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poisonf0rest · 2 months

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𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 2

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, oral, cunnilingus, road head, car sex woohoo, pwp

word count: 6.6K

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

This is the last time you have sex on a weekday.

When Zayne left your apartment last night, you tried to write while the aftereffects of everything he did to you- everything he watched you do- still lingered. But you were beyond distracted, unable to even sit still without being assaulted with vivid flashbacks, a mix of mortification and lust coursing anew.

You shut your laptop and scream into your pillow.

Only after feeling sufficiently lightheaded do you shut off the lights and try to sleep, but the damned thing avoids you like the plague, and you stare at the ceiling for an untimed eternity. Everything feels wrong. Your blanket feels too thick, your skin too tight, the entire room too warm, too empty.

You don’t get more than three hours of sleep that night.

But it should be common knowledge that hospitals rest for no one, and you jolt out of bed to the sound of your pager beeping, rushing in while the sky is still dark.

The ambulance pulls in at the same time you do and the paramedics are already yelling out the status to everyone at the bay: forty-three-year-old male, chest trauma, performing CPR. It’s a race, a rush and rhythm you know well. You’re scrubbed down and entering the operating room alongside two other surgeons. The patient is intubated and they give the countdown before cutting him open.

It took two and a half hours to perform the surgery and stop all the internal bleeding, and by the end of it, you were exhausted, both physically and mentally.

But this was the most in control you’ve felt for a while. A sharp sort of stress that forced your hands into a trained precision and your mind into a rigorous sort of calm. It was almost as though you became a different person entirely, one you both admire and hate.

She’s calm and collected, only speaking when needed in commands to the operating room. She demands respect. She is who your mother is proud of, who you were supposed to be.

You’ve only just washed your hands and finished debriefing when you feel that half of you begin to slip away once more. And as the stress leaves, your mind wanders back to last night. To Zayne.

Thoughts that haunt you for the rest of the morning.

Finally, the clock hits eight and the ER is busy with the morning crowd. You do what you can until the other residents clock in, leaving to finally eat breakfast and get some sort of caffeine before your headache gets any worse.

Luckily, the vending machine has your favorite melonpan and green tea, and you get two of each. Sitting down, open your laptop and begin eating in the hallway outside the surgery bay, your manuscript staring right back at you, mocking.

Your eyes burn holes through the cursor blinking at the top of the page, and you try to will yourself to just type something, anything, but it doesn't work, and you end up slamming the computer shut with a sigh.

Unintentionally, your male lead has begun to resemble Zayne more and more- not physically, at least- but in his little mannerisms, his overly formal speech habit, and even his uncharacteristic love of sweets. Your lips quirk up at the memory.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Zayne comes from the other end of the hallway, looking like he also might be coming out from a surgery. He’s only meters away when his eyes lock onto yours.

You straighten against the chair, a shiver of heat racing down your spine as his mere presence sends an onslaught of flashbacks that are nothing short of sinful.

Stop. What happened last night is part of a professional, mutually beneficial deal. Zayne is still your mentor— your boss too, in some contexts— and you refuse to have these thoughts about him in your place of work.

Smiling, your fingers still against the keyboard as you hope the whole thing doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

Zayne looks the opposite of amused. If anything, he appears pissed.

His gaze narrows on you, and for a second, you think you spot something else behind the cold indifference. But the look passes as quickly as it appeared, his face back to its usual stony expression, and you must have imagined it.

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne,” you say.

Zayne stalls, shoulders tensing for a moment before he nods and continues walking. He doesn’t spare you another glance as he passes, doesn’t say another word, the awkward tension so thick it almost makes you choke on your melonpan.

Your eyes trail after him until he rounds the corner.

Well, that went splendidly.

You try to type again, but it turns out your brain is a useless lump of flesh because no matter how many times you read over the paragraph, the words fail to register. You huff out an exasperated breath, slam the laptop shut, and drag yourself to your office to prepare for rounds.

Even so, you go through your morning routine with a strained smile, a newfound weight pulling against your chest, a sharp sort of pain between guilt and longing you’ve never felt before.

—----

Zayne is going to lose his fucking mind.

He is an adult, he reminds himself. A well-mannered, respectful, professional adult.

So why can’t he stop imagining your face underneath him as you come undone? Why can’t he get the memory of every sound you made, the overly sweet way you said his name, the very cadence of your voice out of his head?

And the way you said please.

Zayne grinds his teeth hard enough that something clicks in the back of his jawbone, his usual flat expression twisted with a scowl that sends other doctors and residents scrambling out from his path. His clipboard groans under the pressure from his grip, and Zayne can’t make it to his private office fast enough before he slams the door shut and drags his palm down his face.

He sees you every time he closes his eyes.

“Fuck.”

Zayne swore to himself that helping you would change nothing in the workplace, and yet clearly, only one of you was mature enough to hold that part of your deal up.

This must be a new level of depravity Zayne never assumed he would stoop to.

But it had been torture to only watch you last night. A beautiful, painful torture he would subject himself to again and again and again just for the chance to have you writhing against him like that once more.

The way your doe eyes had practically begged for him to fuck you all on their own when he forced you to look up nearly made him come in his trousers. And thank god you were too far gone to notice how desperate he was, grinding insistently against your bedsheets while you came around his fingers. And now…

And now Zayne was fucking hard again in his office of all places.

It was a wonder he got anything done anymore.

Zayne hasn't had a lover in years and it's beginning to wear him thin. And yet, the idea of finding someone else to satiate his needs doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. Not when his mind is so consumed with the thought of you, and the sounds you made, the way you looked at him, the way your eyes would roll to the back of your head every time he curled his fingers into that spot inside of you.

God, he should have just asked you out on a date first.

Restraint had come easy to him. Zayne was practically raised on it, his very life dependent on his ability to restrain his Evol, the lives of others dependent on his patience and restraint in the operating room.

But no, when it came to you, everything failed him.

Maybe he had been a little harsh this morning. Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn't want to think about it.

Running a hand through his hair, Zayne imagines bumping into you again. Would you still be happy to see him, smiling as you did this morning, or would you ignore him just as he did you?

“About this morning,” Zayne stops, restarts. “I’m sorry for avoiding conversation earlier today.” A groan, “No, I can’t begin like that. This morning I wasn’t myself, there was a patient who required percutaneous coronary intervention and the stress must have gotten to me.”

He tries again, and again, gesturing to his empty office before dragging a palm down his face. “I must be going insane.”

Zayne has never felt more foolish in his life.

He doesn't even have the excuse of a lack of experience in this field. In his previous relationships, he was always the one to initiate dates and intimacy, and it was the same with any relation that had lasted longer than one night.

But you are different.

The thought of taking his time with you makes him weak. To finally have your legs wrapped around his waist, to finally hear his name on your lips, to finally have your body pressed flush against his and hear you beg for him once more.

He wants to do so much more for you, wants you to use him as you need, to take and take everything he has to give. Wants to surrender to your every whim and every outrageous idea you’ve ever had floating around in that unpredictable head of yours. Wants to taste you, and see if you taste as sweet as you sound when you beg.

Wants to know how your cunt feels and what face you would make when he finally, finally fucks you.

God, Zayne wants to ruin you.

He wants so badly it drives him mad.

Zayne can't avoid you, and he shouldn’t. There are still matters to discuss for your novel and a deal to hold up. He is a man of his word.

A date.

That could work. Just a way to get closer, as colleagues, as partners.

You would have to spend time together outside the hospital, where the air is clear of any distractions and expectations and Zayne can get his head on straight. Even moreso, it should be something nice, something that will hopefully take your mind off your impending deadline.

Right, that would be perfect. An opportunity to simply be providing you with the proper inspiration and guidance, as a good mentor should, and keep his end of the deal should you ask for another inspiration session.

Turning back in his chair, Zayne begins filtering through his email and paper files, until something slips from the growing stack.

The annual charity gala.

As a resident yourself, you were likely already invited, so proposing the two of you go together shouldn’t be too ostentatious, right?

Zayne stares down at the gilded gold lettering.

No. It was definitely out of line in so many ways. But the only other option was to continue down this path, to continue fooling himself that he only agreed to be your fuck buddy out of courtesy and care, and not these wretched thoughts that plauge his every waking moment.

It would mean he’d be completely at your mercy for seeing you next, whenever you needed him. Or his body, at least.

Zayne doesn’t have the willpower to last that long. Besides, this is more efficient.

So, Zayne opens the letter, pulls the invitation card from its envelope, and begins drafting an email to you in hopes of preserving a little bit of his dignity.

He didn’t even have to wait an hour to get your response: you said yes.

______

Zayne opens the car door for you, ever the gentleman.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you take extra care not to snag the hem of your cocktail dress on your heels or the door. By the time you buckle your seat belt, and the car roars to life, dashboard glowing a soft orange.

"Ready?" Zayne asks, adjusting his cuff as he begins to reverse out of the parking spot.

It’s the first time Zayne has formally invited you to be his plus one, and the thought of being seen beside him like this- at such a formal gala, no less- is all at once thrilling and nauseating.

Zayne steals another glance at you, and where your hands lay clenched in your lap. "It’s just a hospital event, you may very well see other residents there."

A laugh. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Even without the extra stress from attending this gala, your stomach has been in knots all day long-- your manuscript is due in less than a week. You’ve written a lot, and Zayne’s hands-on “experience” helped you get ample inspiration for most of the main scenes. Yet you can feel the deadline creeping up, the sense of impending doom looming over you.

Of course Zayne notices. "We'll try and have fun, it's just a couple of hours. I heard they also have billiard tables, if you’re interested?” A tap on the steering wheel, then he adds, a little quieter, “Your dress is nice. The color suits you.”

You smile, but your eyes don’t leave the road. Instead, you seem to zone out on the row of streetlights, shadows cast over your face as they pass by, one by one.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, doctor.”

Zayne continues. “Tell me more about your novel’s progress, then. If you need any more assistance…” he trails off, and you feel a prickling heat creep up the back of your neck. Finally, you look away from the window, and Zayne relaxes against his seat.

So you begin to tell him about the newest trope your editor wants you to include, a classic in enemies-to-lovers books: forced proximity. “The concept is great. Who doesn’t love it when the two characters who swear they hate each other accidentally get stuck together and turned on at the worst possible time?”

You ramble, propping your arm against the car armrest as you turn to face Zayne. "So,” you say, ”I'm trying to think of ways they could find themselves in such a situation. Maybe they're cornered by guards or captured by a mutual enemy, or we combine the classic injury trope so they can’t move.”

"That is one option," he says, eyes still on the road. A turn, and Zayne shifts gears as the car speeds ahead.

“A classic my mind says no, but my body says yes dilemma.” You debate telling Zayne about the premise around aphrodisiacs and sex pollen, but you think that really might be pushing him too far. You are in a car, after all, and an accident is the last thing you want.

Instead, you ask, "Have you read any enemy-to-lover books?"

He shrugs. "I've had some experience."

"I'm sure you have."

Zayne shoots you a sharp look. Your smile grows, slow and wicked.

"And I've done a bit of research," he clarifies, voice flat just to prove a point.

"Right, research."

"Well, to best help you, I thought…” Zayne’s brows furrow as he merges lanes, letting the blinking of the indicator fill the silence before clearing his throat. “I thought reading a book or two in the same field would help me understand your own book better. I must say yours is far better written than some of these popular novels.”

The mental image of Zayne sneaking a read at some filthy romantasy book has you giggling.

"And you’re sure that's the reason?”

"Of course," he says, though his face is slightly pink.

You feign suspicion, poking at Zayne’s arm. "What if this whole time, you’ve been hunting me down as a means to read my unreleased books? Then the only reason you agreed to this arrangement is because you're secretly a stalker fan."

"Interesting theory,” a smirk, one you see pull at the corner of Zayne’s lips. “But not the only reason."

"Oh? What’s the other then?"

Zayne smiles, the dim light from the dashboard sharpening his features. Another turn, you spare a glance at the GPS only to see you’re nearly at the gala venue. But still, no answer came, not as Zayne seemed to refocus on the road, shifting gears as the light turns green.

You groan, “You’re not even listening anymore.”

“I am.” Zayne shoots you a look from the corner of his eye, one hand leaving the wheel to rest against your thigh. “There is, however, a difference between listening and answering.”

But now it’s your turn to stop listening. You can’t, not when his thumb does that thing again, tracing mindless circles against your inner thigh while he looks back at the road.

It does something, to have his hand there, warm and heavy. Something that has your thighs pressing together, heat creeping down your neck.

Zayne catches the motion. Of course, he does. And he squeezes, just a little.

And then a brilliantly wretched idea hits you.

"Do you have any suggestions?" You ask, trying to keep your tone innocent, even as you part your thighs just a little further. "I mean, you did research and all. Surely, you remember something useful about the plots. Or the sex scenes."

"The sex scenes," Zayne echoes, his voice tight.

"Well, yes. They're kind of important. They're why people buy the books." You lick your lips. "For example, surely one of those books you read for research had interesting forbidden tropes?"

"It's likely." His jaw ticks. "You'll have to be more specific.”

"Well..." you draw the word out, shifting in your seat. “You know where else would be a really inappropriate place for a character to get a boner?” Reaching over, you glide your hand up Zayne’s thigh, mirroring his placement on your own. “In a car, doctor.”

Zayne thanked every god for their mercy the moment he got to a red light, car jolting to a halt as he eyed you with a frown.

“Behave," he scolds. "This is beyond reckless."

The genuine frustration edged into Zayne’s voice makes you hesitate, and you move to sit up, retreating your hand from his thigh when it brushes past something unmistakably hard.

You feel Zayne tense beneath you, the car jerking forward before speeding along as though nothing had happened. Oh, but your lips cracked into a vicious grin as you stretched your way fully over the center console, wriggling your ass in the air on the far side of the seat.

Really, you should have realized that the stern, self-deprived Zayne gets off on scolding you as much as you did.

You watch him closely, but despite his harsh words, he never moves to actually stop you. So you continue, scraping your nails up his trousers as your mouth follows, hot breath leaving damp spots against the expensive cotton as Zayne’s thigh jumps under your touch.

God, the click of his belt coming undone elicited a nearly Pavlovian response at this point, the sound of metal on metal making something in your core flutter. You waste no time going for his zipper, palming at the bulge straining into your touch as it pushes out from between the metal all on its own.

Zayne laments all the trust you placed in him as a driver. Despite being only minutes from the venue, he swore he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough for it to snap. A car behind him honks and Zayne swears under his breath, thoughts clouding over as your hands finish sliding his zipper down, gently palming at his cock as he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot breath over clothed skin.

And the moan Zayne lets out when you lick the head of his cock is enough to have you gushing. But you never take him any deeper, blocked by your position over the passenger seat, settling with unsatisfactory kitten licks up and down his length, leaving sloppy marks without ever speeding up.

Zayne shudders, huffing in frustration and restraint as he unconsciously tries to buck himself into your mouth, failing due to the awkward side angle you placed yourself in. Instead, you splay your hands over his lower belly, untucking his shirt as your fingers rub against his v-line, as you begin to suck just barely over this throbbing head.

“You shouldn’t– fuck." His jaw flexes, and his fingers are white-knuckled, the veins in his forearms standing out with the strain.

The shock of hearing Zayne curse was almost a physical blow. The word was spoken more like a prayer than a profanity, something desperate and violent caught in his throat, a warning and plea all at once. It made something hot coil deep in your gut.

It made you want to push him further.

You must have made some type of sound muffled over his cock because Zayne hisses, his hand coming down from the steering wheel to grab at your hair, fingers threading into your scalp and pulling, just enough to hurt.

"You are absolutely insufferable." Zayne's voice breaks into a moan. "Stop teasing me."

You pull off of him with a wet pop, sitting up and wiping the drool from your chin. "But I’m hardly doing anything. Don’t tell me you’re getting so hard just from a few kisses."

"Reckless. Lack of foresight. Do I need to teach you how to behave like an adult?" Zayne's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenching. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"No," you lean forward and kiss the head, lips wrapping around it as you swirl your tongue. Zayne's foot presses down on the gas and the car jerks forward. "But maybe I could use some help learning my lesson."

You swallow him down, and his hips jump. Humming around him, Zayne’s cock twitches, and before you can stabilize yourself he’s pushing your head down further. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, not with the way his hips stutter upwards, thickly corded muscles of his thighs tensing as you nearly choke.

Another broken moan fills the car alongside the wet sounds of your mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips as his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag, and Zayne’s grip on your head finally loosens, the wheels spinning over loose gravel as you pull off just to breathe.

You can't see him, not with the angle, but the feeling of his eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, and the heavy throb of his cock against your tongue was enough to know just how close he is.

You're so distracted, tears blurring your vision, that you don't notice the car has stopped, not until Zayne's other hand is reaching over to cup your jaw, forcing your mouth off his cock and forcing your head up to look at him.

The moment your eyes meet, he frowns, thumb rubbing across your bottom lip, cleaning your smeared lipstick and spit from your ministrations. "Look at you," he hums. "What a mess."

The nearby spots in the lot are empty, but you’ve arrived early, and you can see cars parking close enough to send your heart racing.

You glance at the clock- seven forty-six- and you know despite how Zayne’s windows are tinted, it would take someone looking over from a meter or so away to see the two of you, to see the way Zayne's hands are fisted in your hair, to see you arched over the middle console, to see how hard he was and hear the slick, wet noises you made around his cock.

You nearly yelp as Zayne pushes you off his lap, messily tucking himself back into his trousers before climbing out the door. It shuts with a bang and you’re about to scramble up when you hear the passenger door open and are roughly hauled out of the car and slung over Zayne’s shoulder.

