didn’t know how you’d missed it before, but now you could clearly hear the sound of gunshots ringing through the hall.

Oh no, oh no, oh no—

You ran without thinking, ran past stray, flying bullets down the hall as you aimlessly ducked and covered, strange men in black ski masks and black clothing littering the halls, trying to find Marines, and shooting when they did.

Fuck, you thought to yourself, tears falling from the edges of your eyes as you realized that you couldn’t see a single Marine anywhere—just you. You instantly turned into a darkened corner, concealing yourself and the medkit as well as you could while these terrifying enemies ran past, looking for soldiers like you.

What the fuck is going on?

When you finally saw an opening, you ran for it, as fast as you possibly could down the hallway towards the front door of the building. You hoped that most everyone else was already out, and judging by the fact that you couldn’t see anybody, you assumed that to be the case.

How long had this been going on? Why had nobody come to find you?!

You pushed that last thought far, far from your head because surely someone thought of you. They were probably looking for you, now.

You were almost to the front door when one of them found you, cutting off your path to the front door; and although you couldn’t see his face, you could see the upturn of his eyes.

He was smiling.

“I’VE GOT ONE!” He yelled, causing all of the masked men in the near vicinity to pause and turn towards you, guns ablazing.

“Oh, shit,” you whispered to yourself, whipping your head around frantically to find any means of escape, beginning to silently plead for your life when you found not one. “Shit!”

You decided to take a risk, anyway; there were more behind you then there were in front of you, so you pushed ahead, ducking and dodging as you heard the sound of gunfire erupting all around you, each of the gunmen there trying to wound you—or worse. You took a sharp left turn down another hallway when you realized you weren’t going to reach the door, yelping as a sharp pain suddenly erupted throughout your left shoulder, your skin feeling like it was being torn apart.

One of their stray bullets must have finally dinged you, and you clutched your shoulder with your same hand, hanging onto the medkit with the opposite one for dear life. You had no idea where you were running to, anymore; all that was ahead of you was the kitchen, the dining hall, and more random bedrooms. No entrances, and no exits.

You were fucked.

You were just about to run straight forward, try your luck hiding in the kitchen, when you suddenly felt a pair of two large hands grab you from behind, hauling you off your feet and nearly knocking the wind out of you with how tightly they wound around your stomach. You barely had the time or room to wheeze before you were being dragged into a supply closet, nearly hidden from view, hearing the click of the lock behind you.

Without thinking, you reared back, striking your opponent’s head with your own in an attempt to get away.

“OW!”

Oh, wait, shit; you knew that voice.

“Y/n—what the fuck?!” Your eyes finally adjusted, much too late, to the darkness enshrouding you, and you were able to make out Jason, who was now standing as far away as he could from you in the tiny supply closet, clutching his head where you’d attacked him mere seconds earlier.

“Oh, shit!” You said for what was probably the fiftieth time. You ran over to him—easy to do in a two-foot wide supply closet—and replaced his hand on his head with your own, inspecting the nasty bruise that you’d left there. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I—I thought you might be one of…them.” You shivered at the thought, your hand dropping from his forehead, and Jason was still so close to you that he felt it, catching your arm with his hand to steady you.

“That’s fair,” Jason responded, and you looked back up into his eyes, stunned, and found nothing but sincerity within them. Jason was whispering, and you followed suit, lowering your voice so that the men on the outside couldn’t hear the two of you hiding. “I should’ve said somethin’, ‘stead of just draggin’ you into an empty supply closet.”

You let out a breathy laugh at that, and Jason smiled back at you, his eyes falling down your form in the meantime as he inspected you for any wounds.

“You alright?” He asked, his hand that had been on your arm falling down to your hand and holding it so softly, it was almost as if it wasn’t actually his intent. You stood still, frozen, afraid that if you made any sudden movements that he might retract it—because even if he was holding your hand on accident, he was still holding your hand. And you didn’t really want him letting you go.

“I, um, yeah,” you replied lamely, still clutching at your shoulder with your other hand. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, why are you holdin’ yourself like that?!” Jason interrogated, sounding a lot like cared about your well-being, and releasing your hand to wind it over your other one, removing it from your injured shoulder. You knew he’d begun to inspect the wound when you heard his gasp, and you winced. “Fuck, Y/n! You’ve fuckin’ been shot!!”

“Oh, yeah,” you confirmed with a steady nod of your head. “Also that.”

“What the fuck, Y/n? You didn’t think to mention that you got hit?” Jason’s voice was on the edge of hysterical, and you could see the panic behind his eyes, which only confused you more.

“With all due respect, Lieutenant, I am the doctor here,” you reminded him, gently removing his hand from your shoulder and replacing it with your own. “Once we get out of here and into some decent light, I’ll take a look at it; speaking of, what the fuck is going on, and where is everybody else?”

Jason sighed as he ran a hand through his hatless hair. He was wearing blue and black checkerboard pajama pants, and you were just now noticing that he wasn’t even wearing a shirt. He looked like he had just ran out of bed himself.

“Everyone’s outside and accounted for, waitin’ for backup to come in a bunker,” Jason explained, steady eyes darting around your face as he continued to examine you. “Well, everyone but you.”

“And you,” you pointed out, wincing as the action sent flying pain up through your bullet wound. “Why the hell aren’t you out in the bunker?”

“I was out in the bunker,” Jason answered, setting a glare on you. “When I found out you were still missin’, I came back to find you.”

You jerked away in your shock, Jason’s words ringing throughout your brain and sending a flurry of butterflies racing around your chest. He was out of here, safe and sound, and he ran back into the line of fire just to find you? You—who he hated—you?!

“You came—” Your voice was hoarse, choked up with emotion. “You came back for me?” Even in the darkness, you could see Jason’s cheeks darkening, and he ran another nervous hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze.

“Well, y’know,” he mumbled, turning away from you and pretending to inspect a nearby shelf. “No man left behind, and…stuff.”

“Right.” And although you were certain that Jason was telling the truth, you were also pretty certain that Jason wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“And by the fuckin’ way, Y/n, where in the hell is your gun?!”

“...oh.” In all of the fear, commotion, and craziness, you hadn’t even thought to bring your gun. All you could think of was your medkit, and the tools that you’d need to help others if they were wounded. “Honestly, I didn’t even think about grabbing it. All I could think about was all of our friends, hurt, and needing my help, so I just…grabbed the medkit and ran. Sorry, that was really stupid of me.”

Jason turned around then, brown eyes wide and gaping at you as if you’d suddenly grown three heads. You guessed it was pretty weird to forget your gun, but you weren’t certain that it warranted this sort of reaction.

“What?!” You cried out, crossing your arms over your chest subconsciously. Your shoulder protested immediately and you hissed, clutching at it again as blood began to seep through your fingers. “Bad idea.”

“Y/n!” Jason was over to you in an instant, hands pushing yours away as he came in close to inspect your wound and apply pressure. You tried not to think about how close and how shirtless he was, but it was hard when his pecs were literally eye-level. “Fuck, Y/n, it’s bleedin’ a lot.”

“Yeah, it feels like it is,” you agreed, eyes fluttering as you suddenly started to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, I’m feeling a little—I’m sort of dizzy, I think?”

“Shit.” Jason instantly hopped behind you, pulling you to him so that your back was to his chest. “C’mere,” he instructed, and you gasped slightly as you felt him lower the two of you to the ground, pulling you into his lap. “You sit here and I’m gonna keep puttin’ pressure on your wound, alright? Hand me the medkit.”

You did as he asked without question; even if you’d wanted to argue, you really didn’t have the strength or the energy to. Instead, you leaned yor head back against his shoulder, absent-mindedly curving your nose into his neck and closing your eyes. You heard the telltale ripping of packaging, wincing as Jason began to clean and dress your wound.

“It’s through-and-through,” Jason informed you, keeping both of his hands tightly pressed against your wound. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” you recognized, keeping your eyes closed as you took a deep, calming breath, accidentally inhaling Jason’s scent. Sandalwood. “So, um, you never told me what—what’s going on here?”

Jason had shifted from both hands pressing against your wound to just one hand, holding pressure against it and trapping the other side with his chest. His other hand was currently running through your hair soothingly, causing you to let out a pathetic sigh every now and again.

“We’re under some sort of an attack,” he responded, and you leaned further into his hand against your head, feeling his slight smirk against your cheek and not really caring that he’d seen you be a little vulnerable with him. “Seems like they’re tryin’ to send some kinda message to the government and we just…happened to be the closest base to their headquarters.” You stilled at his words and then shivered, the eeriness of it all almost too much to bear.

As hypocritical as it was, you never actually thought that you’d have to see battle during your time here in the Marines. Enlisting after the war ended in Iraq was the safer bet, you thought, but you realized now how stupid that line of thinking was.

And how unprepared for this you might really be.

You opened your eyes again, choosing to focus on your bandaged wound rather than Jason’s alluring hand running through your hair.

“Hey,” you barely uttered, but Jason still heard it, and his eyes flashed over to yours. You turned your face to his evenly and rubbed a thumb against your bandaging, accidentally brushing up against his other hand. “You did a pretty good job with this.”

Jason grinned back at you. “I have some experience,” he admitted, pulling you back into him gently so as not to aggravate your gunshot wound. “Now stay here and lean against me or you’re gonna pass out from the blood loss.”

“Is anyone else hurt?” You asked instead, your mind flashing back to the faces of your friends in a panic. Matthew, Ricky, Johnny—

“There are a few gunshot wounds,” Jason admitted, his hand going still in your hair for just a moment before picking back up again, stroking his hand way too gently through it for somebody who supposedly didn’t like you. “Nothin’ serious. We all got real lucky here tonight.”

“There are wounded soldiers?!” You freaked out, pushing up against him and trying to pick yourself up off of the floor. You were unsuccessful—mostly because Jason held you down—and you scowled at him. “Jason—I have to go! Our men need me, they need the medical supplies!”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” Jason growled back at you, reapplying pressure to your wound and silencing you with a glare. “Like I said before, ain’t nothin’ serious. The men’ll be fine, Y/n, and we ain’t goin’ back out there with you injured and God knows how many men still circlin’ around the base!”

You huffed as you leaned back into him, arms crossed over your chest defiantly, despite knowing that he had a very valid point.

“Is Johnny alright?” You finally gathered up the courage to ask, fighting back the feelings that if your only friend was injured, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. When Jason took much too long to answer, you turned back to him worriedly, finding he was only smiling at you.

“Johnny’s fine,” he reassured you, and you held your breath as he cupped your cheek with his free hand, his thumb stroking across your cheekbone tenderly as he stared in wonder down at your face. “You’re really worried about him, huh?”

“Yes,” you admitted softly, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. “He’s my best friend—probably ever.” Jason smiled kindly at your words, and although you couldn’t see it, there was a debate behind his eyes.

“...two of you together…?” Your eyes shot open at Jason’s question, and you briefly wondered if this whole interaction was really a dream. Or maybe you’d gotten shot and were lying on the floor somewhere, delirious.

Because no way did Lieutenant Jason Kolchek just ask you if you were dating somebody else and sound mildly sad about the possibility.

“Oh, uh, no,” you answered, feeling the burning blush across your cheekbones. “It isn’t, um, like that—I love Johnny, but not that way. He’s an amazing friend, but—he really just isn’t my type.”

The closet became suffocating with silence, and even Jason’s thumb stopped working its path along your cheekbones. It was so tense that you opened your eyes again, finding Jason staring resolutely back at you, determined, as if he had made his mind up about something.

“And what’s, um, what’s your type?” Jason’s voice had grown quiet, and he was holding his breath. As if he were afraid of what your answer might be.

You grinned back at him, wounded shoulder nearly forgotten as you stared into his pensive brown eyes, subconsciously leaning in just a little bit closer to him.

“My type?” You repeated cheekily, although the strangled quality to your voice gave away just how nervous you really were. “Well, that’s easy; strong, brown-eyed, easily annoyed, likes power trips—” Jason’s eyes were watching you closely, very closely, and there was a glint of realization within them. The realization that your ‘type’ was oddly specific. You grinned and decided to continue, both of you knowing without a shadow of a doubt that you were talking about him.

“Sometimes has a stick up his ass, not so easily swayed by adorably rebellious women—”

Jason’s lips were on yours before you could say another word, and you reacted instantly, your hand winding around his neck and intertwining in his hair. Your head tilted sideways as you deepened the kiss and Jason moaned into it, his tongue darting out and meeting yours halfway as the two of you battled for dominance, dancing the same dance that you did every single day, only now with your mouths.

Jason’s hand found its way to your stomach and you sighed pleasurably into his mouth, resisting the urge to roll your eyes when he smirked into your kiss.

“JASON!”

The two of you split apart like you were on fire at the sound of Jason’s radio, and you tensed, sending a quick look towards the door to make sure nobody on the outside heard it. When you looked back over at Jason, he was still staring at you, but now he looked conflicted. Immediately, he cleared his throat, pulling out his radio and turning harshly away from you.

“Nicky!” He greeted in a whisper, also eyeing the locked door. “Not the best time buddy, we’re hidin’ in a closet from those—”

“No, the place is clear,” Nick’s voice rings through the goods news, and both you and Jason let out massive sighs of relief. “You found her, then? Y/n?”

Jason looked back at you then, a tight smile on his face as he nodded towards you. “Yeah, she’s here with me,” Jason confirmed, a huge smile of relief breaking out across his face. “She’s fine, she’s—great.” You smiled back at him then, clutching your shoulder that had finally stopped its bleeding.

“Good, ‘cause my face isn’t,” Nick grumbled, and you raised an eyebrow at Jason, who helped you get to your feet. You noticed that Jason’s face had turned a peculiar shade of red, and although you could tell he was embarrassed, you had no idea why he was embarrassed.

“His face?” You questioned, opening the door and peeking a head outside. Immediately, Jason wound an arm around you, pulling you behind him as he proceeded to check that the coast was clear. You rolled your eyes, having half a mind to lecture him about his ridiculous need to ‘be a man,’ but you were genuinely more curious about Nick. “Is he injured? Oh, fuck, tell me he wasn’t shot in the face!”

“He wasn’t shot in the face,” Jason answered flippantly, bobbing his head towards the open door and giving you a hand out. “Coast is clear.”

“If he wasn’t shot in the face, then what’s wrong with his face?”

“He’s fine, Y/n!” Jason snapped back, turning around towards you with a fierce, cutting scowl. “For once in your life, just let it go—please!”

“Fine,” you grumbled back, both of you breathing another sigh of relief when you saw flashing lights and heard sirens outside. The police had come, thank God; and thank God these idiotic Marines chose to be sensible and get out for once, instead of trying to be the heroes and fight these guys. Granted, if we’d had access to our locked-up weapons artillery on the fly, we could’ve defended ourselves just a little, teensy bit better.

You wondered, not for the first time, where the Marines were who were supposed to be guarding the base tonight. Jason said there had been no serious injuries…

“HANDS UP!” A local officer ordered, and you and Jason eagerly complied, despite the sharp protestations from your injured shoulder. You groaned at the pain, instinctually grasping at your shoulder in agony. The officer shifted his gun towards you and you held your breath, knowing you had fucked up.

“HEY, WAITWAITWAITWAITWAIT!!” Jason screamed back at him, hands out in front of him as he threw his body in front of yours. You gasped, truly shocked that Jason had not only defied an officer’s basic orders, but he threw himself in front of you just in case the officer actually shot. “She’s one of us, sir, she’s a Marine; she’s just injured—one of those fuckin’ assholes shot her right through her shoulder blade—”

“Sir, step aside, and raise your hands above your head,” the officer growled back, gun still quite at the ready. You gulped, but Jason refused to move.