You don’t even have time to scream. The next thing you know, you're being tossed on your back into the back seat, barely having time to right yourself before Zayne follows you, door slamming shut. He's pulling at your dress, bunching the fabric up and around your waist before dragging you under him.

“Did I not satisfy you thoroughly enough last time?” Zayne scolds between breaths, teeth scraping over your pulse point before he bites down. “Or perhaps what I should have realized is that you’re simply a filthy little girl who gets off on being punished?”

The sound you let out is obscene, a whiny moan that has Zayne groaning as he pulls away, his mouth slick and shiny with spit. He grinds his cock against your stomach, his hand coming around your throat and forcing you to face him.

It’s almost effortless, the way he holds you against him, folding your thighs to your chest as he bends to avoid hitting the roof of his car. His cock is still rock hard and pressed against the back of your thighs, only the thin slip of your dress shielding you from his greedy eyes.

"Zayne- fuck, we're gonna be late." You choke out, a gasp following as his hips grind into yours.

“Answer the question.”

Another bite to the plush above your breast and you cry, fearing more for the possibility that he leaves a permanent mark more than anything else. As if hearing that, Zayne bites again. Harder.

“Yes!” You thrash, trying to kick him off you but there’s little room in the back seats and the leather sticks to your sweat-slick back as Zayne works to pin your hips. “Yes, I’m sorry. I only— I wanted to see how long you’d last.”

A laugh, short and cruel. “How long I’d last?”

Zayne grabs your wrists and holds them over your head. He leans close, so his lips brush yours when he speaks, and the words are low and soft. Dangerous.

"Well, then. Allow me to return the favor.” Zayne lifts your leg, pressing a kiss to your calf as your foot hits the window, one heel falling off with a thud. “If memory serves me right, isn’t this a trope too?”

It’s almost effortless, the way he lifts your hips all the way up, your legs kicking helplessly over his shoulders as they’re forced up against the roof of the car. Shifting his weight around in the tight space, Zayne coaxes your calves to cross behind his neck, giving a small grunt as his face is pressed into your inner thighs, one arm straining against the leather of the car seats.

“Where they’re stuck in a small space, right?” Zayne’s eyes never leave yours. “Maybe a cave,” his tongue trails up the bare skin of your quivering thigh, “Under a desk,” licking his way up, “in a car?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, not when the heat of his mouth presses directly onto your clothed clit, licking over the lace of your panties as you arch off the leather seats.

You’re already a dripping mess, writhing against the leather of the seats and the hard muscle of Zayne's shoulders, the sensation of his hot tongue pushing against your clit through the lace a painful sort of pleasure. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Zayne pulls off and stares at the string of his spit and your arousal, warm and sticky, against the soaked patch of cotton between your legs connecting to his lips. Involuntarily, he bucks into the cold emptiness underneath you.

Fuck, he’s so hard he might come from this alone.

You hardly notice, not with the way every muscle and nerve quivers and begs for release, jaw falling slack as Zayne’s lips are quick to tease you again, this time pressing his tongue flat against the crotch of your panties and laving across the entire seam. The gorgeous arch of his nose presses up into your clit, and you moan, one hand flailing backways as it slides against the fogged-up window.

"Zayne, fucking hell, just eat me out properly!" The curses tumble out of your mouth before you can think of the repercussions, but there was no way he could keep eating you out through the material, no matter how good it felt.

"So desperate." Zayne mumbles between open-mouthed kisses to your cunt, "So needy."

"Fuck- please," You draw one hand through his hair, pulling his face closer. "Please, please, please-"

"Poor thing. I suppose it would be against my oath to leave my patient in such pain." And he roughly presses his thumb up against the hood of your clit.

You sob, hands scrambling for something- anything- to hold on to as they slip down the window and dig into the leather of the seats. But Zayne was nothing if not observant from your last night together, and it doesn't take long for you to cum as soon as his mouth latches onto your poor neglected cunt through your panties.

Still riding out each trembling wave of your orgasm, Zayne doesn’t fight the way your thighs clench around his head, kissing you through it until he readjusts your legs against his shoulders, forcing you higher onto your upper back. His fingers toy with the edge of the fabric, pleased with the way it sticks to your skin.

All you can focus on is his breathing, heavy and fast, as he stares down at your cunt so intensely it makes you blush, helplessly exposed with your thighs pinned across his broad shoulders. Spread for him like every inch of the offering he intended on devouring you as. His goddess, his sacrificial lamb. Gods, he wants to know how every part of you tastes.

Zayne’s cock twitches again, and he shudders violently, a fat glob of precum falling onto the leather seats below, mixing with your slick that has already slid down his chin and your thighs.

If left alone, no doubt it’ll stain.

“Look at the mess you made.” Zayne scolds, forcing your jaw to the side so you can see the puddle staining the seats. You whimper, and Zayne shakes his head. “Well, we can’t just leave it. I suppose I’ll have to teach you to take responsibility for your actions.”

Your hips jump. It's so hard to focus when he's talking like that, and the only coherent thought you can muster is that Zayne would be a fantastic writer if he ever decided to switch professions.

But he begins to shift you around, and your brows furrow as Zayne’s hand dips between the two of you, down to the leather, sweeping across the splattered mix of cum with two fingers before forcing your jaw towards him again.

“Clean up your mess.”

You think something is permanently fucked in your brain with the way your cunt flutters at that.

Zayne’s unyielding face stares down at you, his dripping fingers pressed against your lips as you wrap around them and suck. It’s heady, the scent of sex overwhelming as Zayne practically fucks the digits into your mouth, sliding them against your tongue until you gag, thumb tracing loving circles against your bottom lip as though coaxing you to take them deeper.

Only after gagging twice more does Zayne take mercy on you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth. Instead, the pads of his fingers press against your tongue, and you take the hint, beginning to suck at them until the taste of you disappears.

His fingers slip from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting his fingers and your mouth before Zayne breaks it. Your tongue flicks out to swipe at the excess drool, and he wipes your bottom lip.

“Good girl, tasting just how desperate you are.” Every word of praise Zayne whispers goes straight to your cunt, nearly making you dizzy until he finally sits back.

“And now…” he finally moves to push the ruined fabric to the side, “I get to taste, too.”

The feeling of his hot tongue directly on your slit nearly has you in tears, and your hand lurches into Zayne’s hair to force him closer.

“No pulling. Behave,” Zayne warns. “This is still meant to be discipline for your earlier stunt on the road.”

Whimpering, you nod, parted lips swollen and shiny from the abuse Zayne put them under with his fingers. Satisfied, Zayne finally gives you what you need, kissing the swollen flesh of your clit directly before curling two fingers into your aching cunt.

“Zayne-”

He’s addicted to the way you say his name. He’s addicted, and he’s going to come in his pants if you don’t stop.

You begin begging again before Zayne covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, muffled cries still enough to drive him insane as he focuses on getting you past that high.

Despite his threats, you can’t help but tug at Zayne’s hair, needing him against you as your hips began moving or their own accord, bucking and grinding senselessly against his face until you were practically riding his tongue. Chest heaving, you looked up to see him staring directly at you, silhouetted from the car window, green eyes nearly aglow with wretched desire.

Just like that, you’re coming, hard, thighs clenching down around Zayne’s head until he’s certain you’re trying to kill him. But gods, he never wants you to stop.

Addicted, Zayne presses open mouthed kisses to your cunt, swallowing everything you give him as his eyes roll back.

Desperate, you try to crawl away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. Your head hits the car door before Zayne drags you right back, forcing your hips up higher as your back is arched into the air, nearly perpendicular as you sob, legs kicking over his shoulders.

But still, Zayne continues, and he knows. He feels it the moment your thighs lock up, the way your stomach goes tight and the way your senseless pleading still muffled by his palm reaches a higher pitch. And he takes advantage, not letting up as he curls his fingers until your cunt clenches down on his digits and tongue, squirting into his mouth.

Almost in apology, Zayne finally withdraws his fingers as he opts to instead clean you directly with his tongue, nose accidentally overstimulating your swollen clit as you weakly fight to push his head away.

Zayne takes the hint this time, lowering your sore legs onto the seats below, finally set on a solid surface after being held in the air for so long. The slit of your dress is askew across your stomach instead of thigh, and Zayne gently tugs it back into place.

Leaning down, he picks up your forgotten heel before slipping it back into your foot, buckling it as you shiver every time his fingers brush your ankle.

When Zayne finally faces you again, the lower half of his face is a complete mess, and you should be mortified never having squirted before let alone on your mentor’s face.

But Zayne merely wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smiling like the slick dripping down his chin was won in victory and not debauchery. “Well then, shall we?”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace x reader #lnd zayne #lads zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne

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Invisible Smoke - Five

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And everything comes to an end. Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader (No Y/N) Word Count: 26.5k (from the bottom of my heart…my bad) ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED A/N: This is the final chapter! Thank you for all the love on this little story of mine, I truly appreciate it. Warnings: Naval and medical inaccuracies, stalking, bodily injury, hospitals, blood, unprotected sex, female-receiving oral, my love of happy endings, pregnancy and children, and overuse of italics.

Jake hated hospitals.

He hated the scent of bleach and the crinkle of the overwashed sheets on the tiny beds. He hated how everything was said in gentle murmurs while machines beeped and hummed in every nook and corner. But he would sit in this stupid, uncomfortable plastic chair for a week straight if it meant that he would be told how you were doing.

Everything since your house had been a blur of blood and flashing lights. He nearly fought the paramedic that shoved him out of the way to get to you, adrenaline keeping him focused on you. There had been blood everywhere. He still had some dried beneath his fingernails. The cops that had shown up had, for a moment, believed Jake had been the one to hurt you until your neighbor had yelled about a man running through his yard, covered in blood.

But they lost him.

The cops lost Luke somewhere in the next neighborhood over and you were taken away in the back of an ambulance before Jake could even get the chance to climb in beside you. They then spent another hour and a half getting Jake’s statement and taking pictures of his bloody clothes before telling him not to leave town. It was a fucking mess. Three more cops, who looked like they were more interested in getting a blonde nurse’s number than protecting you, were stationed around the hallway of the emergency room waiting area.

It had been hours since they had rushed you into surgery. No one would tell him anything about you because he wasn’t listed as your emergency contact. The nurse behind the desk did seem to take a modicum of pity on Jake–with a grim look on her face that had Jake’s stomach sinking–and told him to be patient and that the emergency contact had been left a voicemail and she hoped that they would be arriving soon.

What kind of emergency contact doesn’t pick up the phone?

Jake scrubbed a hand over his eyes, stinging and tired. But he couldn’t leave. Wouldn’t leave. Not until he knew you were okay. The one thing he did to help pass the time was telling the group chat which hospital you’d been taken to—but he kept his phone on silent when almost everyone asked what had happened. They’d probably be able to connect the dots if they were on the way to your house. There was blood smeared out onto the front stoop and into the driveway. It would paint quite a picture. The only person he actually replied to was Rooster, who had texted him outside the group.

It was him, wasn’t it?

All Jake could think to type in return was, Of course it fucking was.

He jumped when someone fell into the seat beside him and it took a stretched moment for Jake to realize that it was Maverick. He hadn’t even seen the other man walk in.

“How’re you holding up?” He asked.

“I, uh, I guess I’m fine.” That was a blatant lie but neither man commented on it. “Why are you here?”

“Rooster is calling her brother and sister, and the Kazanskys, keeping them updated. He’ll be here soon but he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Cotton was stuffed between Jake’s ears as he stared at the older pilot, mind buzzing. “Rooster is her emergency contact, isn’t he?”

Mav nodded but had his eyes trained on the cop currently flirting with the nurse at the desk.

“What does he know? Does he-”

“He was only told that she was in surgery. As soon as he’s done with her family, he’s coming here, too.” Maverick’s voice was calm and even, the tone Jake knew he used when talking to his students.

Jake wasn’t sure if he should feel insulted or comforted. So he settled on neither. “He doesn’t know anything? Seriously?”

“They couldn’t give him an update every minute. They’re concentrating on keeping her alive.”

Jake smashed his tongue between his teeth so he didn’t say something that would get him brought up in front of Cyclone or Warlock. “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth.

The doors to the waiting room opened again and Rooster jogged in, eyes wide as they swept the lobby before they landed on the two pilots. He was then yanking Jake up and out of his seat and wrapped him in a tight hug that smelt of more bleach and sweat. And Jake froze for a moment and his arms hung limply at his sides before returning the embrace. “She’s gotta be okay, right?” His voice was strained like he was trying to speak while pulling Gs.

Jake only nodded. You had to be okay. Selfishly, he didn’t want to just have a taste of what it was like to have you only for you to be ripped away from him, bleeding out under his hands. He had felt your heartbeat slow and your body go slack. He had seen your eyes roll back, unseeing. The last thing he’d heard from the paramedics when they were shoving you into the back of the ambulance was, “she’s crashing! She’s crashing!”

But Jake still had to hope. He didn’t know what else he could do.

Rooster stepped back after a moment before Maverick suggested checking in at the nurse station to see if he could get an update. He was quick to do so and Jake watched the nurse turn to her computer, heart in his throat. Her eyes darted to Jake for a moment before she whispered something to Rooster. The other man’s hand clenched into a fist on top of the desk before relaxing again as he nodded and turned away.

Before Jake could even open his mouth, Rooster said, “they don’t know how long she’s going to be in surgery. But they’ll tell us as soon as she’s out.”

“That’s it?” Jake bit out. “That’s all they could tell you?”

“Seresin-”

Jake stepped away for a moment, shoving a hand through his hair. Screaming in the middle of the waiting room wouldn’t help. You would still be on a table in a room he couldn’t get in and he’d probably get thrown out of the hospital. That wouldn’t help you.

He just wanted to see you again. Wanted to know you were going to be okay.

“Listen,” Rooster started, “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I had to call Georgie and Danny and Georgie was afraid she’d gone into early labor as I was telling her. Then I had to call Sarah just as Bob and Phoenix showed up to clean up Punch’s house. We didn’t want her to come back to a mess after all this is settled.”

If she gets out was left unsaid. Truthfully, Jake wasn’t even sure you would want to go back to your house after all of that. Hedidn’t want you to go back, but that was a different argument.

Maverick stood, slapping his hands on his thighs as he did. “I’m grabbing coffee. I’ll bring you back a cup.” He didn’t let either of the other men argue before he was setting off down the hall where he’d surely come back with three cups of brown sludge.

Rooster sank back into a plastic chair and Jake slowly followed his lead.

The cops hadn’t even turned their heads when Jake had yelled. There was no way he was leaving until he knew you were safe. “Is Georgie okay?” Jake finally asked after a stretched silence.

The barest hint of a smile pushed at Bradshaw’s mouth before quickly fading. “Yeah. She’s okay. Baby is, too, and has a few more weeks before her due date. I had to convince her not to get on a plane and come down here.” He sighed. “Danny said he’d come down only if Punch asked him herself. He knows how she gets about people wanting to take care of her.”

Jake almost laughed. Yeah, he knew that, too.

“But I think he called the chief of police here and is threatening legal action for their shoddy work already.”

“Her entire family operates on a different frequency, huh?”

Bradshaw’s eyes cut to him for a moment. “I think they’re gonna like you.”

That made Jake smile. Just for a split second. Just until he remembered that you still had to pull through in order for him to meet them. He didn’t want to meet them at your funeral. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” It was soft. Softer than anything he’d ever heard come from Rooster’s mouth. It twisted behind Jake’s ribs. “You just gotta, you know, actually get your head out of your ass and ask her to dinner or something.”

Jake huffed, another trace of a smile on his face. He could refute that claim, tell him that you had promised to go get steak and that Jake saw a future with you that he would tear the world apart to see. But he didn’t. That was your secret for now. “What did you tell everyone?”

The man sighed. “The truth: Punch was nearly killed by a crazy ex-boyfriend with a vendetta.”

It was an oversimplified version of the truth, but it was a kindness, Jake supposed, to keep the gory details unspoken. You would tell the Daggers if you wanted. A small bit of shame bit at the back of his mind when he realized how intent he had been about learning your secrets. Did you resent him for it? He hoped not, but he would closely guard your secrets anyway. If he was given the chance, he’d keep all your secrets.

Rooster shook his head, letting his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk. “Georgie knows most of what happened with Luke but apparently Punch made her promise not to tell Danny that the money she gave their parents to pay off his medical bills came from Luke’s father paying her to keep her mouth shut.”

Jake screwed his eyes shut with that revelation. You were always taking care of someone else.

Maverick came back with three cups of coffee that did actually taste like tar but Jake choked it down anyway. Just as he threw his cup into the trash can, a door down the hallway opened. A woman in dark scrubs stepped out. Jake watched her step to the nurse’s station and say something before the nurse pointed at their small group.

All of them stood as she approached and Jake’s blood roared in his ears as she asked which one of them was Bradshaw. He stepped forward and Jake felt a small glimmer of hope start to spark in his chest when she smiled. “She’s a fighter. She coded twice but she came right back each time. Her lung did collapse but the second stab wound missed anything vital. If she makes it through the night, I would consider it an ‘all clear.’ She’s going to need to take it easy for a few weeks after she gets discharged here, but I am almost certain that she’ll make a full recovery.”

The rock that had settled over Jake’s heart disappeared.

You were going to be okay.

He was going to take you to get steak. He was going to take you on that promised date. He was going to make you smile again, make you laugh. You were going to be okay.

“Can we go see her?” Maverick asked.

The doctor nodded. “She’s sedated and we’ve moved her to a private room, but I’m a firm believer in surrounding yourself with people who love you helps with the healing process. Visiting hours are over, so you’ll need to keep it down but I’ll bring you to her.”