“I won’t,” he answered quietly, and you could see his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down. “I ain’t gonna move ‘til you lower that gun, sir. With all due respect.”

The officer looked between the two of you for a moment more and must have deduced that you didn’t look like the other gunmen because he lowered his gun a few moments later.

“State your name and rank, please,” the office grumbled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe that Jason would do something as risky and idiotic as he just did.

To be fair, you couldn’t believe what he’d just done, either.

“First Lieutenant Jason Kolchek,” Jason answered, grabbing your hand and pulling you up to him. “And this is our Medic, Private Y/n L/n.” You nodded your confirmation when the officer looked at you. After a second, he sighed.

“Lieutenant Kolchek,” the officer greeted. “My men and I are going to inspect the entirety of this place, make sure there isn’t anybody else hiding. There’s people from the FBI here, waiting to talk to you about tonight’s incident. I’m aware there’s some injuries, as well. Paramedics aren’t here yet—I’m sure they could use you, ma’am.”

“Yes, of course,” you responded eagerly, grasping Jason’s hand and rushing him past the officer and out the door. “Show me to the bunker, please; they need me.” Jason only nodded, and the two of you ran, hand-in-hand, to the bunker.

* * * * *

YOU worked all night long, tirelessly and effortlessly, sewing up injured Marines, giving medications, packing wounds. Jason was right; it wasn’t anything serious, but it wasn’t nothing either.

To your dismay, you hadn’t seen him for the rest of the night since you arrived at the bunker; he had disappeared somewhere with Sergeant Kay and a couple of FBI agents, and they still hadn’t returned. After nearly six hours.

When it had been approaching close to the eight-hour mark, Nick and Jason finally resurfaced, looking completely exhausted. You had finally taken a break, leaning against the wall on a bench to close your eyes for just a few seconds, when the two of them walked back into the main room.

“Jason,” you whispered breathlessly, pushing yourself up off of the wall and sprinting over to the two men. “Lieutenant!” You called out, successfully gathering his attention.

Jason’s eyes fell over to your shoulder first, and then he looked up into your eyes, his own bloodshot and weary.

“Y/n,” Jason answered with a drained sigh. “I’ve been told you worked, all night, by yourself. Fixed up all our men.”

You smiled brightly up at him and nodded in affirmation. Jason lightly smiled at you, but there was a strange tension in his face that wasn’t there before. Your own smile fell, and you stepped closer to him, laying a hand on his arm.

He pulled instantly away, as if you had burned him.

“Jason,” you began softly, eyes wary as he avoided your gaze at all costs. “Are you okay? Do we need to go somewhere? You could take a break, you’ve been at it for hours. I can help you relax—”

“Lieutenant.” His reminder came through gritted teeth, and he turned back to you with his familiar sharpness of gaze. You recoiled, bewildered at his sudden 180 back to how he’d treated you before he’d kissed you. “Don’t make me remind you again, Marine. You’ll address me properly just like everybody else here.”

You took a step back, away from him, with fully wide eyes and a gaping jaw. This behavior, this—this coldness was out of character for him, even for the Jason that he was before your quiet, stolen moments hiding together in the supply closet. You scoffed, but it held none of the usual malice it was typically laced with. Instead, it was more of an anxious taking in of breath, a confused, hurt little exhale that you couldn’t stop from escaping.

“Dude.” That was all you could say for several seconds while Jason stared back at you with hard, unwavering eyes. You swallowed back a tense gulp of air before stepping closer to him again, hardening your own eyes and pushing back the intense bout of disappointment that threatened to take you over after a long, hard night of emotions. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are we seriously not gonna talk about what happened in—”

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”

Jason’s words were firm, and held an understanding of finality to them. It was so jarring, so upsetting that you had to physically hold yourself together, your own arms winding around your stomach as you curled in on yourself, shaking your head and desperately holding back your tears.

You hadn’t realized how happy Jason’s kiss had made you until he ripped that happiness away.

You walked quickly away, turning away from Jason before he had the satisfaction of seeing how he’d made you cry. You heard his brief call of your name as you hurried away from his general vicinity, but you didn’t turn back around.

His voice only made you want to cry more.

You were walking briskly to— well, fuck, you didnt actually know where— when you ran smackdab into none other than your best friend, who, despite how much you loved the guy, you really had no interest in seeing right now.

“Hey, Y/n! There you are!” Johnny’s large arms encircled you and you tensed, shoulders shaking as you buried your head into his chest. “Fuck, I was so fuckin’ worried about you! Where were you?! Did you not hear the 9-1-1 to get out?”

“No,” you admitted, the tears that you had been holding back now pushing at the edges of your eyes, begging to be released. “No, the intercom in my room must be out, and that door is thick as shit. I didn’t even hear the gunshots until I stepped outside.”

“Shit,” Johnny reiterated, pulling you in a little bit tighter. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Y/n.”

“Yeah,” you whispered against your best friend, eyes shut tight as he rubbed your back. “Me too.” Johnny had apparently decided that it was time for the sappiness to end—you did hear him sniffling a little bit, and you made the merciful decision not to tease him about it—because he pulled away, a mischievous, boyish smile now on his face.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t all bad,” Johnny suddenly teased, ruffling your hair in the way that only he was allowed to do. “Heard you had to go into hiding with the Good Old Lieutenant; and I happen to have it on good authority that he was shirtless?! I mean, honestly, that’s the juiciest shit that’s happened since Ricky hooked up with that chick that stalked him for eight solid months, so, if you don’t kiss and tell right now, I might have to rethink my friendship decisions.”

Your smile, which had gathered onto your face as your friend comforted you, fell immediately off of your face and you turned slightly away, wiping at the corner of your eyes as a tear finally spilled over the top of your waterline.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you brushed off, arms crossed over your chest and eyes wandering to every single crack and crevice in the bunker, hoping to distract yourself from the incoming stream of tears.

“Oh, shit,” you heard Johnny whisper, and ultimately, it was the genuine concern and panic in his voice that caused your sudden onset of heaving sobs. “Y/n! Fuck, hey—what happened?!”

You turned back into your friend before you could really stop yourself, and even though you could see multiple of your fellow Marines turning to stare at you, their curious eyes filled with their concern and confusion, you let yourself cry into Johnny’s chest anyway. Worst case scenario, they’d chalk it up to the night’s events, and not even have the necessary details to connect your immediate weeping to Jason at all.

Once you let yourself have a few minutes, you gathered your strength to quit crying, pulling away from Johnny and shaking your head incredulously.

“Honestly? I have no fucking idea what happened,” you admitted, to him and to yourself, thinking back on just where the fuck it could have all went so wrong. “The only thing I do know, is that nothing like…that, is ever going to happen between us.”

Johnny took another step back, bewildered, and he studied the ground anxiously, like he was trying to figure out a really complicated problem.

“Wait, no, but—wait, really?” Johnny questioned, and you honestly had no idea why he sounded like he couldn’t believe a word you were saying.

“The fuck do you mean ‘really?!’ Yes, really!”

“No, sorry, I believe you, it’s just—” Johnny sucked in a breath, running a hand through his curly brown hair and inspecting the room to make sure he wasn’t overheard before turning his concerned blue eyes back to you. “Well, after seein’ the way he reacted when he found out you were missing, I was certain that—”

“Hold up,” you interrupted, taking a step closer to your friend and lowering your voice. “He reacted? Wait, like how did he react? Like, you mean normally, like a Lieutenant looking for any missing soldier—”

“Y/n, no,” Johnny interrupted, pulling you towards the wall and leaning in close to you. “Y/n, Kolchek was totally buggin’ out when Nick told him you weren’t accounted for. Like, going completely ballistic, almost as if he’d left the most important thing in the world back on base. He was a fucking wreck, and when Nick tried to stop him from going after you, Kolchek socked him right in the fucking face, Y/n! Just to get past him and inside to find you!”

You flinched, Johnny’s words hitting you like a punch to the gut. In just a tiny matter of two minutes, you went through a range of emotions:

Firstly, confusion. Because you’d never, ever seen Jason react that way, let alone react that way just because of you.

Secondly, denial. Because no fucking way did the man who seemed to hate you so much want to go back for you, just you, that badly. No fucking way.

Thirdly, and lastly—anger.

Actually, more like blind fucking rage.

“Where the fuck is Jason Fucking Kolchek,” you hissed, grasping onto Johnny’s arm with your nails, digging in as you pulled him in closer to you. “Where the fuck did he go?!”

“OW, Y/n, for fuck’s sake!” Johnny hissed back, pulling his arm out of your grasp and shaking it out, looking back at you like you’d committed a heinous crime against him. “Dammit, woman, he went down the hall and into the little kitchen with Nick—”

You were off before Johnny could even finish talking, but you heard his annoyed sigh behind you as you left. You didn’t care; you were a woman on a mission now, and that mission was to find Jason Kolchek and give him a piece of your fucking mind.

You bumped into several of your fellow Marines, barely glancing back at them to send them a warning glare before you made it to the bunker’s tiny kitchen, the door semi-cracked and the hallway next to it cleared. You pushed your hand against it, ready to burst in and lecture the living shit out of the Good Old Lieutenant, when you heard something that made you freeze in your tracks.

“What happened tonight, Nicky? This happened because of us,” Jason’s voice floated through the door, and the blood in your veins ran as cold as ice. “Someone wants what happened to us to get out, and this was a fuckin’ threat. That’s why the FBI’s here; you heard ‘em say it themselves!”

“I know,” Nick agreed, and you leaned in closer, your right eyeball peering in through the tiny crack in the door. You could barely make out Jason’s shape, but it was enough to know that he was stressed out of his fucking mind. He was pacing, hands pulling at his hair, crossing his arms over his chest and the standard grey emergency t-shirt someone had finally given him. “But that don’t make it our fault. It’s their fault, Jason; we’re victims in this too, ‘case you forgot about that part.”

“Fuck,” Jason mumbled, seemingly ignoring Nick’s statement completely. “Fuck, Nicky! We gotta make sure that all of our Marines are followin’ every rule, as tightly and strictly as we can!” You could see Jason’s form pace back and forth in front of you, completely unaware that you were even on the other side of the door, listening in. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was having some sort of panic attack. “We can not afford to have another blip on their rader again, Nicky. We gotta prove that we can handle this, that we can keep this fucked-up secret o’theirs. Our fuckin’ lives depend on it!”

“Our lives depend on it?!” Nick repeated incredulously, and you could see him now, his face in clear view through your small crack in the door. He looked enraged, astounded by Jason’s words. “Fuck, Jason! We almost lost our lives tonight—not to mention we put every Marine here in danger—because we’re keeping their fucked-up secret! Shit, man, how the fuck do you not see that?!”

“So what then, Nicky?” Jason wheezed, his voice sounding strangled. You wished that you could see his face, see the emotions written across it to get a better read of just what the fuck was going on here. “We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t?!”

Nick shrugged. “All the more reason for you to be honest with Y/n and tell her how you really feel about her,” Nick suggested, and you watched as he crossed his arms over his chest, raising a challenging eyebrow at Jason. You let out a silent gasp, covering your mouth to ensure that no noise was made, as you tried to peer more deeply through the crack at the mention of your name.

Jason only scoffed in response. “Fuckin’ hilarious, man.”

“I’m serious!” Nick whisper-yelled, throwing his own bucket hat down onto the ground in frustration and you jumped, surprised by the sudden increase in the men’s tempers. “Fuck, Jason; we could’ve died tonight! Y/n could’ve died tonight and you know damn well—just as fuckin’ well as I do—that you shouldn’t leave important things unsaid in the middle of a war!”

“War’s over, Nicky,” Jason quietly chimed in, and you could see him now, leaning over a table with his elbows bent and his head hanging low in desperation. Nick scoffed back at him, shaking his head incredulously at his best friend.

“No it ain’t Jason, and if you think that it is, you’re fuckin’ blind,” he responded, bending over and picking up his hat again in the process. “And don’t try to change the fuckin’ subject on me, man.”

“Fuck, Nicky!” Jason yelled now, and the two men jumped, sparing a quick glance at the door to make sure nobody had heard. You swiveled to the side just in time to not be caught, and when they had been quiet for a sufficient amount of time, you pulled yourself back to your eavesdropping spot, the two men with their backs turned to you once again.

“I can’t tell her.” Jason’s voice was quiet, and weak; your heart felt like it split again at his tone. You’d never, ever heard him like this. So…weary, so melancholy, so…

Defeated.

“If I tell Y/n the truth, I’d be puttin’ her in as much danger as we’re in, constantly,” Jason continued, turning around and leaning against the table so you got a clear view of his face. “I have to keep pushin’ her away.”

He’d been crying. You’d never seen him cry before.

“And, what—it’s fuckin’ better to just keep her in the dark?! To never let yourself be happy, or love someone ever again because you’re scared?” Nick’s voice was rising again, and you could tell that he had Jason’s best interest at heart, and that because of that fact, he was letting his anger overcome him, scared himself for his friend’s future happiness.

Jason slammed his fist against the table, a loud ringing sound echoing from it and making you wince. Jason, however, didn’t so much as flinch as he turned back around on Nick, a finger pointed directly at his nose.

“And just what the fuck would you have me tell her, Nick?!” Jason hollered, lowering his arm down but staying completely rigid. “Somethin’ like, ‘Hey, Y/n, I really like you but I can’t do shit about it ‘cause the government fuckin’ hates me. And if I let you in, I might accidentally fuckin’ tell you about the alien vampires that almost annihilated us, and if I did that, the FBI would most certainly kill us both. OH, and also, alien vampires do exist and I know you probably don’t believe me because I sound like a crazy asshole right now!’”

Your hands flew to your mouth to stop the roaring gasp that had escaped from your throat; you staggered backwards, eyes wide and jaw still agape underneath your hands as you processed Jason’s words.

Or, rather, as you tried to process them. Because in all honesty, the shit that Jason was saying was making absolutely zero sense.

“Uh, yeah,” Nick replied after a few moments, just as you stepped back again to hear the rest of the conversation. “Literally, dude, tell her exactly that. She ain’t dumb, bro, and at the very least, she’s gonna hear you out.”

“No fuckin’ way, dude,” Jason immediately argued, and you could see in his stance and in the stiff demanor of his face that he was becoming extremely combative. “The shit that we went through two years ago, man? It’s fuckin’ crazy. There ain’t no way, in this fuckin’ world, that Y/n’s gonna believe me; and even if she does believe me, her knowin’ any of that shit could get her fuckin’ killed! So, with all due respect, fuck that, man. I’m gonna do what I’ve been doin’ and keep protectin’ her from all of this shit. Protectin’ her from me.”

You didn’t think you could hear anymore; the fire and resentment within you burning you up to extremely dangerous levels. You pushed off of the door, flames on your heels as you stormed your way across the bunker, to the room that you knew that the FBI was currently sitting in, talking and plotting over just whatever the fuck they thought that Jason had done wrong.

You’d always been one to trust your instincts, and your instincts had never led you astray. As you stood and listened to the two men talking, you knew; you could feel it in your damn gut, and everything within you burned with truth and you just fucking knew. You knew that, whatever crazy shit had happened to Jason and Nick, whataver fuckery with literal aliens they had to deal with, it was true.

Somehow, you just knew that it was.

What you didn’t know, is just what exactly you planned to do once you actually stormed into the FBI’s sitting room. You didn’t stop yourself, though, and so you found yourself standing in the middle of five random people you’d never seen in your life, all dressed in black and looking at you with wide eyes, holding cups of fucking coffee in their hands.

“Is it true?” You asked after several minutes, watching as all five of the agents somehow locked eyes with one another in confusion and skepticism. “Did we all almost fucking die, just because you all have something on Lieutenant Kolchek and Sergeant Kay that some other freaks are trying to expose?! Did my friends almost get killed because you value your cover-up more than our fucking lives?”