The square hospital hallways seemed to stretch on forever and the elevator actually did stall between floors but soon Jake was pushing into your room, ignoring the pair of uniformed cops on either side of your door. There were machines everywhere and an IV drip, too.

He must have paused in the doorway because Rooster clapped him on the shoulder before scooting by him to stand at your side.

“She’d want you to be here.”

Jake looked to see Maverick standing at his side, more than a little uneasy with the glint in the older man’s eye.

“I’m not blind, Seresin. If I hadn’t known before, the way you acted tonight made it glaringly obvious.”

Shit. This could be bad. Maverick could report the ‘relationship’ to the brass and you both could be reprimanded if not worse. “Mav-”

“But I can turn a blind eye when necessary. She means a lot to you, to Rooster. The entire squadron is either cleaning up her house or waiting for word on how she’s doing. This thing, whatever it is, makes you both happy. I’m not going to stand in the way of it.”

The smallest bit of tension slid off Jake’s shoulders with that. Maverick was known for breaking the rules when he thought he was doing the right thing. If he was grouping Jake and Punch into that, he wouldn’t fight him on it. So, he offered the other man a nod, thinking it was better to keep his mouth shut anyway.

“I’ve been told she’ll have a guard at her door for the entirety of her stay here. I’ll have an orderly take down the names of anyone you’re allowing to visit.”

Rooster nodded and Jake imagined he was probably making a list of all the Daggers’ names, the Kazanskys, and a few of the other ADs to have written down.

You looked so fragile. So breakable. Of course, Jake was well aware how finite life could be. He was a fighter pilot–he knew the chances of dying could always be slim to none when it came to real dogfights or combat. But there was something different about you. You weren’t supposed to be in this hospital bed and he wasn’t supposed to be waiting for you to wake up. Not like this, anyway. He had once thought about how it would be to wake up beside you in his bed, with blankets and sheets that smelled like you and your perfume. Not of bleach and metal. You were supposed to be full of life and giving him shit, all with a smile. Not this. Not confined to a hospital bed and unconscious.

Slowly, he followed Maverick into the too-small room and took the chair on your bed’s left side while Rooster and Mav were on your right. The chair at least had a bit of padding and his spine didn’t feel like it was trying to rip itself out of alignment. But he saw how still you were. Your chest was barely rising and falling with each breath. He couldn’t hear your breaths over the beeping machines. There were thick bandages covering both of your palms, held together with sticky medical tape. A fresh wave of anger stormed at the back of Jake’s mind for a moment. He hadn’t even realized your hands had been hurt when he had rushed into your home. There had been too much blood all over you; he had only seen the two stab wounds, pumping blood out of holes in your ruined shirt. What else had Luke done to you? It was a small solace to see that most of the blood had been washed away. There were still splotches of dried blood around your fingers and beneath your chin, staining around the crux of your elbow in a ring, just clean enough for all the machines to patch in, and even more beneath your nails. Just like Jake. You had fought so hard.

“I wanted to get steak with you.”

The simple sentence you had labored to say had echoed in the back of Jake’s mind since the paramedics had ripped you away from him. Had you been scared? Were you trying to say goodbye with those words but wanting to soften the blow?

He wanted to reach out and just feel the warmth of your hand in his again, just to give himself some peace that you really were alive. That you made it out. But the furthest he reached was right beside your unmoving hand. Just out of reach. What if he hurt you? What if he was the reason everything went wrong now? He couldn’t do that to you.

“I’ve called Cyclone,” Maverick said, breaking the tense unquiet. “He has notified the MPs and said we could formally request Naval security and he would personally make sure it gets approved.”

Jake looked to Rooster to see him already looking at him. “I’d prefer that.” The cops haven’t exactly proven themselves to be reliable; the fact that Luke had managed to evade the cops while covered in your blood didn’t exactly give them any credibility in their ability to keep you safe. Jake needed you safe. Knowing someone like Cyclone was willing to throw his weight around to make sure you were as safe as possible was a calming thought, as calm as anything could be in this situation.

“Me too,” Rooster agreed.

The three men were quiet as another doctor came in a few minutes later to look you over and read your chart. His eyes did seem to flit from Bradshaw and Mav to Jake and he wasn’t subtle when he checked the time on his watch. But there was no way they were leaving. He did seem to get the hint–or the cops outside may have helped–because he didn’t say anything about them being in there well past visiting hours and said that you may wake up in a few hours. He then left the room without a look back. It wasn’t a great deal of information, but maybe they’d get more out of the day shift.

After Rooster yawned for the third time, Maverick suggested they all go home for the last few hours before dawn. “I don’t think we’ll be much help here anyway.”

“I’m gonna stay with her,” Jake said immediately. He wasn’t going to leave you now. What if you woke up and you were all alone? Someone needed to be with you until you woke up. And Jake wanted it to be him. It needed to be him.

Rooster nodded, as if expecting that, as he stood and wiped at his tired eyes. “I’ll bring you food when I swing by tomorrow.”

It was a simple enough sentence. But Jake knew what it was. Approval. They trusted him to take care of you. Sure, they trusted him in the skies and enough to help in the infrequent bar fight at the Hard Deck. But this was different. This was you.

Rooster squeezed his shoulder on the way out the door and Maverick nodded at him in goodbye before saying, “you have my number if you need anything. You call, I’ll answer.”

Jake wordlessly nodded and told them to get home safe before turning back to you. You hadn’t moved. God, he wished you would have, selfishly. He just needed to know you were going to be okay. Again, he wanted to reach out and just touch you. His hand inched across the bed and fell short again. His one comfort was feeling the warmth of you start to soak through the bedding and into the starchy sheet beneath Jake’s palm.

But he still couldn’t touch you. Not yet.

Hours ticked by and Jake tried to not yell when he heard the repeated squawks from the cops’ radios outside your door, continuously saying that they hadn’t found Luke. It was like he had vanished. Then, when he tried to watch the tiny television screwed into the wall on the other side of the room, it was tuned into a local news station that was, of course, broadcasting their story about a “violent domestic disturbance” with your house in the background lit up in blue and red lights. “Police say that the suspect is still at large.” He quickly turned the television back off with a grimace and a matching curse. There was no way to make the chair more comfortable and Jake settled for leaning forward to settle his arms across the bed near your legs and drop his head onto his hands. This could work, right? And he hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but a few minutes later, he was snoring.

Jake woke to the sound of poorly hidden whispers scratching at his ears and a crick in his neck. His eyes slowly opened, squinting against the brightness of the room to see Bob and Phoenix bickering not-so-quietly near the door. Both had large bouquets of flowers in their arms, along with a small bag from a diner down the street, and were dressed in their khaki uniforms; they must have stopped by before heading to base. A quick glance at his watch let Jake know that it was still fairly early, probably not even close to proper visiting hours.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Phoenix said. “I knew he wouldn’t leave her.”

“I refuse to acknowledge a bet right now.” But Bob still pulled out his wallet and handed over a crisp bill to his pilot. “Ridiculous.”

“I am clinging to the fact that she’s alive enough for him to fall asleep at her bedside, all right? I need a little joy.”

“And ten dollars, apparently.”

“I’m awake, you know,” Jake groused as he sat straight. Both his neck and back popped noisily and Bob grimaced at the noise but Jake hardly cared as he turned to look at you, hoping that your beautiful eyes would be open and you could smile at him again.

But you were still unmoved on the flat pillow. Nothing had changed.

As if on autopilot, Jake reached out to grab your hand but stopped short, curling his fingers into his palm before his hand fell back into his lap.

“I’m surprised you slept at all,” Bob said as he took the flowers from Phoenix and filled a vase–that he apparently brought with him–with water and dropped both bouquets into it before setting it near the window.

“It was an accident,” Jake said, turning his head left, then right, eliciting another pair of pops. He probably should get up and splash some water on his face at least. Maybe he could ask Rooster or Javy to swing by his house and grab him a change of clothes. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw a text from Maverick telling him that he had been cleared to take the day off. He hadn’t even thought about that. All of his thoughts had been consumed by you. Phoenix handed him the diner bag and said it was from Rooster but he caught the knowing look in her eye. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered right now. He didn’t care about hiding how he felt about you now. To be fair, she had probably suspected something at brunch.

Bob hummed and took the chair Rooster had used last night before scooting closer to the side of the bed. He carefully took one of your hands in his, mindful of your bandaging and the wires and tubes connecting you to the machines, and kissed your fingers. “Hi, Punch,” he whispered.

Jake looked away, feeling a bit like he was intruding. He knew how much this must be hurting Bob, too. To know that the man that he had saved you from once, had tried to kill you again.

Bob had no problem touching you. So, why couldn’t Jake? He just needed to reach out and touch you. Just slip his fingers beneath yours and give himself that small bit of peace. He continued to war with himself when Phoenix leaned over just enough to kiss your forehead. “I have so much to tell you and I have so many questions, but you have to get better first, all right?” She whispered. “First you need to get better.”

Jake stood and gave them a moment, moving into the small ensuite to freshen up as much as he could and scrubbed a bit more blood from under his nails. When he glanced at himself in the mirror, he nearly grimaced. His hair was a mess. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, and his shirt–not the one that was covered in your blood, that one had been handed over to the cops–grabbed from his gym bag in the backseat of his truck, was rumpled and smelt of hospital. He texted Javy and asked for him to bring a change of clothes and his toiletries go-bag if he had the chance after work. It felt like his entire universe had shifted on its axis ever since Phoenix’s text had come through. How many different ways could he tell himself that he nearly lost you? Still, he pushed out of the bathroom to see Phoenix flipping through the charts usually clipped to the end of your bed, and Bob slowly pulling away from you as he stood.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be going through those, Phoenix.”

But she waved him off, eyes flicking over the papers. “My sister is a neurosurgeon, you know. I helped her study all the time. I can read a chart just fine.” The other pilot looked over your charts in silence before dragging her gaze to him. “Rooster said you were the one who found her before the paramedics arrived.”

It wasn’t a question but Jake still nodded with his stomach curling into knots.

She snapped the chart shut and clipped back onto the edge of your bed. “You helped save her life. Keeping pressure on her wounds likely kept her from bleeding out before they could sew her back up. Your hands helped her then, they won’t hurt her now.”

Bob stepped to his pilot’s side with a sigh, halting anything Jake could have said. “We should probably get back to base.” He then clapped Jake on the shoulder with a small smile. “Let us know if you need anything. Either of you.”

Phoenix essentially did the same and turned toward the door. Just before she disappeared into the hall, she turned back to Jake and set her mouth in a firm line. “You are two of the most stubborn people I’ve met. But don’t be stubborn with this. Okay?” And then she turned and left, leaving Jake alone with you again.

Damn.

They won’t hurt her now.

He had to believe her. He had to. Slowly, Jake sat back down and reached out. His hand hovered over yours for a moment before gently falling over yours, mindful of your bandages. You were warm, so warm. Alive. Tears stung at Jake’s eyes as he curled his fingers around yours. He had nearly lost you. He could still see your scared eyes looking up at him. He could still see the blood on your teeth. He could still see it all. Jake raised your joined hands to his mouth and he brushed a kiss to your fingers. “I’m right here, Punch. All right? I just need you to wake up for me. Show me those beautiful eyes, darlin’.”

But you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t move. And Jake had to continue to hope that you would soon.

A nurse came in a few moments later and looked you over, carefully poking and prodding before injecting something into one of your IVs. The twitching of your fingers grew slower and slower until it stopped.

“What did you give her?” Jake asked.

The nurse threw him a look over her shoulder before scribbling something in the chart. “Just something for the pain. She’s going to be uncomfortable when she wakes up. That should just take the edge off for now, until we can figure out how she’ll respond to other pain medication.”

Before Jake could even think to ask if they knew when you could wake up, a familiar face was bursting through the doorway and nearly leveling the nurse who was trying to leave. Sarah Kazansky was a flurry of movement as she came in, looking like she’d sprinted out of her house at first light to arrive at the hospital.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Sarah’s voice shook as she took the chair at your side and set both her hands over yours. “What has he done to you?” The woman sniffled and moved to press the back of her hand to your forehead, the standard mom move to check a kid’s temperature, before setting her hand on your cheek. Sarah was quiet for a moment before she slowly turned to look at Jake with tears in her eyes. “Bradley said you found her.”

Apparently Bradley had told everyone more information than he had let on. “Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded. “I’m glad it was you.” It was a strange thing to say, but Jake didn’t voice that opinion. Sarah knuckled at the corners of her watery eyes. “You know, I always wanted another child—it wouldn’t happen, but then she came barreling into our lives and she just fit, like she’d always meant to be mine. Always meant to be the third kid for me and Tom. She knew exactly how to help me when I needed it, knew what Tom needed without him needing to ask for it. Lord knows he’d never ask for anything.” She huffed, a wet laugh. “She might not have come out of me, but she is mine. She’s my girl. And she looked at you like you hung the moon, you know.” She smiled at him then. “I’ve never seen her look at anyone like that. And then you looked at her like she had done the same.”

Jake didn’t particularly know what he was supposed to do with that observation, but he found himself smiling. Maybe he hadn’t been as good at hiding it as he had once hoped. And you had let your guard down enough in the home of the family you loved to be open enough to show how you felt. “Sometimes, I think she did.”

Sarah’s smile widened a fraction but still didn’t quite reach her eyes. “She deserves that. She’ll make you work for it though.”

“She’s already put me through my paces, I promise,” Jake said with a small smile of his own. “But she’s worth it.”

The older woman looked at him then, quiet and calculating, and Jake once again found himself fighting the urge to stand a little straighter in the presence of a Kazansky woman. She must have found something in his face because she gave a shallow nod before turning back to you. Her thumb swept over your knuckles. “Thank you for saving my girl.”

Both of them were quiet for a stretched moment, not needing to say anything else to each other. Sarah did stand when yet another doctor walked in and grabbed at your chart. “What can you tell me about her prognosis?”

The doctor, a man who looked like he’d been waiting for this exact question, nodded with a small smile as he folded his hands over the chart. “The fact that she needed little more than observation overnight is only good news. From what I understand from the surgeon, she is resilient. Once she wakes up, which should be shortly, she may be in a great deal of pain. It will only be temporary and I can assume that she will make a full recovery if she has the support she will need.”

“She’ll have it,” Jake said. You would have him no matter what you needed.

Coming back to yourself felt like swimming through tar, slow and strenuous. Even opening your eyes was a herculean effort and you immediately hated how bright the room was. It felt as if you’d tried to inhale an over-bleached towel and you tried to swallow any spit to help with the dryness but only ended up coughing. That was when your body decided to remind you that you had been stabbed twice. The pain stretched across your body like a whip of heat lashed out from your stomach. You bit back another cough and grimaced as it only made your throat ache. You looked to the side to see if there was a glass of water or something you could sip on and the room tilted for a moment.

“Fuck.” You hurriedly shut your eyes to keep your stomach from lurching. A section of the bed falling near your knees had you slowly opening one eye.

It was Jake.

Your Ken.

And he was sticking a bendy straw into a small cup of water before holding it near your mouth after pushing the button on the side of the bed to get you into a slightly elevated position, sitting instead of fully on your back. “Small sips, okay, Punch? Don’t overdo it.”

The water almost had you wincing as it filled your overly dry mouth but you still took a few more sips, breathing easier when your throat didn’t feel like sandpaper anymore. As you took a final sip, straw falling from your lips, you were still looking at Jake, feeling a little less like a human bobble head, but still a little strange.

He only stepped away from you for a moment to call for a nurse before returning to your side again. He didn’t say much, but his eyes were roving all over you, making you think he was trying to find something you were hiding. In your hazed mind, you wondered what you could possibly be hiding. Did you take his car keys?

The small bit of confusion continued as a nurse swept into the room and started to ask you a few questions you blearily answered and then had to sit still while a doctor looked you over, too, pressing lightly at your side and checking the weird tube and patch jutting out under your arm. By the time they finished and you were nodding along when they said they would be back to check on you again later in the day, you felt a little more settled in your skin.

Jake, who had stood near the window the entire time and hadn’t moved aside from nodding when the doctor or nurse told or asked him something, moved to stand at your side again. “How’re you feeling? What do you need?”

“Are you okay?” you asked in return.

Jake’s smile was shaky and you could tell he was tired–you couldn’t miss the rumpled shirt and matching hair, nor the dark circles beneath his eyes. But he was still beautiful. “I think I’m supposed to be asking you that, Punch.”

“I feel like I’ve been stabbed twice and then put in one of those spinners at the state fair.”

“Well, you look great, all things considered.” His fingers brushed your cheek and you leaned into it as best you could.

“You’re such a liar. I know I look like shit.”

“You’re beautiful, same as always. Just a little banged up.” And he said it so sincerely that you almost had tears in your eyes.

You hated that it took being stabbed twice for you to give yourself permission to really try to be happy again. Jake could make you happy, wanted to make you happy, would make you happy. You knew that even with the residual effects of the anesthesia and everything else falling on your shoulders.

You just had to let him.

“Do you still want to get that steak dinner with me?” You asked, hating how small your voice sounded.

Jake smiled—fucking smiled—and moved to smooth a hand over your forehead before brushing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s get you cleared for solid foods first, okay?”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a hell yes. But let’s make sure you can move without tearing a stitch.”

You smiled, ignoring how you felt one of your lips start to crack. “I’ll even let you pick me up.”

Jake’s sea glass eyes sparkled in the shitty fluorescent lights. He’d always been so pretty. “And you’ll let me pay? What about bringing you flowers, can that be negotiated?”

Just for a moment, you paused as thoughts raced through your mind. This was different. He wasn’t Luke and you weren’t scared of him. “Only if I get to take you out to ice cream afterward.”