All five people stared back at you with shocked looks on their faces, darting their eyes back and forth to each other as they contemplated just what the hell they should say to you.

“Ma’am—”

“It’s fucking Doctor to you,” you seethed, stepping closer to the man who spoke and watching him take a step back with satisfaction.

“Doctor…L/n, I assume, then?” He stepped forward, hands out in front of him, as if he were attempting to placate a wild animal. “I’m not sure where you’ve heard this information, Doctor, but I assure you that we’ve got it under control.”

“Oh, you have it under control, do you?” You taunted back, arms crossed over your chest and stepping methodically around the room, your eyes landing on a woman who looked particularly intimidated by you. You smirked, although you weren’t actually feeling all that cocky. “And, do you call threatening and—and manipulating—and scaring the shit out of two of your best Marines having it ‘under control,’ then? You think that playing with people’s lives, with their emotions—you think that’s an adequate way to control a situation?!”

“Ma’am, with all due respect—”

“It’s fucking Doctor!” You screeched in response, throwing your arms down as you felt wet, hot tears fall back down your face. “And I can’t fucking take this anymore! This is bullshit, all of this lying, and exploiting, and expecting us to take the hit and put ourselves in danger just so you can save your own asses—”

“Lieutenant Kolchek,” one of the men interrupted you and your head whipped towards the door furiously, your chest heaving up and down as you struggled to catch your breath in your rage.

Jason stood at the door with one hand on the handle, staring back at you and then at the FBI agents, his face as white as fucking snow. His eyes finally landed on you and stayed there, genuine concern lying beneath them as they silently pleaded with you to tell him just what the fuck was going on here.

“Lieutenant, do you have any idea how your Medic has any extra knowledge of what occurred here, tonight?” The man, who seemed to be the leader, asked. Jason’s eyes and lips were tight and he continued staring at you, even as he answered his question.

“I don’t sir,” he responded through clenched teeth, his knuckles gripping the doorknob so tightly that they were beginning to turn white. “I don’t have any idea what she’s on about.”

“Oh,” you scoffed back at him, although you couldn’t quite force yourself to look him in the eyes. “That’s rich.”

“Lieutenant, are you prepared to deal with her insubordination, or should we?” The man pressed on, and you glared at him, having half a mind to bare your teeth, too. Jason’s body clenched up even tighter, if it was even possible, and he shook his head briskly.

“That won’t be necessary, sir,” Jason responded in a whistler through his tightly clenched teeth. “Is the buildin’ cleared for entry, sir?” Jason asked mechanically, staring sharply ahead at the FBI agent.

“Yes,” the man answered cautiously, eyes darting between the two of you. “It’s just been cleared, as of ten minutes ago, Lieutenant.”

Jason turned back to you then, and if looks could kill, you’d be fucking dead.

“Y/n, my office,” Jason growled, opening the door wider and pointing a stern finger outside of it. “Now!” You shot him a glare as you exited the room, walking briskly out the door, through the bunker, and back up to the base, practically sprinting in your fury up to Jason’s office. He was right on your heels, and as soon as you were both securely and fully inside of his office, he slammed the door behind the two of you.

“Marine, just what the fuck was that—”

“You, are such an idiot!” You howled, placing the palm of your hand against Jason’s chest and shoving him backwards, hard enough to dispel some of your anger but not hard enough to hurt him at all. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Jason Kolchek?! You think you can treat me like shit, just so you can hide away your own fucking feelings—”

“What the fuck are you on about?!” Jason interrupted, circling his desk to get further away from you. “What the fuck has got you so fired up, and why the fuck are you goin’ around yellin’ at everybody for?”

“I fuckin’ heard you, dipshit,” You snarled at him, walking back up to him and pointing an accusatory finger in his face. “I heard you and Nick, talking in the kitchen. Every fucking word, Jason!”

Whatever Jason thought that you were going to say, it sure as hell wasn’t that, and you watched as his face instantly dropped and he blanched. You watched the gears in his head turning from behind his eyes, likely thinking of some way out of this.

“Dammit,” Jason finally whispered after a few minutes of painful silence. “Fuckin’ dammit, Y/n! Why can’t you just do the best thing for yourself and leave fuckin’ well enough alone?!”

“Because I’m sick of you treating me differently, Jason!” You screeched back, and you could feel all of the emotions from not just tonight, but from every fucking day since you’d arrived on base building up within you. All of the confusion, the frustration, the anger—all of it, resurfacing inside of you to create one perfect, big-ass storm.

You knew you should take a moment. Take a step back. Breathe.

But you didn’t fucking want to.

“Why the fuck do you do it, Jason?” You interrogated, raising up your chin defiantly, trying your best to make yourself feel and look as tall as Jason was compared to you. “Is it because you feel some stupid need to protect me, Jason? Why?! Because I’m smaller than everyone else? Or is it because I’m a girl?! You think that I’m not tough enough to protect myself? Whatever the fuck it is, it’s bullshit, because I’ve fucking proved myself and it isn’t fucking fair!”

You looked to Jason for a response and, to your frustration, the man only scoffed.

“I do not treat you differently,” he argued lowly, subcoonsciously leaning forward, closer to you, nose-to-nose.

You laughed out loud, throwing your hands up in the air and turning around in exasperation.

“Yes, you fucking do!” You bickered back, doing a 180 and flipping back around on him, walking close enough that you could feel his angry, hot breath on your lips. “You go silent whenever I enter a room, you’re harder on me than everybody else especially with the fucking dress code, you won’t let me joke around with the boys—look, Lieutenant, if you’re sexist, that’s your own damn fault! Don’t take your shit out on me!”

Jason’s eyes went wide at your accusation and he chuckled loudly, preposterously. “I am not fuckin’ sexist!” He demanded, walking forward and throwing his hands onto his desk, trapping you in between them. You smirked back at him, pushing yourself up to seem intimidating, taller, unafraid of him. He didn’t back down either, darkened eyes staring deep and unwaveringly into yours as he waited for your next move.

“Oh, okay,” you faux-agreed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in annoyance. “So, you treating me like shit, and choosing not to be around me is just, you know, generally what you do around women. Got it.”

“It’s not ‘cause you’re a fuckin’ woman,” Jason growled, and his lips were so far bared back that you could see his tongue, pushing tensely against his bottom teeth. Just as tight and clenched as the rest of him was in response to you.

“Oh, but you do admit that you treat me differently, then?” Checkmate, you thought to yourself smirking up at Jason, whose head lolled back and eyes rolled in extreme frustration.

“Oh my g—fine,” Jason hissed at you, pushing himself up and off of the table as his body spun around, hands wound in his hair and clenching anxiously before he let one fall gently against the wall in the tiniest agitated punch. “I don’t treat you like everyone else,” Jason admitted, whirling back around on you. “Happy?”

“Happy?!” You screeched, eyes wide and throwing your hands up in the air, exasperated and irate. “Am I happy?! Are you fucking kidding me, Jason?! No, I’m not fucking happy, Jason! Why the fuck would you ever even think—”

“Look, Y/n, you asked and I answered,” Jason interrupted, turning back around with a fixed, resolute look in his eyes. “You just…wait here while I work on some damage control to keep you here, alright? We’re done here.”

Jason shot one last, exhausted look your way before he started heading towards the office door, and for some reason, the image of his retreating back enraged you more than anything else had tonight.

“What—NO!” You yelled after him, rushing to block his path, throwing your body in front of the office door and successfully obstructing his way out. Jason’s eyes widened and his face was weary. “Fuck that! We’re not done here, Jason!”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Jason muttered, gently easing an arm around your back and moving you out of the way. “C’mon, Y/n, move—”

“No!” You insisted, turning back around. You grabbed his wrist, tightly, and attempted to get him to stay. “Get back here and have some human decency for once, Kolchek! Have a fucking conversation with—mmmph!”