“Oh, you’re already thinking you’ll make it to dessert?” He teased with a smirk you could feel pressing into your skin as he brushed another kiss against your forehead. “Presumptuous.”

“I have it on good authority that you may like me, even when I look like death.” You hoped your smile was convincing as he stepped back, warm hand still holding the side of your throat.

His thumb smoothed a gentle path across your pulse as his green eyes locked with yours. “You look like you beat death back with a stick.” He paused and you knew he was trying to choose his words carefully. “It’s a good look, you know. But I’d appreciate it if I never have to see you like this again.” His words held none of his usual bravado or confidence and your heart dropped when you noticed just how sad he looked. And not just sad. Scared.

You blindly reached up to grasp at his hand, curling your fingers over his thumb in an attempt to prove to him that you were okay–you could deal with the slight ache in your hands later. You just needed him to be okay, too. “It was a baseball bat, but I can promise you I have zero intention of trying to do it again.”

“Good.” He pulled in a slow breath and you felt him twist his hand in our grip so he could pull your joined hands up and he pressed a kiss to your fingers before holding your hand gently between both of his on the edge of your bed. It was like he couldn’t stop touching you and you reveled in it. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

The simple sentence had your entire chest flooding with warmth. Feelings you had tried to ignore were pushing at the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t form the words. Not yet. Not even with Bradley’s words ringing like a bell at the back of your mind. “I’ll try to make sure you never have to find out.”

The look in Jake’s eyes had the warmth in your chest growing hotter. It was too knowing, too wanting, too…

His mouth opened and then shut again and Jake shook his head. He hooked a foot around the leg of the chair behind him and lowered himself into it as he kept a hold of your hand. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” You asked, feeling your face scrunch in confusion.

Jake licked at his lips and took a deep breath in. “They still haven’t found him.”

“What?” The single word cracked on your tongue as familiar claws of dread started to close around your heart. “What do you mean?”

“The cops lost him somewhere behind your neighbor’s house but-”

“No, no, no, no. Don’t tell me that.” One of the machines at your side started to beep and flash. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. “Jake. Don’t tell me that. They-they have to ca-catch him! How-”

Jake moved to smooth his hands up your arms until he was gently grasping the back of your neck and he pushed his forehead against yours. “They’re out there, right now, looking for him. They’re not going to stop until they catch him. And he is not evergoing to touch you again. I won’t let that happen.”

“J-Jake.” His name broke in your throat and you hated that the tears you knew were forming in your eyes only brought you more pain and embarrassment. This had to be a nightmare. Had to be. There was no way you nearly died and Luke was still out there. “He…he…”

“Luke is not going to touch you ever again. I swear it.”

Tears blurred your vision despite the strength shading Jake’s words. “You don’t know that.”

“I do because I’m going to make sure he never touches you again. I don’t care if I have to put him in the ground, he’s not putting his hands on you again.”

The machines were still whirring, sounding your distress out into the room and letting it echo like a wraith in the sterile air. But Jake did not pull away, did not tell you that you needed to calm down or negate anything that you were feeling, but he held you through it until your breathing evened out again and you slumped further into your flat pillow but did not pull away from Jake. “I can’t do it again,” you whispered.

“You won’t have to.”

You blinked away the tears in your eyes and pushed Jake back just enough to look at him. The fear you saw in his face was gone now, replaced by a steely determination you only usually saw before climbing up into the cockpit of his jet. He was going to do anything for you–the thought was equal parts horrifying and comforting. “I don’t want you to get hurt for me either.”

“We are going to be fine. Both of us. And we’re going to go get that steak.” He reached up with his other hand to carefully cup your cheek and you remembered that he held you like this when he’d kissed you in your living room. It all seemed like ages ago now. And you wanted his words to be true, to know that you'd both be okay when this was finally finished. But something whispered at the back of your mind that you and Jake weren’t safe. Not yet. Not when Luke was still out there.

A knock at the door had you separating and looking to see a grim looking MP walking into the room. “There’s a detective here to speak with you,” he said, looking at you. “I can send him away if you’re not available.”

Jake looked at you, waiting for your answer. “Let him in. I should probably get this over with.”

The MP nodded and stepped out again before escorting a man in an ill-fitting suit into your room. “I’m Detective White, I just need to ask you a few questions.” He held out his hand but quickly retracted it when you reached out with your own bandaged one and then hurried to grab a small pad of paper from inside his jacket and tapped a pen on the top of it with a terse smile. “It won’t take long.”

Instead, Jake squeezed your hand with a small smile. “I’ll just be right outside.”

Would it be ridiculous for you to want him to stay? To say that you felt safer with him in the room? You could feel the detective’s eyes on you and you hated it. You hated how stupid you felt in that moment and how insecure and ridiculous. “Can he stay?”

“Miss-”

Jake immediately said your rank and last name, making sure to put enough emphasis on it that he knew that was the correct way to address you. It made you smile for a moment, knowing he meant it as a way to protect you. “I’d like him to stay.”

The detective’s eyes darted to Jake for a moment before he squeakily cleared his throat. Your name and rank soon followed and he tapped his pen on his pad of paper again. “That isn't standard procedure.”

“Look, I have two holes in me that shouldn’t be there. Jake held me together and kept me alive until I could get to the professionals. And I’d still like him to stay.”

Jake hid a smirk behind his hand before he sank into the chair by your bed.

“Okay, well,” the detective started as a ruddy blush blotched across his cheeks, “we can work with that.”

The interview took hours. You only stopped once to sip on some water and poke at the bland hospital food that was delivered and that was mostly at the behest of the bedraggled nurse who came in to check on you. And Jake did not move from his post at your side. When you had paused to catch your breath, embarrassed, angry tears biting at the back of your eyes, Jake always managed to keep you steady without even needing to say more than, “it’s okay, Punch, you got this.”

Detective White did actually shake your hand on his way out and you tried to ignore how his grip made you innately aware of the stitches in your palm. “We’ll get him, I swear it.”

You hoped he had more confidence in his police work than what you heard in his voice. He sounded unsure. When the detective left, you turned to Jake to see him frowning, yet again. “You feel as good as I do about that, huh?”

He sighed and shook his head. “They haven’t exactly proved to be reliable. Or competent.”

You laughed—it was worth the sharp ache in your stomach. You had to laugh otherwise you may cry again. “Well, I guess we will just have to wait and see.” What else could you do?

Another knock at the door pulled your attention and you were thankful for the distraction, even more so when you realized it was Rueben and Mickey now sticking their heads into the room. You quickly waved them in and let them shower you with movies and books they had brought to help you pass the time and you laughed when Mickey said you now had no excuse to not start watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The pilot and WSO were always kind and funny, but you could tell they had questions and you set the Blu-ray set aside before taking a deep breath. “You can ask. ‘s all right.”

You had always thought the bond between pilot and WSO was intrinsic and nearly magical, and you got to watch it in action when Reuben looked to Mickey and they were quiet for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you okay?” Reuben asked gently.

Your shoulders slumped. They were always so nice to you. “I’ve been told that I’ll be okay eventually. I just need to take it easy for a while.”

They asked if you needed anything in particular and didn’t take your ‘no’ for an answer and promised to bring you every unhealthy food they could think of once you were cleared for “real people food,” as they called it. Mickey’s watch beeped a few minutes later and he sighed. “Time’s up for us, Mav’s only given us an hour each.”

“Apparently he thinks that Cyclone would notice if we all just didn’t show up today.”

You had to smile at that. Captain Mitchell creating a timetable so all the Daggers could come visit without higher brass permission to skirt duty was probably the most on-brand thing you could think of him doing. It was a kindness, truly. Perhaps you should have confided in him—Tom had trusted him, Bradley, too. But maybe trusting people implicitly would take more time.

You said your goodbyes to Mickey and Rueben and Jake somehow got a blu-ray player delivered to your room and set it up quickly after belatedly pointing out the flowers Bob and Natasha had brought you—they were your favorites. You’d have to text them a thank you later.

“Look at you go, Ken. So handy. Next I’ll have you painting walls and tightening leaky faucets.”

A lazy wink was thrown over his shoulder in your direction. “Whatever you need, Punch. I’m pretty handy.”

You laughed and tried to ignore the stinging bite that came with it but you still set your hand over your stomach as if that would help disguise what you were feeling from his gaze. It didn’t work at all and Jake abandoned his task to hurry to your side. “I’m fine,” you said, pushing a smile to your face and hoped that would be enough for him to ignore how the heart rate monitor beeped erratically for a moment as you tried to breathe through the new wave of pain.

Jake shook his head. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m here to help you.”

You sighed. That would be another thing you would have to work through. “Sorry. I just…” Your words trailed off as Jake once again took your hand in his. He might be fond of touching you, but you knew you were fond of him touching you. He was always so gentle with you. “I just don’t want to cause a fuss.” Which you knew was stupid because you were in the hospital after being nearly murdered.

“You are worth the fuss.”

Was it pathetic to think of that as romantic? Maybe. But your heart still leapt as he looked at you but a familiar, self-satisfied smirk started to push at his mouth when your heart rate monitor betrayed you and let out a happy little beep-be-beep and there was no way you could talk your way out of it.

His smirk faded the slightest bit before he said, “I mean it. You’re worth the fuss. You’re worth a lot more than what you’ve been given.”

The fact that Jake wanted to be the one to prove it to you was even better. You just had to let him, you reminded yourself.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You and Jake retreated from each other (you mostly just pushed further into the pillow at your back) as Callie and Neil came in with balloons and another bouquet of flowers. They told you how the Daggers and other ADs were keeping it quiet about why you were currently in the hospital, but the Top Gun hopefuls did send along their well wishes that you supposed they mostly meant (except Royal, who you knew didn’t have a sincere bone in his body).

When they left, you got exactly seven minutes and twelve seconds into the first episode of Deep Space Nine before Billy, Logan, and Brigham came in with a teddy bear wearing a miniature version of their flight suits and your last name stitched over the heart. They also told you that there has been increased security stationed at every entrance to the base with extra protocols in place for entry.

Good. Luke probably wasn’t quite dumb enough to try anything on base, but knowing your friends would be safe on base was a comfort.

Javy was the next to visit, a small duffle bag in hand for Jake and wearing a suspiciously wiggly coat. He unzipped it with a wink and a familiar dog was carefully placed on your bed. “Sweet Pea!” You happily squealed at the sight of the tenacious Pekingese. She was quick to clamor up your legs to offer you a lick at your chin in greeting before immediately making herself comfortable in your lap. “You’re breaking so many rules right now,” you said, more traitorous tears stinging your eyes as you sank your fingers into Sweet Pea’s soft fur. You had watched Sweet Pea for Javy during his deployment a few months ago and had fallen head over heels for the dog immediately, even going so far to ask Javy for weekly updates, which he readily gave.

Javy waved it away and gave you a quick kiss on the temple. “You’re worth it, Punch. And she was missing you anyway.”

Jake nudged him with a halfhearted scowl but you hardly cared when your fingers sank into the dog’s fur again. You didn’t even mind when Sweat Pea started to gnaw on the teddy bear, she was your favorite and the bear was probably machine washable anyway.

Javy eventually left after a close call with a doctor who came in to administer another dose of pain medication and to check on your stitches. You and Jake eventually settled in enough to watch a few episodes after he changed into the fresh clothes Javy had brought him.

(“What is this show even about?”

“I have no idea.”)

After another gelatinous meal was presented to you and Jake only half heartedly tried to get you to eat it, you were handed a new set of pills by your doctor who told you that they would help stave off infection and probably make you a little sleepy, too.

“I do recommend you take them with food,” the doctor said after spying your uneaten lunch pushed off to the side.

Well, that certainly wasn’t going to happen but you said you would eat it before taking the pills just so he would leave the room.

“You’re not actually going to eat that, right?” Jake said in a low and disgusted voice as soon as he was sure the doctor was out of earshot.

“Absolutely not.”

“Good. I’ll grab you a smoothie or something from the cafeteria downstairs. Do not take that without eating.” And then he was dashing away, startling one of the MPs at your door by the sound of it, too. When he returned, your favorite smoothie in hand, you had a hard time keeping the smile off your face even as the large pills stuck briefly in your throat. No one had really taken care of you like this. Not since you were a child, anyway. Red tape had kept you alone after Luke’s first two attempts on your life and you had to heal alone and in silence. This was new. Different. And for the umpteenth time, you realized that Jake wanted to do this for you. All of it.

You really needed to have a talk with him. A real talk. Unfortunately, it seemed the doctor’s warning that the medication would make you sleepy was an understatement. As soon as you finished your smoothie, you were already fighting to keep your eyes open. Jake took your empty cup from you and threw it away and you saw him starting to settle into his chair again, a wince already scrunching his features.

“You need to go home and get some sleep.”

Jake’s eyes cut to you with a frown. “I slept just fine here last night. And it is barely past lunch anyway.”

You sighed but the fondness clouding your lungs had it sounding a little forced and your limbs were sagging with the need for sleep. “Stubborn man. You have work tomorrow. I won’t have you falling asleep at the controls because of me.”

“I could just not go in,” he muttered like a child.

“Ken!” You chided, fighting a smile, lips twitching at the corners. “I’m not worth going AWOL.”

His face scrunched, as if he was insulted. “I already told you this: you’re worth a lot.”

God. He was infuriating and adorable. And usually only used one of those words when describing him. “I need you to go to work, all right? After getting a goodnight’s rest in a bed.” You watched him open his mouth and quickly added, “and no, I can’t just scoot over to make room for you in this one.”

Jake was quiet again, mulling over his options, before standing. “I can be back in time for dinner, or whatever slop they give you in a few hours, and-”

You raised a lethargic hand toward him and sighed when he laced your fingers together, letting his sentence go unfinished. “I need you rested, all right? I need you flying; that’s where I know you’re safe. Happy.” You yawned, the ache you’d been fighting settled into your bones, low but manageable. Damn, those pills were something else. And so were Jake’s eyes.

“I can be happy here, too.”

“Go home, sweet man. Visit tomorrow. Take a shower. Sleep.” You definitely were about to fall asleep. Everything felt so warm and loose, almost like you had one too many drinks to be tipsy.

“You saying I smell?” He asked with a laugh, but he still leaned down to press another kiss to your forehead.

“Yes—like blood and hospital. But you’re still so pretty. Pretty Ken.”

He chuckled and you felt him stand rather than saw him as your eyes finally closed. “Yeah, my pretty darlin’. You win this round.” With another careful kiss to your temple and his thumb pressing at the edge of your chin, he was gone and you were out like a light.

The next afternoon, you woke up to the sun shining in through the window and Bradley setting a bag onto the chair beside your bed. When he noticed you were awake, a slow smile started to push across his mouth. “Hey, sleeping beauty.”

“Hey,” you replied, the single syllable slow and syrupy with sleep.

He moved a little closer and you could see the circles beneath his eyes and his caramel waves were in a bit of a mess. But his service khakis were still neatly pressed—that was good. “You were asleep when I came in yesterday. Seresin said they gave you some pretty heavy duty stuff. How’re you feeling?”

That pain medication must’ve truly been something else because you mostly just felt uncomfortable rather than anything else. “I’m okay. Might be hungry though.”

Bradley’s smile widened a fraction and he opened the bag and pulled out a sandwich from the deli just off base that you frequented, usually with Bradley, and your cellphone which had almost 200 notifications. “I asked, like, four nurses if you were cleared for real people food and they said as long as you don’t overdo it, you should be fine.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you could overdo eating a sandwich, but you weren’t about to ask in fear of them taking the sandwich away and replacing it with the slop you managed to evade yesterday. It felt like heaven in your hands when Bradley (carefully) set it in your grasp. “Yeah sure,” you said, suddenly much more awake than you had been moments before.

But he also held out a bottle of water and shook it. “Water first. Sandwich later.”

“Then you should have led with the water,” you grumbled but you still drank it with careful sips after he glared at you after you sputtered over your first overzealous mouthful. He let out an exaggerated sigh when you pouted as he put your medication on the little table beside your bed and said you needed to take those, too. He really did bait and switch with the sandwich. A true big brother move that you begrudgingly accepted with a smile you tried to hide behind your water bottle.

(The sandwich in question was delicious and you didn’t even care that Bradley told you to slow down twice—you should have listened because you felt nauseous for a solid hour after polishing it off. Worth it.)

Bradley sat and watched an episode of Deep Space Nine with you before he told you that Sarah was planning on stopping by again today and that Bob and Natasha would probably try to swing by after being dismissed for the day, too. “Your sister is a very avid texter, by the way.” He pulled out his phone and showed you the fifteen texts he’d received from Georgie in the last two hours. They were all about you, obviously, and your stay in the hospital. Toward the end of her barrage of texts was a quick, also, Danny is wondering who this ‘hangman’ is. Might want to give both of them a heads up.

You almost laughed at that. After noticing your parents’ complete detachment from you, Danny had taken up the self-imposed role of ‘protective brother’ and had tried his best (either from a hospital bed or across state lines or both). It had always made you smile because he was more likely to throw a textbook at someone and then run away than to actually throw a punch. He was a good man. Gentle. A good brother to you. You knew he and Georgie would like Jake, even if they pretended not to for a solid five minutes.

“I’ll handle her. Promise. How was everyone yesterday and this morning?”

“Hangman was a little distracted.”

“Was he okay? Did he-”

“He’s fine,” Bradley said, fighting a smile. “But he did pull some stupid stunt when Royal was about to get tone on him.”

“Oh? It must have been something else if you’re calling it stupid,” you teased, earning a halfhearted glare in return. But this was good. Almost normal. Like you weren’t in a hospital and Bradley wasn’t taking a day of leave to stay at your side. Then you remembered… “Oh, Bradley, your date with Natasha! I ruined it! You were supposed to go to dinner, weren’t you? Natasha had a plan-”

Bradley’s hand settling over your arm quickly halted the rest of your rambling. “Please chill out.”

“Okay, but, what if I don’t?”

“They’ll probably have to sedate you,” he said, trying to keep a straight face and failing. “It is fine. Really. We rescheduled.”

“Easy as that?” You asked. Guilt still twisted your stomach. They had been in love with each other for years and had one date and then you had to get stabbed and ruin their second.

But Bradley nodded. “Easy as that. I took my time to get off my perch, I don’t mind waiting a little longer for a second date. We both would have just been worried about you anyway.”

You grimaced, guilt still gnawing at your bones. “I’m sorry anyway.”

“You did not purposely get stabbed so we couldn’t get a second date,” Bradley said, voice more serious than it had been just a moment ago. “Please don’t beat yourself up about it. We have time. We made time.”

You moved to set your other hand over his with a sigh. “If you say so.” God, you hoped it was true.

It would be a long recovery, you knew that. But it seemed a little easier this time, even with the extra damage, because you had people that cared about you. You weren’t lonely and twiddling your thumbs alone in the hospital room, waiting to be released and being told to keep your mouth shut or to report to the brass as soon as you were discharged. This was different.

It was different when the Daggers still took turns visiting you and your fellow ADs did, too. Sarah stopped by as well, and made you video chat with Junior and Lily who both worried over you until you promised that you would be fine. They both offered to visit, or in Lily’s case she offered to smuggle you out of the hospital, but you declined and told them to both just focus on wedding planning or classes. “I’ll be fine!” You even winked for good measure.

Yeah. This time was different. Recovery wasn’t exactly a walk in the park and the tube coming out of your side was always annoying and bordering on itchy, but you got through it because you had people who cared about you. To your delight and dismay, Jake was the most frequent visitor to your stuffy hospital room. He brought food and books and seemed to be watching Deep Space Nine on his own because he was never lost when he sat down to watch an episode or two with you.

It was good and gentle and god you wished you could kiss him again. But it seemed he was trying to give your poor heart a break and rile you up at the same time. You had never been treated so…delicately before. Like you were something, someone precious. But god you wanted to kiss him. Even more so when he was the one to wheel you out of the hospital, complete with boyish car noises when he would speed around a corner. You weren’t even a little surprised when he drove you to the temporary housing on base instead of your house, only relieved. Bob and Natasha had been the one to tell you it was probably a good idea for you to not stay at your house for the time being and had set up your stay on base. You didn’t need a ton of convincing; you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to step foot into your little bungalow again without seeing Luke hiding in the shadows or your blood staining the floors.

The temporary housing was little more than a hotel room with a kitchenette, but you weren’t about to complain. Not when all of the Daggers and your fellow ADs were waiting inside with balloons and your favorite junk food to welcome you ‘home.’ Natasha and Bradley had brought all of your clothes and a few of your pictures, too, to help make it seem a little more like home. Over a glass of a virgin Bee’s Knees, whipped up by Penny who asked you if you were taking your medicine with a motherly look, you caught Jake’s eye across the small living room as he spoke with Callie. He smiled and raised his beer in your direction with a wink.

Oh, what an asshole. It should not be allowed for him to look like that and not want to kiss him senseless. Or have him kiss you senseless. Either way, someone should be getting kissed senseless. But he had been almost resolute in not kissing you. A small voice at the back of your mind whispered that maybe all of this, the stalking, the blood, the stress, the hospital stay, had all been too much for him. That you had been too much for him.

But he had been sweet. He kissed your cheeks, your temples, the tip of your nose. He held your hand and made you smile and laugh when you needed it most. He wanted to be near you. Didn’t he? You hoped so. He never seemed to care when you called in the middle of the night with another nightmare filled with Luke and hidden knives, making the drive across base to sit with you in the low light of your temporary living room, sipping on hot chocolate and watching Golden Girls reruns in silence until you fell asleep again. “If you call, I’ll come,” he had said. And he did. Every time. Didn’t make it any less confusing though.

It was entirely unsurprising to be put onto desk duty when you were finally able to report back to base two days later. Admiral Bates was kind and popped his head into your office every other hour to make sure you were comfortable. “You can leave at any time, if needed. Please take it easy.” Admiral Simpson also seemed to be doing the most to not even give you paperwork to do. They were being kind but you were so bored. It didn’t feel like you worked if you didn’t have oil soaked into your skin by lunch. The other ADs kept you up to date on what each of the jets needed every day so you could jump right back in when you were cleared for it.

You actually volunteered to take on the extra paperwork from the other ADs so you could still feel like you were contributing a few days into your new duties. It sometimes had you staying later than everyone else but you slowly started to enjoy the quiet of your office when almost everyone had gone home, especially on Fridays before the start of the weekend.

Almost everyone.

A knock at your door had you looking up to see Jake leaning against the frame and you hated how your heart leapt at the sight of him…and how the sleeve of his service khakis strained against the bulk of his arm. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Hey stranger,” you replied, setting your pen down. With the outgoing of the Top Gun graduates and the incoming of a new class, Jake had been busy alongside most of the Daggers. There were rumblings of a deployment, too, so you tried not to take his absence personally. If you had been out in the hangar or on the flight line, you would have seen more of him. Also, a lot of your free time was filled with check ups with your doctor and your new therapist. Both seemed to be hopeful for you. Your writing was going well, too, if you did say so yourself. Both Natasha and Bradley were still buzzing in that new relationship glow and you were so happy for them to finally be together—you even made sure to have them do the necessary paperwork as soon as possible so nothing would take them off guard. Detective White and the rest of the cops on your case were apparently following leads about Luke’s whereabouts but didn’t have much more to say other than, “when we know something, we will let you know.” You tried not to dwell on it, focusing on what made you happy. And you hardly left base anyway.

“I’ve got a question for you.” He walked into your office with a smirk playing on his mouth and an arm tucked behind his back.

“I’ve got an answer.”

When he reached the edge of your desk, he pulled an almost comically large bouquet of flowers out from behind his back. It was a beautiful mix of sunflowers, peonies, and tulips and you took them carefully as you stood, your heart in your throat. “These are for you.”

“They’re gorgeous, but that is not a question, you know. Questions are meant to gain an answer, or elicit information from another party-”

Jake groaned, rolling his eyes. “Busting my balls after I give you flowers? I should have expected that.”

You laughed and brushed your fingers against the buttery petals, delighting in the soft aroma of the bouquet. “Probably.”

“But my question was,” he started, pausing either for dramatic effect or just to rile you up. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

The smile that split your face almost hurt and you attempted to hide it behind the flowers for a moment before Jake hooked a finger in the wrapping and slowly pulled it down with a smile of his own. “You sure did take your time asking.”

Jake’s smile grew. “Technically, you asked back at the hospital, but since you never followed up on it, I figured I could be the bigger person and ask you.”

Your mouth opened then closed again as an embarrassed heat started to inch its way up your throat. “That…is not fair. You technically asked back at my house.”

“And I’m asking again.”

God, he was something else and you couldn’t help but let the growing smile split your face as you nodded. “Then yes, I am saying yes again.” What else could you possibly say?

“Perfect. Phoenix has a dress and shoes waiting for you in our locker room and I will meet you back out here in thirty minutes, okay?”

“Oh, you thought of everything, huh?” You asked with a shake of your head.

“I had some time. But you don’t—our reservation only has a five minute window.”

You grumbled good-naturedly to try to keep the butterflies you felt rioting in your stomach at bay. “Fine. I’ll be back.” And if your steps to the locker room were a little hurried, he thankfully didn’t mention it. The dress Natasha picked out for you was perfect, midi length with a slit up the thigh with a floral print—she must have found it at the back of your closet. The shoes were sensible but cute, found in a box you had kept at the back of your closet, too. Damn, she knew you so well. There was a sticky note on the dress’ hanger: Have fun! But not too much! Your makeup bag was on the shelf above and you hurriedly touched everything up before meeting Jake out in the hallway with your heart thrumming a happy beat behind your ribs. He had changed, too, into a smartly tailored pair of black trousers and a button up shirt of the same shade tucked in. It was almost unfair how beautiful he was.

Another smile broke across his face as he looked you over and you felt like one of your heroines when he reached out for you. “You look beautiful.”

As promised, he drove you to the ritzy restaurant and you delighted in the weight of his hand on your thigh the entire time as your flowers were safely kept in a vase in the backseat. It wasn’t until you pulled into the filled parking lot that you realized that you hadn’t looked out the window once in search of a black charger.

You felt safe.

He held the door open for you and tucked your chair into the table. It really was like a dream, even when the waitress flirted with Jake. Why? Because he simply reached across the table to curl his hand over yours as you fiddled with your silverware roll.

Gentle. He was being gentle and choosing you.

The conversation was quiet and easy as you ordered and you tried not to laugh when your original waitress was nowhere to be found.

“There’s this Italian place a little up the coast. We should try that next.”

While you enjoyed this peaceful bubble, you couldn’t resist poking at him like you always did. You cocked an eyebrow as you cut into your perfectly done steak. It almost melted in your mouth as you saw Jake glance at you as he cut into his own. “Oh, I was presumptuous by thinking we should get ice cream after this but you’re already planning the next date?”

His fork froze just in front of his mouth and you watched his eyes go wide for a moment. “I…”

“Relax. I’m always game for pasta.”

Jake’s answering smile split his face and couldn’t hide the tinge of pink on his cheeks. “Good. That’s good.”

As promised (after bickering over who got to pay for dinner), you had Jake pull over into the parking lot of a small ice cream shop on the way back to base and you each ordered their version of snickers ice cream. You both happily ate it as it tried to melt down to your fingers when you watched the moon’s reflection over the ocean after Jake found an overlook a few minutes down the road. As you licked the remnants of the treat from your lips, Jake hopped out of the truck and you watched him jog over to your side and pull open the door. He reached over you for a moment, letting his expensive cologne flood your senses again, and turned up the radio. Some old country song—yes, you would make fun of him for this later—filled the truck but you still put your hand in Jake’s when he held out a hand for you to take.

“Dance with me?”

The singer crooned about love and the moon and you laughed as Jake spun you under his arm. This could have been a scene from one of your books, you could scurry home after this, write it all down, and sell a million copies of your next book just because of this scene. But you knew you wanted to keep this just for yourself. This was just for you and Jake. You’d never feel like this before; happy, desired, fulfilled but hopeful for more. Hopeful for more with Jake.

Just for a few beats of the song, you wished you hadn’t waited so long. Hadn’t tried so hard to keep him at arm’s length. Hadn’t let Luke win for so long.

One song turned into two, turned into three and you only separated because a car drove by and honked obnoxiously. You laughed and pushed your face into Jake’s chest for a moment, listening to the rumble of his own chuckle. When your giggles subsided, you tilted your head to smile at him, probably looking like a loon but you hardly cared when he brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

He leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted, but you didn’t move. His lips pressed against yours gently before you surged forward, making it abundantly clear that you were not going anywhere. His warm hands held you firm as they slid up your arms to frame your face. There was no resistance when he licked at the seam of your lips, and you didn’t even care about the happy sigh you let out, hands scrunching into his soft shirt. He tasted like ice cream and that damned minted toothpick and you couldn’t get enough, pressing closer closer closer to let him keep kissing you in any way he wanted.

It wasn’t until your lungs protested that you broke away, chest heaving with the need for air. Jake stole another quick kiss anyway, letting you feel his smile against your mouth. “Let me get you home, darlin’.”

You nodded with a smile you hoped wasn’t too wide and let him buckle you in after he opened the truck door for you again. The smile, however, couldn’t be contained when his hand once again found a home on your thigh. When he pulled into the small parking lot in front of the stretch of temporary housing buildings, you let out a laugh when Jake all but bolted out of his seat to run around to your side of the truck and open your door, your flowers in hand. You slipped your hand into the crook of his offered arm and let him walk you toward your door.

“I had a great time tonight,” you murmured as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The dim light from the nearest streetlight cast him in a buttery light and almost made him look like some sort of old Hollywood leading man—you’d never tell him that. His ego was big enough.

“I did, too.” The warmth in his tone matched the soft look he sent you as you stepped up to your door.

You could have asked about the Italian restaurant he had mentioned earlier or bargained with him that you get to pay for dinner next time and he could pay for dessert as a reversal of what happened tonight, but instead, you listened to the butterflies in your stomach and asked, “would you like to come inside?”

Jake paused for a moment before nodding, almost hesitant.

You unlocked the door and waved him in, watching as he set your flowers on the small table beside the door. After setting your purse on the couch, you turned to face Jake and tried to resist the urge to wipe your slightly sweaty palms on your dress as you kicked off your shoes. Maybe you had misread everything. Or maybe he was still trying to “treat you right,” by his standards and take things slow. You wanted to respect what he wanted. “You don’t have to stay, Ken.” But god, you wanted him to.

Jake huffed before shaking his head. “You gotta know that I don’t want to leave, Punch. But I don’t want to hurt you. I would never-”

“I’m okay,” you let out in a rush. “I promise.” The smile you tried to keep from your face pushed its way free anyway as you shuffled a little closer to him.

“And I want to keep you that way.” Jake shook his head and you almost shivered when he let his fingers trail down your arms before dropping back to his sides, like he just needed to touch you. “Trust me, there’s nothing more I’d like than to keep this date going, but I would not be able to live with myself if I set you back in your recovery because I did something.” The slightest bit of pink dusted his cheeks as he said that, too.

It was so sweet. So adorably kind that all you could do was smile. “I’m not in danger of dying right now, Ken.”

“That’s not funny.”

You sighed and reached out to grasp his hands, pulling at them until they were pressing at your hips. “I’m here. Upright and mobile. I’m okay.”

“Your doctor said-”

“That I was cleared yesterday,” you said with a growing smile. That appointment had been a bright spot of your week for several reasons.

There was a slight pause before his hands tightened on your hips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Ken.”

You felt his fingers drum against the low of your back before he leaned closer. “So, for twenty four hours, this entire date, I’ve been trying to be a gentleman and you-”

“Oh, just kiss me.”

And he did. His kiss immediately dominated all of your senses, hot, heavy, and hard. Your back hit the wall beside the door and you could feel Jake’s smile again as you giggled against his mouth. This was perfect.

The smile faded as Jake’s mouth slid down the side of your neck, no doubt feeling your thrumming pulse, and a breathy moan slipped from between your lips.

“I’ve hardly touched you,” Jake said, words vibrating against your heated skin as you let your hands grasp at his shoulders, needing to anchor yourself to something. “You already singin’ for me?”

Your laugh was just as embarrassingly breathy, too. “Can’t help it.” You really couldn’t. Every nerve ending was starting to spark and burn delightfully, your mind already hazing. He kissed you again and his grip tightened on your waist before trailing up your sides.

He pulled back just enough to breathe against your lips. “You want this?”

The question cleared your mind for a moment but only served to send a bolt of soft warmth straight through you. “I do. I want you, I want this,” you whispered in return.

You could feel his answering smile before he kissed you again, harder and bordering on desperate.

You wanted him.

He wanted you.

Jake pawed at the top of your dress until your breasts were spilling out, nipples instantly hardening against the air conditioned chill of your room. “Fucking beautiful,” Jake muttered before diving down to press a searing kiss right over the swell of your heart. His large hands yanked the rest of your dress down just enough for him to grab at your chest, squeezing your breasts together as he lathed attention on one and then the other and then back again. Kisses turned into licks, turned into the lightest scrapes of his teeth that had your breath stuttering and knees shaking.

“Jake…” Your voice was little more than a moan, torn from your throat.

Big sea glass green eyes peered up at you, nearing sparkling in the low light of the room, as he continued to bite and suck and kiss at the exposed skin. But then, as if knowing you were already too far gone for words, his lips closed around a nipple and tugged, pulling a keening whimper from you as your hands wove through his short blond hair, drawing him closer. The heat of him, of his talented mouth, was all consuming. You couldn’t control the tightening in your lower stomach, nor the whimpers that left your kiss-bitten lips as he switched to the other side.

“So perfect,” he said, words muffled as he burrowed his nose into your sternum. “Perfect for me.” He glanced up and your heart stuttered at the heat in his gaze. The green of his eyes was nearly entirely gone, eaten by the black of his pupil.

Your grip on his hair tightened the slightest bit, dragging him up again to press an open mouthed kiss against his wanting lips. “Take me to bed,” you panted.

It was a blessedly short trip to the bed on the other side of the room and as soon the backs of your knees hit the soft bedding his hands skimmed up your sides, dragging your dress with it. His lips followed, lathing heat against your skin and up your sternum. Then he slowly, carefully pulled the offending fabric off, taking care to not jerk your arms up too high or too quickly. But his attention was soon back on your skin, pressing his mouth against the swell of your breasts.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said, words muffled against your heated skin. He could probably feel your heart beating a mile a minute beneath your ribs. But you knew he did when he took a moment to press kisses to the raised scars that now littered your torso.

It was almost too much for you and you pulled him up and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt before shoving it off his shoulders and then did the same to the button on his trousers and shoved them down before grabbing handfuls of his unfairly toned thighs and squeezing. You didn’t let go when he had to step out of his shoes and shoved his trousers off the rest of the way. God, he was warm everywhere. “You’re pretty,” you murmured against his neck, letting his expensive cologne and heat keep your mind buzzing.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” You had to laugh but it quickly faded when Jake’s roughened hands slid down the expanse of your thighs, and his mouth followed, sliding along the soft skin on your right leg and then the left, making sure to press a hard kiss to the scars there, too. The simple touch had you quaking beneath his grasp. “It’s only fair, darlin’. You know how much I love these legs of yours.”