Your protestations were firmly cut off by a hard, impassioned kiss as Jason smashed his lips onto yours, pulling you in by the waist. Every bone in your body was vibrating with rage and also with want, and you reciprocated quicker than you’d like to admit, grasping his belt loops with your fingers and pulling him forcefully into you. Jason’s hand left your waist, winding up in the locks that were falling from your head, before suddenly pulling away with wide, shell-shocked eyes.

“Whoa,” you uttered, and you barely managed to do that. Jason’s eyes were flitting all across your face, a look of horror written all over his own. “Jason,” you whispered, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek. “I—”

“Your hair,” Jason cut in, his one hand still hanging from your tresses, eyes wide and stressed. His wonder-filled expression quickly turned to one of exasperation and annoyance. “Your fucking hair, Y/n! We’ve been fucking over this—!”

“Uh,” you answered back, briefly looking down to see that your hair had indeed escaped its low bun, hanging down once again. “I—”

“Shit!” Jason suddenly swore, dropping you like you were burning him from the inside out. He looked terrified, and he ran a hand through his hair, his foot tapping anxiously against the ground, jittery and wound up. “Shit!”

What you wouldn’t give to read his mind, right at this moment.

“Jason—”

“Fuck, I—shit, Y/n, I am so sorry,” Jason apologized, turning fiercely back to you with a regretful, contrite look written across his face. “I shouldn’t’ve—fuck, I—fuck!” He immediately turned away from you again, body wracked with guilt and conflicting emotions as he grasped the door handle, once again intending to leave you here alone.

You didn’t know what to do, but you knew that you couldn’t let him leave. You couldn’t let him walk out of this room and pretend that nothing was going on. Not again.

You jumped forward, grabbing him by the arm, gently this time. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him any more than he was already fucking terrified, but to your luck, Jason stopped moving, although his body was still completely tense.

You allowed your grasp to move downward, cradling his hand in yours tenderly, like it was precious and fragile. Quietly, you tiptoed out in front of him, begging him to look down at you, but he was avoiding your gaze, his jaw clenched and eyes shut tight, continuing to fight his unwavering affection for you.

Slowly, oh, ever so slowly, you cupped a hand on his chin, prodding it gently, and he followed suit, his head raising gently to meet your big, curious eyes.

“You kissed me,” was all you could manage to whisper, and Jason nodded, eyes staring straight into your eyes like you’d put him under some sort of spell. “Did you…did you mean it?

“Yeah,” Jason whispered back, but even with his surprising confession, neither of you could seem to break the agitation, the rigidity and tension that seemed to always encircle the two of you, like a rope wound so tightly that if pulled just one more time, would snap.

But all things had to break eventually.

“Then put your fucking money where your mouth is,” you challenged, a tight smirk winding its way around your lips. Jason staggered back, out of your hold, with eyes like saucers and bewilderment written all over his form.

“...What…?!”

You sauntered over to him, a single finger plucking at his bottom lip before trailing its way down, down, down his chest, circling his sternum. Your teeth had grasped your own lips and you looked up at him with big, sensual eyes, a glimmer laying behind them that only Jason could clearly see.

“I think the both of us could do with releasing some tension, Lieutenant,” you purred, stepping so close into his personal bubble that you could feel his very prominent hard-on, just above your own arousal. “And I’ve broken lots of rules tonight; I don’t believe I’ve ever been properly punished.”

You looked up from where you had been staring down at your finger, circling in and out of his shirt, and gazed up into Jason’s eyes, which were furrowed and contemplative.

After what felt like hours, but was really only a couple of agonizing seconds, Jason finally shook his head, a smirk befalling his lips. You felt—and watched, nervously—as his hands lowered down to his belt, slowly and tantalizingly beginning to unbuckle it as his eyes never left your suddenly anxious face.

“No, Marine,” Jason replied, and just like that, his belt was gone, discarded, thrown across the room before you could so much as blink. Jason copied your earlier ministrations, his finger pushing your chin up to look back up at his face. “In fact, I think I’ve let you get away with breakin’ the rules for far too long.”

His words unleashed a dam of sexual tension in you and you completely lost it; both hands grasped his shirt and yanked him into you, anything but gentle. Your lips collided for the third time in twenty-four hours, and this time, you could feel just how much Jason really wanted this. Needed this.

The only thing that seemed to go through your mind was fuck; who knew the Good Old Lieutenant could kiss like that?! Jason’s lips were so inebriating that your legs buckled underneath you, and Jason caught you, somehow smirking against your lips without his own ever stopping their intoxicating movements.

Before you knew it, he had you backed up into his desk, paperwork and utensils flying off in one swift movement as he continued to kiss your neck, clearing the two of you a space. He pulled away for a brief moment to inspect it and then turned back to you with a lusty, dominating twinkle in his eyes.

“What are you waiting for?!” You demanded, trying to pull him back into you with no avail. “I’m right fucking here!”

“Oh, baby girl,” Jason chuckled, leaning in and nipping gently at your collarbone. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head; I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” he growled, and you shivered, feeling your nipples harden in response to his feverish voice and the words he was using with it. You moaned and he chuckled against your neck, amused at the simpering mess you’d already become before he’d even really gotten started.

Jason pulled away again and you made a noise of protest, watching his grin as he stared down at you in bemusement.

“Now before I do this, I’m gonna have to hear your consent explicitly from your mouth,” he continued on, hands toying with the ends of your shirt but not daring to make any further movements. You stared back at him, deadpan.

“What, are you kidding?”

“Nah, I ain’t kiddin’ darlin’,” Jason insisted, pulling completely off of you and crossing his arms over his chest. “I need to hear you say it: do you want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, Jason—yes!” You howled back, grasping his shirt and pulling him back on top of you with an annoyed groan. Jason laughed out loud and you swooned again, having never actually heard his genuine laugh before. And certainly never directed at you.

You reached up for his head, trying to pull him down to kiss you again but he held still, making you screech in impatience.

“Yes, what?” Jason pushed back, leaning in closer to you, temptingly swirling his tongue around your carotid artery, causing your eyes to roll back in your head and your body to react by pulling yourself closer to him.

You weren’t sure how, but somehow, you knew exactly what Jason wanted.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” you slurred back at him, eyes slanted and sensual as you swirled your own finger up under his shirt, teasingly stroking his six-pack with a carnal grin plastered across your face.

Your words seemed to set off a fire in him, and he was on you again in an instant, knocking you off balance as his lips laid over yours, his tongue begging for entry which you freely gave.

You captured his bottom lip between yours, sucking harshly and Jason moaned against you, the sound itself lubricating you, only serving to make you more impatient for more than just a steamy makeout session.

“Jason,” you whimpered against him, bucking against him as he took your breast into his hand, squeezing and feeling the fulness—which, apparently, was more than satisfactory because he pulled away with a moan and a stupefied gape across his face and eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, wiping a hand across his face. “Y/n—”

“I need you,” you whined again, and it broke him out of his stupor, his face jolting back to life as he inspected your needy, pleading gaze. “Jason, please—”

“Address me properly, and I’ll think about it,” Jason insisted with a smirk and you glared back at him, too far gone to even care about fighting back.

“Lieutenant, please,” you begged, hands intertwining in his shirt and pressing your breasts up against his face, eliciting a heady groan from his lips. “I want to feel your tongue against me, please…”

“Sit up,” Jason demanded and you did, holding on tightly to his neck as he transferred you from his desk to his chair. You yelped in protest when he leapt off of you, watching warily as he pulled his shirt up and off and grabbed his discarded belt, making his way back over to you. “Hands behind the chair, Y/n.”

You were so fucking turned on by his authoritative tone that you did exactly as you were told, like a good little subordinate, and Jason worked quickly to tighten the belt around your hands, tying you up roughly and leaving very little wiggle room.

He wound his shirt around your eyes then, leaving you completely blind to the world and you whimpered, anxious and excited at the mere idea of what he was about to do to you.

You felt his hot breath suddenly by your ear and you shivered pathetically, releasing a pent-up, tense sigh when Jason’s teeth pulled at your earlobe harshly.

“Touch me and you lose,” Jason hissed into your ear and you groaned, every inch of your body aching to buck up your hips and beg him to fuck you into his mouth, knowing that if you did, he’d only make your climax even more slow and torturous than it already was.

You could feel his rough, calloused hands working off your pants and you lifted up slightly to speed up the process, biting your lip tightly when your spandex slid off of your legs and you heard their thump onto the ground.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs,” Jason commanded and you did, knowing full and well that your entire sex was on display beneath a thin, sheer layer of purple-laced panties.

You felt Jason suddenly tense against you, his head dropping onto your breasts as he moaned in frustration.

“I—what?” You questioned, hands straining against their bind as you worried over what the fuck had just happened.

“Are you—is that—fuck, Y/n, are you wearin’ a fuckin’ thong?” Jason’s voice was higher in pitch, his fingers tapping against your leg anxiously as he lifted his head to, you presumed, stare back down at your crotch.

You scoffed. “Yeah,” you admitted, a blush staining your cheeks. “So what if it is?”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/n!” Jason exclaimed, his fingers softly making their way up your thighs, tickling you, and you felt goosebumps rise up along your legs. “Did you even pay attention to the dress code, Y/n?!”

Your giggles were short-lived, as the garment in question was immediately ripped off of your leg and disappeared, to who the fuck knew where, honestly. Jason’s mouth was hot and heavy and went straight to work on your little bundle of nerves, uncaring to the sensitivity or the way you bucked and squealed against him.

Jason seemed to be able to take your harsh hip-bucking, because instead of holding your thighs down and stopping them in their tracks, he wound his hand around the back of them, clenching them and supporting you as you fucked yourself into his mouth viciously.

“Oh, shit,” you mewled, feeling that telltale building up about to explode within you. “Jason, fuck, I’m gonna—”

As soon as you said the words, Jason’s mouth retreated and you cried out in protest, unable to pull him back in and unable to see what was going on. “Jason, seriously—!”

“If you wanna come,” Jason’s voice was darker and deeper than you’d ever heard it, a growl lilting inside of it as he spoke to you. “You better fuckin’ beg.”

You didn’t even have the energy, time, or patience to fight back—you’d been made into a pathetic, whimpering mess at his every command.

“Fuck, Jason, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—”

His mouth returned with vigor, as quickly as it had left, and you cried out in painful pleasure as your orgasm wracked through your body, your cries only seeming to spur Jason on as he clutched your thighs tightly and pushed his face even farther into your wetness, continuing to suck even though your orgasm had ended and you were now just a sensitive jumble of nerves.

His mouth retreated slowly, like he didn’t ever want to leave, and you felt his rough hands caressing your thighs gently, his forehead leaning against yours as you both breathed too deeply, smiling against each other’s lips.

Not long after, he untied your hands and you reached eagerly around, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him in as he attempted to remove your blindfold.

Light shone into your eyes as he did and you blinked, wincing as your eyes re-adjusted to the light.

“Fuck, Jason, you—you’re amazing,” you gasped out and Jason chuckled, his forehead still leaning against yours as he delicately stroked your cheek, pressing a soft, doting kiss atop your lips.

“You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause I just fucked your brains out, doll,” Jason argued, and you laughed out loud, the sound making him smile as he watched you with adoration.

“It still counts if I mean it,” you admitted softly, and Jason’s face fell, fiercely pressing his lips against yours again, kissing you much differently before. Kissing you like he had more than just lusty feelings for you, kissing you like there was something lurking beneath the surface, something much deeper than just wanting a good fuck.

And fuck it all to hell, but it only served to turn you on more.

“Jason,” you spoke against his lips and he pulled away, his eyes so full of affection for you that it made you the tiniest bit uneasy at what all of those feelings could mean. “I want to fuck you, too.”

Jason’s eyes lit up at that and he grinned at you, lowering his head down to your breasts and laughing happily.

“Is that so, darlin’?” Jason questioned, and suddenly, his air of dominance had slightly faded into something more real, something that you had a feeling had been there for quite some time, buried underneath the surface. “Well, just so happens that I sorta want you to fuck me, too.”

You giggled back, feeling completely light, weightless, the rest of the day’s events seemingly falling off of your shoulders and rolling straight off of your back the longer you stared into Jason’s eyes. You watched eagerly as he pushed himself off of you, hands working on his pants and shoving them down his legs with his boxers in one fell swoop, leaving him completely naked and exposed in front of you.

You sighed dreamily, reaching out a hand to stroke his member, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head as you did so. You were so blissed out, that you couldn’t even find it within you to be cocky; you just smiled dazedly up at him, like he held the moon and the stars and everything in between.

From his perspective, holding you, he did.

You blushed under his dreamy gaze, covering your face with your hands, and he instantly tried to pry them away, staring into your eyes once you’d given up hiding from him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?” Jason asked, and you blushed again at the nickname. He chuckled, reaching up a hand to stroke your cheek and kiss your forehead at the same time. “You get nervous when I look at you like this?"

“No one’s ever looked at me like that before,” you conceded, nervous fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “It’s…intense.”

Jason looked like he wanted to comment on that, but he didn’t, his eyes wandering instead to your chest.

“Baby, I wanna see you,” Jason pleaded, leaning his hands on the armrests of the chair and hovering over you, staring at your still-covered chest. “Please, baby?”

You didn’t need more than that; you instantly complied, pulling your shirt off of your frame and taking your sports bra off quickly after. Jason’s eyes were utterly glued to your chest, examining every inch of your exposed breasts with wide, hungry eyes.

“Never took you for a boob guy,” you teased, staring Jason down curiously as he seemed to take in every inch of you, as if he were trying to memorize this moment right here before him. You breathed out a little sigh, and he looked up into your eyes then, watching you smile gently back at him. “Although that day by the tree should have tipped me off, in retrospect.”

Jason let out a low whistle, hanging his head in embarrassment as his cheeks tinged red.

“Fuck, I almost begged for you right then and there,” Jason admitted, and before you could comment on that, he’d reached his hands under your thighs and lifted you up, off of the chair, setting you down right in front of his large desk, and placing his hands on your waist from behind.

“Bend over for me, doll,” he demanded and you did, sticking your ass up in the air and groaning even before he entered you. You heard him release a string of swear words as he took you in, shaking his head as he contemplated just how fucking perfect you were to him.

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

“Jason,” Jason immediately corrected, his hand caressing your ass from behind. “Fuck, call me Jason, Y/n—every time you call me Jason I almost fuckin’ lose control—”

“Jason,” you moaned, and he groaned at the sound of his name, pulling closer to you until you could feel his erection against your thighs.

“I’m gonna enter you, now,” Jason whispered in your ear, stroking your hair. “We okay with that?”

“Yes, fuck, please!”

Jason didn’t need any more prompting and swiftly pushed himself inside of you, fiercely bucking in and out with his hands clutching onto your breasts, massaging them in a way that made sure you were going to orgasm again.

It wasn’t very long before the both of you reached climax, one right after the other, with Jason making sure you were taken care of again before he ever let himself release. He pulled out of you right as he came, catching his load with his hands as you hopped off of the table, handing him a box of tissues.

He smiled up at you, wiping off his hands and collapsing into his office chair he’d just mouth-fucked you into. You giggled at the memory, turning around and hopping onto the desk, cleaning yourself up with some tissues and tossing them into the trash.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been…wantin’ you, like this,” Jason huffed out and you grinned back at him, leaning your elbow against the table and sprawling out across it as he watched, eyes big and dark.

You laughed out loud, fanning yourself as sweat dripped down between your crevices. “I think I have some idea, Lieutenant; my legs are still fucking shaking.” Jason laughed at that too, shaking his head and reaching his hand out to you.

“C’mere, gorgeous.”

You did with a grin, taking his outstretched hand as he pulled you tightly into his lap, his arms going around your waist and his lips pressing kisses to the side of your face as he snuggled into you from behind, head resting in the crook of your neck as he sighed in contentment.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin quietly—so quietly, that you were certain you weren’t meant to hear it— “After that, I ain’t ever gonna get over you.”