“Y-you’re ridiculous!”

“Maybe, but you’re still beautiful.” His thick fingers slipped under the lace edges of your underwear and quickly pulled them down and you just as readily kicked them away. A hot kiss was pressed to your right hip and then your left before he gently shoved you back onto the bed, your legs falling open. Wider shoulders had your legs spreading further as he shoved his way between them and he licked a bold strip through your folds and nearly had you wailing. “And you taste so good, too.” Again and again Jake licked and sucked and nibbled until the heat that had started burning with the first brush of his lips overwhelmed you and stars burst behind your eyes.

When you came down, your thighs were wrapped around Jake’s head and shaking but he didn’t seem to care as he pressed a slick kiss to each of your thighs before carefully helping you set your legs back down before helping you lay further back across the bed. “Yeah, still beautiful.”

With aftershocks still shaking your fingers, you pulled him up again, tasting yourself on his tongue when it slipped between your lips. “Still want you,” you murmured, unabashed.

“You’ll get me. You’ve got me.” Jake curled his body over yours as he took your mouth again. You greedily shoved at his boxer briefs and let out a sigh when you felt the length of him press against the meat of your inner thigh. “Condom?” He asked.

“Got a clear bill of health and just renewed my birth control prescr-” The rest of your explanation was cut short when he kissed you again and you felt him press at your entrance. The first push knocked the wind right out of your lungs. “O-oh!”

“God, you’re so warm.” His words were pulled taut and his knuckles were nearly white as they pressed into the blanket beneath you.

You pawed at his shoulders as he sunk further, further, further. God, he was so deep. “J-Jake!”

“Almost there, darlin’, you’re taking me so well.”

When his hips finally touched yours, each breath was ragged and short as you tried to breathe through the burn that came with his size. He was so deep. Jake pressed gentle kisses across your jaw, murmuring to take all the time you needed but you saw his arms shaking on either side of your head.

“Move,” you said.

“You sur-”

“Move!” You laughed, but it was quickly taken over by a broken moan with Jake’s first thrust. Every drag and pull of him had new sparks sizzling up your spine until you were nothing more than a heap of shaking limbs and heated skin. “Jake, please!” It was all you could say. What you were pleading for, you wouldn’t be able to articulate, but it didn’t matter because Jake seemed to know as his thrusts grew more forceful, pushing you further up the bed and dragging a hand down your leg to squeeze at the dough of your thigh and having it tighten around his hip so he could reach further into you. “Jake!”

“Give it to me, darlin’. C’mon. I know you can.” His whispered words were scalding against your ear and you let out a wail as he hit something deep inside you again again again again. The feeling only grew when his hands swept beneath you on the bed and hauled your hips higher as he drove into you. “Is that it? That where you need me?”

All you could do was moan and hang on as he continued to hit that spot you had never known existed. Your legs lifted, too, wrapping around his waist and that seemed to be the right thing to do as Jake slid one hand down to grab at one, widening you up to his thrusts—and with just a handful more snaps of his hips, you broke into a million little pieces of stardust.

With just a few more thrusts, Jake met his own end, shuddering above you. And you were glorious, beautiful, sated. He had never seen anyone look so wonderfully undone as you. Jake pushed up onto his knees and could only smile down at you before stealing a kiss against your mouth and then another and another until he got what he wanted: a soft laugh, breathy and satisfied, if he did say so himself. The simple sound had his already thundering heart leaping. Then you reached up and pushed a few errant strands of hair away from his forehead. The words he wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue but he bit them back—he wanted to tell you with flowers and something sweet, not when you could think he was just caught up in the endorphin rush.

“You’re impossible, you know,” you said, snapping him out of his train of thought.

“What?”

“You’re still so pretty after all that? Impossible.” You punctuated it with a soft tug at his hair before your hand swept to his cheek and your thumb smoothed an easy path on the half moon beneath his eye.

God. He could look at you forever. “If I’m pretty, then you’re-”

Your fingers pressed over his lips as you halfheartedly rolled your eyes. “You already got me in bed, Ken. Don’t need to butter me up.”

Jake kissed your fingers before pulling your hand away from his mouth and leaning down to steal another kiss. “I think you should be told how beautiful you are every day.”

Jake felt you freeze for a moment, rigid under his grip. “Sounds exhausting.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” He could have said it then, too. Almost did. Instead, he carefully pulled out and smirked at your moan with the movement. Jake swept a hand down your sternum to your belly before rolling off the bed and walking into the bathroom. He quickly found a washcloth and ran it under some hot water and wrung it out before walking back out.

God, you were beautiful. Still trying to catch your breath on the rumpled blankets (and if Jake felt a little zing of pride and seeing you so debauched, so be it), Jake slid next to you and carefully cleaned up the mess he’d made of you. He couldn’t stop touching you. Didn’t ever want to stop, but he did eventually pull away to drag his underwear back on and brushed his lips against your palm as you reached for him, curling your fingers around his cheek. But even with you still on his tongue and your body heart bleeding over him, he felt the first tendrils of doubt start to creep up the back of his mind.

Did you want him to stay? Did you regret it? Did-

“Will you stay?” You asked, voice much quieter than you had been all night. It reminded him of when you were surprised he had wanted to go to Junior’s engagement party. Maybe you were nervous, too.

“Of course I’ll stay, Punch.”

Your answering smile was near blinding and you wiggled around on the bed just enough to pull the blankets down to invite him under the sheets beside you—wow, you both really just fell onto the bed, absolutely no patience. After you washed up in the bathroom and turned off the rest of the lights, you slipped beneath the sheets too, eyes bright in the moonlight streaming from the small window.

He could look at you forever. He just had to tell you that. Some day.

Things were good and fun and wonderful. Jake took you to that Italian restaurant and then you danced in your little living room. You went out to the movies and laughed behind your bucket of popcorn when the horror movie victims lived up to their cliches. Jake would press smiling kisses to your mouth in good morning in the shadows of the hangar. But he was also fond of swallowing every sound you made while driving deep and holding you close and you got to find out what it felt like to have the weight of him on your tongue.

Yeah, things were good.

Things were good even when Detective White called to tell you that Luke might have been spotted back on the East Coast—at least he wasn’t still lurking somewhere in the shadows of San Diego, waiting for you. It was good because you only had about a week left on desk duty and Bradley and Natasha were still annoyingly in love and Bob had agreed to (eventually) meet the woman Jake said was “perfect” for him. Georgie had given birth to a healthy, happy baby boy and you had plans to visit in a few weeks’ time with Danny.

You may have still had those words waiting on your tongue, unspoken and waiting, but you knew they were going to spill out sooner or later, especially when Jake kissed you so sweetly. Everything was strangely easy with him and you knew it was a little too early to think of the future when it was so soon into whatever this was with Jake, but maybe it really could be this easy. There were short tiffs, of course, but it was good.

Things were good.

“Hey, darlin’. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

You looked up from the paperwork on your desk to see Jake standing in the door of your office. A joke was on the tip of your tongue when you spied the envelope in his hands. You knew what that envelope meant. You knew that look in his eyes. “How long?”

“Eight weeks.”

“Oh.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and set down your pen with unsteady fingers. “You leave next week, don’t you?” You already knew the answer—Admiral Simpson had been heard talking about it yesterday.

Jake set the envelope down as he rounded your desk and pulled you up and close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose, then a slow kiss to your lips before standing straight again as his hands settled on your hips. “I don’t want-”

“You and I both know that the Navy doesn’t care what we want, Ken. You have to go. And I’m going to be waiting for you when you come back.” You tried to smile but you knew it looked more like a grimace. So, you tried a different tactic. “It’ll fly by.”

Jake pulled his lips into his mouth for a moment before sighing but you could tell he wanted to laugh. “That was a terrible pun.”

“I think you like me anyway.”

Jake smiled then, all softness and sweet. “Yeah, I think I’ll keep you around.” He pulled you close again and had you giggling the moment his lips touched your neck.

“You went on plenty of deployments before me and there will be deployments after-”

“Don’t say ‘after you,” Jake grumbled. “I don’t want there to be an after you.”

The words had your heart leaping. “I wasn’t going to say ‘after me,’ Ken. I was saying that after I’m cleared, you’ll have a few more with me. Okay? It is just this one.”

A small bright spot was knowing Javy, Callie, and Neil were also going with him. You and Jake tried to make the most of the week you had left before his deployment. There were quiet dinners in your small room and falling asleep in your bed as reruns of old sitcoms played on the television. There were quickies, too, of course, that always left your legs shaking and his come running down your thighs. But you still weren’t entirely sure what you were with Jake. He obviously wasn’t picking up women at the Hard Deck and spent most of his nights with you, slotting into place like he’d always meant to be there. But neither one of you had put a label on it. But you remembered Bradley’s scolding. You remembered that Jake himself had said that he knew you felt the way about him the same way he felt about you.

You tried and failed not to think about it too much as you walked with Jake through the muted crowds on the dock near the carrier. Dawn had just started to break on the horizon and your fingers brushed against Jake’s for the fifth time as you neared the ramp onto the hulking mass of steel. You only broke away to hug the others and wish them luck and safety before coming back to Jake’s side. There were too many eyes out here. Your relationship—no matter how undefined it was—was still unapproved and discouraged by Naval Regulation. There could be consequences if you kissed him goodbye now.

But you wanted to.

“You stay safe, okay?” You murmured as you turned to him.

“I’ll try my best, darlin’,” he said in return, grip tightening on his bag for a moment before letting loose again. Like he was fighting the urge to touch you, too.

The most you allowed yourself to do was hug him like you did the others while you blinked back the tears stinging your eyes. You should say it now. Say it. Say it. Say it. But wouldn’t that be cruel, to say it now when you couldn’t do more?

As you pulled back, it looked like Jake wanted to say something—his mouth opened and—

The carrier’s horn blasted and halted anything he might have said. You watched him shake his head before his hand fell to your shoulder. Only the careful swipe of his thumb against your pulse separated the touch from anything platonic. “I’ll be seeing you, Punch.” And then he was turning and walking away, a tightness in his shoulders you hadn’t seen since the hospital.

Something inside you cracked at the sight of it, growing larger with each step he took away from you. Every deployment could be dangerous. Hell, every time he got into the cockpit was dangerous. You could lose him.

And he wouldn’t…

“Jake!” You called out, his name bursting out from between your lips.

He turned back to you, brows pinching.

This was it. You didn’t want to hide. You would handle the consequences, no matter what they were. You needed to tell him. You pushed through the crowd and Jake dropped his bag at his feet and he reached for you just as you reached for him.

Your hands slid over his broad shoulders and up to cradle the back of his head as he curled his arms around your waist and hauled you close. You kissed him. You kissed him and didn’t care who saw as you felt him press at the seam of your lips and happily let him lead you through the unhurried but all consuming embrace; he had wanted this, too.

“Come back to me, okay?” You whispered against his mouth as you broke away, chest heaving. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” he said, voice strong despite the desperate look in his eyes. “I’m coming back to you. No matter what.”

“I love you, you know that?” There, you’d said it. For better or worse.

Jake’s smile started slow but soon lit up his entire face and he kissed you, pressing his lips to yours so intensely that you thought he might be trying to sear the touch into your marrow. “I love you, too. I have for a long time, I think.” And then he kissed you again and didn’t step back until the carrier let out another horn blast. “I’ve got to go but I will be back. I’ve gotta come back to my girl.”

You could only nod as he slowly walked backward toward the carrier, trying to keep you in his sight for as long as possible and taking your heart with him.

Jake hadn’t been expecting to be called into the Admiral’s temporary office before he had even put his duffel on his tiny bedroll, but here he was, standing in front of Admiral Simpson, hoping beyond hope that this wasn’t what he was thinking it was.

You loved him. You loved him and he didn’t want to have it ruined by something as stupid as regulation.

Cyclone crossed his arms over his chest before sighing. “I should have you formally reprimanded and have her moved to a different squadron, if not an entirely different shore station. You and I both know that, Lieutenant Commander.” He was quiet and Jake felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. He couldn’t lose you. Not now. “But I made Kazansky a promise. I promised to keep that young woman safe whenever she stepped foot on base. She is a remarkable AD and has proven herself to be an irreplaceable part of this team. The Daggers are better with her, and she is better with the Squadron.” He was quiet again and Jake tried not to feel too hopeful as the man continued. “I will require the necessary paperwork on my desk by 0700 the day after we are back stateside so I can pretend that you two went about this correctly and I won’t have someone with more stars on their collar trying to rip this squadron apart. Am I understood?”

“Understood, sir.” Jake didn’t even care that he was supposed to be on shore leave for two weeks after every deployment. He would get that paperwork to Cyclone an hour after docking if he had said so. Jake would happily do a thousand pushups before dinner and be grounded for a month if it meant that you didn’t have to hide, that you wouldn’t be separated because of protocol or paperwork.

Cyclone nodded. Just once. “Good. Dismissed.” If Jake sprinted out of Cyclone’s office, neither of them mentioned it. But the Lieutenant whom Jake would be sharing a bunk with definitely asked why he was smiling like a mad man when they finally crossed paths.

Jake didn’t care.

Come hell or high water, he was going back to you.

If Bradley asked if you were okay one more time, you were going to steal his lunch.

“I just worry about you!”

“Get away from me, Bradshaw. I swear to god-!” The rest of your rant was cut off by sweet Bob pulling you into a different classroom and handing you a water bottle.

“Drink this.”

You did as you were told and by the time the bottle was empty, you felt marginally less prone to lunch thievery. When you handed the bottle back to him, Bob sighed. He seemed to do that a lot lately and it had only been a week since Jake and the others had gone. “I’m bad at this, aren’t I?”

(The rest of the Daggers had been given a hard launch of you and Jake being together after Callie posted a photo to the group chat—it was supposed to be of her and Neil before they got on the carrier but you and Jake were clearly seen in the background kissing.

Not your finest moment but everyone seemed to be happy for you both and Admiral Bates chuckled after calling you into his office to tell you to fill out the required paperwork—how he found out was anyone’s guess but you were thankful that he was fine with it all. While the stack of red tape was a bit of a slog to get through, you finished it as quickly as you could despite being told that you’d have to wait to formally file it until Jake completed his, too. The stack of paper was kept safely in the bottom locked drawer of your desk, just waiting for Jake.)

“I’ve been told it gets easier,” Bob said with a small smile. “It’s only been a week, Punch. Give yourself time.”

You sighed and leaned just enough to press your forehead against his shoulder. Maybe tensions were high (with you in particular) because today was supposed to be your first day back in the hangar and…it rained so everyone was grounded until the weather cleared. “I mean, whenever you guys would get sent out I would worry, but this feels different. Is that stupid? Or am I just losing it?”

Bob sighed and you felt his hands start to press careful, patient lines up and down your back. “Not stupid and not losing it. But I think ‘s different when you care about the person leaving.”

“I care about you,” you muttered into his shirt.

“Not the same way and you know it.” His hands continued their careful touches and you relaxed a little more. God, whoever earned Bob’s love was going to be so lucky. “If I was a betting man, I would say Seresin is probably feeling the same way except he’s stuck in a tiny metal room.”

You laughed and a tiny bit of tension slipped from your shoulders. “Thank you, Robby. I promise to not throttle Bradley or steal his lunch.”

And now it was Bob’s turn to laugh. “Reasonable.”

The rest of the day didn’t exactly crawl by but you were still thankful to walk out to the parking lot by the end of the day, even if you knew you were still only going across base to watch more Golden Girls with a frozen meal. You’d get through this.

You knew it.

Just as you pulled into your usual spot outside your temporary home, your phone rang. Detective White’s name flashed across the screen and you sighed, bracing for no new news, before answering.

“Have you been to your house today?” He asked instead of a greeting.

“What?”

“We need you to come here, take a look at things.”

You were struck silent, sitting in the driver’s seat of your car. “I…” What were you even supposed to say to that? “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The drive to your little bungalow was done in a haze, you didn’t even remember turning down your street or pulling into the driveway. Three patrol cars and a beat up Cadillac were parked along the curb, too. Two uniformed cops were waiting by your front door and checked your ID when you asked for Detective White before waving you inside.

Just for a moment, it did actually feel like coming home. This had been your home for almost two years and…

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

The cruel echo of Luke’s voice had you flinching before the faded scent of bleach did. Your next breath stuttered in your throat as you glanced toward the bookcases and the floor beneath them. You had nearly died here. Nearly bled out in your home. It looked like all of your books had been placed in boxes, stacked at the mouth of the hallway.

You hardly saw any of it as your eyes were drawn to the broken glass that littered your kitchen floor and then the terrible deep, dark red paint splattered on the wall above your television.

COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE

“Good, you’re here.”

You jumped at the sound of Detective White’s voice and turned to face him with an unsteady smile. “I’m assuming you called to tell me about this?” You asked, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the crude paint job.

Detective White nodded. “Yeah.”

“I thought you said Luke was on the East Coast?” Keeping the angry disbelief out of your voice was a Herculean task—one that you failed, spectacularly, if the detective’s flinch was any indication.

He tapped his pen against his stupid pad of paper. “We had a tip that he was.”

“But nothing concrete? Have you stopped the search for him around here?”

“No, we still have the tip line open here, too.”

“Tip line,” you bit out. “But no one is looking? You’re just hoping that someone will spot him and you’ll be able to catch him this time?” Dragging a hand over your mouth, you tried to suck in a steadying breath that only marginally worked.

“We follow up on each one,” he said as if that would help.

“Sure. Of course you do. Is there a reason you needed me to come here?”

He then went on a spiel about you needing to look around to see if anything was missing or broken because there had been a series of break ins in the neighborhood and they just wanted to make sure that this was connected either to Luke or to the low level thieves before proceeding.