You whipped around so quickly that Jason actually jumped, eyes widening and mouth agape as he stared at your suddenly intense face.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke, shaking your head slightly to test if this was actually reality. “What?!” Jason stared at you for too long of a time, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, as if he were contemplating whether or not he was actually going to answer you.

“Nothin’,” he finally said, and you let out a cry of outrage, turning your naked body completely around so that you were now straddling him, a glare in your eyes and a pout on your face.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so!” You protested, crossing your arms over your breasts and holding back a smile at Jason’s huff of irritation. “Go back to that last part, yeah? You’re…never gonna get over me? What does that even mean, Jason?! Are you saying that you—”

“Just—” Jason groaned, a hand running down his face and leaning back in his chair as he attempted to avoid your gaze. “Let it go, Marine, and let me breathe.”

“No, Jason!” You pressed on, placing both hands on either of his biceps, pulling yourself in closer to his face. “Tell me what you mean—”

“I can’t!”

His words were like a bucket of ice cold water, being dumped right over your head, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes and pushing yourself up off of him.

“You can’t,” you repeated, rolling your eyes and hurriedly throwing your shirt back on, walking away from him and snatching your spandex off of the floor, pulling them up around your legs and then over your ass. “I can’t believe I fucking did this, I—fuck, Jason! This is fucking ridiculous!”

“Y/n—!”

“No, Jason, just stop!” You cut him off, turning fiercely around and tossing his shirt quickly at him, ignoring the swooping butterflies in his chest when he managed to catch it with only one hand. “Fuck, dude, I opened up to you, I—I had sex with you, I told you that I heard what you were talking about—and still, you refuse to let me in?”

“Y/n, listen—”

“No!” You were aware that a part of you might have been, maybe, just a little bit irrational, but you hadn’t had the time to sit down and process any of your emotions that had flooded to the surface tonight—and you were still quite pissed, frankly, that Jason still didn’t trust you enough to confide in you. To give you a real fucking chance with him. “Jason, I—fuck, I mean—do you not want this?! Do you not want…me?”

It was an honest question that you had, but you hadn’t intended for it to come out so…small, and sad. You gulped when you heard your own voice speak it, lowering your eyes to the ground, ashamed at having shown so much of yourself to somebody who, evidently, didn’t care enough to try to be with you.

“What?!” Jason shouted, immediately rising from his seat on the chair, picking up his discarded shirt and his pants as he put them back on, apparently not deeming this a naked conversation. “Oh, fuck, Y/n…no. No, baby, that ain’t it at all.”

His words came out so tenderly, so genuine, that you really wanted to crawl back into his arms, believe him, and let him take whatever the fuck he wanted. You, however, weren’t that kind of girl, so instead you shook your head, squinting your eyes in a glare and crossing your arms over your chest when he tried to approach you.

“Well then what is it, Jason?” You countered, taking a step away from him when he took a step toward you. “Because you can’t just kiss me in a supply closet, and then kiss me again, and then fuck me, and then hold me all affectionately like that and then regret it five seconds later, okay?! Because fuck it all, Jason, but I’ve got some fucking hard, real feelings about you so if you didn’t—if you don’t fucking mean it—”

“I meant it!” Jason’s words were quick, persistent. Terrified that you wouldn’t believe him and that you’d walk out of here and out of his life forever.

And he was just now realizing that he didn’t want that, not at all.

“I meant it,” Jason repeated softly, taking cautious steps towards you and you let him, let him come closer to you and you let him place a gentle, careful hand on your cheek, rubbing a comforting thumb across your cheekbone. “It’s just—fuck, okay—you heard all this shit already, Y/n, but two years ago, Nick and I were in an…incident. Somethin’ beyond your wildest imagination, somethin’ that wasn’t ever supposed to be revealed, somethin’ that the FBI does not want gettin’ out. And if I acted on my…my feelin’s for you, they’d use that, Y/n. They’d fuckin’ use you against me, and I can’t put you in that position, alright?! This is more than just some stupid rank shit, or basic Marine positions, Y/n. This shit is dangerous, and I had no fuckin’ choice but to make you hate me, and I—”

“Stop talking,” you interrupted, taking a step back but catching his falling hand with your own. Jason’s mouth shut and his eyes slid back over to yours, confused and concerned. You stared up at him with wide, incredulous eyes and your mouth let out a noise of disbelief—somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. You knew he had feelings for you—you’d heard that much—and you knew that he was pushing you away—but that last thing he said?

Well you didn’t fucking know that. And you didn’t fucking like it, either.

“Jason,” you continued, pressing both of your pointer fingers to your temples as you attempted to process this information without giving yourself a raging headache. “Are you actually saying that you did all of this—the writing me up, pushing me away, avoiding me—to get me to hate you?”

You came full circle, the realization of just how deep this went finally hitting you, and as it did, you gasped out, “So that you wouldn’t even have a chance with me, even if you actually wanted one?!”

Jason was completely silent, but the way that he thoroughly evaded your gaze told you everything that you needed to know.

“Fuck, Jason!” You screeched, eyeing his famous grey hat sitting on his desk, the one that he could never seem to let go of and centering it as your focal point, as you were now unable to completely look into his eyes. “Why the fuck would you even do that?! In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I like you—like, a lot—and not to mention, I am somewhat of a badass myself, okay? I can protect my damn self—”

“Fuck, Y/n—it’s more than just that—I’m fuckin’ in love with you, okay?” Jason slammed his hand onto the table in frustration, and you didn’t even have a chance to respond to his statement, because he continued on briskly. “Why do you think I yell at you so much? Or that I shut the fuck up when I’m around you?? Dammit—you’re everythin’ I’ve ever wanted, and I admire you so much that I can’t even function when I’m around you! I’ve been tryin’ so damn hard to keep you out of trouble, but you’re so damn insistent on stayin’ in it!”

Jason’s rant honestly flew mostly right over your head, because you were still stuck on his very first sentence:

I’m fuckin’ in love with you.

“You…love me?” You looked back up at his face now, and he was staring at you—so earnestly and open and defeated, all at the same time. He sighed then, and something shifted in his face—as if he were finally accepting his defeat, realizing that you were here, and that you weren’t running away scared, but that you were still staying right here, amidst the weirdness and amidst the complications.

“Yeah,” Jason answered easily, as if it admitting that he loved you was as effortless and cemented as breathing for him. “I love you; and, for the record, I know that you can take care of yourself, alright? Doesn’t mean you should have to—not ‘cause of me.”

“Shut up,” you replied with a giggle, throwing yourself at him with a squeal. Jason caught you easily with an “OOMPH!”, and wrapped his arms tightly around you, lifting you up by the waist with his arms under your butt. “You love me, Jason,” you sing-songed, teasingly, and he chuckled, placing a long, heartfelt kiss on your lips, hesitating to pull away.

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed with a chuckle and you brushed your noses together, pressing another quick kiss to his lips with a large grin.

“And I love you,” you confessed, squealing when Jason responded by covering every inch of your face and neck in goofy kisses. “That’s—this—is all that matters, Jason. Just let me love you, damn it! Come hell or high water, I’m in this. For the long run. So what do you say, Lieutenant? Be mine?”

Jason’s laugh echoed throughout the office but he kissed you, slowly and earnestly, doting on every single piece of you that he could.

“As horribly cheesy as that was and as cheesy as this is,” Jason sighed, moving to sit on the desk with you on top of his lap. “I’m already yours, Y/n.”

You cuddled into his side, fitting your face to his neck as you pressed kiss after kiss there, revelling in the way Jason seemed to melt into each and every kiss you gave him, how he campe apart more and more and slowly became more comfortable with you.

“Good,” you conceded, pulling away for a second and placing both hands on his cheeks, pouting your lips and putting on your most serious facial expression.

“Because I really need to know what the fuck an alien vampire is.”

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