It took you about three and a half minutes to realize nothing was missing other than one of the knives from the block but you had a hunch that it was probably in an evidence bag, if the cops had found it at all. Your anger at the cops swiftly disintegrated into fear when you realized that it meant Luke was now back in the city. Or he had never left. Neither was a great option and you told Detective White what you thought and only earned another tap of his pen against his stupid fucking notebook.

You seethed as you stomped to your car and tried to pull in a soothing breath when you buckled yourself in. It didn’t work. But fine. You just needed to get back to base and slip beneath your room’s mostly soft blankets and pretend this didn’t happen for at least a few hours. Sure. You could do that.

But, just as you pulled onto the highway, your low gas light clicked on. Perfect, just perfect. There was a gas station just off the next off-ramp so you took it, hoping for a quick stop. But, of course, when you pulled up to the pump, there was a sticker over the card reader, stating that you’d have to pay inside. With a sigh, you locked your car and started toward the gas station. You made it two steps before coming to an abrupt stop when a bright red car screeched around you and came to a stop at the pump just beside your car. Whatever. Not your problem.

You heard the other car’s door open and close and then…

“Hi, baby.”

There was no way he was here. No way. No. Every hair stood on end and it took you a stretched moment to even muster the courage to turn to face him.

“Luke…” His name cracked in your throat as your heart hammered against your ribs. It only increased when you caught a flash of something in his hand, shining and terrible.

A gun.

You took a step back and then another and another as your eyes bounced around the parking lot, looking for someone, anyone to help you. And you saw no one, nothing except other empty cars.

“Don’t do this.”

Luke smiled, all teeth. “I’m having fun with it now, baby. I wonder how many times I can shoot you before you actually die? Maybe I should have gutted you, you know, see what you’re hiding inside you that keeps your heart beating.”

The more he spoke, the more you realized that he was drunk, every few syllables slurred and messy. Your next step nearly had you toppling over as your heel collided with the curb. Pain lanced up your palm as you blindly thrust your arm out to keep yourself upright by grabbing the concrete pillar. Luke took a step forward and raised the gun-

The lights of a car coming into the gas station pulled his attention for just a moment and you made the split second decision to dash into the gas station when his head was turned. You nearly bowled over another woman as soon as you were inside, the bell above the door screaming your arrival, and you quickly bit out an apology before yelling, “he’s got a gun! Please—call the cops!”

The man behind the register immediately pulled out his cell phone and you saw him dial 9-1-1 before your blood ran cold when you heard the bell chime again. All the air in the tiny shop was sucked out when the telltale sound of a gun’s hammer being pulled back filled the air. You knew if you looked behind you, you’d see Luke pointing a gun right at your head. Without sparing a look back, you dove down the nearest aisle, nearly bashing your head against a row of chips. You heard the shot tear through one of the freezer cases before the cacophony of screams and shouts of the other patrons rang out, too. Before you could even crawl behind another row of snacks or curl into a protective ball, the screech of the bell came again and the gas station was silent and still.

Instinctively, you knew he was gone again. In the wind.

You didn’t particularly remember the police arriving nor the “escort” down to the station. Giving your statement a handful of times felt robotic, detached. You didn’t react when the responding officers said Luke likely fled when he realized there were other people in the gas station. You barely flinched when Detective White came in and you saw him tap tap tap his pen on his notepad.

“It was Luke,” you muttered. “You can probably see it on the cameras.”

Your drive back to base hours later wasn’t exactly memorable and you sat on the small couch in the dark for a stretched moment until your phone rang. It felt like your arms had fallen asleep as you fumbled to get it out of your purse.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The sound of Sarah’s sweet voice immediately had you sobbing.

Unsurprisingly (but still embarrassingly), Sarah was in your little room within the hour and didn’t mind at all when you slouched into her lap as more Golden Girls reruns played on the television. Her soft fingers traced flowers and stars into your arm after your tears eventually ran out. She said nothing when you had told her what had happened other than a soft, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Four weeks into the deployment, Jake was finally given allowance to make a video call to you—he had been told that he was allotted two calls every two weeks but so far he’d only been able to call his mom once. The entire deployment had been a clusterfuck. Jet malfunctions mixed with food past its expiration only added to the usual stress that came with a deployment of this scale. Having Javy, Omaha, and Halo with him was nice—Javy much more than the others, if Jake was being honest—but he still wanted you. He didn’t want to be away from you, especially not with how things were left when he had been called away. The fact that Luke still hadn’t been caught had bit at the back of his mind daily. He knew you were safe on base but…

The call rang twice before your pixelated face came into view and Jake felt something shift behind his ribs, like he was waiting to take another breath until he saw you again. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Hey, Ken.”

Jake’s spine went rigid at your tone. Even with the shitty connection, he heard how tired you were. “What’s going on?”

Your answering sigh crackled through the connection. “I’ll tell you when you get back, okay? How…how is everything going? Are you doing-”

Jake leaned a little closer to the tiny camera as if that would help you understand what he was saying. “No, c’mon, Punch. Don’t do that, not to me. You can talk to me, remember?”

You rolled your lips into your mouth for a moment. “Fine. But first I need you to know that I’m safe, all right?”

Ice ran through Jake’s veins. No one should have to start a conversation with that. “Punch-”

“No one was hurt. I, um, I’m not really leaving base anymore—but I will be there to pick you up when you come back in. Luke seems skittish with crowds anyway. I’ll be safe there, too.”

“Just tell me what happened,” he said, voice a little harsher than he wanted and his anger dissolved when he saw you flinch. “Jesus, sorry. I wasn’t yelling-”

“I know,” you murmured. “I know you weren’t.” Another sigh pushed through you before you shook your head. “Luke found me at a gas station. He had a gun. He’s a lousy shot and took off when he realized there were other people around. Sarah and the Daggers are on a rotation; someone is with me all the time. Admiral Bates also had even more security put on each entrance to base, too, after I had to tell him what happened.”

Jake nodded, knowing that it was standard protocol to tell your commanding officer if something happened and the civilian authorities had to get involved. Knowing Admiral Bates was stepping up security was a small relief but Jake wondered how quickly he’d be court martialed if he just flew back to you.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you said next.

“I wasn’t go-”

“Ken.”

He might have laughed if this were a different situation. Realizing you knew him well enough to pinpoint exactly when a thought as stupid as flying back to you was crossing his mind, if you would be able to call him an idiot to his face and say something about using his two remaining brain cells to only make moronic decisions, he might have laughed about it. But he couldn’t so he didn’t. “What can I do?”

You were quiet for a moment before the smallest hint of a smile pushed at your lips. “Can you tell me something funny?”

Jake didn’t have to rack his brain a lot to find something, but he hoped it could keep that smile on your face. “Well, I’m on this boat with another aviator, right?”

“I know how deployments work, Ken.”

“His callsign is Honey.”

“Don’t throw stones in glasshouses, Hangman.”

Jake almost smiled then, too, and continued on. “But his backseater’s name is Badger.”

The quiet laugh you let out would have to be enough for now—it seemed like that small sound was all you were capable of right now. But the tight line of your neck and shoulders unraveled. So, for the rest of his allotted time, he took every opportunity he had to make you laugh. Before he was kicked out of the little room, you made him promise to keep himself safe.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“Love you too.”

He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of saying it.

You waved to Bradley and Tasha as they stood like guard dogs near the entrance to the parking lot. They’d come with you without a grumble but they appreciated the pastry and coffee you brought them as a thank you anyway. God, you just wanted to set eyes on Jake again. These past few weeks had been so fucking weird. Not leaving base had been fine, mostly. Having a friend or Sarah with you every night was nice for the most part but you did always feel like you were interrupting their lives with your bullshit. But even without that, the threat you had always managed to ignore or push to the back of your mind was now front and center.

Luke wanted you dead, no matter the cost.

And you, no matter how cliche it was, felt like you had just started living.

People had started to trickle off the carrier’s ramp and you tried to shake off the nerves you'd been living with for weeks. This was supposed to be a good thing. You scanned the crowds and spotted Javy’s girlfriend, Hope, and Neil’s parents beside Callie’s wife, and then you had to squint at the next group you spotted. Green eyes. Blonde hair. All of them. You knew them, didn’t you?

They seemed to spot you, too, and quickly turned course toward you. And then it dawned on you.

Oh god.

This wasn’t how you wanted to meet Jake’s mother and sister.

Sandra was leading the charge with one of her daughters behind her. There was no mistaking it now, they were headed right toward you.

“Hi there!” A delightful Texan twang hit your ears over the excited din of the crowds and you hoped your answering smile didn’t betray how nervous you were as you held out your hand for her to shake.

“I’m-”

“Punch!” Sandra finished for you before she threw her arms around you in a tight hug. And there was little fight in you to do anything but reciprocate. She rubbed your back for a moment then stepped back, holding you at arms length with that same warm smile on her face. “Oh, I am so happy to meet you, officially.”

“It is wonderful to officially meet you, too. I’m sure Jake will be so happy to see you both.”

Sandra laughed with a shake of her head as she dropped her hold. “We will probably just be an added bonus—you’ll be the star of the show, I’m sure.”

A surprised chuckle escaped you, a little strangled. What exactly did they know about you? What had Jake said? “Agree to disagree.”

Sandra was quick to introduce Mia, who also gave you a quick hug. “Kelly and Alex weren’t able to take off work but they’ll probably demand to FaceTime later.”

“I didn’t know you all were coming! Did you have trouble finding the port?” You asked, feeling a bit like you were intruding.

“Oh, not at all. And don’t you worry about us stealing too much of your time with Jacob,” Sandra said with a wink.

It immediately made your stomach twist. Oh god. This was embarrassing. “N-no, I, um-”

“You’re killing her, mama. Let her breathe,” Mia said with a smile. “Jacob probably still hasn’t grown a pair and said-”

“Mia!” Sandra scolded. “Language!”

Both you and Mia snorted (Mia more so than you) before her mother huffed and shook her head. “But she’s right. We’re just in town for a few hours and then heading up the coast to a cattle auction. We figured we could see him for a bit, we hope you don’t mind.”

You shook your head, chest warming at learning how adorably close Jake was to his family. “Of course not. I know he’ll be happy to see y-” Your words cut off in a scream as familiar arms wrapped around your waist from behind and hauled you into the air for a moment as you were spun in a circle. As soon as your feet touched the ground, you turned and poked at Jake’s chest. “Don’t do that! You-” His lips on yours quickly stifled any halfhearted argument you may have had, too. At least for a moment. When he pulled back, a familiar smirk on his face, you were quick to say, “that's so rude. You can’t just kiss me-”

He kissed you again and probably would have continued if someone hadn’t cleared their throat behind you.

“Please tell me my mother isn’t here.” His words vibrated against your smiling mouth as he stood stock-still with you still in his arms. Oh, this was hilarious.

“I don’t think the Jurassic Park Tyrannosaurus Rex rules apply to your mom, Ken. She can definitely see us.”

“Yes, she can see you,” his mother said, a laugh muddling her words.

Jake gave you one last kiss before stepping back and hugging his mother, trying to will the intense blush he felt blotting his cheeks away. He really hadn’t been expecting them—he had only had eyes for you as soon as his boots hit solid ground. And the fact that he hadn’t slept properly for eight weeks might have muddled his thought process anyway.

“Surprise!” Mia exclaimed.

He was quick to hug her, too, happy to see her smiling in person again. After his mom explained that they were only in town for a few hours, you suggested getting a bite to eat at one of the diners down the road. That worked for everyone and Jake started to herd the small group of women toward the parking lot, only pausing when he saw you stop to speak in low tones with Phoenix and Rooster. It seemed the pair needed a bit of reassurance to let you leave their line of sight but Phoenix eventually poked Rooster’s side with enough force to have him relent. Jake raised a hand in thanks to them before you rejoined his little group and he let you lead him to your car as you gave directions to the diner to his mother. The ride was short, thankfully, but he was happy just to feel the warmth of your thigh beneath his hand as you drove.

The hostess was quick to seat them when they arrived and his mother made sure to shove Jake onto the same side of the booth as you with a wink that had another blush inching its way up his face. She’d never been subtle.

“Well,” his mother started with a smile as her gaze moved between you and Jake after you all had ordered, “it seems like we may have been left uninformed about a few things.”

“It’s…new,” Jake said, feeling like he did when he was twelve and had been caught with his hand in the literal cookie jar.

“It doesn’t seem new.”

Jake kicked his sister beneath the table and earned a boot to his knee in return. She hadn’t even flinched. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you guys seem settled, happy.” Mia paused, unsuccessfully hiding a smirk behind her hand. “Like an old married couple.”

Jake felt your eyes on him and it did little to deter that thought of you in a white dress and a smile on your lips walking toward him. Married. Jake knew he had thought of you in that way for months before he even knew what it was like to kiss you, but to hear someone like Mia say it? It felt like…

“Either way, we’re happy to see you both so happy,” Mia said with a wink, giving him an out. “And now we get to finally learn all about you. Jake was pretty sparse in the details he gave about you. Other than your ability to keep him on his toes and the way your eyes seemed to stare straight through him.”

His face was on fire now and the temperature only grew when he heard your laugh. “Straight through you, huh? What else has he said?”

“Nothing. I’ve said nothing.”

You patted Jake’s leg with a laugh. “Let the women talk, Jacob. You can try and fail to tell me that you didn’t say any of it later.”

The food arrived by the time Jake’s ears were burning and you were laughing like old friends with his sister and mother. He couldn’t help but laugh, too, at a few of the stories they told about him.

“Oh, but enough about Jacob,” his mother said, “tell us more about you. What do you do when you’re not keeping him safe at work?”

You smiled around the straw to your strawberry shake. “I’ve had some time on my hands lately, so I’m trying to write a book.”

“You write?” Mia asked, setting her fork down to give you her attention. “What do you write?”

Jake couldn’t resist teasing his sister and his tired brain forgot a key piece of information when he opened his mouth next. “Oh, c’mon, Mia. You’ve read her books, I gave them to you, remember?”

The silence that followed swallowed the table.

It took two stretched moments for Jake to realize what he had revealed and it washed over him like a wave of cold salt water. “Oh shit.”

You leaned forward to set your head into your hands for a moment before sighing. “Did you knock something loose when you were in the air, Ken?”

“I’m sorry!”

“You’re Georgia Torrance?”

You nodded as you sat back with a small, uneasy smile. “I am. I hope you liked the books.”

“She loves those books! She and her girls talk about them all the time!”

It was Mia’s turn to blush. “Thanks for that, mama,” She grumbled. Mia fiddled with her fork for a moment before her shoulders slumped. “Please tell me my brother hasn’t inspired your books. I’ll never be able to read them again if he did,” she said, only half joking if the strained chuckle she let out was any indication.

Jake hadn’t thought about that. Where did you find inspiration? While it may be a bit of a stroke to his ego if you did see him as a book worthy romantic lead, he could understand why his sister would never want to read them again. He watched you smile and set your hand over Mia’s across the table.

You leaned closer with a glint in your eye that told him whatever came out of your mouth next was probably going to leave him fighting for his life in front of his family. “He wishes.” And then you winked as Mia giggled. As his sister’s giggles petered out, your smile grew, but maybe a little less sharp at the edges. “I just wrote about what I wanted most in the world at the time. Someone gentle and strong and understanding.”

“And they’re gorgeous.”

“Oh, of course. I mean, not everyone is going to think all of my leads are their cup of tea, but if someone finds a bit of joy in my book, I think that’s just as good. I wrote most of them when I was at my loneliest, but I think the stuff I’m working on now is just as good. I hope you still like it.”

Mia’s smile grew and Jake watched her set her other hand over yours. “I’m sure I’m going to love it.”

“We could talk about it later, if you want? I’d love to get your input.”

“I’d love that. Really.”

The rest of the meal flew by and you earned a motherly frown from his mom when you managed to pay for everyone’s meal without them noticing just as they noted it was time for them to hit the road again. You and Mia walked ahead out to the parking lot, exchanging numbers and giggling about something he didn’t hear—but the sight of two of his favorite people getting along made Jake smile, too.

His mom grasped at his arm and pulled him to a top with a gentle look he knew well. Jake was about to be told something she thought he should know already. “She’s wonderful, Jacob. And you’re so happy with her.”

“I am happy, mama.” And he was. He hoped you were, too.

She reached up and gently patted his cheek. “You let me know when you want Gram’s ring.” Then, after kissing his cheek and reminding him to still call on Sunday, she said she loved him and she and Mia were gone.

And, really, who could blame Jake for thinking about the antique diamond and white gold ring on your finger? No one.

“They’re nice,” you said as you climbed back into your car a few minutes later. “I might like them more than you.”

Jake groaned, letting his hand find its usual spot on your thigh as you pulled out of the lot. “I don’t think I’ve ever been dumped for my sister or mom. That would be a first.” He then squeezed your thigh for a moment, earning a squeal.

You halfheartedly slapped at his hand as you pulled out onto the road, heading back toward base. He watched you bite your lip for a stretched second. “We would have to be together for me to dump you.”

What were you talking about? “Do you…”

“Look,” you cleared your throat, “I know we don’t have to put a label on things, but I’d like to know where we…stand. Together.” You then steadfastly refused to look at him as you took another turn.

And, really, Jake couldn’t really comprehend what he had just heard. “Punch, I was under the impression that we were together since you asked me to dinner at the hospital.”

You were quiet for a moment before letting out a soft, “oh.”

So, Jake continued, knowing he needed to lay all his cards on the table. “There is no one else I would do all that paperwork for, you know. I am all in. I’ve been all in with you since before I knew that you snore in your sleep.”

“I do not snore!”

“Yes, you do,” Jake said with a laugh. “But I am happy to hear it. All the time. Whatever you want, I want, as long as it is with you. You’re my girl.” This felt just as important as telling you that he loved you.

“And if I want the whole nine yards? Marriage, babies, a home?” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “For a long time, I didn’t think I could get any of that, deserve any of that.”

When you rolled to a stop at a red light, Jake reached out to tip your face in his direction. He wanted to make sure you knew he meant every word. “You deserve it. You do, all of that and more. And I would be honored to be the one to make sure you get it. I love you, darlin’. And I want everything with you.”

It was good to have Jake back for several reasons. One of them was that he took over all the “guard dog” duties (as he called them) at night so your other friends could get back to their normal lives. And you would never mind waking up to him on the pillow beside yours in the morning.

Knowing that you were on the same page with everything and this relationship was just…perfect. Something wonderful to focus on instead of knowing Luke was still out there.

Your name being called pulled you away from Natasha and Bob’s jet and you wiped your hands on the rag you kept in your jumpsuit’s pocket as you turned to look at Admiral Simpson a few paces away. “Sir?”

“I need you in my office. Now.” His mouth was set in a firm line with his hands on his hips. That was never a good sign.

A few of the other ADs looked at you as you followed the man out of the hangar and you tried to smile reassuringly at them, despite not knowing just what the hell was happening as you followed him all the way to his office. The grim look on his face didn’t budge even when Jake walked in a few moments later.

“Good. You’re both here.” He turned to grab paperwork from his desk. “I don’t want to be having this conversation. I want you both to know that.”

The rest of what he was saying was little more than a dull ringing in your ears as you realized what he was holding, what that paperwork meant. Something cold ran down your spine when you read one of the names signed at the bottom. You immediately recognized it. It was one of the big brass people who went golfing with Luke’s dad. It felt like the world had been taken out from under your feet and you were falling falling falling with no hope for a soft landing.

“We went about this the right way,” Jake argued, voice cutting through the sudden fog that had permeated your senses. “We filed the paperwork, we-”

“This comes from someone higher up than me, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Well, then what is going to happen?”

Admiral Simpson sighed and your heart dropped when his eyes landed on you. “The easiest route would be to have one of you reassigned.”

You knew it would be you. You were outranked and easily replaceable, all things considered. It would be you. And that was what Luke had wanted to do: to rip your home away from you, to leave you alone in the world again. But you just…

“No.”

You looked at Jake and saw him already looking at you when you had spoken in unison.

“There are protocols that need to be followed. If it was up to me, this wouldn’t be an issue. Both of you have proven to be professional while on the flight line. But it is out of my hands. I don’t have a choice.”

“But I do,” you argued, turning to look at him. You rolled your shoulders back, wanting to stand as tall as you could with what you said next. “Please consider this my official acknowledgement that I will not be reenlisting at the end of my contract.”

“Punch!” Jake’s shout only strengthened your resolve.

“You do not have to make this decision now.”

“I do. I…I made a family here. I’m not going to lose it by being transferred to a different shore station.”

Jake whispered your name but you couldn’t look at him now. Not just yet. Not when you had all but set everything in stone.

“Are you sure this is the route you want to take?” Simpson asked, a surprising softness to his tone.

“I am. You can tell your superiors that this situation will be wrapped up in a neat little bow in a few weeks’ time.” You could feel both Jake and Admiral Simpson’s gazes pushing into you as you took a moment to glance down at your boots, trying to keep the resolve you had felt only a few seconds before.

Simpson was the one to break the silence. “I’ll get the paperwork started for you. I’ll have it on your desk by lunch tomorrow.” He paused and you looked up at him to see his mouth set in a sharp downturn. He shook his head before extending a hand out to you and you took it with a small smile. “It was a pleasure serving with you,” he said, making sure to enunciate your name and rank, too. You saluted him as he stepped back and then excused himself after a pointed look at Jake, leaving you alone.

“Punch…what are you doing?” Jake’s voice was soft but you could hear the tension hiding behind each syllable.

“I had to. I am not going to let Luke take this away from me. I have friends here, my best friends. I have made a family here. I…I have you here. I’m not going to let this all go. I won’t.”

Jake was quiet for a moment, sea glass eyes searching your face. But then a small smile pushed at his lips. “All in?”

“All in.”

And when he kissed you, you could feel his smile against your own. This was good, the start of something new.

Jake knew that the Daggers would take you leaving like a blow to the chest. When you asked them all to come to the Hard Deck, a place you felt safe in, a little before opening the following Saturday after your discharge papers were filed, there had been yelling and finger pointing and then tears.

Bradshaw had been the one to pull Jake aside when you were distracted by Harvard and Yale trying to get you to apply for one of the civilian contractor positions on base so you’d never be “too far away.”

“This is about Luke, isn’t it?” He asked.

“Yeah. Punch thinks his dad called in a favor with his buddies and had had our paperwork pulled. God knows what he said to his dad to make him think this would help, but-”

“I’ll kill him,” Rooster said through gritted teeth.

“Which one?” Jake asked, not laughing.

“Doesn’t matter. Both of them deserve it.”

The group eventually turned into an impromptu goodbye party for you as the bar opened, despite you still having a few weeks left of your contract. Drinks were bought and shared and Jake noticed how you smiled through it all.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked quietly as he twirled you beneath his arm.

“It is,” you said with a soft pat to his chest. “I told you I wasn’t a lifer. Sure, this wasn’t exactly how I pictured getting out, but…I think I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” he murmured before reaching up to carefully hold your face.

The night continued and Jake bought a round for everyone after Javy announced that Hope had accepted his proposal. Hope showed off the gorgeous ring (which Jake helped pick out) to almost everyone with a bright smile and then Javy asked Jake to be his best man while you were pulled away by Bob and Phoenix for something. By the time Javy had told Jake the entire proposal story and Jake had already started a mental list of possibilities for his bachelor party, you had disappeared from view.

Jake was not entirely too proud to realize he started to panic when he didn’t immediately find you in the steadily growing crowd, but his heart settled when he spotted you on the back deck. You and Phoenix were talking out on the deck, dying sunlight painting both of you with a golden light. You were rolling your water bottle between your palms while Phoenix stared out toward the waves.

You were telling her about Luke. You were telling her everything. He could tell by the way you held yourself, back straight and uncomfortably rigid, only relaxing when Phoenix reached out to lace her fingers with yours.

“You’ll be good to her, won’t you?”

Jake turned to see Bob and Rooster both looking at him. Jake might have laughed if he didn’t see the sincere looks on their faces.

“I will. And she’s doing this so she can still be near you guys, it isn’t like she’s being sent across the country.”

Bob looked at Rooster, some silent communication passing between them before Rooster nodded. “Still, be good to her.”

“I plan to, for the rest of my life.” And he meant it.

The rest of the night passed with you beneath his arm, smiling and laughing with your friends. It loosened something tight in Jake’s chest each time he heard your laugh. You were going to be okay.

By the time midnight rolled around, the party had quieted a bit, Jake pulled you out to walk a little ways down onto a quieter stretch of the beach in front of a restaurant that had closed for the night, so you could watch the waves again, making you elbow him when he said it was “romantic because it was like our first date again.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Tell anyone and I’ll deny it.”

You hummed, a happy noise, and turned to rest the point of your chin on his chest as you wound your arms around his waist. “Yes, I know. You have a reputation to uphold.” But you still stood there with him and watched the waves until you shivered, the night air coming off the sea cutting through your thin dress.

“Ready to head home?” His hands traced slow circles into the low of your back, earning a soft sigh in return. You were content. Happy. That’s what he wanted for you.

“Yeah,” you murmured.

The yawn you let out next only made Jake smile. “Yeah, let’s get you tucked in.”

“You gonna rock me to sleep?” You asked with a lazy wink as you started to walk toward the parking lot.

Jake groaned only so he wouldn’t have to admit that the line worked on him. “Awful. Truly awful.”

You only laughed. “C’mon, Ken. Let’s go.”

He let you guide him up the bank to the restaurant's empty parking lot—he really did love watching your hips sway with each step. Just as you both stepped onto the asphalt, you froze and Jake didn’t realize you had stopped until he bumped into your back. “What is it?” Jake asked, looking up and trying to find what you were seeing but his blood ran cold when he spotted it. Spotted him.

It was Luke, lurking like a beast in the shadows of the lot’s street lamp.

“Get behind me,” Jake said, already pushing you to his back.

“Jake!”

“Come out and fight me! What, you have to wait until she’s alone again?”

You wrapped a hand over Jake’s arm as blood roared in your ears. You needed to leave. Now. You didn’t want Jake to get hurt, you wouldn’t allow it. “Jake-”

But Jake gently shook out of your grip and took a few steps toward Luke. “I’m here now, what’re you gonna do, huh? She’s not alone now—but that’s never stopped you from failing on doing anything worthwhile. You really are the biggest fuck up I’ve ever heard of.”

You knew what he was doing, goading Luke into attacking first so there could be plausible deniability. Jake wouldn’t be the aggressor if anyone asked. But still, you just wanted to leave. To leave and never see Luke again. You swallowed hard and moved to stand at his back again, hand tightening on Jake’s arm, ready to run. “Jake, c’mon.”

“How many times are you going to try to kill her, man? How many chances do you need to actually do something? Don’t you think it’s a little pathetic that you can’t do anything right the first time? And when you can’t, you need your father to come in and clean up your messes.”

Luke gritted his teeth, shining in the moonlight. His hands were curled into fists at his sides and muscle memory had you wanting to run. Hide. Or try to calm him down. But you couldn’t, not now.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You don’t know shit.”

“I know that you beat a woman for doing your job better than you because you liked the bottle more than keeping your pilot alive.”

“I was good at my job!”

Jake laughed, low and rumbling. “And you’re a shit liar, too. You don’t even believe that.”

And that was enough. Luke charged at Jake and you tugged you both out of the way, watching in muted horror as Luke pulled a knife from his pocket and swung blindly. When he swung again with a shout, you shoved Jake to the side and managed to step back just enough to only feel the air rush by your neck.

Jake stumbled and you saw his eyes go wide before he pivoted and threw himself forward, catching Luke around the waist and tackling him to the pavement. He reared back just enough to haul his arm up and landed a blow to Luke’s face. But Luke was not finished either. His head snapped to the side only for a moment before you saw the knife still in his hand.

“Jake!” was all you could scream. Not him. Not your Jake. He couldn’t take him from you.

But you weren’t fast enough. The moonlight caught the blade just before it arced across Jake’s chest as Luke threw his entire weight behind the move, shifting them both to the side. Blood bloomed and soaked through Jake’s shirt as he let out a sharp yell before he wrenched backward, away from Luke who was slowly sitting up, poised to try again.

You dove for them and your knees slammed against the pavement, skidding into Jake’s thighs. Your shaking hands wrapped around Luke’s hand and slammed and slammed and slammed it into the pavement until his grip on the knife loosened and you wrenched it away with a guttural scream of your own.

Luke ripped his hand from yours just enough to backhand you. Pain rippled across your face as white spots danced in front of your eyes for a moment but you hardly had time to recover before a punch left you gasping for air—Luke snarled something, drool gathering at the sides of his lips, but you hardly heard it over the ringing in your ears.

And then you were shoved backward, your spine flattening against the pavement with a muted shout of your own. Luke pushed himself up onto his feet, looming over you for a moment, cloaked in shadow. But you couldn’t be scared. Not now. You kicked, your heel connecting with his crotch, and sent him to his knees again.

“You bitch!” He seethed. “You-”

The rest of his threat was cut off as Jake’s arm wrapped around his throat, you hadn’t even realized he had moved. Luke reached up to claw at Jake’s skin but he didn’t falter, even as he thrashed in his grip.

Heaving yourself back onto your feet, you watched Luke’s face get steadily redder and his attempts to get out of Jake’s hold grew more sluggish by the moment. A small bit of you liked it, liked seeing the man who had tried to ruin your life and murder you over and over again be so utterly helpless. You looked at Jake to see him looking at you, silently asking for you to tell him what you wanted.

So, you said nothing. Nothing until Luke’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went entirely limp. Jake let go of him after you nodded and you almost laughed as you watched Luke’s face bounce on the pavement just as red and blue lights started to bleed across the street. You weren’t surprised someone had called the cops, maybe they’d do something worthwhile this time.

Jake reached out for you as the sirens grew louder and you happily set your hand in his before carefully pressing your lips to his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

By the time the paramedic had cleaned the thankfully shallow slash on Jake’s chest, Luke was being read his Miranda Rights and you had given your statement to the responding cops.

You watched Luke get shoved into the back of the cop car; one of the cops actually pushed his head down with a palm on the back of his neck like a disobedient puppy.

When Jake stepped in front of you and gently cradled your face, you sagged into his grip, all the remaining fight and tension bleeding out of you in a moment. “It’s done,” was all you could say.

“You finished it,” he said softly.

“We did. And I…” The words stalled on your tongue. “What happens now?”

Jake shook his head before pulling you close to press a kiss to your forehead, your temple, then your lips. “I don’t know, darlin’. But we’ll figure it out together.”

The dance was slow and easy, you and Jake simply swayed to the beat as other couples moved around you.

“How are you tonight, Mrs. Seresin?”

You laughed with a shake of your head. He called you that more than your name, more than “Punch,” more than anything else. It had been five years since you’d surprised all your friends and family at your Ugly Holiday Sweater Party that it was actually your wedding and he still didn’t get tired of calling you Mrs. Seresin. But you didn’t think you’d ever tire of hearing it, either. “I’m fine, Captain Seresin.”

His pleased smirk grew and he pulled you a little closer. Well, as close as your bump would allow. Just for a moment, he let go of your hip to smooth a hand over the silk of your gown stretched across your growing bump before resuming your dance.

Your fingers inched up his shoulder to push into the hair at the back of his head, ruining his carefully coiffed style. He was so handsome in his dress whites. The tinge of grey starting to grow at his temples only added to his enduring appeal—and he was all yours. “Your speech was wonderful,” you added with a smile.

He chuckled and shook his head, glancing at another dancing couple beside you. Bradley and Natasha were in their own bubble; it was to be expected at their wedding reception. But you did get a chuckle out of Natasha stealing her husband’s dress white’s hat and wearing it atop her carefully styled hair. To be fair, it did match her gown, too. Their son, welcomed two years ago with the help of a surrogate so both parents could keep flying up until they took their parental time off, was happily eating cake in Bob’s lap at a table in the corner. Bob’s wife was making a valiant effort to keep crumbs off Bob’s dress trousers while Pete kept a napkin beneath the toddler’s chin in an attempt to help. Today had been beautiful and perfect, exactly what you wanted for your best friends’ wedding.

“Thank you for looking it over for me.” He leaned down to brush his mouth against yours and you could feel his smile.

It had been a blissful five years. You may have been a bit of a naval cliche, getting married within a few months of really dating but it worked for you. You were happy. Getting out of the Navy allowed you more time to write. Your publisher was nearly ecstatic with the increase in productivity and offered you a new royalties deal. While it still wasn’t Stephen King money—and you knew you’d never reach that level—you were proud of it.

Jake had made sure the house he bought on the coast had an office for each of you and he happily helped you paint it a soft green that you swore helped you write. When you offhandedly mentioned that it reminded you of his eyes, he fucked you bent over the pricey cherry wood desk he’d bought for you after your latest book hit the best seller’s list. If your math was correct (it was), that was when your first child was conceived. Little Elsie came screaming into the world a few months later and immediately had Jake wrapped around her tiny fingers. She was currently being babysat (aka spoiled) by Grammy Sandy while you and Jake took the weekend for Bradley and Natasha’s wedding—you were a bridesmaid and Jake a groomsman, so you had quite a few things to take care of. The house was filled with pictures of quiet moments you cherished, like Elsie asleep on Jake’s chest a few weeks after she was born, and then more rambunctious moments, too, like the last Halloween party you attended where you were dressed as Ken and Jake was your Barbie. Apparently Jake looked good in everything, including hot pink. Pictures of the Daggers and their families were hung up beside pictures of Danny at his first lecture after earning his PhD and Georgie with her husband with her little boy on her hip. A picture of you and Jake surrounding Mia at her wedding a few months ago was on the mantle above the fireplace beside a picture of you and Lily with Sarah, Junior, and Taylor at Junior’s wedding, too.

Luke had been sent away for a few decades after pleading guilty to attempted murder and aggravated stalking. You doubted he would ever be a threat to you again but you and Jake had both been granted restraining orders against him, too. From what you had heard from the grapevine (Beau mentioned it in passing with a knowing smile), Luke’s father quietly retired from his position in the Navy before the trial and all of the relationships he had cultivated over the decades of his service crumbled when they’d learned of how he had paid for your silence. The ordeal had been exhausting and had left you reeling day after day when you needed to relive all of it while on the stand. But you had a support system. You had the Daggers, your siblings, the Kazanskys, your in-laws, and Jake. Your Ken. He never left your side.

“Is my son giving you any trouble tonight?” It was a recurring question since he learned you were pregnant again. Elsie had given you a few scares in utero and he wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

“He’s on his best behavior.”

“Good.” Jake stole another kiss and then you stole one right back.

It wasn’t always perfect. No relationship was. You still had to deal with deployments and growing pains that came with expanding your family, and the infrequent disagreements that arose. But it was good. It was worth fighting for. Jake had given you a home that could never be taken from you.

“I love you,” you whispered after he spun you under his arm.

“I love you more.”

A/N: that’s all she wrote, folks! thank you so much for going along on this ride with me. I hope you enjoyed Xx

#Jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #Top gun maverick fic #jake hangman seresin #tgm #top gun maverick #female reader

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